Chapter 251

Chapter 251

While they were sizing up the group in the woods, that group was also sizing them up.

Throughout their flight, they had passed through many villages and were used to being met with caution and chased off. The rural farmers didn't have many intimidating weapons—just hoes, axes, sickles, and the like. Hoes, with their long handles, could harm the enemy while keeping the wielder at a safe distance, making them the top choice for a scuffle.

Bows and arrows were generally only available to hunters in deep mountains and the soldiers of the army. This was the first time they had encountered such a scene.

"Truly, a village deep in the mountains is different. Every household seems to have bows and arrows." Village Chief Sun looked wary, realizing their plans might have to change. "Da Gen, we can't be forceful anymore."

"...We never intended to be forceful in the first place." If they resorted to plundering, what difference would that make from the bandits who had once burned and killed in their own village? Old Man Zhao couldn't bring himself to do such a thing. "Living with the mountains at your back, if you don't have some serious hardware in hand, how can you sleep at night? It's not like you can fend off wolves and wild boars coming down to snatch children with just a hoe."

Wanxia Village was already quite remote, but compared to this village, it was nothing. Just the knife-sharp cliff they had crossed earlier would stop many people. Living in the mountains could help you avoid many disasters—he knew that well. But at the same time, living in such isolation also gave bad people opportunities. Whether defending against humans or beasts, if your body isn't tough and your blades aren't sharp, how can you manage?

This was a village not to be trifled with.

With that thought, Old Man Zhao put on a friendly smile and, under the villagers' close watch, took two steps forward. He raised his voice and called out in official speech: "Greetings, folks from across the way! We’re just passing through and taking a short rest. Sorry for the intrusion, hope you don't mind!"

"Not at all! If you’re only passing by, there’s no such thing as intrusion!" a similarly hearty voice came from the opposite side.

Before Old Man Zhao could speak again, the other continued: "Although this path was stamped out by our ancestors step by step, we haven't fenced it off as our own. In warmer weather, many merchant caravans come and go. If you are only passing through, we certainly won’t stop you."

The other side's tone was still polite, so the village chief responded with a smile. His official speech carried an accent from Liangjun Prefecture, barely understandable: "But every place has its own customs. Our village isn't very hospitable—it's a rule passed down from our ancestors, and as their descendants, we have to follow it. I hope all of you will not cross this fish pond."

He pointed to the mouth of the pond.

"Uninvited guests are unwelcome guests—that's a principle we understand. Since we've arrived at your territory, we’ll naturally follow your customs." Old Man Zhao laughed heartily and agreed without hesitation. "To be honest, our hometown was also a remote mountain village. Whenever we saw a strange face, even a peddler carrying a shoulder pole, the whole village would be on edge, afraid to go near and buy things. We are strangers here, so we wouldn't dare approach your village, lest we disturb your women and children."

"Oh?" The village chief raised an eyebrow, following his lead. "Your accent doesn't sound local. Is your hometown far from here?"

"Yes, very far. So far you can't see the end of it." Old Man Zhao chimed in, shamelessly trying to build rapport. "I find you, brother, kind-faced, and you even look a bit like my elder brother born from the same mother. I feel a closeness to you and can't help but want to chat a little longer."

The village chief's face twitched. At their age—white hair, wrinkled faces, stooped backs—who didn't look alike? What a stretch!

"Could it be from Fengchuan Prefecture? I know a few merchants from Fengchuan. They used to travel this mountain road to Yanlin Prefecture every year, and they also liked to rest where you are now. Although we don't allow outsiders into the village, we are not without humanity. We never charge merchants for fetching water or picking wild fruits to satisfy their hunger."

He smiled and continued: "It's funny, actually. In previous years, this road was bustling around the New Year, everyone driving their carts and hurrying home. But this year, maybe it's too cold, the snow too thick, or the road too bad, we haven't seen any of those merchants traveling around. Our village children waited and waited but never got their candy and snacks, and we couldn't buy New Year goods either."

Old Man Zhao raised his bushy eyebrows. What did he mean by that?

He couldn't tell whether these villagers were unaware of the chaos outside, or if they were testing him. Luckily, he wasn't here to make enemies, so he said: "If you folks want to buy New Year goods, you'll have to go out of the village. We don't know about other merchants, but Fengchuan Prefecture suffered a great flood last year. Half the prefecture was affected, and many died. I heard they're now dealing with a plague there. The merchants you know probably didn't take this road because of that."

Not taking the road was one thing; whether those people were alive or dead was another. Disasters have no eyes—rich or poor, if you're unlucky enough to meet one, even the Heavenly King himself can't escape.

The villagers exchanged uneasy glances, feeling a tightening in their hearts. They knew the outside was unstable, but they hadn't realized it was this bad.

Upon hearing about the plague and suspecting these people were refugees, they instinctively stepped back. Huzi's father asked cautiously: "How do you know so much about Fengchuan Prefecture? Did you come from that direction?"

"Ha! Listen to my accent—I'm not from Fengchuan. We came from Qingzhou Prefecture, even farther than Fengchuan!" Old Man Zhao pretended not to notice their wariness, chatting like an old friend. "Last year, there was a drought in our hometown. Without water to irrigate the fields, all our year's hard work was wasted. Even the rivers dried up. We couldn't survive, so our whole village had to flee."

"We have relatives in Yanlin Prefecture, so with nowhere else to go, we headed for the border. Ah, the journey has been hard. We didn't know the way and had to follow others. We ran into mountain bandits, then soldiers rounding up able-bodied men. Being able to make it here and chat with you folks is a stroke of luck. Many who set out with us are already buried under three feet of grass." He wiped his face, his voice full of sorrow. "If there were any other way to live, who would want to leave the land of their ancestors?"

