Chapter 221
The night was hazy. Lu Gu had already fallen asleep when he was awakened by Little Lingjun’s sudden crying. Whether it was the child’s cries disturbing him or something else, he felt his heart pounding incessantly, leaving him flustered and uneasy.
“Amu’s here, Amu’s here.” He hugged the child, patting and soothing him.
Finally, when Little Lingjun stopped crying and fell asleep, he wiped the tear stains from the child’s face. Yet he himself couldn’t sleep, the palpitations lingering stubbornly.
By the time he woke the next day, his face was visibly weary.
“Why was he crying last night?” Shen Yaoqing had heard Little Lingjun’s cries the night before and now, holding the child, he asked with a smile.
The child was too young to answer. Instead, he blew on a clay whistle in his hand and laughed uncontrollably when the adults winced at the noise.
“Kicking and crying, probably had a bad dream.” Lu Gu replied casually with a smile before turning to his chores.
The weather was gloomy. The wind howled through the mountains, stirring up a cold gust that sent fallen leaves and debris flying into people’s eyes.
A night of chaos and bloodshed left them no choice but to keep running, even on trembling legs. They fled, yet death followed them at every turn. By the end, only Shen Xuanqing, Luo Biao, Qiu Laoda, and Qiu Laosan remained.
Having finally put sufficient distance between themselves and their pursuers, their legs - which hadn't rested all night - at last found momentary relief. The men collapsed where they stood, their exhaustion so complete they couldn't muster the energy to care about the dirt beneath them.
Shen Xuanqing brushed the fallen leaves from his clothes. His face was streaked with bloody scratches from tree branches, and the scent of blood seemed to cling to him. His brows remained furrowed, his expression sharp with barely suppressed fury. Never had he expected his first outing to end in such disaster.
Most of the arrows shot by their pursuers were poisoned—clear intent to kill. These men were prepared, and judging by their skills, they were no ordinary bandits. All night, they had been hot on their heels, leaving them no choice but to flee, fueling their resentment and humiliation.
He controlled his breathing, his face grim. Conserving his energy, he stayed silent, remaining vigilant of their surroundings.
Qiu Laoda wiped his face and spat a mouthful of blood. During their nighttime escape, the darkness had been so thick he could barely see. He had taken a hard fall, nearly breaking his teeth.
In a low, hate-filled voice, he cursed, “Son of a bitch. To think we’d run into these bastards.”
Qiu Laosan was usually the least capable, his legs slower than the others. But for the sake of survival, he had forced himself to keep up. Now, he couldn’t even move, let alone speak—only gasping for breath remained.
Luo Biao, after catching his breath, glanced at the three men around him—all in utter disarray. Suddenly, he let out a quiet, humorless laugh, ignoring the Qiu brothers’ stares. An indescribable bitterness welled up in his chest, and he heaved a heavy sigh.
In recent years, he had lost both parents, leaving him without a home. Hong Yao was dead too. He had finally found a way to earn money, and just as life seemed to be improving, his luck had turned—now his life might end here.
Lost in his thoughts, he suddenly felt a weight on his shoulder. Turning, he saw Shen Xuanqing’s hand resting there.
“Quiet.”
Shen Xuanqing’s voice was barely above a whisper as he glanced at Qiu Laoda and Qiu Laosan.
The three immediately fell silent, holding their breath, teeth clenched, not daring to move.
Even someone as seasoned as Qiu Laoda couldn’t match Shen Xuanqing’s agility in the mountains. Had it not been for him leading the group in their escape last night, they wouldn’t have gotten this far.
Fleeing and hiding was no easy task. Time stretched endlessly, even the wind seeming to slow, its brush against their noses tickling—a torment to their already exhausted bodies.
Qiu Laosan slowly raised a hand to scratch his nose, finally relieving the itch.
Shen Xuanqing remained utterly still, every sound in the forest sharp in his ears. After a moment, he spoke in the faintest whisper, “Don’t speak. Listen to me.”
“There are only two of them. You three run south to draw them out. I’ll find cover and take them down when I can. That’s our only chance to escape.” Luo Biao was fine, but seeing the distrust in the Qiu brothers’ eyes, he didn’t care. “If we don’t kill those two, none of us will make it.”
Luo Biao gritted his teeth, not daring to make a sound, but nodded fiercely before looking at Qiu Laoda and Qiu Laosan.
Pushed to this point, everyone’s temper flared. Qiu Laoda stifled a surge of rage. He glanced at Shen Xuanqing—had it not been for him last night, he wouldn’t have escaped this far.
A cold wind rose abruptly. Amidst the mountains and forests, none could have predicted the air of impending slaughter.
While playing, Little Lingjun’s sleeve got caught and torn. Seeing this, Lu Gu took off the child’s outer garment to mend it. The remnants of last night’s unease still lingered, making his stitches uneven. His distraction led to the needle pricking his fingertip, drawing a drop of blood.
He hissed softly, setting the needle aside to pull a handkerchief from his sleeve and wipe the blood away.
Shen Yan sat in the yard shelling beans—soaking them overnight for tomorrow’s bean rice. Hearing the noise, she looked up and asked, “Brother Guzi, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing, just pricked my finger.” Lu Gu wiped the blood clean and, seeing it had stopped, picked up the needle again.
Watching Little Lingjun chase the dog in the yard, he smiled and called, “Slow down, don’t run, you’ll fall.”
Guaizi, as if babysitting the child, didn’t run too fast, pausing now and then to wait. Little Lingjun, still unsteady on his feet, often stumbled. Fortunately, the autumn chill meant thicker clothing, sparing his knees from scrapes.
The forest shadows deepened, trembling yellow leaves scattering as dark figures flashed between the trees.
Luo Biao and the others didn’t dare look back, fleeing desperately as the masked pursuers closed in.
From the silent depths of the forest, two arrows suddenly shot out in succession. One struck a black-clad figure squarely in the back, dropping him instantly. The second arrow was dodged, and the masked man’s eyes gleamed with malice as he halted abruptly, pinpointing Shen Xuanqing’s hiding place.
Luo Biao, who had been running ahead, glanced back. Through the dense foliage, he saw the black-clad figure darting for cover—and the motionless body on the ground. His heart leapt, then surged with fierce triumph.
One down.
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