July, and still not a single drop of rain.

Lingxi Village was named for a spring in the village’s northwest that perennially gushed clear water, forming a stream about ten feet wide.

By July, however, even this spring had stopped flowing.

Every morning, the villagers would carry wooden buckets and clay pots, forming a long line, waiting to draw water from the village’s old well.

Chen Li had a well at his home, temporarily sparing him the ordeal of scrambling for water.

Having missed the sowing season, he had instead settled down and devoted more energy to his Cultivation, allowing him to progress somewhat faster than usual.

Of course, without the aid of the Mysterious Black Tortoise Tribulation Secret Medicine, his progress wasn’t particularly fast.

"Are the heavens trying to kill us all? The well water’s almost gone. If this keeps up, forget the crops—we won’t even have enough water to drink."

In the main hall, Song Ying waved a cattail fan, her face etched with worry. She turned to Chen Li for his opinion. "Brother Li, about those people who came to borrow grain..."

"We’re not lending to anyone," Chen Li said, shaking his head.

"I know. But... the ones begging for grain looked so pitiful, especially those with little ones..." She was kind by nature. She knew her husband’s decision was correct, but she still couldn’t bring herself to be cruel.

Chen Li took his wife’s cool hand in his. "Ying’Er, we can’t afford to be soft-hearted. The moment we open that door, everyone will have their eyes on our grain. It’s not scarcity people resent, but unequal treatment. If we lend to one person, countless others will feel entitled to come and cause a scene. We can save one person, but can we save the whole village? We have to take care of our own family first."

"Alright. It’s just... seeing them like that makes my heart ache." Song Ying rested her head gently on Chen Li’s shoulder.

...

It was a sweltering, suffocating afternoon in August.

The sky darkened without any warning.

Heavy, lead-gray clouds rolled in from all directions, quickly swallowing the scorching sun.

A fierce wind suddenly rose, kicking up clouds of dust that made it impossible to open one’s eyes.

RUMBLE...

A blinding flash of lightning tore through the sky, followed by a crack of thunder so loud it made the very earth tremble.

Fat raindrops, carrying the scent of dust, slammed onto the scorching ground with a dull SPLAT, SPLAT.

Instantly, a hazy white mist steamed up from the parched earth, only to be immediately swallowed by a heavier sheet of rain.

"Rain! It’s raining! The heavens have finally shown mercy!"

"It’s raining!"

"The heavens are just..."

The silent village instantly erupted with life.

The villagers rushed out of their homes, heedless of anything else, and threw themselves into the torrential downpour.

They tilted their faces up, opened their arms, and let the cold rain wash over their bodies.

They knelt trembling in the mud, not caring as it splattered them from head to toe. Their laughter pierced the roaring downpour, echoing through the village.

This long-overdue rain fell for three full days and nights.

Counting from that insignificant snowfall in February, the terrifying drought that had swept across several prefectures had lasted for nearly seven whole months.

The rain had fallen, but the hardest days were yet to come.

Clinging to a final sliver of hope, many villagers tried to rush-plant a late crop of rice.

Lingxi Village was located in Jiangnan, with a warm climate, where two seasons of rice could be grown in a year. Planting in August and harvesting in November was, in theory, possible.

But everyone knew full well that the yield from a late rice crop was far lower than an early one, and the risks were immense.

If an early frost arrived before the grain heads could fill and mature, the result would be a complete and total crop failure.

In previous years, any family with some savings would have chosen to plant the more reliable rapeseed crop during the winter and spring.

But now, the drought had exhausted their stored grain, and they had no other choice...

If they planted, there was at least a glimmer of hope.

If they didn’t, it meant that for the entire winter and into the lean season of the following year, their families would have no choice but to starve and wait for death.

In September, the autumn chill began to set in.

The relative peace that had settled over Lingxi Village after the rain was suddenly shattered by a fierce argument.

The argument started with Chen Xingzhou’s family. During the lean season last year, they had been so poor they couldn’t afford to eat, so they mortgaged ten mu of their best paddy fields to borrow sixty shi of life-saving grain from Chen Yongquan.

The two parties agreed to a three-year repayment plan: twenty-five shi of grain per year.

But who could have predicted this year’s once-in-a-century drought? The meager late rice crop Chen Xingzhou’s family had rush-planted yielded a pitiful harvest, barely enough to feed themselves. How could they possibly have any surplus to repay their debt?

