Chapter 53

Chapter 53

Old Man Zhao hadn't expected the sharp-featured, weaselly-looking, scrawny man to be so elusive. He chased him all the way to the dense forest at the very edge of their patrol route.

Sharp Mouth was utterly exhausted. Initially, seeing that his pursuer was just a crusty old man—somewhat burly, but an old tiger past its prime—he thought he could outlast him in a contest of endurance. After all, how could an old man be a match for a young man? But goddamn it, he hadn't been able to catch his breath this whole chase! Unfamiliar with the surroundings, he had just run wherever there was a path, not paying attention to direction. Only when there was no longer any ground ahead to step on did he belatedly realize he had been driven like a sheep into a dead end!

No path ahead, and a relentless old man hot on his heels behind.

Sharp Mouth didn't want to die. Propping himself up on his knees, panting heavily, he pricked up his ears. Hearing footsteps gradually approaching, a cold sneer twisted his lips. Silently, he pulled an iron awl from his clothes. When the other was only three or four steps away, he suddenly spun around and lunged, thrusting the awl at Old Man Zhao!

Old Man Zhao, quick as lightning, grabbed his left wrist. Under Sharp Mouth's shocked gaze, he furrowed his thick brows and gave it a savage twist. A *crack* sounded, followed immediately by a sharp scream.

The awl dropped, stabbing into the dirt. Sharp Mouth's left hand bent at an impossible angle. In just one encounter, one of his hands was crippled.

And son of a bitch, he was left-handed!!

"Ah—" Sharp Mouth let out another scream mixed with a roar of rage. Pain made cold sweat break out on his forehead, snot and tears streaming out. It felt like his bones were crushed.

Old Man Zhao followed up with a kick to his stomach. Sharp Mouth instantly went flying backward like a rag doll and slammed hard onto the ground.

Well, I'll be damned... Old Man Zhao looked at his own foot in surprise. He felt reinvigorated. At this rate, living another thirty years wouldn't be a problem!

"Old Man, spare me, please spare me! I haven't done anything, really! I haven't killed anyone, I haven't stolen grain, and I certainly haven't messed with any girls. I just tagged along behind them for a bite to eat. Look at my scrawny frame—I couldn't even get to hot shit if I tried, never got the leftovers, just managed a bellyful of watery gruel at every meal... Old Man, oh Old Man, I'm telling the truth, every word! Spare me, and I'll be your slave from now on. I'll be your family's servant. Heh, you'll be the Old Master, the Old Master who just sits back and enjoys his fortune. I'll work the fields, I'll wash clothes, I'll do all the labor, I won't even eat... Wah, please give me a chance, Old Man! I'm really a good person! I only became a refugee because I had no choice!!" Sharp Mouth lay on the ground, weeping and wailing. His whole body squirmed like a maggot. Seeing Old Man Zhao step closer, he shrank back in terror.

How could he not be afraid? He had thought they were a bunch of defenseless rabbits waiting to be slaughtered. Who would have thought that cornered rabbits would dare to pounce and kill! He had witnessed firsthand how ruthless and merciless these people were. How were they like mere peasants? They were more like savage bandits than mere refugees!

So fierce, why did you run in the first place!

It made him misjudge their capabilities. A lifelong hunter, now gored by his prey!

"Old Man..." He bawled, snot and tears running down his face, but received no pity from Old Man Zhao. With a muffled grunt, Sharp Mouth stared in horror at the old man who now had a foot planted on his chest. In his heart, he cursed venomously, wishing the old man would drop dead on the spot, but his eyes shed tears of submission. "I really never killed..."

"Who's your 'Old Man'? Don't try to claim kinship with me," Old Man Zhao retorted without mercy, putting more weight on his foot. Sharp Mouth immediately writhed in pain, his eyes rolling back, pupils beginning to dilate. The force was like the weight of a mountain. "Quite the smooth talker. Someone else might have been fooled. I'm the Old Master in my own home without needing a servant like you!" After boasting mightily, Old Man Zhao ruthlessly tore off his hypocritical mask. "That unlucky fellow who died in your place—if you didn't kill him, did I? You vicious-hearted scum, what are you doing playing the innocent victim in front of me? This old man has eaten more salt than you've eaten rice. You're still too green!"

Not bothering with more words, Old Man Zhao gripped his hatchet. Amidst Sharp Mouth's shrill pleas for mercy, he aimed at the major artery in his neck, much like slaughtering a chicken. Sharp Mouth's pupils trembled violently in terror, his whole body trembling like a leaf. No matter how he struggled, he couldn't escape the old man's grip. He despairingly realized that all his clever tricks were like ants facing a mountain before absolute strength—an existence he could never hope to move even with all his life's effort.

"You... you... won't... die... a good... death..."

"Goddamn it, still cursing me with your dying breath," Old Man Zhao said, very displeased. "Too bad your family doesn't have a Little Deity, so that curse doesn't count. My family has one. I say you're going to die right now. Do you believe it?"

