Chapter 158

Chapter 158

The night was pitch black, with mountain winds howling, bringing a hint of coolness.

After being hot for most of the year, sleeping with one's belly exposed every day still felt stifling. Tonight, however, he suddenly felt his face grow damp, as the earth's moisture rose, and a faint, elusive smell of mud lingered around the nose, refusing to dissipate.

The night watchman thought it was an illusion, until a few raindrops hit his face. He finally snapped out of it and abruptly looked up at the night sky.

One drop, two drops, three drops...

He held out his rough palm and held it up for a long time, only catching a few droplets of water.

Without waking the sleeping people, he tiptoed over to the cart guard's spot and whispered to another man, "Did you feel that?"

Zhou Erduo nodded, still looking dazed: "Is it raining? Is it really raining?"

Around dusk, the wind had started blowing in the mountains, howling, bending all the tree branches, and sending fallen leaves flying everywhere. By night, the pitch-black sky was unusually devoid of stars. A few village elders were so excited their faces turned red, saying it looked like rain, but they weren't sure if it would actually fall.

Since the heavy spring rain, Qingzhou Prefecture had seen no more rain. An entire summer had passed in between, and now it was autumn. If it didn't rain soon, winter would arrive in another two months.

With no rain for over half a year and the sun scorching daily, whether it was people or animals in the mountains, anything alive couldn't take it anymore. After a year of hard work, the harvest was poor, and for now, they couldn't worry about the future. If they had to live frugally as in previous years, this year's harvest wouldn't even be enough to feed the family, let alone save any seeds for planting.

Since fleeing, everyone had been hoping for rain.

If it rained now, it wasn't too late. As long as they rationed their food supplies and saved the seeds for next year, there would still be hope. If the drought continued, life wouldn't get better, with only consumption and no income. Next year, there would be nothing left, and they'd have nothing to look forward to.

Thinking this, Zhou Erduo looked up with a face full of anticipation, hoping the raindrops would hit him.

"Should we wake them up?" The man imitated him, looking up. If it really rained, they'd have to quickly cover the carts to keep the grain from getting wet.

"Let's wait a bit longer, to avoid getting our hopes up for nothing." Zhou Erduo was older and more cautious than the younger man, thinking a few drops didn't count for much. They could wake everyone when the rain came pouring down.

By the middle of the night, the wind picked up, waking everyone.

Old Man Zhao had the bonfire put out, fearing the strong wind might blow sparks onto the leaves and start a fire. With this wind, a fire would be unstoppable and cause a major disaster.

No one could sleep anymore; they all looked up at the night sky, hoping for a heavy rain from the sky.

"Mom, if it rains, will we go home?" Xiao Luo Bo pressed close to his mother and brother. "I miss Dad."

Lv Xiuhong hugged her two sons tightly upon hearing this: "We can't guess what heaven has in store. We don't know if this rain will fall."

After a pause, she added, "Whether it rains or not, we'll follow Grandpa Zhao and the others. If they go back to the village, we'll go back. If they don't, we won't."

Nine out of ten households in the village didn't want to flee. She was different. There were some things she dared not tell anyone, let alone reveal her thoughts. She was actually somewhat glad that heaven was merciless and brought this great drought, giving her a chance to leave Evening Glow Village.

She hated the village, and she hated even more the pigsty that had burned down. After leaving the village, even sleeping in the wilderness, she no longer had nightmares.

She didn't want to go back, never in this lifetime.

Everyone else hoped for a heavy rain after the strong wind, but she secretly feared, both hoping for rain and dreading it.

They had been away from home for over a month and hadn't traveled too far. If it really rained, everyone would insist on going back. Compared to an uncertain future, going back to their old life clearly made more sense to them.

The wind blew all night until dawn broke, when it gradually subsided, but the heat remained.

A group of old men squatted by the carts, sighing, without even the mood to eat their flatbreads: "Why did it just blow without raining? With this kind of wind, it would definitely rain back in our area. What's wrong with this Wuling Mountain, dropping just two drops of water to fool us?"

"Da Gen, maybe it really did rain in our village. Think about it, in past years, when the wind blew hard at midnight, even if it didn't rain at night, it would rain in the morning." As if to prove he wasn't making it up, the old man raised his voice and called out to Old Man Zhao, who was chewing on a flatbread, "Isn't that right? I remember it clearly! A light wind brings no rain, but a strong wind always brings a downpour, sometimes lasting for days!"

"I remember that pattern too." Zhao Shanao tapped his pipe, feeling frustrated. "Our mountain is like that, very spiritual, much more so than this Wuling Mountain. It just blows without raining."

"Right!" Another old man started invoking spirits and gods. "The mountain god here isn't very powerful. Different lands raise different people. No wonder there are bandits here; the very root is bad."

