Eternal Life: I Can Sell Everything

In the 127th year of Yun Country, on this day, Song Ciwan opened her eyes in a daze.

Around her, a bustling crowd seethed with excitement.

A small village appeared ahead, nestled amid green mountains and clear waters, brimming with life. Rows of houses lined its paths, with wisps of cooking smoke curling from the rooftops. The aroma of food wafted over on the breeze, so tantalizing it made their stomachs rumble like war drums and their hunger become ravenous.

"A village, a village... A village with people in it..."

People began to scream. Some, weighed down by heavy clothing, tore off their cumbersome robes right then and there and broke into a near-frenzied sprint toward the village.

Yes, most of them were in a frenzy.

What reaction could you expect from a group of people who had fled famine for countless miles, only to suddenly stumble upon an oasis in a devastated landscape?

So, it was only natural that most were in a frenzy. Only those like Song Ciwan and Aunt Zhou, who had only recently been swept up in the group, could perhaps retain a shred of their senses.

But they had no choice but to surge forward. Everyone around them was. If you didn’t, it wasn’t just a matter of being left behind. You risked being shoved, trampled, and killed on the spot!

Song Ciwan pulled Aunt Zhou, who gripped her hand in return. Together, they were swept along by the human tide. Despite being surrounded, they felt like a tiny boat adrift on a vast ocean, frantic and alone.

Heads bobbed all around them. They were packed in so tightly all they could hear were chaotic shrieks mixed with excited cries.

Such cries always had a way of stirring up unpleasant memories.

Aunt Zhou sighed, her voice tinged with sorrow. "Lady Yue, this village... it’s going to be destroyed, just like our Bixi Village..."

The words had barely left her mouth when a deafening clamor of gongs and drums erupted from the village ahead.

DONG DONG DONG—

CLANG CLANG CLANG—

What was happening?

Amid the din, a tall platform was erected.

A brawny man, nine feet tall and built like a giant, strode onto the platform with a booming laugh. He carried a pig on each shoulder.

What a stunning sight it was.

The giant stomped across the platform—THUD, THUD, THUD—carrying the pigs. With each step, the ground seemed to tremble, and the platform itself swayed so precariously that people feared it might collapse at any moment.

The frantic refugees couldn’t help but halt their mad dash. They stared, dumbstruck. The cacophony of voices faded away, and the crowd grew so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

When his laughter subsided, the giant on the platform boomed, "All encounters are guided by fate! You have all endured a long and arduous journey. Now that you’ve arrived at our Wealth Village, let’s waste no time on pleasantries. My village will surely give you a worthy welcome! Lads, come on, let the pig roast begin!"

As soon as he finished speaking, another column of brawny men marched out from the village in neat formation. While not as colossal as the giant on the platform, each one was powerfully built. More importantly, each man carried a plump pig on his shoulders.

So many pigs—dozens of them!

Incredulous whispers began to ripple through the crowd of refugees. "What do they mean by this? Did I hear them right?"

"I don’t think you misheard. They’re going to slaughter pigs for us!"

"Are there really fools like that? Bah! I mean, are there really people that good?"

...

But the reality was, whether they were fools or saints, it didn’t matter. The villagers were actually slaughtering the pigs!

Just like that, in a large clearing before the village, dozens of pigs were swiftly and bloodily slaughtered by the men... every last one.

Men, women, and children of all ages poured out of the village. Some carried buckets of water, others set up pots and lit fires, and still others brandished iron ladles, eager to display their culinary skills.

Many children ran and shouted happily between the cooking stations. This scene of peace, prosperity, warmth, and acceptance made the refugees feel as if they were in a dream, their hearts filling with an inexplicable joy.

As the ancient sages said: "Only when the granaries are full can one know etiquette." The principle always holds true.

The refugees, accustomed to smashing, looting, and robbing, were indeed a vicious lot, more terrifying than bandits at times.

But the human heart, in truth, always yearns for the light—

Or, to be more precise, even the most wicked of people rarely wish for others to see them as truly evil.

They might even hope to be seen by others as decent, respectable people!

So, if they could be respectable, who wouldn’t choose to be?

Thus, under the exuberant hospitality of the Wealth Village residents, most of the refugees unknowingly shed their former Malice.

They saw themselves only as poor, suffering souls, completely forgetting the wicked deeds they had committed on their journey.

At the villagers’ invitation, they took their seats at the tables and joyfully partook in the pig roast.

Laughter and cheerful chatter filled the air as cups were raised and toasts were made.

People introduced themselves, shared their stories, and slowly, strangers became friends.

A villager asked, "So, is your family really all gone? You’re the only one left?"

The refugee sighed. "We came from Shanbei County, a journey of well over a thousand li! My old mother couldn’t take it; she died of thirst on the road. My wife secretly cut her own fingers to feed our little boy her blood. In the end, she bled to death, and our son succumbed to a fever... It was bitter, so bitter!"

At this point, he choked up, overcome with emotion.

The villager consoled him, "No matter how bitter, it’s all in the past now. The good thing is, you’ve come to our Wealth Village. You can settle down here. First, eat your fill and regain your strength. Then, our village chief will find you a house, get you a wife, and you can have a brood of children. Life will start anew, won’t it?"

The villager’s words were perfectly soothing. The refugee asked, surprised and delighted, "Settle down in Wealth Village? Me? Can I really?"

The villager replied, "Of course. It’s not just you—everyone who arrived today is welcome."

Elsewhere, the man who was built like a giant laughed heartily again. "That’s right! All encounters are fate, and all who gather are friends and kin! Since you’ve all come, you should all settle down here in Wealth Village!"

"Here in Wealth Village, all who arrive are our guests, and we turn no one away! Come, come! Eat and drink to your heart’s content! Our village has plenty of fat pigs. If we run out, we’ll just slaughter more! Hahaha!"

He was the village chief of Wealth Village.

The Giant Village Chief’s speech completely electrified the atmosphere.

The refugees were both thrilled and deeply moved. The aroma of the food was intoxicating. No alcohol was needed; simply stuffing their mouths with fragrant pork, bite after delicious bite, was enough to make the laughter flow endlessly.

Hahaha, hahaha—

The village was filled with laughter.

Song Ciwan and Aunt Zhou were also led to a table, where they were seated among fellow refugees and accompanied by some of the women from Wealth Village.

The women were just as enthusiastic as the other villagers, piling meat onto Song Ciwan’s plate and Aunt Zhou’s as well.

"Hurry, hurry, eat more," they urged. "Just look how thin you two are! You must have suffered terribly on your journey."

They spoke in gentle, motherly tones. But the way they looked at Song Ciwan was not at all like looking at a new acquaintance. It was more like they were looking at a treasured possession of their own.

It held a trace of... heartache, the kind felt for a possession that had not been well-maintained.