Sharp Mouth watched sideways, eyes wide, as the hatchet drew closer and closer to his neck. When the cold, notched blade touched his skin, the rough chill made him shiver. Perhaps terror had reached its peak, not knowing when the Reaper's blade would fall. Under this torment of uncertainty, his whole body jerked. A suspicious wet stain suddenly bloomed at a certain triangular area, and a foul, pungent smell assaulted the senses.

Old Man Zhao glanced at him with slight disgust, then brought the blade down, instantly ending Sharp Mouth's sinful life.

Judging by the sun, if he hurried, he might still make it to the second "feast." Old Man Zhao dragged Sharp Mouth's corpse and tossed it straight off the cliff. As he prepared to turn back, Zhao Dashan and Zhao Ertian finally showed up.

"Dad!"

"Dad, are you alright?"

Seeing him alone, Zhao Ertian was about to ask if he had lost the man, but Zhao Dashan spoke first: "Is that man dead?"

Old Man Zhao nodded, no longer in a hurry. He casually grabbed some wild grass by the roadside to wipe the blood off his chopper. "Didn't know how to handle it, so I threw him off the cliff." This place was rather remote, but not entirely. For instance, Zhao Dashan and the others patrolled in this direction. Leaving a corpse unattended, a skeleton lying on the path months later would be quite creepy. Throwing it off the cliff solved that—not only ensuring a thorough death, but also since no one went down there, it could be a lonely ghost for a hundred years without being discovered.

Only then did Zhao Ertian notice a pool of blood on the ground. He scratched his head—he really was the dimmest one in the family.

"How did things go on your end?" Old Man Zhao glanced at the large blade in his eldest son's hand. One look told him it was something extraordinary, extremely sharp.

"We left no survivors," Zhao Dashan said.

Zhao Ertian also nodded: "Same for us. We pushed them all into the cellar." Even if they weren't dead immediately, they would be dead soon. They absolutely wouldn't leave a single survivor. They had heard everything these people said along the way. Killing was one thing, but desecrating corpses? They were worse than beasts.

The father and three sons headed back. Halfway, they ran into Zhao Sandi, who was carrying a head.

"What the hell are you holding?!" The scene was too horrifying; even Old Man Zhao was startled. Though he had shown no mercy to these bandits, striking without hesitation when needed, even throwing Sharp Mouth's corpse down the mountain to feed the beasts, compared to his son now, his actions seemed pretty mild.

He was actually carrying a head!

"Our family's axe," Zhao Sandi replied, utterly indifferent to the head. Seeing his eldest brother, he straightforwardly tossed it to him, then immediately began frantically rubbing his palms against a tree in disgust. Who knew how long this thing had gone without washing its hair? The hair was greasy and stank. If it weren't for his family's heirloom axe embedded in it, he wouldn't even want to kick this head like a ball—it wasn't round enough.

"Why are you here? What about Songzi and the others?" Zhao Dashan was also disgusted. Why throw this thing at him!

"Songzi and Er Zhu were slashed. I had them go back to the graveyard to recuperate first. Uncle Da He and the others went after that burly man with the axe. I checked the cellar; those people were dead beyond dead. So I just came to find you."

Old Man Zhao quickly asked: "Where were they hurt? Serious? Will they live?"

"I sprinkled medicine powder on them. They should be fine for now." When he collected the tools, he had also checked the knife that wounded Wu Erzhu. It wasn't smeared with any filth. As long as he didn't develop a fever and took care of the wound later, he should pull through with proper rest. He had also checked Zhao Song's wound. Nothing seemed off on the surface, but specifics would depend on catching Axe Man.

Old Man Zhao nodded. The iron awl he confiscated from Sharp Mouth was indeed smeared with something foul. That scoundrel clearly was full of schemes. He had been on guard from the start. If he had been careless and actually wounded by him, even a scratch would likely have caused major trouble.

"What about Quan Zi and Yong Zi?"

"Probably still down the mountain."

Zhao Quan and Er Lai's father's task this time was to keep watch at the foot of the mountain—not near the village foothills, but halfway down the path from the village entrance into the mountains, roughly where Duan Zhi had sent Sharp Mouth and the others ahead to test for traps. They were guarding against any unexpected events. If anyone happened to come up or down the mountain midway, the two of them were responsible for clubbing them, eliminating the threat directly.

Keeping watch seemed like an easy job, but it was actually dangerous. If they failed to hide and were caught when Duan Zhi and his group entered the mountains, not only might they be killed on the spot, but it would also tip off the enemy. Zhao Dashan and the others lying in ambush in the mountains would have worked for nothing, and worse, losing two teammates before even starting would be a major blow to morale.

Fortunately, everything went smoothly, and Duan Zhi's group entered the mountains.

Zhao Quan and Er Lai's father knew nothing of what happened on the mountain. This path was actually the small mountain trail behind Er Lai's house. Er Lai's father knew it better than anyone. Finding a spot hard to detect, he lay prone, just like when patrolling outside the village, his eyes never leaving the path entrance.

