Chapter 951
Chiseling Stone?
He brought out several bowls of thin porridge—or rather, yellow broth with a few grains of rice floating in it—and two dishes of salty, bitter pickled radishes.
"I apologize for the inconvenience. Our shop simply doesn't have anything of value to offer."
Pigsy looked at the few lonely grains of rice in the bowl, opened his mouth, but swallowed back the complaint that was about to come out.
Although he was lazy and loved to eat, he wouldn't complain about the food when others were starving. He silently picked up his bowl and finished the thin porridge in a few gulps, even licking the rice residue clean from the bottom of the bowl.
Chu Yang didn't drink the porridge. He took out some dry food from his storage bag—sesame seed cakes, dried meat, and a few pastries—and placed them on the table.
"Shopkeeper, you can keep these dry rations. Don't give me the porridge; share it with others who need it."
The shopkeeper was stunned for a moment, and when he looked at the dry food on the table, his eyes immediately reddened.
"This...this is too much trouble..."
Chu Yang said, "Take it. When you're traveling, you should help others if you can. By the way, shopkeeper, I wanted to ask—when did this drought start?"
The shopkeeper sat down and wiped his eyes with his sleeve.
"It's been two years. Since the autumn of the year before last, there's hardly any rain. The first year was manageable; the crops yielded less, but we still had enough grain to eat. Last year, the well water started to drop, and the water we drew became increasingly murky. This year is even worse—most of the wells in the city have dried up, and the few remaining are almost empty."
"Isn't the government doing anything about it?"
The shopkeeper sighed.
"Yes, sir. The county magistrate is also anxious. He's reported it to higher authorities several times, and two batches of disaster relief grain have been allocated. But how much of that grain can be distributed to each person? A family of three won't even get two liters of rice; that won't last more than a few days."
"The county magistrate also sent people to dig wells. Seven or eight new wells were dug outside the city. Some were dug to a depth of three or four zhang (approximately 10-13 meters) and still dry, while others did yield water, but the water was bitter and astringent, and drinking it would cause stomach upset."
"We even consulted shamans. The old Taoist priest in the Dragon King Temple on the west side of the city performed rituals for seven days and seven nights, begging the Dragon King to send rain. The rituals were completed, but not a single drop of rain fell."
The shopkeeper shook his head at this point.
"The people who could leave have already left, going to stay with relatives in other places. Those who can't leave are just staying here, counting down the days."
After listening to the innkeeper's words, Tang Sanzang remained silent for a long time.
……
The next morning, Tang Sanzang went to find the village head and several local gentry.
He identified himself, explained his purpose, and then proposed to set up a soup kitchen in the city to use their surplus food to relieve the disaster victims.
Chu Yang still had several bags of millet and a bag of wheat flour in his storage bag—these were what he had purchased and stockpiled along the way in various villages and towns. The quantity wasn't large, but it wasn't a small amount to take out at a time like this.
Tang Sanzang also found some silver in his luggage—this silver was the travel money allocated to him by the imperial court when he set off from the Tang Dynasty—and donated it all, while Tuoli went to a neighboring county to purchase grain.
The porridge stall was set up in the city square. A large iron pot was placed on a makeshift stove, and millet porridge was cooking in the pot. It was a bit thin, but at least it was clean.
As soon as the news spread, everyone in the city who was still able to walk came.
People of all ages, men and women, lined up, each holding a bowl. The queue stretched from one end of the square to the other, winding through several bends.
Tang Sanzang stood beside the porridge stall, personally serving porridge to everyone who came.
He spoke to people while serving porridge, his voice as gentle as a clear spring.
"Don't be discouraged, benefactor. The hard times will eventually pass. As Buddha said, everything in the world is subject to reincarnation; after a drought comes rain, and after misfortune comes good fortune."
"How many people are in your family? How many days have your children been hungry? Here, bring another bowl."
“You are elderly and have difficulty walking, so you don’t need to queue up in person anymore. This humble monk will have the porridge delivered to your home.”
He also set up a simple platform in the square and preached Buddhism to the gathered disaster victims every afternoon.
The content wasn't some profound scripture, but the simplest truth—neighbors should help each other; if you have a mouthful of food, share half with someone who has no food; if you have a ladle of water, share half with someone who is dying of thirst. People can't live only for themselves, especially in years of disaster. One person's strength can't last long, but ten or a hundred people working together can get through the hardest days.
