The sun rose as usual, and in places close to the bitter lands of the Southern Wasteland, daytime always lasted a little longer. Everyone in the Smoke Pot Mercenary Corps was up and working: cleaning the grounds, tidying up, checking on the peculiar slaves—just like any other day. But their expressions were odd, because the deputy leader was dead. Sure, the deputy had died plenty of times before, and last night's death wasn't even the weirdest one. But what really made people scratch their heads was that the murderer was just sitting calmly in the prison wagon, like nothing had happened.
Honestly, if you told this story anywhere else, nobody would buy it—a killer just sitting there quietly like nothing happened, and even stranger, everyone just went along with it, holding their noses but still accepting it.
Nobody suggested punishing the Fool. First off, he really was a fool—a total fool. Is it a crime if a fool kills someone? Hard to say. And besides, there's one more thing: he's a very valuable fool.
The newly appointed deputy leader quickly figured out how the Fool escaped—the prison wagon door was busted. No one ever paid much attention to the Fool, so his wagon was always locked half-heartedly. The last deputy was sloppy, and the door had been rotting for ages. The Fool just pushed it open and strolled out, easy as leaving his own bedroom.
The new deputy leader immediately swapped in the sturdiest prison wagon and locked the Fool’s hands in chains. Two massive iron locks, each weighing thirty catties, clamped onto his arms like bracelets, and dangling from the chain between them was a two-hundred-catty iron ball. Looked solid enough from any angle.
Still, the deputy leader wasn’t quite reassured: “Does this Fool have any internal energy or not?”
“Reporting to sir, we’ve checked thoroughly—he really doesn’t have any internal energy. There’s not a trace of cultivation in his acupoints or meridians. Apart from having a bit more blood and vitality than normal folks, there’s nothing special about him.”
The deputy leader was skeptical: “You sure about that?”
“The boss checked him personally.”
“Oh…” The deputy leader nodded. If that’s really the case, then there’s nothing much to worry about. Sure, the Fool could toss Hercules thirty zhang with one arm—that’s impressive strength, but not totally unheard of. If Hercules did it himself, he’d probably throw himself even farther and land harder.
Still, wanting to keep his own skin intact, the new deputy leader decided to play it safe and took a bunch of extra precautions.
He tried sneaking up and banging gongs and drums behind him to scare him.
He used his internal energy to threaten his heart meridian.
He whispered nasty things in his ear to intimidate and provoke him.
In one day, the deputy leader tried every trick in the book. Any normal person would’ve at least flinched or had some sort of reaction after all that—maybe a change in their eyes, even just for a second. But the Fool was the same from start to finish, deaf to everything, just like the past ten days. It was as if the whole thing with smashing the previous deputy leader to death was a mass hallucination, and everyone just remembered it wrong.
“Is he really just a fool?” The deputy leader tilted his head and asked his underling, “What do you think?”
“Well, boss, I figure no ordinary person could have that kind of strength—but fools always seem to be stronger than most.”
“Hmm, makes sense.” The deputy leader nodded. “Guess he really is just a fool, nothing more.” Maybe he was just saying it to calm himself down, but the new deputy leader kept muttering as he walked away. After a couple of steps, he spun around to double-check—the guy in the prison wagon was still wooden as ever. The deputy leader shrugged and chuckled, then wandered off.
He didn’t notice that the Fool’s gaze on the world had changed a little, sometimes showing a flicker of curiosity, thought, or memory. It was brief, rare, and faint—mostly, he was still wooden. It was like he was slowly waking from a deep nightmare, his mind gradually returning, but not all at once. Somewhere between asleep and awake, confused and foggy, nobody could say when he’d snap out of it.
Anyway, the Fool was put on the back burner for now. He was dumb, he was valuable, and nobody wanted to mess with him.