They went back and forth, getting more and more far-fetched, even talking about feng shui.

"Alright, alright, that's enough. Hurry up and finish breakfast. Let's get moving before the sun comes out. Today we have to cross this Erdao Mountain." Old Man Zhao hadn't held out much hope for rain anyway. In his daughter's dream, there was a great drought across the land. Although she didn't dream of when it would rain, from the scene she described—the earth cracking open so wide an adult's fist could fit in the cracks—he figured it'd stay hot for at least two more months. He didn't even dare hope for rain; he'd be thankful if it just cooled down by winter.

The heavens had played a trick, making people feel both joy and sorrow. The disappointment after hope was always especially hard to bear, and the sighs never stopped.

But no matter how disappointed they were, the sun still beat down on them, the heat was unbearable.

After walking for two hours, they rested once and then continued on their way.

Today, they would enter Three Snake Pit. As noon approached, Old Man Zhao's heart was in his throat. Both Qing Xuan and Shi Dalang had said the bandits were active in the area near Erdao Mountain and Three Snake Pit. For some unknown reason, perhaps believing the snakes in Three Snake Pit held grudges and were not to be trifled with, the bandits avoided the snake den and avoided that area.

With every step, he poked the ground with his stick. Last night's strong wind had left a thick layer of leaves on the road, which crunched underfoot. If venomous snakes were hiding among them, it would be hard to avoid. Using the stick to clear the way could both drive away snakes and test whether the ground ahead was solid or hollow.

Although he wished he could bang a gong to announce their arrival, he still had to be cautious. If he carelessly stepped into a trap, he'd have no one to complain to. After all, they had done the same thing themselves back in the mountains, easily ambushing and killing several bandits.

Caution never hurt.

After probing the road for half a day, the moment his stick found nothing but air, Old Man Zhao reacted almost instantly.

He abruptly stopped, looked around, and saw trees leaning every which way, with thick layers of fallen leaves and dead branches everywhere. There was no sign of anyone, nothing unusual.

He listened intently. Besides the crunching of wheels over leaves, all he heard were the disorderly footsteps and the faint sounds of breathing and chatter from the crowd.

Seeing him stop, Qing Xuan tugged on the donkey's rope and halted. The large group following the donkey cart immediately stopped without a word.

The old man pushing the cart tightened his grip, the veins on his rough hands bulging.

The young men walking on the periphery reached for their hoes, sickles, and other tools.

The women's chatter died down. The children stiffened, those who could handle a sickle reached into the baskets, while those who couldn't pulled out the sharpened wooden sticks they had picked up on the road.

The whole group of over a hundred hadn't said a word. Just by Old Man Zhao stopping at the front, they already understood what was happening.

No one moved, making the sound of feet crushing twigs especially harsh. Everyone turned as one to look at the gentle slope ahead. Several dozen burly men with knives came out of hiding. Seeing that they had been spotted, the bearded leader waved his hand, and the group ran down the slope, blocking the road a few dozen yards off.

Zhao Sandi pulled out his knife and started to step forward when he suddenly heard a series of footsteps behind him. A dozen or so knife-wielding men ran out of the woods, blocking their retreat.

Caught in a pincer, the enemy had been waiting for them here for some time.

"Run! Why aren't you running now!"

A somewhat familiar voice rang out. Everyone looked toward the source and saw the village chief of Wuling Village smoothing his clothes, slowly descending the gentle slope. His face was dark as a thundercloud as he glared angrily at Old Man Zhao at the front: "Did you really think you could escape this Wuling Mountain?"

"A bunch of outsiders who don't follow the rules! Not only do you pass through our village road without paying, but you even dare to kill our people! Go ask around—even if the emperor or a prince, or even the Jade Emperor himself came, they'd have to leave a string of copper coins before passing!"

"If you don't follow the rules and even kill in our village, then today, on this very ground, if I don't dye it red with your blood, then my name isn't Wu Changshan!"

He finished speaking, his sinister gaze swept over the crowd opposite him, pausing briefly on the donkey cart. Then he raised his arm, and a sharp whoosh cut through the air.

Qing Xuan quickly whipped out his slingshot, aimed at the incoming arrow and fired. One arrow, one stone—the stone was no match at all.

Fortunately, it provided some buffer. The arrow aimed at the cart window veered off course, but it kept flying.

Thinking of the mother and daughter inside the carriage, Qing Xuan gripped the edge of the shaft with one hand, his body agilely leaping into the air. With his left hand grabbing the roof of the carriage, he untied his belt with his right. His entire body twisted into an odd arc, hanging upside down in midair. The limp belt stiffened like a blade, and he lashed it toward the arrowhead.

