Seeking Fortune and Avoiding Evil in the Cultivation World Chapter 3: Better to Be a Peaceful Dog

In that instant, Jiang Fan detected a faint glow hidden deep in his sea of consciousness. With a soft nudge, his mind reached out to contact it, and soon another flood of details poured into his mental realm.

"At midnight, head to the entrance of Osmanthus Village, dig 300 meters under the Osmanthus tree, and turn the earth there. You'll secure an Eighth-Grade Opportunity entirely risk-free."

Jiang Fan quickly grasped the full picture. Whenever he triumphed over disasters, his Life Chart would guide him to snag all kinds of opportunities safely.

The specified time was midnight. Missing that window could spell danger. He might get spotted by fellow villagers, inviting unforeseen troubles.

Thus, despite his burning urge to unearth the Eighth-Grade Opportunity right away, he had no choice but to hold off until midnight.

Regarding Luck Points, their purpose remained a mystery to him so far.

"So this is the idea behind surviving catastrophe leads to good fortune?"

Jiang Fan drew in a long breath, feeling the immense strength of this Life Chart.

Everyone knows that in this realm, diligence doesn't always bring success. Bad luck isn't inevitably chased by good.

At times, misfortune snowballs into greater woes. When trouble strikes, it hits hard and relentless.

His own history had already shown this clearly—misery knows no bottom.

If conquering disasters guaranteed boons, his previous existence wouldn't have been so wretched.

At the very least, a chance for turnaround would have dawned eventually.

He simply had no clue what this Eighth-Grade Opportunity entailed.

Might it alter his present destiny?

"Ah!"

Suddenly, a piercing cry rang out from the distance, mixed with brutal collisions and desperate pleas for mercy, sending shivers down spines.

"What's going on?"

Hearing this, terror flickered across Su Weiwei's features, and she instinctively turned to her sole pillar, Jiang Fan.

"Remain inside; I'll step out to check the commotion."

Jiang Fan instructed Su Weiwei before exiting the dwelling.

Right then, the nearby residents had caught the noise too, emerging from their homes in succession.

"Uncle Fugui, Uncle Ziqiang."

"Any idea what's occurring?"

Jiang Fan nodded to the locals in turn. All were fellow Osmanthus Village dwellers, well-acquainted with one another.

"Sigh, the Old Meng Family's in trouble."

"Word is, the Dragon King Gang demanded a thirty percent hike in the monthly salary. Old Meng had no intention of rejecting it outright, but he grumbled a little."

"In retaliation, those brutes from the Dragon King Gang thrashed him savagely."

"They even looted all the precious items from his home."

The one speaking was a fisherman called Song Fugui, in his forties, with a swarthy complexion. Scarred by life's tempests, he couldn't suppress his grief witnessing neighbor Meng Da's dire plight.

"Hush, who gave you leave to talk!"

"Should that gang catch wind of it, they could turn on you next."

Beside him, Song Fugui's spouse Liu Zhuzhu swiftly hushed him, her face etched with worry, fearing his outburst might reach the Dragon King Gang's ears.

Should Song Fugui's remarks fall on the Dragon King Gang's hearing, he'd likely face a brutal beating.

His household's cash and goods could get plundered too.

Incidents like this had unfolded before.

At these words, Song Fugui clamped his mouth shut, glancing warily about. Noting the Dragon King Gang members had departed without catching his speech, he eased up.

"This..."

Jiang Fan's heart iced over upon hearing this, a cold shudder rippling through him.

A mere murmur of complaint had led to near-fatal blows, underscoring the Dragon King Gang's merciless nature.

Likely, Zheng Wenbing and his crew had staged this act in Osmanthus Village as a warning.

After all, the abrupt thirty percent salary surge had sparked widespread grumbles in the village.

To quell the unrest, Zheng Wenbing and company had to flex their authority, sacrificing a few to cow the rest.

Had he not acted prudently earlier and forked over the monthly salary swiftly, he might have been the sacrificial lamb.

Though the Old Meng Family missed this nuance, their gripes instantly drew calamity.

They became the targets for the show of force.

Hence, disaster struck them.

Just then, Jiang Fan peered into the distance and promptly spotted the chaos at the Old Meng household.

The main entrance stood ajar, revealing utter disarray within.

Furniture lay splintered across the floor, cookware hurled and broken everywhere.

The sturdy door had been battered and wrecked.

Uncle Meng, in his forties, writhed on the ground in agony, blood trickling from eyes, mouth, and nose. He huddled like a cooked shrimp.

His son Meng Tie, barely twenty, sprawled nearby, also pummeled, one arm fractured.

Only Uncle Meng's wife remained, weeping quietly, her cheeks bearing crimson welts from slaps.

The gathered villagers displayed pity yet felt powerless to aid.

They dared not intervene.

Yet, one can't fault the villagers. No family had extra provisions to spare.

The Dragon King Gang's monthly salary already squeezed every fisherman dry.

Now burdened with thirty percent more, it was pushing folks toward ruin.

Aiding Uncle Meng could mean their own households going hungry.

Compassion is a privilege for the affluent.

In this era of devouring one another, refraining from harm already marks one as virtuous.

"But why the extra salary from the Dragon King Gang?"

"The original amount was hefty enough; what's the real reason?"

Jiang Fan inquired.

He figured the Dragon King Gang, though tyrannical, wouldn't drain the well dry. They craved profit, not the demise of their fishermen sources.

Some underlying event must be at play.

"Rumor has it, it's tied to the Emperor's pill-making."

"To craft the Immortal Pill for immortality, the Emperor's scouring the land for ingredients, imposing wild tax hikes everywhere."

"It's outright plunder."

"With the Emperor demanding more tribute, local authorities pile on, squeezing the populace harder."

"The Dragon King Gang seized the chance to bump up the salary too."

"Level by level, our loads grow ever heavier."

The voice belonged to neighbor Zhao Ziqiang, thirty-eight years old, Osmanthus Village's resident carpenter.

While most locals fished for a living, boats and furnishings needed mending and crafting, so Zhao Ziqiang fared better than many in the village.

Carpentry being a crafty skill, it brought steady income, enough to cover the monthly salary.

Moreover, unlike others, he stayed more clued-in, with connections reaching Tonghe County.

"Indeed, the northern territories of the Wei Kingdom have endured years of drought, yielding scant crops and swelling ranks of refugees."

"I've caught tales of hordes of these unfortunates trekking southward for a shot at life."

"The Emperor offered no aid; worse, he hiked taxes further, nearly dooming us all."

"Whispers say uprisings have erupted, aiming to topple the regime."

"Who knows when the flames might lap at our Yunmeng Lake."

Song Fugui shared, his tone laced with dread.

As the saying goes, better a cur in calm days than a soul in turmoil.

When anarchy descends, common folk endure the worst, their very survival hanging by a thread.