When Axe Man rushed down the mountain from another direction in a frantic hurry, he spotted him immediately.

And Zhao Quan reacted even faster. Shrugging off the 'wild grass cloak' his wife had specially woven for him, the moment Axe Man passed by, he lunged and grabbed his legs. Axe Man never expected that with the mountain foot right before him and escape within reach, damn it all, someone could still jump out and ambush him!

Two equally burly, reckless men tumbled from the mid-slope all the way to the mountain foot. Zhao Quan's tackle left Axe Man stunned. The moment he was pinned down, due to sheer shock and the tension of fleeing with his heart in his throat, the sight of the light at the end of the tunnel made him relax momentarily. The axe he had been clutching like his life, in a moment of carelessness, slipped from his grip. Zhao Quan gave him no chance to retrieve it, simply grappling with him as they rolled down the mountain.

A brutal fistfight between men, fist meeting flesh, and with lethal intent at that.

The two men were evenly matched. You punch my forehead, I swing at your temple. Each blow drew blood, all aimed at vital spots.

Axe Man struck with immense force. He was taller than Zhao Quan, with longer legs and arms—his height naturally giving him an advantage over Zhao Quan's slightly smaller build. But Zhao Quan was more agile. Not only had he inherited his late grandfather's bushy beard, but also his great strength. One punch from him, and Axe Man, who had just been about to roar for help, gasped in pain, hissing through clenched teeth.

"You son of a..."

*Thud!*

Before Axe Man could finish his curse, Zhao Quan half-pinned him down, one hand gripping his throat, the other fist pounding repeatedly at the major artery in his neck. Even when Axe Man struggled and kneed him in the groin, Zhao Quan merely adjusted his grip while pinning him, redirecting the punches meant for his neck to his mouth instead. He hit so hard that Axe Man's teeth loosened, his mouth filled with the taste of blood mixed with broken teeth. All that came out were wet, gurgling gasps.

Er Lai's father scrambled and slid down. Seeing Quan Zi and the man fighting almost into his backyard, afraid the noise would be heard, he urgently shouted: "Quan Zi, move aside!"

Zhao Quan disengaged without hesitation, swiftly rolling to the side. Propping himself up on his elbows, before he could even stand, he felt something warm splatter on his face.

Wiping it with his hand—it was a handful of blood.

Er Lai's father's hand holding the axe trembled uncontrollably. Looking at the burly man lying on the ground, clutching his neck as blood gushed out in spurts around him, he was so terrified he plopped down on his rear. Closing his eyes, he swung the axe, shakily delivering another chop.

"..." Zhao Quan turned sideways. Fortunately, he dodged in time this time; the blood didn't hit his face.

"Is he... is he, uh, dead?" Er Lai's father still wasn't quite sure, cautiously giving the Axe Man's body a nudge with his hand. Seeing no reaction, he gave him a tentative kick. Though he didn't use much force, the Axe Man seemed to lose all support, his body going limp and starting to roll away again. Startled, Er Lai's father quickly pulled him back, whispering urgently, "He's dead, he's really dead. Quan Zi, what're we gonna do? What do we do with this guy?"

He spoke in an extremely low voice, afraid someone might hear.

"Let me think." Zhao Quan grabbed his collar and wiped the blood from his face.

Dumping the body carelessly would easily lead to discovery. Once found, the refugees in the village would surely know something had happened in the mountains, which wouldn't be good for their next big village feast. But there was no time to deal with the corpse now. He couldn't help but glance at the nearby small courtyard.

So close.

Er Lai's father followed his gaze. Below was his own yard. The eaves, once piled high with firewood, were now empty. The courtyard was a mess too, with stools and baskets scattered everywhere. And that was just what they could see; the inside of the house was probably even worse.

But no matter how messy, it was still luckier than Da Shan's family. His place had just been looted; they could tidy up and still live there. Da Shan's house, on the other hand, had been burned to the ground, leaving only a few blackened walls.

"Throw him in my house?" How could he not understand his brother's meaning? Er Lai's father hesitated, feeling a deep revulsion at the idea. "In this weather, leaving a body inside will make it stink quickly..." How could they live there afterwards?

"Throw him in the latrine pit," Zhao Quan said.

"..." Er Lai's father was still somewhat reluctant. The latrine pit was also a valuable asset in its own right. Dumping a corpse in there would put pressure on him whenever he carried manure to fertilize the vegetables or fields. He'd always feel like the food wasn't healthy, tainted with a corpse smell.

"Later, you can come to my place to get manure, and I'll come to yours. We'll swap. Is that okay?" Zhao Quan sighed. There was no other way. After all, this was a childhood friend from the same clan. If his brother couldn't get over that mental hurdle, he could—not only get over it, but do somersaults on it.

Maybe in the future, his family's vegetables would be the most lush and vibrant in the whole village.

No choice. The nutrients would be plentiful.