Chapter Eleven: Only Ask Whether Conscience Exists

A large group of people emerged from the house—presumably Little Peach Blossom’s grandparents, uncles, aunts, and a few half-grown children among them. Yet none of their faces bore the warmth of welcome; on the contrary, they all looked at Little Peach Blossom with open hostility.

“Truly, birds of a feather flock together,” thought Dustless inwardly. He forced himself to offer a slight bow to those gathered beneath the eaves and greeted them, “Boundless Celestial Venerable—Dustless of the Xuan Yuan Temple wishes all of you peace, fortune, and longevity.”

A harsh-faced old woman strode forward and snapped, “Where do you think you’re taking our Peach Blossom, priest? Take your hand off her! She’s already promised to someone.”

“I have a predestined bond with Peach Blossom as master and disciple. She has chosen to follow me to the mountain to study the Way. I ask your understanding,” replied Dustless.

“Nonsense! If she goes with you, where will we get silver in return? Get out! Or I’ll have the villagers beat you, you wild priest. Who knows if you’re a kidnapper?” The old woman, clearly accustomed to malice, turned her venom on Little Peach Blossom. “You wretched little thing, just like your dead mother—good-for-nothings, both of you! Get over here before I beat you to death. I should have drowned you with that wretch of a mother of yours in the pig cage back then!”

Terrified, Little Peach Blossom trembled even harder, tears streaming down her cheeks.

A rare surge of anger rose in Dustless’s heart. His face darkened as he declared, “If there is no thought of kinship, then there is no bond of familial grace. Little Peach Blossom follows me of her own will; you need not trouble yourselves any further.” With that, he took her hand, preparing to leave.

“What are you all standing there for? Beat that wild priest to death!” the old woman shrieked. The men in the courtyard grabbed whatever was at hand and closed in, evidently determined not to let Dustless and Peach Blossom leave unscathed.

Dustless laughed coldly in his fury, released Peach Blossom’s hand, and patted her shoulder. “Watch your master’s skill,” he said, then moved to meet the attackers. He dodged an iron shovel swung at him, seized the wrist of the first burly man who charged, and with a deft twist, broke it. The man stared in shock, only realizing his wrist was snapped when he saw it bent at an unnatural angle. He let out a piglike scream. The others hesitated, appalled, but Dustless showed no mercy. He darted among them, dislocating joints and breaking bones. Soon, every man in the family was rolling on the ground, clutching their arms and howling in pain. The women in the courtyard, as well as the villagers watching from outside, all blanched with terror.

Dustless scoffed and moved back to Peach Blossom’s side, preparing to depart. A cacophony of wailing and cursing erupted behind him. Knowing there was no reasoning with such ignorant women, he ignored them, took Peach Blossom’s hand, and prepared to leave.

Just then, a crowd of villagers rushed over from the far end of the hamlet, wielding farm tools and staves, encircling Dustless and Peach Blossom. Dustless regarded them coolly, murmuring to Peach Blossom not to be afraid—her master was here; nothing could harm her. Perhaps his earlier display had filled her with confidence, for she nodded firmly, her trembling significantly lessened.

“The patriarch is here! The patriarch is here!” someone cried, and the crowd parted to admit an elderly man in his sixties. His hair was grizzled but neatly groomed, and though his face was relatively unlined, his eyes shone with a shrewd intelligence. Leaning on his cane, the patriarch addressed Dustless, “Reverend, how can you abduct a child like this? Without the consent of her parents or the clan, you cannot take her away. She bears the Li family name, Li blood runs in her veins. Put her down. The child is young and naïve—do not take offense.”

His words were carefully measured; had it not been for today’s turmoil, Dustless might have taken him for a reasonable man.

“When her father died early, and her mother met a wrongful end, when this little orphan was suffering endless abuse, did the patriarch still consider Li blood to flow in her veins? Did you still call her Li?” Dustless countered without courtesy.

“We Li are a family of a hundred years, inheriting poetry and propriety. For three generations, not one man has broken the law, nor has a woman remarried. Wang’s wife failed in her duty and was punished according to clan rules—outsiders have no right to interfere. Little Peach Blossom’s grandparents are alive and well; discipline is theirs to mete out. A child so young, yet so unfilial and disobedient, would not be undeserving if she were drowned for it,” the patriarch replied angrily.

“Oh, how enlightening,” thought Dustless, a man born centuries later, unable to comprehend the meaning of ritual and law in this era. Yet he had his own sense of right and wrong. To someone raised in a new society in a previous life and now living beyond worldly ties, such rules meant nothing.

“Poetry and propriety, is it? Is this what it means—to devour your own? You let a mother die unjustly, torment a child daily, and now would sell her off to be buried with the dead? Is this your family tradition? Where is your humanity?” Dustless demanded.

“Rubbish! The Wang family has a century of scholarly prestige. The master of the house is a high-ranking official, a boon to our Li clan. We need no lectures from outsiders. One last time: will you let her go, or not?” the patriarch pressed.

Dustless let out a light laugh. “What a family of poetry and propriety—so this is your true nature. So you all knew. You’re content to send this little girl to her death. Have you not a shred of conscience?” At this, Peach Blossom finally broke down in tears, unable to bear her grievances any longer. How much sorrow and hardship had such a small girl endured?

At last, someone in the crowd turned away, unable to watch, but none dared let them leave. Conscience was powerless before self-interest; after all, everyone had children of their own, and securing a tie to the Wang family would benefit all—except Peach Blossom.

Dustless had no patience to linger. He scooped up Peach Blossom, leapt lightly, and stood suspended in midair. With a wave of his hand, he summoned a white cloud overhead, then settled atop it with Peach Blossom in his arms.

Everyone in the village, including the patriarch, was struck dumb, unable to believe their eyes—had they just witnessed a true immortal?

Little Peach Blossom’s grandparents, uncles, and aunts were the first to react, collapsing to their knees in terror. Only now did they realize they had assaulted an immortal, and that Peach Blossom had been granted a celestial fate. Would she not return one day for vengeance? They had caused her mother’s death, abused her, and nearly sold her off to die—surely she would not forgive them. At this thought, her grandmother’s strength failed her, and she fainted dead away. The family, seeing the old woman collapse, wailed and shrieked in panic, the courtyard thrown into chaos.

The patriarch gazed up at Dustless and Peach Blossom, seated high upon their cloud, his heart a maelstrom of emotions. Once, to have an immortal among the family would have been a source of immense pride—and now...

Dustless coolly swept his divine sense over the village. In the stone pond by the edge of the hamlet, he discovered a heap of white bones. Over the centuries, how many wronged souls had found their end at the bottom of that lake? Among them was the ill-fated mother of Little Peach Blossom.

“Poetry and propriety, is it? Let it end here. How can such a clan, consumed by greed, call itself a family of poetry and propriety?” Dustless thundered. His gaze found the ancestral plaque in the Li family shrine, inscribed with the words “A Hundred Years of Poetry and Propriety.” With a Five Thunders Heavenly Heart Incantation, he summoned lightning to obliterate plaque and shrine alike, leaving nothing behind.

“A hundred years of poetry and propriety—yet the lake brims with fresh white bones. Are ritual and shame still honored here? Is there any conscience at all?” Dustless laughed aloud, and, taking Peach Blossom with him, rode the cloud far into the distance.

With a strangled cry, the patriarch coughed up a mouthful of blood. He knew the Li clan was finished. When word of today’s events spread, not only would the family be disgraced forever, but even those serving as officials would be dismissed. What hope was left for the Li family?

“Ancestors, ancestors!” wailed the old patriarch, before fainting dead away.