Chapter 104

Chapter 104

Old Zhao felt he was quite qualified to answer this question.

After eating two peaches, he knew very well that now, with one punch of his, few could withstand it. When the fight broke out on both sides, he just went with the flow, becoming a secret helper for the men of Wanxia Village.

If anyone tried a dirty trick, he'd kick 'em flying.

If he saw a hoe about to fall on a neck or head, he'd step in to stop it, at least steer it away—even if it meant losing an arm or a leg, that's better than dying. He didn't care what village the guy was from or whose life he was saving, even if it meant mixing up friend and foe. Old Zhao knew clearly that this fight was unavoidable; without it, the river water wouldn't reach their village, and they'd get walked all over.

But he couldn't be too ruthless, after all, life had to go on. No matter what, you can't push folks too far. The five villages had cut off their water supply, and the village men even talked about burning their crops. If too many died this time, with no room left to negotiate, someone might just come to their village and burn down houses and crops out of spite, with nothing holding 'em back.

Just like them—if they were given no way out, they'd drag everyone down with 'em, even if it cost their own lives.

In the end, it was the drought, with signs it was getting worse, that had everyone on a short fuse. If it weren't for this, say the year had been smooth and the weather good, life would go on as usual. Even if the five villages had their suspicions about the conscription, they never would've turned hostile.

It was just that hope was running thin, so they threw caution to the wind.

Old Zhao understood this well. So, fight they did, bleed they did, he tried to keep the deaths to a minimum—whether from his own village or others. Every life was a life, and life was the rope that held back a mad dog. As long as that rope existed, even if it was frayed, the folks back home—parents, kids, wives—could hold on. A roof beam could lose a corner, but it couldn't be gone completely.

But he also had to play favorites; Old Zhao couldn't help it. He had to look out for his own people more. In the same situation, if a Wanxia Village man swung a hoe to kill someone, he'd just knock their hand aside a bit, making sure the hoe still took off a layer of flesh, or even break an arm if they were unlucky.

But when he saw his own village men about to get hurt, he'd push 'em away, not letting 'em bleed a drop.

All around, on the bank and in the river, it was total chaos. No one noticed an old man stirring up trouble in the middle of it.

There were too many people; he couldn't keep an eye on everyone. The injured fell in droves, and some lay on the ground without a peep. Everyone was covered in blood—their own and others'—all mixed together, you couldn't tell 'em apart.

The shouts and clashes sent countless birds flying off. Someone who didn't know better might think this was some deep-seated vendetta. The sheer number of fighters made the air itself feel hotter and more restless.

The river water was dyed red, and the ground got slick. The women hiding nearby had never seen anything like it. Even if they'd heard stories about village fights, they never imagined it would be like this!

They couldn't find their own men anymore. Staring at the bodies on the ground, getting trampled left and right, they were terrified it was their own. Everyone was sick with worry. No one knew who screamed first, like a wound-up spring, and then a chorus of shouts followed.

"Stop fighting, all of you! Keep it up and people will die!"

"Gua Liu, Erdan..."

"Zhu Zi! That one lying there looks like my Zhu Zi!!"

A woman stumbled, trying to run into the fight, but someone grabbed her just in time: "Don't go! Those hoes don't have eyes, you'll get hurt!"

"Let me go! That's my Zhu Zi, I recognize his clothes—I sewed 'em myself!" The woman screamed like crazy, but couldn't break free. Seeing the man lying limp and not moving on the ground, her legs gave out, trembling as she wailed.

Turning to look at where the village elders stood, her face a mess of tears and snot, unable to stand, she cried out: "Village head, didn't you say we were just here to make up the numbers?! Didn't you say we had more people?! How did it come to this?! How could you let it get this bad? We can't take it, we really can't! Make 'em stop!! My Zhu Zi isn't moving anymore, he's not moving!!"

The piercing wails made faces turn pale. The village head of Hekou Village's hands trembled. He hadn't expected this either! That wasn't how it was supposed to be. Strength in numbers, yes—someone had said they had strength in numbers, and the people of Wanxia Village would back down seeing so many of them. They were all just peasants rooted in the soil, strong enough, but so was everyone else.

No matter what, the side with more people had the say. Like when they took grain to town for taxes in autumn—did the people of Wanxia Village not know the way to town? Yet they still came to join them, seeking safety in numbers, convenience in numbers, so no one dared steal their grain. Even if they met refugees on the road, they wouldn't dare attack.

With the five villages united, how could they fear one Wanxia Village?

But what was this before them? The people of Wanxia Village really didn't care about their lives. They were desperate, even if a hoe struck them, they'd bite down on the opponent's neck and not let go. They were fighting to the death, every single one of them!

"Enough, it can't go on. If it continues, something big will happen..." he said, his voice trembling.

But no one heard him, not even those standing beside him.

Zhao Dashan and his group threw all the stones and sandbags from the river onto the bank. That wasn't enough; they used hoes to tear the sandbags open, lifting the sacks and spilling the sand everywhere. The stones too, they picked up and tossed far away. Zhao Sanwang, his face covered in blood, glared fiercely in the direction of the five villages' village heads, as if in defiance. Together with Wu Dazhu, they lifted a stone and hurled it toward them.

The river was littered with people, groaning endlessly. Some had their heads buried in the sand, bodies floating motionless; others lay on their backs in the river, writhing in pain. At a glance, all were covered in filth and blood, impossible to tell apart.

