The Ming Dynasty began from Sarhu

Chapter 308 The people here are simple and honest
The sudden rain covered the earth in white.

On the path from Hakusan to Miyako Port, several gray-white bamboo hats were dancing.

People were busy rushing to avoid the rain, but he was the only one who kept his hand on the scabbard, watching every passerby he met vigilantly.

Of course, this vigilance went unnoticed.

This is a rural village far from Kanazawa Castle in the Kaga Domain. To paraphrase the lyrics from a local Noh play:
“The people here are simple and honest.
The doors are not locked at night,

Thieves are gone.”

He didn't know whether thieves had disappeared or not, but murderers still existed.

The rain soaked into his hat.

Fujiwara wiped the raindrops from his forehead.

A pair of blue eyes full of youthful heroism.

The cross lantern in front of him, which symbolized his religious identity, disappeared.

That precious paper lantern accompanied the brother and sister from Osaka to Kaga, braving wind and rain all the way.

This time, the lantern was obviously not blown away by the wind.

Half an hour ago, the lantern, along with the bodies of three ronin, was thrown into the small river in the castle town.

I don’t know where it is drifting now.

"Fujiwara, how can you take the red seal ship back to Jakarta without the cross sign?"

Half an hour ago, on the outskirts of Kanazawa Castle, Fujiwara carefully wiped the blood off his sword without answering this question.

He walked west along the river until he could see the White Mountains with white smoke rising from them.

Is White Mountain erupting again?
During the Nara period (710-794), people believed that magma was a will-o'-the-wisp from hell. To appease the wrath of the gods, they would regularly sacrifice young girls into the crater.

Sacrifice is always there.

Aren’t these 500,000 Catholics who were abandoned and persecuted by the shogunate also sacrifices to God?
When he was ten years old, his father left him a bag of gold coins and disappeared from Fujiwara's world.

Then, a rouge merchant appeared and came to harass Fujiwara's mother every now and then.

When his mother was not around, this short and fat businessman, who looked like the Maitreya Buddha in the shrine, would tell the Fujiwara brothers and sisters about his experiences in various parts of Japan.

Sometimes, he put his hands on his sister while talking...

Hakusan volcano, located between the Kaga and Nagasaki domains, erupts every two years.

The villagers of Baishan rely on this volcano for their livelihood.

"Can you make a living from volcanic eruptions? Do villagers buy and sell lava?"

That was Fujiwara's first murder.

In Osaka Castle, nothing is impossible to buy or sell.

After all, Osaka Castle is known as the "kitchen of the world", which does not mean that all Osaka merchants are engaged in the food industry, but that it can supply the needs of the world.

"Idiot! Magma? Who would buy that?"

The rouge merchant stared at the eight-year-old Chiyoko and said with a lecherous look:
"It's dust, volcanic dust suspended in the air, more valuable than the spices of Java."

