Chapter 61: The Five Prodigies of Heaven and Earth

In this world of the Great Tang, it seemed that everywhere he went, inexplicably, there were people who recognized him. Luo Gan had finally understood: it was either greasy middle-aged men or eccentric monks and magicians. To sum it up, none of them were entirely normal.

Luo Gan felt helpless. Seeing the rustic farmer seemingly waiting for him was no surprise, yet he still had to follow etiquette and greet him.

“Are you sure you haven’t mistaken me for someone else? Why are you waiting for me? Where is this place?”

As he spoke, Luo Gan’s brows knit together in caution as he scrutinized the farmer, wondering if he might be someone of consequence.

“Don’t be afraid! Come inside, oh, it’s been so long since I’ve seen anyone!” The farmer hopped about excitedly like a child, opened the gate, and invited Luo Gan in. Luo Gan, still doubtful, followed.

They sat together on small stools beside a stone table. The scent from the wine jar was intoxicating, so potent that just smelling it blurred the senses.

“Sit for a moment, I’ll go inside to fetch something.”

His voice was hearty and clear, with not a trace of gloom—perhaps only someone pure could speak so lightly.

Once the farmer had gone inside, Luo Gan felt as uneasy as if sitting on pins and needles. The unfamiliar surroundings, uncertainty about Yan Mountain and Farmer Jia’s safety, and the chilling thought of Erhu and the others turning into golden statues all unnerved him.

Fortunately, this was merely a game, a challenge, Luo Gan kept reassuring himself. Once it ended, things would return to normal.

He had dragged Erhu and Uncle De into this—truth be told, he had implicated them. Their current predicament left Luo Gan guilt-ridden.

But what if… he failed the challenge, or if this was more than mere illusion? What then? Luo Gan slapped his cheeks to clear his mind; dangerous, terrifying thoughts must be stopped immediately. The more he worried, the likelier his fears would come true. He had to look on the bright side.

Two cups were placed on the table, cast in bronze, their intricate patterns clear and complex. Luo Gan wasn’t knowledgeable about such things, only thought they belonged in a museum for all to admire.

Moreover, finding them in a farmer’s possession seemed unusual.

“These cups are beautiful. How did you come by them?”

“Heh, that’s a long story. Try some of this freshly brewed osmanthus wine!”

The farmer dipped a ladle into the wine jar, scooped up a wave of liquid, and poured it into the cup with the flourish of a master chef drizzling oil over a dish. The movements were elegant and pleasing.

The cup was pushed before Luo Gan, and it was hard to refuse. In truth, the aroma had already ensnared him, so he took a sip.

The scent of osmanthus wafted, as if the whole world were a sea of blossoms. The wine was enchanting—like riding by the lakeside, watching the sunset, as a gentle breeze caressed his face.

“How is it? Today’s an auspicious day, I’ve opened a jar especially for you. It must be fate!”

Luo Gan didn’t reply, lost in the wine’s spell, his spirit soaring among the clouds. After a long while, he finally managed a word.

“Excellent wine!”

The farmer was pleased, tapping the wine jar with the back of his hand, checking the remaining amount, then giving it another satisfied shake.

They sat on the stone stools. The farmer poured himself a cup and drank it in one gulp, wiping his mouth with gusto.

“Do you play chess?”

Chess? Luo Gan, who had never had many hobbies, instinctively guarded himself at such a question, afraid his shortcomings might be exposed—a dreadful matter.

“No, not at all.”

The farmer was surprised. “You don’t play Go? How about Chinese chess?”

“No… haha! Chess is really not my strong suit.”

Someone who knew nothing of chess was rare in this era. Go and Chinese chess weren’t just noble pursuits; even common folk played for leisure.

The farmer asked, “Then… what about Five-in-a-Row?”

Five-in-a-Row? Luo Gan’s first thought was that it was a modern pastime. Did it exist in ancient times?

“Five-in-a-Row? Is that a thing now?”

The farmer burst out laughing, uncovered the cloth on the stone table, revealing a board etched onto its surface. The lines were crafted with such care they might have been drawn by a machine. The farmer produced two bowls of black and white stones from beneath the table.

“Do you want black or white?”

Luo Gan was still a bit shocked, hardly thinking about it.

“Either is fine. You choose.”

The farmer placed the white stones before Luo Gan and set a black stone in the center of the board.

“Let’s begin!” The farmer rubbed his hands, eager to start.

Why was he here, after a cup of wine, encountering a farmer, and now inexplicably playing chess? Luo Gan was baffled.

Lost in thought, he placed a white stone in the corner, nowhere near the black.

“Interesting! Not following the usual patterns—you must be a master from beyond the world!”

The farmer placed his stone beside the black one. Luo Gan’s mind was elsewhere, making random moves, and soon the farmer had three stones in a row, creating a crisis.

“Ah, looks like I’m about to win.”

Luo Gan propped his chin on his hand, distracted. “You finally won. I should be going now.”

The farmer smiled, placing a fourth stone after his three. Instantly, the world changed—dead trees sprung up, the sea of flowers before Luo Gan withered to lifelessness, and the gate was sealed shut.

“What are you… doing?”

“I most dislike those who lack dedication. I offered you hospitality, so you must beat me in a game.”

“What if I refuse?”

“Then you can’t leave. That’s the trial of the third challenge.”

Luo Gan understood his predicament. He had to play Five-in-a-Row, and only winning would let him escape. He sat back down on the stone stool.

The farmer’s smile broadened; his mood seemed unaffected. He deftly separated the black and white stones.

“I won last time. This time, you start.”

Luo Gan made his move quickly, eager to finish, but the farmer countered with calm precision.

After several rounds, the farmer skillfully neutralized Luo Gan’s attacks, forcing him onto the defensive.

The farmer then linked several positions, cornering Luo Gan.

Careless for a moment, focused only on attack, Luo Gan was driven into a dead end.

“Defeat.”

The farmer’s lips curled into a smile. As he slapped the table, the earth shook; Luo Gan nearly lost his balance and fell.

Luo Gan thought, he was pressed for time—this game, if it dragged on, might even put his life in danger. Yet the farmer remained composed, utterly unperturbed. Was there a deeper secret here?

“What’s going on? Just now it was bright and sunny, now there’s an earthquake. Forget the game, let’s run for our lives!”

The farmer waved his hand. “Don’t panic. The game must be finished. Oh! I forgot to mention—you must beat me within five games, or you’ll stay here with me, drinking wine in the fields.”

He raised his cup and took a sip, his cheeks flushed.

“I think it’s not so bad. Why not just admit defeat and keep me company here?”

There was even a limit on the number of games? The wine’s haze lifted, replaced by a surge of terror. If he couldn’t win, wouldn’t he lose his life?

Luo Gan’s hands trembled, and a chess piece fell onto the floor.