Relying on the fact that he was the clan leader Chen Xingjia’s cousin, Chen Xingzhou had assumed he could use their family connection to persuade Chen Yongquan to grant him a two-year extension.

To his surprise, Chen Yongquan ruthlessly refused. He produced the loan agreement, written in black and white, and demanded that Chen Xingzhou repay the grain on time and in full. Otherwise, as stipulated in the contract, the ten mu of paddy fields would be forfeit as payment.

Chen Xingzhou was both frantic and furious. His entire family of more than a dozen people, young and old, depended on those ten mu of land for their survival.

Backed into a corner, he threw his pride to the wind and started raising a ruckus in the village, loudly cursing Chen Yongquan for disregarding their shared kinship and for taking advantage of the disaster to rob them blind.

This disturbance sent the village into an immediate uproar.

Only then did Chen Li learn that during last year’s disaster, a full twenty-three households, forced by the need to survive, had also mortgaged their own farmland to borrow grain from Chen Yongquan.

When these twenty-three families saw that even a relative like Chen Xingzhou was being driven to desperation, a sense of shared misery washed over them. They knew they would be next.

They quickly banded together and indignantly confronted Chen Yongquan, demanding an extension on their loans.

Chen Li knew exactly what was happening. These were the commonplace tactics landlords used to seize the land of poor peasants in his past life. There was no way the Chen Yongquan family would let them off the hook so easily.

What Chen Li didn’t expect, however, was that he would soon be dragged into the turmoil himself.

About a month later, those twenty-three desperate families, led by Chen Xingzhou, came to find Chen Li.

Their idea was simple: they hoped to use their land as collateral to borrow grain from him, which they would then use to repay their debt to Chen Yongquan.

Chen Li sat on a wooden chair in his main hall, holding a bowl of hot tea, his brow slightly furrowed.

Chen Xingzhou stood before him at the head of the group, his old face flushed red and his chest heaving. Behind him stood two dozen other villagers, their faces etched with anxiety.

"Li!"

Chen Xingzhou’s voice was hoarse. "I have no other way out, so I’ve swallowed my pride and brought everyone to beg you. That black-hearted Chen Yongquan is pushing us too hard. If we don’t repay the loan, then... then the land passed down through our family for generations will all be his."

"That’s right, Brother Li!" an emaciated man cried, stepping forward. "Please, do us this kindness! Lend us some grain to get through this. If we can just survive this, then next year! Next year, we swear we’ll pay you back with interest, even if we have to sell everything we own!"

"Brother Li, please help us!"

"Master Chen, have mercy!"

"My kids at home are starving..."

The others all chimed in, talking over one another as they described their hardships.

Some lowered their heads and wrung their hands, some secretly wiped away tears, and others gritted their teeth and clenched their fists, as if they were about to kneel and beg him at any moment.

Chen Li inwardly scoffed at this plan. ’It’s just robbing Peter to pay Paul.’

Chen Li knew perfectly well how little land these twenty-three families owned.

They were already large families with small plots of land. Even in a good year, they barely grew enough grain to feed themselves.

’Even if I lend them grain this year, they still won’t be able to pay it back next year. And when that time comes, who knows what kind of new trouble they’ll stir up?’

’In the end, it’s just drinking poison to quench a thirst. All it does is shift the conflict onto me.’

’Chen Xingjia is the clan leader, a man of high standing and respect in the village, yet they still banded together to cause trouble.’

’I’m from a younger generation and have no real standing in the clan. On top of that, Chen Xingjia has been targeting me for a long time. What leverage would I have to make them pay me back?’

’If I take this hot potato, how could I possibly resolve it later?’

Chen Li slowly set down his teacup. After a moment, he shook his head. "I’m sorry, everyone. This grain... I can’t lend it to you."

"Why?"

Chen Xingzhou’s voice suddenly shot up, laced with incredulous anger and disappointment. "Chen Li! We’re all family, bound by unbreakable ties! Can you really bear to just stand by and watch our land be devoured by that jackal Chen Yongquan? To watch our families starve to death?"

"Exactly! How cold-hearted!"

"He’s just going to watch us die!"

"And to think we considered you one of our own..."

The other villagers also began to complain, some starting to accuse Chen Li of being cold-blooded and heartless.