Free Web NovelChapter 377: Chapter 353: Is There Anything Else?
He successfully captured everyone’s full attention.
His gaze firm, he looked at the crowd and declared, "Are you going to give up, or are you going to fight for a chance to live?"
"Don’t give up. Stay alive. If we’re dead either way, why not give it one last shot?"
A young man clenched his fists, a flicker of hope igniting in his eyes.
"What’s happened so far proves you were right about everything. I’ll follow you."
Another person chimed in.
"Exactly. Maybe he can lead us out of this desperate situation.
Ever since that strange incident at the manor gate, he’s always seemed to have a keen sense of what’s really going on."
The young men and women around them nodded one after another as a growing number of people started to put their faith in Chu He.
Zou Baixuan opened his mouth, as if to say something in rebuttal,
but when he glanced at the tense and terrifying situation before them,
his lips twitched, and he ultimately swallowed the words he was about to say.
He stood silently in the middle of the crowd,
burying his head low like a startled ostrich and acting the coward.
"Why would your village plant such bizarre, terrifying things in its vegetable gardens?"
Lai Yu Yao frowned,
her sharp gaze fixed on the villager standing in the doorway as she demanded.
’There’s definitely something wrong with this villager from Xia Shui Village. That much is certain.’
’Even if he doesn’t know the whole truth,’
’he has to be inextricably linked to this complicated mess.’
’Maybe, just maybe, from this seemingly ordinary villager,’
’they could find the very key to escaping their desperate predicament.’
"What’s it to you? It’s a village tradition. Every household plants them."
The villager snapped, his face a mask of impatience,
his attitude like that of an angered hedgehog—bristling with wariness and defiance.
"Do these plants have a specific use?"
As Chu He spoke, he got his wallet from Sun Canxing,
then quickly pulled out a few crisp hundred-yuan bills and stuffed them into the villager’s hand.
The red bills were especially striking in the darkness, seeming to exude a subtle Magic Power.
The villager’s eyes instantly lit up,
and his attitude did an immediate one-eighty, softening considerably.
He carefully pocketed the money, his expression suddenly animated as he explained, "We call these plants Deadman’s Grass.
And this Deadman’s Grass is truly a wondrous thing!
No matter the ailment, you just eat a little bit of this Deadman’s Grass and you’re cured instantly.
From minor things like a cold or a cough,
to the kind of incurable diseases that make people turn pale just hearing about them. It handles them all.
I didn’t believe it at first, either. I mean, think about it—how could something so magical exist?
So why did I come to believe it?
Well, that’s a long story.
Earlier this year, I was up on the mountain working. Talk about bad luck,
I wasn’t paying attention, my foot slipped, and I came tumbling right down the mountain.
You should have seen it. That scene was terrifying.
My ribs were completely broken, and one of ’em had even pierced my heart!
The village’s ’barefoot doctor’ came, took one look, and just shook his head.
His meaning couldn’t have been clearer: I was a lost cause.
And it wasn’t just him. The other villagers who’d gathered around to watch the commotion,
could all see I had one foot in the grave.
Right then, one of the villagers who’d been the first to plant Deadman’s Grass ran home, picked a bit, and brought it back.
Everyone was out of ideas at that point, so they figured it was worth a shot—a last-ditch effort.
After I ate the Deadman’s Grass, I didn’t feel anything at first. I just... waited.
After a few minutes, I felt a cold chill spreading through my body.
It was the weirdest feeling.
At the time, I thought my injuries were getting worse. ’This is it, I’m really done for,’ I thought.
But who would’ve guessed? In just half an hour,
I was able to sit up on my own, just like nothing had ever happened.
Now you tell me, if that ain’t a miracle, what is?"
The villager spoke with animated excitement, spit flying as he talked,
and whenever his gaze swept over the bizarre plants they called Deadman’s Grass,
his eyes filled with a look of reverence,
as if he weren’t looking at terrifying, unknown things,
but at rare treasures that could bring him endless good fortune.