The disaster victims sat around the podium, craning their necks to listen to him speak. Some people's eyes regained a glimmer of light, some silently shed tears, and some, after listening, went home and took out the last half-bag of rice they had hidden and handed it to the village head, saying they wanted to pool their resources and share it.
Chu Yang witnessed all of Tang Sanzang's actions.
He didn't say anything.
Because what Tang Sanzang did was indeed right.
In the face of disaster, emotional support is just as important as material assistance. When someone is hungry, giving them a bowl of porridge might only keep them alive for one more day. But if, along with the porridge, you tell them, "You're not alone," they might be able to endure for three, five, or even longer.
Tang Sanzang was born to do this kind of thing. His voice, his eyes, and his demeanor naturally inspired trust and reassurance.
The problem is that food supplies are limited.
Chu Yang made a rough estimate. The grain stored in his storage bag, plus the grain that Tang Seng's silver could buy, was at most enough to feed the entire city for five days. And what about after five days?
Moreover, food is only half the problem. Water is even more deadly.
A person can survive ten days to half a month without food, but will perish in three days without water. The wells in this city are rapidly drying up, and the few remaining wells only yield mud. Without solving the water problem, no amount of food can save this city.
Tang Sanzang seemed to realize the problem, but he couldn't do anything about it.
He was a monk, not a dragon king, so he couldn't conjure rain. All he could do was preach Buddhist teachings, soothe people's hearts, and pray for divine intervention.
On the evening of the third day, Chu Yang left the city alone.
He didn't tell anyone what he was going to do.
After leaving the city gate, he walked north along the official road outside the city for about half a mile, then deviated from the official road and headed northeast towards a hilly area.
He had observed those hills from afar on the city wall yesterday. On the slopes of the hills grew a few shrubs that had not yet completely withered—in the vast expanse of withered, scorched earth, those few shrubs that still retained a trace of green stood out conspicuously.
The presence of surviving plants indicates that there is still moisture underground in that area.
When Chu Yang reached the foot of the hill, the sun had already set behind the mountain ridge, leaving only a last ray of light that turned the clouds on the horizon a purplish-red. The heat subsided somewhat, and a slight coolness filled the air.
He crouched down and placed his left hand on the ground.
The soil was extremely dry, and the topsoil had hardened into a crust that could not be broken off with a finger.
Chu Yang closed his eyes and slowly channeled the spiritual energy within his body into the ground through his palm.
The Taiyi Qi Cultivation Technique is not an aggressive cultivation method. Its core function is "cultivating qi"—perceiving and harmonizing the spiritual energy between heaven and earth.
The flow of spiritual energy is closely related to the natural environment. Where there is water, the flow of spiritual energy will have a special "moist" quality, like a stream flowing into a river, gentle and continuous.
Chu Yang extended his spiritual energy inch by inch into the ground, trying to sense the moisture level in the deep soil.
One foot deep—dry.
Two feet deep—dry.
Three feet deep—still dry.
Five feet deep—the soil began to change, from compacted loess to slightly looser sandy soil. But it was still dry.
Eight feet deep—the sandy soil begins to mix with gravel.
One zhang deep—a layer of gravel. Completely dry. Chu Yang's spiritual energy had reached its limit. With his Qi Refining stage cultivation, being able to extend his perception one zhang underground was already a stretch. Going any deeper would be beyond his capabilities.
He withdrew his spiritual energy, stood up, and moved to a different position.
This time he walked directly beneath those bushes.
The shrub's roots had arched out a short distance from the ground, with thin, chopstick-like roots embedding themselves in the cracks of the rocks. Although most of the leaves had turned yellow, the innermost few still retained a grayish-green hue, indicating that the plant was not completely dead.
He squatted down again, placed his palms on the ground, and infused them with spiritual energy.
One foot – dry.
Two feet – dry.
Three feet—slightly different now. It's not damp, but rather a very subtle "coolness".
Five feet—the coolness became even more pronounced. A very small amount of moisture was mixed in with the sandy soil; the content was so low that it wasn't enough to form a stream, but it was definitely present.
Eight feet—the chill suddenly intensified.
The soil has changed. It has transformed from sandy soil into a denser clay layer, with a significantly higher water content than the sandy soil above.
One zhang—Chu Yang's spiritual energy encountered a very hard layer of rock.
I sensed the end.
But the instant the spiritual energy touched the rock layer, he vaguely sensed an extremely faint vibration.
The vibration did not originate from the rock itself, but from a deeper part beneath it.
It looked like something was flowing under the rocks.
water.
groundwater.
