On Fruits

At the entrance of Peach Blossom Village.

A group of sluggish walking corpses slowly cleared away mounds of yellow earth.

Chu Xingchen sat leisurely in a chair before a large iron cauldron of boiling oil, overseeing the work with an air of nonchalance.

Bones now floated in the cauldron, suggesting that some foolhardy souls had already taken an ill-advised "bath."

These walking corpses might have seemed brainless, but they weren’t—they just spoke in such foul language that Chu Xingchen, observing from the outer realm, couldn’t understand. However, Yuan Kong and the Village Chief, existing in the inner realm, served as intermediaries for communication.

Though their exact words were lost on him, Chu Xingchen had no patience for disobedience.

Anyone who refused to follow orders was promptly tossed into the oil cauldron.

Words could deceive, but actions never lied.

Clearly, the walking corpses still felt pain—the oil cauldron proved an exceptionally effective deterrent.

The group quickly cowered, their twisted limbs reluctantly taking up the crude labor.

Li Yingling had initially taken an interest in supervising, but the novelty soon wore off.

The walking corpses moved at a glacial pace, their efficiency dismal. Watching them work was nothing short of agonizing.

After all, one couldn’t expect much speed from creatures missing limbs.

After a few glances, Li Yingling abandoned her role as overseer and instead wandered around with Yuan Kong, rounding up stragglers who had skipped work.

Chu Xingchen didn’t care about efficiency—only that they worked.

For every task completed, he rewarded them with rest and encouragement.

Though unsure if they could even eat, he still brought out stored provisions, watching as they gnawed away with gusto.

Some corpses swallowed food only for it to tumble right back out through gaping holes in their stomachs—a rather wasteful sight.

Since these walking corpses couldn’t exactly be called human, Chu Xingchen imposed an eighteen-hour workday.

The Village Chief, questioning his own existence, asked,

"Did you ever consider them human?"

Chu Xingchen’s reply was blunt: "Do you think they are?"

The Village Chief fell silent.

Naturally, some tried to rebel, but the iron cauldron crushed all resistance.

Strangely, the corpses seemed to operate on some metaphysical principle—even after being melted down in the cauldron, they reassembled themselves once the oil cooled.

Most who endured the cauldron’s torment emerged obedient, though a rare few developed a nostalgic craving for its "bath."

Chu Xingchen happily obliged them with repeat visits.

After a few rounds, the corpses understood—this man was not to be trifled with.

Disputes among the workers were inevitable, but Chu Xingchen enforced a simple rule: the instigator went into the cauldron. Justice was swift and impartial.

Over time, Li Yingling rounded up more stragglers for "rehabilitation."

Progress continued steadily.

The dilapidated earthen houses at the village entrance were torn down and rebuilt—crude, but at least somewhat habitable.

Scattered bones were gathered and buried in a large pit to the south.

Through relentless labor and Chu Xingchen’s iron-fisted rule, the corpses gradually adapted—if they couldn’t resist, they might as well endure.

As simple earthen houses rose one after another, the best-performing corpses earned the privilege of moving in first.

The worst performers? They slept in mud piles.

Rewards and punishments were clear-cut.

Given the corpses’ sluggishness, Chu Xingchen didn’t have time to waste. He often discreetly assisted in construction, speeding things along.

The results were encouraging.

Within three days, the first housing project was complete—and astonishingly, three corpses shed their foul-mouthed tendencies.

They began using broken but intelligible words to communicate.

The Village Chief was utterly convinced.

This world truly ran on belief. As the corpses improved, the nearby river—once dark red—lightened to a pale crimson.

Chu Xingchen appointed the three reformed corpses as squad leaders, shifting their focus from construction to clearing the river and preparing vegetable plots.

His ruthless methods bore fruit. Two days later, most corpses showed signs of recovery.

With efficiency rising, Chu Xingchen reduced work hours and replaced the oil cauldron with an iron rod.

The murky, blood-red sky began to brighten.

Fish even started leaping in the river.

Once the initial struggle passed, improvement came faster than Chu Xingchen expected.

He no longer needed to enforce labor—the half-human corpses worked on their own.

The village slowly transformed from the inside out.

By the seventh day of supervision, some corpses were nearly indistinguishable from ordinary people.

Yuan Kong and the Village Chief weren’t useless either.

In the early stages, Yuan Kong had translated for the still-feral corpses, especially when determining punishments.

But as the villagers changed, his role faded.

Now, Chu Xingchen stood at the construction site, stretching lazily.

The Village Chief gazed at the revitalizing Peach Blossom Village and finally asked,

"What’s the secret to this success? You never seemed to care much about them..."

Chu Xingchen glanced at him and chuckled.

"Does caring matter? Humans are flawed. Without restraint, even the smallest spark breeds evil."

"You must make the wicked fear wickedness, and the virtuous dare to be virtuous. That is the true path."

"I don’t know how you managed things before, but remember—people follow blindly. The majority isn’t always right."

"You must know what’s right and stand by it—yet also recognize when you’re wrong and cut your losses."

"No one is always right. But you can’t live in fear of being wrong."

The Village Chief stood frozen for a long time before asking his next question:

"Then... was the Bodhisattva’s ideal mistaken? Is it impossible for beings to choose goodness willingly?"

Chu Xingchen pondered briefly.

"No ideal is wrong—only its timing. If the soil lacks the nutrients to grow the fruit, don’t blame the fruit."

The Village Chief lowered his gaze, then smiled faintly.

"You’re right... You’re right."

He lifted his robe.

His once pitch-black heart now pulsed with a faint white light.

The truth was undeniable.