BDSMST -Chapter 168 Heroes from All Corners Gather

The swordsman from the “Gale Blade Alliance” was named Meng Kuo, a well-known figure in the northern territories. Now, standing at the village entrance, tomato in hand, holding the Woniu Village Guest Manual, he felt his worldview, painstakingly built over decades, crumbling piece by piece.

In the days that followed, this sense of collapse replayed itself with every newly arriving Jianghu visitor.

A lone thief, famous for his lightness skill and known as “Snowless Footprints,” tried to test Woniu Village under the cover of night. As he climbed over the outer wall, he hadn’t even landed before a net sprung from the bushes caught him midair, suspending him upside down. A patrol of guards carrying torches and whistling leisurely approached, expertly slapped a “Violation: Nighttime Trespass—Fine Fifty Taels” ticket onto him, and left him dangling.

A female guild leader from the Jiangnan “Mist & Rain Tower,” confident in her beauty and charm, tried to cozy up to the estate’s manager to gather information. After fluttering her eyes at Steward Wang for a while, all she received was a neatly handed “Agricultural College Enrollment Brochure,” with Wang kindly asking, “Miss, I see you have good constitution. Are you interested in our estate’s cotton cultivation? If you enroll now, there’s a twenty-percent discount.”

Even the venerable Shaolin Master Lefan faced a small “challenge.” He had sought a quiet place to meditate, but was intercepted by the two children, Gu Xuan and Bai Ling’er. They were fascinated by his shiny, polished Buddhist beads. One asked what type of wood the beads were made from and their density; the other asked if they could be considered a “concentration of spiritual energy.” Lefan, despite a lifetime of studying Buddhist philosophy, had no answer and was forced to retreat.

In no time, “Woniu Village—the Best Estate in the Land” became the hottest and strangest topic in the Jianghu. Heroes and masters from all walks of life, whether righteous sect leaders or powerful villains, had to obediently follow the estate’s rules upon arrival.

All guests were assigned to newly built rows of guesthouses on the east side of the estate. The accommodations were clean and comfortable, but the management was as strict as a military camp. Guests had to rise at the Mao hour (5–7 a.m.) and lights out at Xu hour (7–9 p.m.), with no alcohol, gambling, or private fights allowed.

What frustrated them most was another rule in the manual.

One day, a hot-tempered elder from the Kongtong Sect slammed his palm onto the guesthouse table, rattling the teacups. “This is absurd! We came to participate in a martial arts gathering, not to be imprisoned! Who says we can’t drink or eat meat?”

A scholar holding a judge’s brush nearby replied slowly, “It’s written in the manual: the estate uses a ‘contribution points’ system. If you want to drink or eat meat, you can—by exchanging contribution points.”

“Contribution points? What’s that?” asked a dual-blade swordsman.

The scholar opened the manual and read aloud: “To ensure all estate operations run smoothly during the gathering, every guest must contribute labor within their capability to earn contribution points. Contribution points can be used to exchange for meals, upgraded accommodations, and various recreational services.”

“Labor? You want us to work?” The Kongtong elder’s beard bristled in indignation. “I am one of the Five Elders of Kongtong, and you want me to plant your fields?”

However, when they were hungry and saw the first batch of “workers” coming out of the dining hall carrying steaming braised pork and fragrant chicken legs, everyone’s stomachs betrayed them and growled loudly.

The first to surrender were several young disciples. Unable to endure the plain food, they secretly went to the “Contribution Point Task Board”—essentially the village bulletin board at the entrance—to claim tasks.

The tasks were varied.

“Clear the wild land behind the hills. For every plot cleared, reward: 10 contribution points.”

“Help the shipyard carry timber—every 100 jin earns 5 contribution points.”

“Remove seeds from cotton in the textile workshop—each basket processed earns 3 contribution points.”

…

The young disciples picked the simplest task: “cotton seed removal.” They had assumed it would be easy, but once they began, they realized that the work, though seemingly simple, required extreme patience and meticulous care. After a single hour, their backs ached and legs were sore, and they had barely earned a dozen contribution points.

When they finally exchanged their hard-earned points for two meat buns and devoured them, the taste felt sweeter and richer than the finest delicacies they had eaten in their sects.

Once they had a taste of the first reward, they eagerly sought the second.

Gradually, a peculiar scene unfolded in the estate.

In the mornings, a group of Jianghu heroes would argue passionately over whether swordsmanship or blade techniques were superior. By the afternoon, those same people were carrying hoes in the fields, secretly competing over “whose furrow was straighter.”

Two sects that had almost drawn swords the previous day over old grudges were now assigned together to feed piglets in the same pen. Watching the cute squealing little pigs, their animosity slowly melted away without their noticing.

Even the proud Kongtong elder finally humbled himself after three days of hunger. He was given a task of chopping firewood. Channeling his internal energy into his palm, a single strike split a thick wooden post into evenly sized pieces of firewood. The efficiency left the villagers responsible for recording contribution points wide-eyed with amazement.

Looking at the 50 contribution points he instantly earned and the towering pile of neatly chopped firewood, the Kongtong elder realized for the first time that his “Monument-Breaking Palm” had uses beyond striking enemies.

That evening, he exchanged his labor for a pot of the finest Woniu Spring Tea and a plate of braised beef. Sitting in the courtyard, pouring and sipping for himself, he found it somehow even more satisfying than being waited on by disciples in his sect.

Woniu Village, in this peculiar way, gradually drew these unruly Jianghu heroes into its rhythm. Sword clashes became rare, replaced by laughter and chatter in the fields. The deadly tension of the Jianghu faded, replaced by the lively, down-to-earth energy of the estate.

Li Er stood watching, hands on his hips, and said to his brothers, “See that? Madam’s trick—what do you call it? Oh right, ‘Labor Reform.’ Doesn’t matter what kind of hero you are—once you’re here, you work the land like everyone else.”

No sooner had he finished speaking than two swordsmen, previously arguing over who wielded the “Number One Sword,” nearly came to blows again—this time over a watering task.

Li Er rushed over and grabbed one by each arm to separate them.

“What are you arguing about? Watering the plants? That’s nothing! Look over there—fresh pig manure needs fermenting. That’s real skill! Whoever goes gets double contribution points!”

The two world-class swordsmen exchanged a glance at the steaming pile of manure and, silently, lowered their blades.