Chu Yang suddenly opened his eyes.
His heart was racing, but he remained outwardly calm.
He stood up, walked around the bushes, and tried several different spots.
The results at each location all pointed to the same conclusion—below this hill, at a depth of about one to two zhang (approximately 3.3 to 4.6 meters), lies a dense layer of rock. Below this rock layer, groundwater flows.
The problem lies in that layer of rock.
It acts like a lid, sealing off the groundwater. The reason why the wells dug by city dwellers couldn't reach water is likely because they stopped digging at this layer of rock—ordinary manual digging encountering hard rock is essentially hitting a wall.
But what if there was a way to break through that layer of rock?
Chu Yang's mind raced.
Ordinary people can't break through it. Even if dozens of strong laborers worked day and night with pickaxes, it would take ten days to half a month to penetrate a ten-foot-deep layer of rock. Moreover, if the direction and position were wrong, all their efforts would be wasted.
But he is not just an ordinary person.
He has Sun Wukong.
And there's Pigsy (Zhu Bajie).
One is the Monkey King, and the other is the reincarnation of Marshal Tianpeng. With their combined strength, they could not only carve through a layer of rock, but also overturn an entire hill.
Chu Yang found a high spot on the hill with a wide view and sat down, taking advantage of the last bit of daylight to carefully observe the surrounding terrain.
The hills run from northeast to southwest, with a gentle slope; the highest point is only two or three zhang (approximately 6.6-9 meters) higher than the surrounding plains. The north slope of the hills is slightly steeper than the south slope. At the bottom of the north slope, there is a dried-up gully with clear water erosion marks on its walls, indicating that seasonal water flow once passed through this area.
The lowest point of the gully was exactly where he had sensed the strongest groundwater vibrations.
"This is it," Chu Yang decided in his mind.
He took a piece of gravel from his storage bag, drew a large circle on the ground at the lowest point of the gully as a marker, and then got up and walked back towards the city.
……
By the time we got back to the inn, it was completely dark.
Tang Sanzang is still in the square. He's been busy at the porridge stall all day and hasn't returned yet.
Sun Wukong was squatting on the steps at the entrance of the inn, munching on a peach—it was unclear where he got it—and when he saw Chu Yang return, he gestured with his chin towards him.
"Where did you go?"
Chu Yang sat down next to him.
"I went out of town for a stroll. Brother Monkey, I found water."
Sun Wukong almost choked on the peach in his mouth.
"What?"
"Groundwater. About half a mile northeast of the city, there's a hilly area with underground water veins beneath it. The water flows beneath the rock layer and can't be reached. But if we could drill through that layer of rock, the water should gush out on its own."
Sun Wukong flicked the peach pit away and patted the juice off his hands.
"How did you find it?"
Chu Yang briefly recounted how he used the Taiyi Nourishing Qi Technique to sense the underground water veins.
After listening, Sun Wukong tilted his head and thought for a moment.
"Are you sure you're not misperceiving? Detecting spiritual energy is prone to error when your cultivation level isn't high enough. What if it's not water down there but a lump of wet mud?"
Chu Yang said, "I can't be 100% certain, but the probability is high. There are several pieces of evidence for that location—first, those shrubs haven't completely withered, indicating that their roots can absorb water from the ground; second, the gully has obvious water erosion marks, indicating that water used to flow there; third, I sensed vibrations on the surface of the rock layer, and the frequency and texture of those vibrations didn't seem like those of a solid or a gas, but more like the flow of a liquid."
"With these three pieces of evidence combined, the probability of an underground water vein is at least 70%."
Sun Wukong remained silent for a few moments.
"Seventy percent. That's not low."
“Hmm.” Chu Yang looked at him. “So I’d like to ask Monkey King and Pigsy to come with me tomorrow to help us break through that layer of rock. With your combined strength, it shouldn’t take too long.”
Sun Wukong scratched his cheek.
"Chiseling stones? That's a fool's job. I, Old Sun, fight monsters, not stones."
"Monkey King—"
"Alright, alright, let's go." He waved his hand. "We'll leave first thing tomorrow morning. Call that idiot along too, let that fatso do something useful."
Just then, Pigsy came out of the inn with a bowl of thin porridge in his hand. When he heard Sun Wukong's words, his pig face fell.
"What important business are you doing? I've been busy all day—helping to move sacks of grain all afternoon—my arms are aching—what else do you want me to do tomorrow?" (End of Chapter)