Chapter 57

Chapter 57

Sharp intakes of breath echoed in the darkness.

Once Old Man Zhao was done speaking, he paid no further attention to the people descending the mountain. Instead, he hurried into the hills with his two sons.

His inner turmoil was far from the calm he projected. Just then, his eldest had suddenly collapsed.

Before losing consciousness, he said his wound hurt terribly, his head ached, and his whole body felt burning hot and miserable. When Zhao Sandi tore open his clothes, he discovered that the wound, which had been treated with half a bottle of blood-staunching powder, was now oozing black blood. It had been red when the medicine was applied, horrifying everyone.

What worried Old Man Zhao even more was that his eldest son was burning up with fever! Injured, soaked by rain, and with a wound that had picked up God-knows-what poison, now oozing foul-smelling, tainted blood—it was clearly headed for disaster.

They had stripped Scarface completely, even turned the house upside down, but couldn't find any bottles or similar items. His knife didn't look like it had anything smeared on it. Widow Li also said he never let the knife out of his hand, constantly wiping it with a cloth, but she never saw him apply anything unclean to it—at least not visibly.

Just as everyone was at a loss, Zhao Sandi quietly leaned close to his father's ear and whispered two words: Xiaobao.

That's right. During the earthquake at the start of the year, Er Lai and Widow Li were struck on the head by a falling beam, bleeding profusely and unconscious. Even the villagers said they wouldn't make it. In the end, it was Xiaobao who picked peaches from the peach tree in the divine land, feeding each of them a slice, and they regained consciousness. Afterwards, they suffered no lasting effects, hale and hearty as if their heads had never been severely injured.

Superficially, the villagers claimed they recovered thanks to medicine from the Ping'an Clinic, but Old Man Zhao knew better than anyone what really happened. He had personally cut those peaches. That peach tree grew from the soil of the divine land. If nothing else, just the fragrance of those peaches still made his mouth water when he remembered it.

It wasn't mere craving; there was a powerful, instinctive urge to eat it, as if he inherently knew it was a rare treasure that would bring benefits.

Especially over the past six months, those who had eaten a slice of peach back then hadn't fallen ill even once. His wife's complexion was visibly rosier than in previous years. And his third son's wife hadn't needed to drink brown sugar water much lately—she used to suffer through several days of agony every month like clockwork.

And during this life-and-death struggle with the refugees, Old Man Zhao vaguely felt an illusion of returning to his prime, with seemingly endless strength. His old arms and legs didn't tire no matter how much he exerted himself, making him appear more youthful than young men like Zhao Sanwang.

That peach tree was extraordinary, and the peaches were even more miraculous. Whether they could cure illnesses or prolong life, Old Man Zhao wasn't sure. But the one thing he was certain of was that they were effective. He just didn't know if they worked against poisoning.

The group hurried up the mountain, going their separate ways halfway.

Li Dahe still wanted to follow them to the cellar. Zhao Dashan's injuries looked severe, much worse than Zhao Song's and Wu Erzhu's. Earlier, they had checked their wounds at the gravesite; neither had developed a fever, their wounds were red, not bleeding black, and they were in good spirits. With careful rest, they would recover fully in time.

It was nothing like Zhao Dashan's condition, which seemed dire enough to warrant preparing for a funeral midway.

But Old Man Zhao stopped him from following. "Our house was burned down. We have nowhere to stay if we go back to the village now. With Dashan injured, I really don't have the bandwidth. Many villagers died this time, and who knows what kind of ruckus there'll be. Bai Zi and the others are too young; they probably can't handle the pressure. For now, you'll have to step up and take charge. Whether it's arguments or fights, whether we stay on good terms or fall out, it's up to you to handle."

He was in a hurry to get back to his daughter and had no mind for that mess. Ignoring Li Dahe's attempt to speak, he continued directly, "Brother Li, I leave the village affairs to you. I'll just say this: be firm. If any family dares to give us trouble, take people and smash their house directly. If one family won't back down, smash one; if two families won't back down, smash two. If you've taken the benefits, you should bow your heads. If anyone is foolish enough not to recognize what's good for them, then knock some sense into them. Without us risking our lives, they wouldn't even have the chance to make sarcastic remarks."

Li Dahe, knowing how pressed he was, didn't waste time and nodded directly. "Don't you worry about the village; leave it to me. Just focus on taking good care of Dashan."