With a sharp crack, the arrowhead was knocked off course, embedding itself straight down into the ground.

No one had seen what happened clearly. When they came to their senses, Qing Xuan stood on the carriage roof, his clothes wide open, clutching his belt tightly.

Old Man Zhao’s chest heaved violently, his bull-like eyes growing wider and wider—not out of surprise that Qing Xuan could deflect an arrow with a belt, but at the sheer terror that among the bandits, there was actually someone who could shoot arrows! And that arrow had been aimed straight at his heart!

These godforsaken beasts!

“I’ll fuck your mother!!!”

With a roar, Old Man Zhao kicked open a trap concealed under fallen leaves at his feet. He reached inside his clothes, and the bandits watching his movements raised their blades. Zhao Dashan and the others also drew swords from the carts, the two sides glaring at each other in hostility.

Under the gaze of dozens of pairs of eyes, Old Man Zhao backed up several steps, retreating to the donkey cart. He pulled out a tinder lighter from his chest, yanked off the bamboo cover, tilted his head, and blew. A crimson flame suddenly flared.

“Nobody move!” He raised the tinder lighter. Behind him, Zhao Dashan and Li Dahe rushed forward, blades raised, shielding him entirely.

Through the wall of two bodies, Old Man Zhao roared at the group whose faces had changed dramatically: “I’ve been waiting for you bastards for days! You cowardly bastards wouldn’t show up even if I rang a bell! Go ask around—I, Zhao Dagen, don’t care if it’s an emperor or a king—even the Jade Emperor himself can’t block my path!”

His face grim, he stepped past Dashan and Dahe, staring straight at the village chief of Wuling Village: “Fine, fine. You brought your men—I’ve been waiting for this!”

“Fifty taels of silver, or fifty sacks of grain, or five big swords.” He squinted, his gaze shifting from the old face to the bearded bandit leader. “You think my men died for nothing? Pay up with coin, food, or blades—pick one.”

“Aren’t you all about rules? Who says I can’t make the rules in Wuling Mountains?”

He raised the tinder lighter, looking at the forest thick with fallen leaves. “Today, I’ll say it again: either we all die together, or we all live together.”

“Last night’s wind was perfect. This ground full of dry leaves and twigs—who knows how many mountains this fire will burn.”

Staring at the enraged crowd, his voice was flat: “Wuling Mountains are beautiful as they are. Add a little red, a little fire—it’ll look even prettier, I reckon.”

…

The bearded bandit leader didn’t dare blink, watching the tinder lighter in his hand, terrified he might just drop it. His hand gripping the blade trembled slightly. Gritting his teeth, his cheeks bulging, he forced out through his lips: “Didn’t you say they were a bunch of reckless brutes who are afraid to die?! Now he’s threatening to burn the mountain and take us with him?!”

Before coming, they had clearly found out that this group would split into two groups crossing the village. The strong men would stay behind to delay and give the women and children a chance to escape.

They had blades, though their identity was unknown. The old man had said they were competitors from outside trying to take over their turf. But that idea was shattered after they let the group pass and no one returned. Clearly, this was a group of refugees fleeing disaster—not rich, but not like ordinary peasants who could be easily pushed around. Somewhere in between, armed, bold, and ruthless. A direct fight wasn’t worth it. First dig traps to kill a few, then go in—fewer casualties.

Bandits have brains too. They know the simplest way to handle the biggest problem.

No one wants to die, let alone die in vain. They had ruled the Wuling Mountains for years—they couldn’t just fall to a bunch of peasants.

That’s why they had delayed, watching them burn the corpses, beat the gong, make all that noise without showing themselves.

Yesterday, they had sent men to dig traps on the road. But the old man at the front somehow didn’t step in any. The arrow aimed at the carriage was intercepted by a boy. They were considering just going in swinging when, damn it, the old man didn’t follow the script at all—he's actually trying to rob us, the bandits!

Money, grain, blades—or he’d burn the mountain and kill everyone.

And the worst part was, he was genuinely afraid they might actually start a fire.

Though his bullshit was plentiful and unpleasant, he had a grip on their lifeline. These people could drop dead for all they cared—they had nothing worth taking. Their lives weren’t even worth anything. Except for those blades, which made them itch with desire. Even the grain on the carts didn’t interest them much.

If they pushed him too far... thinking of last night’s strong wind, his heart sank lower and lower.

He couldn’t help but glance at the thick fallen leaves on the ground. If a fire started, unless God sent a downpour right away, even if they forced all the prisoners in the stronghold to fight the fire, they probably couldn’t stop the fire from spreading.

At that thought, countless ideas of how to torture these people flashed through his mind, but he forcibly suppressed his surging rage.

His expression unchanged, he hid his hand behind his back and made a hand signal toward the gentle slope.