Chapter 23

Temineituo

Jon shifted uncomfortably, trying his best to avoid Old Man Han's piercing gaze. Deep down, he was petrified.

What the hell does this guy want from me? Do I owe you money or what? he said internally.

The old man drank slowly, eating with rigid movements, but his eyes never left Jon - unblinking and intense, as if staring straight into his soul.

Jon could feel beads of sweat forming on his brow. Please stop, I beg of you, he thought desperately.

Just then, he felt Zhen Wu's firm hand clap his shoulder, the burly chief barking out a hearty laugh. "Hahaha, don't look so intimidated by Old Man Han over there. That's just how he looks at people."

That's his normal look?! Jon plastered on an awkward smile, forcing out a shaky chuckle. "Ah, ha haha, I...I wasn't intimidated at all, haha."

His gaze flickered back to Old Man Han, who seemed to be glaring even more intensely now, if that was possible.

Weirdo, Jon thought with an inward cringe.

To his horror, the old man's bushy eyebrows furrowed further, as if he had somehow heard Jon's internal insult clear as day.

Jon's eyes went wide, and he quickly averted his gaze, staring downward. Shit! Did he hear me? Do...do you hear my thoughts?

He risked another sidelong glance, only to see Old Man Han rising to his feet with a grunt. Jon sighed in relief. At least the strange old codger was leaving them be.

But then, to his horror, Zhen Wu spoke up jovially. "Ah, he's finally coming over here!"

Wait - don't! Jon pleaded internally as the chief made space at their table, scooting aside.

"Have a seat, Old Friend," Zhen Wu said warmly, somehow oblivious to the palpable tension Jon felt radiating from the elder.

No, no no no, Jon thought desperately, even as he maintained an outward veneer of polite smile.

But it was no use.

Old Man Han closed the distance, glaring at Jon as he lowered himself into the space Zhen Wu had provided, sandwiching the young man right between the two patriarchs.

Zhen Wu saluted respectfully. "Brother Jon, you might not have been formally introduced, but this is Old Man Han. He was a friend of my late uncle...and a mentor to me."

Han grunted, fixing Jon with that same inscrutable look that seemed to bore straight through to his deepest thoughts and anxieties.

"Hmmph."

Jon's eyes ping-ponged between Zhen Wu and the terrifying Old Man Han. He felt rooted to the spot, like a deer caught in dangerously intense headlights.

Where the hell was he supposed to look? If he held Old Man Han's glare, would the cantankerous crank take it as a challenge and kick his ass right here? But averting his eyes seemed even more disrespectful. Jon's mind raced with increasingly ridiculous thoughts.

Did I accidentally insult his mother when I wasn't paying attention? Oh god, what if he really is some legendary cultivator who can read minds? I'm so dead if that's the case...

Jon gave an awkward half-smile, half-wince, feeling Zhen Wu's eyes switching between the two of them, clearly oblivious to the sheer dread and discomfort radiating off his new friend in waves.

Mustering his courage, Jon decided to try and break the tension with a friendly overture. He turned to fully face the glowering elder, putting on his most inoffensive smile.

"It's, uh, really nice to finally meet you, Old Man Han. Brother Qingshan has told me about-"

"HMMMMPH!" The gravelly grunt hit Jon like a bombardment, the old man's bulbous nose twitching with disdain as those beady black eyes seemed to bore straight through to Jon's soul.

What the fuck?! Jon recoiled as if struck, his palms going sweaty as he immediately retreated into an uncomfortable silence. Okay, nevermind then! God, this guy really does look like he wants to straight up murder me.

Shifting in his seat, Jon caught Zhen Wu's raised eyebrow and couldn't resist mouthing "What's his deal?" with an exaggerated wince.

The chief simply shrugged, failing to stifle an amused chuckle at Jon's obvious discomfort. He raised his cup in a mock toast to the old man, who remained rigidly unmoving and continued burning holes into the side of Jon's head.

This is going to be a long damn night, Jon thought with an inward groan. Either I'm about to get my ass absolutely whipped by this terrifying old bastard...or he just likes to creepily ogle people.