This was a sticky situation. He could almost imagine the scene when the people from the mountains got the news and returned to the village, finding the latrine and pigsty at the village chief's house full of corpses... Trouble was inevitable, especially from those who had lost relatives. They would probably throw themselves on the ground right then and there, having a hysterical fit, saying things like, 'Since you managed to kill all the refugees, why couldn't you save them?'... He didn't even need to think hard; they were bound to say that.

It wasn't that he thought poorly of people; they were all from the same village. Who didn't know each other's true nature from daily life?

That was also why Brother Zhao had been firm from the start, never considering being soft with the villagers afterwards. When it came to matters of life and death, it all came down to who had the stronger arm. Now that they had killed the refugees, the villagers might feel grateful, even suck up to them and sing their praises. But once this wave passed and life returned to its usual gossip and trivialities, rumors would likely spread in the village about how this group was bloodthirsty killers. Then, at the slightest disturbance, they would be the first suspects.

This wasn't about 'give them an inch and they'll take a mile'; it was in their bones. It couldn't be explained in a sentence or two; it was simply human nature.

"Don't worry about the house. Tomorrow, I'll take people to clean up your place first. We might have to tear down a few walls. Is that okay?" he shouted after the father and his sons, who were already walking away.

"Don't you worry about that!" Old Man Zhao didn't even turn his head. "You sort out your own homes first!"

"Haha, then it's settled. We'll handle rebuilding the house. There are plenty of us; it won't take long. Don't stay in the mountains too long either. It's not like our families don't have room. We can squeeze in two people per family later, making do. Don't let my old sister-in-law and the others live in fear in the mountains. It's not like there are no wild beasts!" he shouted. "Alright, don't worry about the village. Dashan is still injured. Hurry up and get things sorted so you can come down the mountain. I'll clean up the house first. When you come down, head straight to my place, agreed?!"

"...Alright, get going already!"

Not daring to rest along the way, Old Man Zhao took off his outer garment and draped it over his son. It was now around the hour of Hai. It had rained heavily for an hour earlier, leaving the mountain path muddy and slippery. The wind blew, shaking raindrops from the leaves, drenching them with a bone-chilling cold.

Zhao Dashan was barely conscious. Old Man Zhao kept calling to him along the way. At first, he could force his eyelids open and respond, but later he didn't wake up again.

"Second son, faster," Old Man Zhao urged, sweating all over from anxiety. "Your eldest brother isn't doing well. We need to hurry back to find Xiaobao. If we're late, it might be too late." He didn't even dare to think about whether the peach would work. After all, was it the peach that saved Er Lai and Widow Li, or was it the medicine from the Ping'an Clinic? There was no definitive answer.

He was gambling—betting that Xiaobao's peach could cure all ailments. It was like offering incense to ancestors during the Qingming Tomb-Sweeping Festival. Did you really expect your parents, dead for decades, to protect you? If they could truly protect, the family wouldn't be so poor with only a few dilapidated houses. In the end, it was just for peace of mind.

Right now, only his daughter could give him that peace of mind.

Wang Shi hadn't slept either. The family huddled in a makeshift shelter, staring blankly down the mountain. All the men had gone to fight the refugees. No one had the heart to do anything else, too worried to eat, let alone sleep. Closing their eyes brought images of them being stabbed by refugees, startling themselves awake even without sleeping.

The five lads were unusually quiet, obediently sitting around their grandmother and mother, protecting them in the middle, letting raindrops splash on their legs while anxiously stroking Xiao Heizi's smooth fur.

The deep mountains were chilly at night. After the rain stopped, they lit a fire nearby.

They no longer worried about refugees spotting the smoke from cooking fires. Before going down the mountain, Old Man Zhao had said, whether it's cooking or lighting a fire at night because you're afraid of the dark, don't be scared. Do what you want. The men went down to risk their lives so their wives and children wouldn't have to live in fear anymore. Just relax. They would stop the refugees at the foot of the mountain.

Light a fire if you want. They promised that those returning towards the light would be them, not the refugees.

And they had kept that promise. The moment Xiao Heizi darted out, Old Man Zhao's voice also came from afar: "Wife, quickly clear the mat! Dashan is injured!"

"Your father is back?!" Wang Shi, who had been dozing off, immediately woke up. Hearing the familiar voice, she first felt joy, then shock. She scooped up her daughter beside her. Zhu Shi and the others, sitting on the mat, also scrambled to their feet in a flurry. The five boys rushed out without even putting on their shoes.