The stone rolled to their feet. The five village heads jumped back in fright, about to curse, when they saw the two men, after throwing the stone, pick up a hoe from the ground, roar, and charge into the crowd. The lead man swung the hoe into a man's back. With a cry of pain, the man stumbled and fell flat.

The village head of Hekou Village had sharp eyes. One look and his heart tightened—that was his second grandson!

Terrified, his face ashen, he could no longer hold back and rushed forward, shouting: "Stop fighting! All of you stop! Halt!"

"Our Hekou Village is pulling out! We're done with this!" Seeing his grandson writhing in pain, unsure if the hoe had damaged his internal organs, he stomped his feet in panic and yelled, "Hekou Village men, listen up! We're out! Come back, stop fighting!"

At this, the village head of Yujiawan's face changed. He glared at him: "Old Zheng, what do you mean? We agreed on this, and now you're backing out?"

"Backing out of what? Didn't I bring my men or what?" The Hekou Village head, worried about his grandson, was incensed by this, like adding fuel to the fire. "Or do you want to keep all of Wanxia Village here? Look around, just look! Do we have the ability?!" He pointed at Zhao Shanao and the others, standing grim-faced on the other side. "Go on, if you've got the guts, keep them all here. If not, shut up! This has gone far enough. They don't care about their lives, so do we have to trade ours with theirs?!"

"If you want to fight to the death, go ahead, but I'm not!" After cursing, the Hekou Village head spotted two men from his village and quickly shuffled over on his old legs to call them over. "Stop fighting! Hekou Village men, listen! Get out, we're done!"

From the chaotic crowd, a dozen or so men slipped out silently, some crawling, their faces smeared with blood, crying and wailing.

The young man whose back Zhao Sanwang had hoed had no strength left to crawl. He writhed on the ground in pain, shouting: "Grandpa, Grandpa, it hurts so much, I'm dying..."

Seeing this, the village heads of Dongtou Village and Liziba, regardless of whether the old man from Yujiawan would be angry, realized that among the men here were not just villagers but their own nephews and sons. Being a village head wasn't easy; to earn trust, you had to lead from the front. You couldn't let others fight while you watched from behind. People weren't fools, easily fooled by a few words.

They too worried about their own. They had thought Wanxia Village would cower at the sight of so many, but these men were all tough nuts, utterly reckless!

They might not care about their lives, but they did!

So, throwing caution to the wind, they stepped forward and shouted at the crowd: "Stop fighting! All of you stop! Dongtou Village men, listen! Pull back, no more fighting!"

The Liziba village head followed suit, especially when he saw a man half-draped in the river, nearly choking on his breath. He yelled at a burly man who had just crawled out of the river, utterly exhausted: "Dongtou, take a look! Is that my fifth son?!"

The man called Dongtou had no strength left to lift a finger. His mind buzzed, his heart pounded, his body felt light. He couldn't hear a thing.

But Zhao Dashan and his brothers, sharp-eared and keen-eyed, saw the fight dying down. They quickly gathered their village men, all huddling together.

Men fighting were like wolves encountering hyenas. Once the blood rushed to their heads, they fought harder and harder, ignoring pain. How could a few words stop them?

Only when they were exhausted, completely out of strength, unable to go on, would they finally cease.

Leaning on their hoes, heavy breathing filled the air. Bodies piled on bodies, groans everywhere. Some had arms hanging by a thread of skin, others clutched their heads and rolled on the ground, and more lay motionless, alive or dead unknown.

A hoe fell straight to the ground, blood trickling down its blade, soaking into the earth.

Zhao Ertian kicked away a man from another village. He wanted to move a Wanxia Village man, who was lying on the ground spitting blood, to a safer spot. But as he reached out, the man grabbed his hand. Trying to speak, he only spat out more blood.

His internal organs were damaged. He wouldn't make it.

"Don't worry, the village will take care of your family." Zhao Ertian pressed his lips together and said firmly.

Hearing this, the man relaxed, a faint smile on his face, half of it covered in blood.

A hot wind swept over them. The chaos subsided slightly. The unease beneath the silence grew rapidly. The five village heads stared at the mess, their feet frozen mid-step, a unprecedented panic rising in their hearts.

It had blown up.

Beyond expectations.

It seemed many had died.

How would they explain this back in the village?

Zhao Shanao and a few other old men hurriedly moved among the crowd, pulling their own folks out of the pile—the living ones, and especially the dead.

When they were done, they counted heads, wiped the blood off their faces to recognize each other, and their old faces were already soaked with tears.

Through the crowd, they glared at the five village heads on the opposite side and said fiercely, "No matter what you say, Wanxia Village has never done you wrong, not one bit."

"Screwing us over is on you. No excuse you come up with makes it right."

"I, Zhao Shanao, am laying it out here: whether it's Yujiawan or Taoli Village, if you dare cut off our water source again, as long as there's a single man left in Wanxia Village, this ain't happening!"

"And this is what happens!" He pointed at the blood-soaked ground and warned them grimly.

With that, he turned away from them and called out to the women who were wiping tears and helping tend to the injured men, "If they can stand, help 'em up. If they can't walk, carry 'em if you've got the strength."

As for those lying stiff and lifeless on the ground, he walked over, tied their limp, sagging bodies to himself with a hemp rope, and with a hell of a lot of effort, hoisted them onto his back. He would carry them home himself.

"We're leaving!"

At his command, Zhao Sanwang and the others, who were picking up their hoes, immediately grabbed their spoils and followed. They weren't about to take a loss—if anyone had a problem, they could come to their village and ask for their hoes back!