He snuck another sidelong glance at Han, feeling like a kid caught pulling the puppy's tail. The old man's piercing gaze didn't so much as flicker, those wrinkled jowls set in an eternal sneer of disdain and judgement.

Jon sighed, resigning himself to an evening of awkward silence and trying not to spontaneously combust under the sheer intensity of the old man's thousand-yard stare. Maybe if he just avoided eye contact at all costs, he could make it through the night with his ass mercifully unkicked.

Zhen Wu grabbed a ceramic pitcher, filling Old Man Han's cup

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"Let me pour you some wine, Uncle Han. It came directly from the Qiandao Plains - your favorite."

The old man's severe expression barely flickered as he gave a curt nod. "Hmm. Thank you, Wu."

Oh so you can actually talk and not just grunt like a cyborg, huh? Jon thought, surprised.

To his further surprise, the old man had a relatively youthful, smooth voice - more akin to a man in his 40s than the gravelly rasp Jon expected from someone of Han's advanced years. Everything about this peculiar elder screamed 'hidden cultivator living in the countryside who shouldn't be trifled with if one wished to keep breathing.'

Well, better stay on his good side then.

Jon grabbed a plate of marinated meat, the tender morsels still warm and fragrant. He slid it in front of the inscrutable old man with an innocent, polite smile.

"Here you go Terminator. I think meat goes well with wine."

The words slipped out before Jon could catch himself. Terminator? Is that really what I said? He cringed inwardly as Han's bushy eyebrows drew together in obvious confusion.

"Te-mi-nei-tuo?" The old man sounded it out haltingly. "What manner of address is this?"

Why? Why do you do this to me, brain?

Jon felt his stomach drop as he realized his slip of the tongue. He’d meant to say 'sir,' a simple, respectful address, but instead, his brain had decided to voice his inner, less-filtered thoughts.

This sort of thing happened sometimes, but for it to occur in such a precarious situation?

I'm fucked, he thought with dread, forcing an apologetic grimace.

"Ah, I-it means 'sir', sir!" Jon hurriedly backpedaled. "A term of great respect where I'm from."

The old man stroked his wispy beard contemplatively, fixing Jon with that same inscrutable look.

"I have never heard that title anywhere before."

Zhen Wu, bless his soul, jumped in to Jon's rescue.

"That's right, neither have I. But Brother Jon here is a merchant - he's probably picked it up during his travels, am I right?"

Jon seized the excuse like a lifeline, nodding rapidly.

"Y-yes! Yes, that's right. I heard some people call their respected elders by that name during my journeys abroad."

Han's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Hmm. And where precisely in your travels did you encounter this...Temineituo?"

Jon felt himself beginning to sweat again as the old man's hawkish gaze bored into him. In a panic, his mind blurted out the first sort-of plausible location that came to mind.

"It's a, uh, new language from the youth in Hainan! Yes, the region of Hainan. Very unique regional dialect and all that." He cursed his over-reliance on the location's name yet finding no other safe harbor in the storm of his panic.

He gave what he hoped was a casual, confident nod to sell the lie, but Han's withering look made it clear the old man didn't buy it for a second.

Just how deep of a hole was Jon digging for himself here? And what would this terrifying elder do when he inevitably realized Jon was full of shit?

The tense silence hung in the air for a beat before Old Man Han finally spoke up, his gruff tone carrying a hint of reluctant acceptance.

"I see. Interesting how even language changes as time goes by."

Jon could tell the old codger didn't fully buy his feeble Hainan excuse, but for some reason Han seemed willing to let it slide - at least for now. The old man's severe expression softened slightly into something approximating a thin smile, though it looked more like a grimace of indigestion.

Jon nodded quickly, relieved. "Yes, yes it is fascinating how dialects evolve."

Zhen Wu seamlessly interjected.

"Ah, Brother Jon. Brother Qingshan told me you were interested in visiting our library?"

The pseudo merchant seized on the new conversational thread like a life raft, nodding enthusiastically.

"Ah yes, I did mean to ask if that would be permissible. Your collection must be quite impressive."