"Grandpa, what happened to my dad? How was he injured? Is it serious? Let me see!" Zhao Xiaowu ran over anxiously, trying to lift the garment covering Zhao Dashan, but Old Man Zhao slapped his hand away. "Don't let your father's wound get wet." A light drizzle had started again halfway, and he was truly afraid his eldest son would catch a chill and the fever wouldn't break. Regardless of the illness, a fever was never a good sign. If a person's brain got damaged by the fever, even if they survived by sheer luck, they could end up an idiot.

In the eyes of country folk, a fever was more serious than losing an arm or leg. After all, the former affected the brain.

"The eldest has a fever? Where is he hurt?" Wang Shi asked urgently. She quickly put her daughter's cotton shoes on her, not letting her move from her spot, just placing her at the edge of the mat to make room for her eldest brother to lie down.

Dry grass was spread under the mat, not exactly soft, but at least dry. Wang Shi even spread her daughter's quilt on top before carefully helping her eldest son adjust his position to lie down. She happened to support the arm with the injured shoulder. Touching it, her hand came away bloody. After all, a layer of flesh had been sliced off, exposing the bone. The powder could stop bleeding, but the jostling journey had caused quite a bit of blood to seep out.

Even though she had long prepared herself for them getting injured, seeing her son now unconscious, feeling his forehead burning like boiling water, Wang Shi's heart ached terribly.

"The powder, why didn't you use more? What's the point of saving it now?!" she couldn't help but yell at her husband.

"We used half a bottle. That damned bandit leader must have smeared something on his blade. Eldest brother's wound is oozing black blood. Father's idea is to let it flow; the tainted blood needs to come out for him to get better," Zhao Sandi hurriedly explained.

This was complete nonsense. It wasn't a snake bite where you could suck out the venom. He said this purely as an excuse, to avoid difficulties explaining later.

"Mother, will Dashan be alright?" Zhu Shi asked, looking at the man lying unconscious on the mat. The palm of his hand felt icy cold. She didn't know if it was from the chill or from losing too much blood, causing his body temperature to drop.

Her heart was in a panic. She kept wiping her tears. If something happened to Dashan, what would she and her two sons do?

"What could happen? Your father is right; letting the tainted blood flow out is good," Wang Shi said sternly, not wanting to hear discouraging words. Turning her head, she saw the crowd surrounding the mat, with her husband standing on the outskirts, blinking at her repeatedly. Her expression unchanged, she picked up her daughter and followed him down into the cellar.

The person who knows you best is always the one who shares your pillow. When this old rascal twitched his backside, she knew exactly what kind of 'wind' he was about to release.

Down in the cellar, Old Man Zhao first asked his daughter to take out two packets of the fever-reducing medicine bought from the Ping'an Clinic. Then he squatted in front of his daughter, his old face flushed with urgency: "Xiaobao, Father wants to ask you something. Can we pick peaches from the divine land? Your eldest brother is poisoned; he fainted down the mountain. Father couldn't find an antidote on the bandit. Do you think... could you give your eldest brother a slice of peach?" He rubbed his hands together, his tone carrying three parts hope and seven parts pleading. After all, she was his own daughter; he felt no shame. "Father is useless, but my Xiaobao is capable. Can Little Treasure Fairy save your good-for-nothing eldest brother?"

Zhao Xiaobao had wanted to pick a peach as soon as she learned her eldest brother was injured. Her sense of smell was sharp. Even though she couldn't see clearly and couldn't squeeze through the crowd, she could smell a faint, foul odor emanating from her brother.

She had been worried, her lips trembling, tears welling up, but she didn't dare cry. As soon as her father spoke, she nodded eagerly. "Yes, Xiaobao will give Eldest Brother a peach. After eating it, he won't be poisoned anymore."

"Thank you, Xiaobao. Mother's good daughter, Mother thanks you on behalf of your eldest brother." Upon hearing this, Wang Shi also couldn't hold back her tears. She had been suppressing her emotions earlier, not daring to show them in front of her daughter-in-law, lest the whole family become panicked. Now, with only the three of them present, she couldn't hold on any longer. That was her eldest son. Without Xiaobao, he would only be waiting for death.

It was dark in the cellar; nothing could be seen clearly. Only an intoxicatingly sweet fruity fragrance lingered around their noses.