"After countless hardships, we've survived. Now it's just the last step. If we can cross the mountains and reach Yanlin Prefecture, we can live."

"But the children have suffered, following us through all this misery. They're skin and bones now, and haven't had a proper meal in over half a year."

Hearing this, Qing Xuan subtly pulled Zhao Xiaobao behind him and dragged Zhou Santou, who had been watching the excitement, to the front.

Zhou Santou, still not quite skin and bones, grinned foolishly at the villagers with his dirty little face.

"...In such turbulent times, children suffer the most." The village chief sighed. He could tell Zhao was playing the sympathy card, but their own situation wasn't good. Living at the foot of the mountains, their industrious ancestors hadn't left a single patch of arable land unplowed. The remaining wasteland could only be planted with hardy vegetables, and even then, they had to guard against animals from the mountains. The real food for the table came from the grain harvested after a year's hard work and the meat the men risked their lives to hunt in the mountains.

He didn't consider himself heartless. Faced with a group of refugees, he felt both wariness and pity, especially for the dirty, thin, and pitiful children. It was hard to look at them and do nothing.

But there was no way. The merchants they had good relations with hadn't come in the second half of the year. The furs and herbs stored at home hadn't been sold. The stores in the county town were driving down prices, and they weren't willing to sell at a loss. Before the New Year, the villagers had jointly caught a group of wild boars in the mountains and divided the meat. With the cabbages, radishes, and various mountain goods stored in the cellar, and a decent harvest last year, they could barely scrape by. So they hadn't gone out to buy supplies.

But after a whole winter, each household's grain stocks were mostly depleted. Even if he wanted to give some pitiful children half a pancake, he didn't have enough to go around.

Kindness that can't be shared equally is better not shown at all, lest it lead to disputes and cause more trouble.

A village chief, if not shrewd, was certainly no fool.

But he also couldn't bear to watch them go into the mountains to their deaths. These outsiders had no idea of the dangers lurking in winter.

"You managed to cross Wangfeng Cliff, so you must have some skill. Especially you, old brother—whether we look alike or not, I can see you're sturdy and strong, full of strength. A man of daring." The chief put his hands in his sleeves, visibly more relaxed. "You're not from around here, so you're unfamiliar with this mountain road. Since we seem to have hit it off, let me give you some advice: don't go into the mountains now."

Old Man Zhao opened his mouth but held back, letting him continue.

"I don't know how you found out about this road, but I'll say this: you've made a mistake. This route is a shortcut that bypasses the cities and saves you from being squeezed by officials. But for merchants who want to make money, saving is everything. For ordinary people, taking this road isn't worth it." Seeing Zhao listening intently, the chief felt somewhat gratified. He couldn't give food to the children, but a few words of advice wouldn't hurt. "You've seen it: in winter, the mountain is invisible. Snow is thick underfoot, and the mountains are full of deep pits and traps. The slopes are narrow and steep. Even an experienced guide has to be careful with every step. One wrong move and you could fall into a ravine or a pit."

"With this weather," he pointed toward the mountain path, "if you fall and can't get up, you'll die."

Several village elders exchanged worried glances, their aged faces full of concern. This was exactly what they feared.

But their food supplies couldn't last until the snow melted in spring...

"Besides the difficult road, there are also the beasts and those criminal fugitives wanted by the government." When he mentioned fugitives, disgust was evident in the chief's eyes. "In winter, hunting is hard. People are short of food, and so are the beasts. If you're unlucky enough to run into a hungry wolf pack, those wolves can chew your bones to bits. Don't underestimate them. I don't know if there are wolves in your mountains, but in the range behind you, the wolf packs have fangs sharp enough to bite through a skull. They're pack animals. Rarely do you see a lone wolf; if you spot one, there are probably several more hidden nearby."

Looking at this group of old, weak, women, and children, he shook his head inwardly. If they really encountered a wolf pack, the casualties would be heavy.

Old Man Zhao's heart skipped a beat, and a serious expression finally crossed his face.

Maybe the smooth journey so far had given him a false sense of confidence. He thought they only lacked food; once that problem was solved, there would be no other worries. The mountain path would be slow, but they could take it easy. If they met beasts, they had knives—what was there to fear?

He had never considered what would happen if they encountered beasts too fierce even for their blades.

There was always the unexpected.

"As for encountering fugitives..." The chief looked over the strong men at the front of the group and said coldly, "That, you don't need to worry about. As long as you're willing to fight with your life on the line, flesh and blood are all the same. No one is born stronger; it's just a matter of who pierces whose heart first!"

That was true. Old Man Zhao smacked his lips. The only thing he wasn't worried about was meeting men. No matter how tough a neck is, it can't withstand a blade.

"I'm telling you all this because I want you to understand: life is hard. Why rush into the mountains to die now?" The chief sighed. He considered himself a fair judge of character. People who didn't abandon the weak and managed to protect them during flight couldn't be great villains. He was harsh to the wicked but felt compelled to speak a few sincere words to those with conscience. "Wolves are frightening, men are hateful, but nothing is more terrifying than an unsteady path!"

"If I were you, I'd wait until spring when the snow melts, then set out. If you're lucky enough to meet a merchant caravan, pay some silver to follow them. They have escorts, guards, and even hired guides. It's much safer to travel together."

"Lack of food, you say?" The chief smiled magnanimously. "Our village doesn't have closed mountains. As long as you have the skill, you're free to hunt in the mountains. Just don't go too deep, and you're unlikely to run into too much danger."

"The forest is vast. There are plenty of flat, sheltered places. Throw up a simple shack and live there. As long as you don't cross the fish pond, no one will drive you away."

"Endure," he said. "Endure one or two months like this, and all these old people and children will survive."