The chief gave an approving nod. "Of course, of course. You're more than welcome to peruse our library's offerings. It's mostly volumes on the history of the Ming Empire and the great sects and clans. But I reckon it should prove a decent way to pass the time. It's been ages since anyone other than Doctor Yulian made use of those old tomes."

There was a flicker of sadness in Zhen Wu's eyes as he added, "Most of my people are illiterate, you understand. But the Empire insists all settlements maintain a library wherever possible."

Jon thanked the chief profusely, his mind already spinning with the possibilities.

The truth was, if he hoped to find some way to return to his own world, he would need to learn much more about this strange reality than just the name 'Hainan.' The village's library would provide the perfect opportunity to study up without arousing too much suspicion with overt questions.

As the two men discussed the logistics, one of the other village elders spoke up, segueing onto a new topic entirely.

"I still cannot believe that Demonic Sect stronghold was located so perilously close - just two days' ride from Zhilan Village! Can you even fathom it?"

Another elder shook his head gravely. "Indeed. And how tragic to learn of Venerable Huo Zheng's demise at their hands."

A pall of somber silence fell over the gathered men at the mention of Huo Zheng. Even Zhen Wu and the inscrutable Old Man Han seemed to react with grim solemnity.

I guess Huo Zheng really was a big shot among them, huh? Jon couldn't help thinking to himself. Just how important of a cultivator was he to invoke such a reaction?

The sullen quiet stretched on for a beat before Old Man Han spoke up, his gravelly voice flat and emotionless as he mechanically chewed his food.

"Huo Zheng was an Elder of the Shaolin Temple. He knew the risks of going toe-to-toe with such demonic enemies." Han paused, finally turning that piercing gaze towards the others. "Even for a warrior of his caliber, it would have been too much in the end."

Another village elder stroked his whiskery chin pensively. "Yes, but what confounds me is how they managed to hold him captive all this time while making everyone believe he was dead. It has been four long years since news of the Venerable's demise first spread. Only to discover now that he lived, until perishing just days ago..."

The old man shook his head, voice heavy with mournful disbelief. "Such a tragedy to lose one so righteous and chivalrous after the torments he must have endured these past years. The world is poorer for it."

A hush fell over the gathered men, the only sound the faint strumming of lutes and drums as the village musicians played on. Jon couldn't help reflecting on the wretched state he'd first encountered Huo Zheng - shackled like an animal, a massive boulder chained to his bent back.

The cultivator had mentioned being unable to circulate his Qi, his dantian suppressed by those disciples of satan. So how had he manifested such devastating power during those final, doomed moments?

Zhen Wu solemnly raised a whole bottle of rice wine, his booming voice cutting through the somber ambiance.

"Elders - let us raise our cups to the great Monk Huo Zheng. A paragon of righteousness whom I had the honor of meeting in my younger days. We have lost a truly noble soul this day."

The chiefs words seemed to rouse the other men, who obediently lifted their cups in salute - all except for Han. The inscrutable old man remained utterly still, arms crossed and eyes closed as if lost in deep contemplation over some inscrutable inner revelation.

Jon ignored the elder's apparent dissent, simply mimicking the toast alongside the others. He felt a surprising pang of real gratitude toward the fallen cultivator. After all, Huo Zheng had helped secure his escape from what seemed like certain death at the time.

As the men drank in respectful silence, Han's eyes suddenly snapped open, his gaze lifting skyward. Jon caught the odd movement from the corner of his eye and risked a sidelong glance, wondering just what new oddity the bizarre elder was-

Zhen Wu abruptly lowered his bottle, head swiveling upward as well to squint at something in the distant heavens. Jon instinctively followed the chief's line of sight, his jaw dropping slightly as he finally registered the rapidly-approaching shape.

Was it a bird? Was it perhaps, a plane?

No. A human figure deftly maneuvered what appeared to be a glowing... sword?

Yes, it was unmistakable. The figure was riding a glowing sword contrail high above them, casually descending from the star-flecked sky towards the village as easily as a bird in flight.

Oh shit, it's a cultivator, Jon realized with a start, trying and failing to keep his cool while inwardly freaking the hell out.