"Red-haired barbarian bastard, I have some volcanic dust here. Go back and ask your mother to buy some. It will be easier to pick up customers in Yanliu Lane..."

~~~
Fujiwara looked at the white smoke rising in the distance, and his thoughts returned to the present.

He began to imagine the hunched Iori struggling to collect volcanic ash in the crater.

Iori is my mother's best friend and someone I can trust with my life.

Both of them grew up in Hakusan Village. When Iori went to Osaka for medical treatment, Xun took out half of his savings to hire a doctor for her.

"Is my sister okay in Baishan? I hope she left before the volcano erupted."

The volcanic ash floated like cotton wool under the gloomy sky, making the overcast weather even more gloomy.

Hearing the thunder, Fujiwara finally became worried and walked towards the white smoke in the heavy rain.

From time to time he looked back at the vast rain curtain behind him.

Fortunately, no one caught up with us.

The ronin's body will probably be discovered soon.

The samurai and village officials in the town below Kanazawa Castle would search and inquire all the way out of the city.

Maybe tomorrow, or the day after tomorrow, the shrewd and capable shogunate lackeys will catch up with him.

The half-blood boy was very skilled, and his small ethereal sword was extremely sharp, but he was no match for muskets and bows and arrows.

Thinking of this, Fujiwara endured the pain in his arm and quickened his pace to climb up the hillside.

This is a land rife with sin.

Earthquakes, volcanoes, murders, and famines come punctually in the cycle of seasons. Here lie the world's most brutal tyrants, the most treacherous businessmen, and the most hypocritical human hearts.

An ordinary person walking in Edo, Osaka or Kanazawa Castle behind him will encounter many samurai who like to wear swords and like to test their swords on living people.

Fujiwara looked at the sulfur smoke gradually forming in the crater in front of him and imagined it as an evil god descending to the earth.

He just wants to get out of here as soon as possible.

I heard that in Jakarta, no one would rob a Catholic on the street.

Listening to my own regular breathing, I climbed up the mountainside in one breath and saw a thatched house in the distance.

The rice straw in the valley was covered with volcanic ash, and the trees on the mountainside were completely cut down.

Without food and trees, how do they make a living?

Could it be true that the villagers would sell volcanic dust as the rouge merchant he killed said?
Without thinking too much, Fujiwara held his pockets tightly. There were only three gold coins left, which were his last property.

Since he was a child, Fujiwara had heard stories about lone samurai being killed and robbed by peasants. The peasants would rob the samurai of their money, strip them of their armor and hide them in barns, and even their bodies would be chopped up and fed to dogs.

Although I am not a warrior, when gold coins jingle in my pocket and I have to travel alone, I have to be extra careful.

Relying on his vague and distant childhood memories, the mixed-race child finally knocked on the dilapidated wooden door of old woman Iori's house.

"Ahem! Ahem! Is that Mother Iori?"

Fujiwara covered his mouth and nose with his sleeves. The volcanic ash all around him was almost suffocating.

There was a rustling sound in the house, followed by the old man's cough.

Fujiwara wiped his face vigorously with a wet cloth to make sure that the blood that had just been splashed was thoroughly washed away.

The wooden door creaked and opened from the inside.

The half-blood hid the dagger in his sleeve and looked at the old woman standing at the door with a smile.

The sharp blade in his sleeve almost fell out.

"Mrs. Iori? Why do you look so young? I, I am Xun's son, passing by here..."

There was not a single wrinkle on the old woman's charming face, as if the magic of time had completely lost its effect on her.

"Oh my, is that Chiyoko's brother? Come in quickly, there's cotton wool all over the place."

The people of Baishan Village call volcanic dust cotton wool. Just like crops in the field, the cotton wool will mature and fall off on its own every once in a while.

"Yes, the volcanic ash is the crops of Baishan. It's just that the crops were harvested too quickly this year. Hahahaha, your raincoat must be wet. Come and warm yourself by the fire."

Fujiwara no Kyoji was welcomed into the inner room by an old woman who looked like a witch.

A strong aroma of herbs hit me in the face. Beside the stove sat an old man with white hair and beard, staring straight at the fire with cloudy eyes. He looked deaf and dumb.

"Old man! Chiyoko's brother is here! Kaoru's son! The half-blood from Osaka Castle!"

The old woman was full of energy and didn't look like a village woman in her fifties or sixties at all. Her voice was so loud that even the thatched hut was shaking.

The deaf-mute old man nodded slightly at the flames.

"Chiyoko? Are you looking for her? It's raining outside. Have some tea and food before leaving. I'll take you with me later. Xun's child is so big now. Wow. On a rainy day, she might have run away to another villager's house."

"That's really troublesome for you."

Fujiwara Kyoji kept bowing and apologizing, repeatedly saying to Iori's mother, "I'm in trouble, I'm in trouble."

He took off his raincoat and carefully placed it by the fire to dry.

"I'm so sorry to bother you two. If I had known your children were going to the temple to practice, I wouldn't have come in to bother you."

Fujiwara kept bowing and apologizing. When he lowered his head, he accidentally saw two white rice balls overflowing from under the cabinet next to the shrine opposite.

There were still wet marks on the path leading to the backyard.

"The old man has been ill for a long time. He can't be a village official anymore and hasn't had white rice for years. He stays at home every day waiting to die. It's really embarrassing for you to see him like this..."

Mother Iori, dressed in plain clothes, kept nagging. After a while, she brought out a cup of hot tea from the kitchen and handed it to Fujiwara Kyoji with a smile.

Fujiwara quickly stood up, raised his hands above his head, bowed his head and respectfully took the coarse pottery cup.

Iori stared at Fujiwara, waiting for the hybrid to drink the tea.

The deaf-mute old village official who had been sighing beside the stove also stopped sighing and looked back at Fujiwara.

Fujiwara returned to his seat and suddenly reached out to pour out the tea. The fire in the stove was extinguished by the water, making a hissing sound.

A cloud of white smoke rose before my eyes.

Fujiwara slowly drew out his short sword and stared at the feet of Iori's mother.

"If only mother were still alive, my sister wouldn't have been deceived... Haven't you been home the whole time? How did your embroidered shoes get wet? Who gave you the rice? Tell me! Where is Chiyoko?"

(End of this chapter)