Chapter Twenty-One: Refugees

At the sound of Qin Zhen’s furious roar, the panicked villagers immediately regained their composure.

Yes, this was their own village—where could they possibly run to? Only recently, under Qin Zhen’s leadership, the villagers had begun weaving and fishing, and life had grown a little easier. If they fled now, wouldn’t it all return to the days of bitter hardship?

“To hell with running! If we lose the loom, we’ll all go hungry! If you’re a man, come with me—let’s fight them!”

“Fight! Let the old folks and children go first! We’ll stay and hold them off!”

“We’re the village guards! We eat the best and get the highest pay—if we run now, what kind of men are we?!”

At that moment, Chen Shu stepped forward as well.

With a torch in one hand and the village’s only short knife in the other, he followed closely behind Qin Zhen.

The guards who had been fleeing turned back, gritting their teeth, and charged toward the village gate!

“To arms!” Li Han took the lead, rushing even faster than Qin Zhen, waving a wooden spear and roaring into the darkness, “I’ll kill every last one of you bandit dogs!”

His own father had been maimed by bandits, left crippled and unable to run. If the bandits came, his father would surely die. That was why Li Han hated the bandits so fiercely.

“Slow down, Han!” Qin Zhen quickly grabbed him, pulling him to the ground. “Hide behind the low wall! Who knows if there are arrows waiting in the woods—if you charge out like this, you’ll just be a living target!”

He lit the bonfire, letting its dim glow spill into the dense forest, revealing the shifting shadows of many figures flitting among the trees.

Qin Zhen’s past experience as a soldier showed itself in this moment—he strung his repeating crossbow and crouched behind the low wall, carefully scanning the surroundings.

Chen Shu soon arrived with his men. Of the twelve village guards, ten had come.

“Where are the bandits?”

“In the woods,” Qin Zhen replied, calm and steady, nothing like a child. “Don’t worry! We have earthen walls for cover, and repeating crossbows. If they want to break through, they’ll need at least several dozen men!”

“And if they do break in, we’re not afraid!” Chen Shu said coldly, the gleam of his short dagger chilling under the firelight. “My archery may be poor, but when it comes to knives, I’ve never feared anyone!”

Just then, another bout of shouting and fighting echoed through the air.

Liu Quan arrived, bringing the fishing crew with him.

There were even some elderly folk and weaving women among them, brandishing stools or clutching stones—timid yet desperate—that moved Qin Zhen deeply.

“Don’t be afraid, Zhen! Everyone’s here to help!” Liu Quan shouted.

Even Liu Juan had come, clutching a wooden spoon used for cooking.

“You too?” Qin Zhen was taken aback.

Eyes red, Liu Juan declared stubbornly, “I’m here to fight the bandits with you! If you die, I won’t live either!”

The people hidden in the woods seemed thoroughly frightened by this show of force, and cowered in silence.

“This doesn’t make sense. Bandits aren’t like this—they usually charge in howling. Why are they so quiet tonight?” Li Han wondered aloud.

Qin Zhen too hesitated. Narrowing his eyes, he stared for a long time before saying, “Chen Shu, bring the guards and follow me. The rest stay put.”

With that, he vaulted over the earthen wall toward the forest. Chen Shu followed without hesitation.

Liu Juan wanted to go too, but Aunt Wang stopped her. “Girl, this is a matter of life and death! Stay here, don’t make things harder for Zhen.”

In tears, Liu Juan crouched behind the wall, her knuckles white as she clasped her hands, silently praying for Qin Zhen’s safe return.

Qin Zhen advanced dozens of meters without encountering any attack. His doubts deepened; holding his torch aloft, he probed the woods and raised his crossbow, calling out loudly, “Who’s there?! If you don’t answer, I’ll shoot!”

“Don’t shoot—we’re just common folk!” a trembling voice replied, sounding like a middle-aged woman.

“Come out!” Li Han barked fiercely.

After some rustling, a mature woman with a dirt-streaked face, draped in a tattered Taoist robe, gingerly stepped from the trees.

Qin Zhen, undeterred by her gender, leveled his crossbow at her face and demanded, “Who are you? Why did you attack the village?!”

“Who attacked your village?” the Taoist woman exclaimed, dumbfounded. “We were just passing through, stopped to rest for a bit. Who did we offend? Is resting against the law now?”

“Why did you come here?” Qin Zhen remained wary. “Strangers are rare in these parts.”

“We’re refugees!” The mention brought sorrow to the woman’s face. “The bandits are fighting among themselves, killing and looting everywhere! Many villages have suffered. My temple was burned—we had no choice but to flee…”

Before she finished, fierce fighting erupted in the woods, accompanied by Chen Shu’s angry shout and cries of alarm.

The Taoist woman’s expression changed dramatically. “What are you doing?!”

“Seeing is believing,” Qin Zhen said, pressing his crossbow to her side. “Lead the way!”

Within the forest, the village guards’ torches flickered everywhere.

Several unfamiliar men lay sprawled on the ground, and Chen Shu was pinning a young Taoist man beneath him, making sure he couldn’t move.

“Damn, this guy’s strong!” But Chen Shu, experienced as he was, quickly subdued and disarmed the young Taoist.

In the firelight, more than twenty ragged commoners cowered on the ground in terror—women, children, and a few elderly among them. Clearly, these people were no bandits.

They were refugees.

In this war-torn world, countless people were driven from their homes, wandering from place to place, with no shelter or hope. Liu Juan herself had once been a refugee—lucky enough to find a place to belong. But most were not so fortunate, dying on the road or living lives worse than death.

“Why didn’t you come into the village?” Qin Zhen lowered his crossbow, his tone softening.

“How did we know you weren’t a black village?” suspicion flickered in the Taoist woman’s eyes.

With bandits rampant, many villages protected themselves by collaborating with the outlaws, luring innocent people into the village, binding them, and handing them over to the bandits as slaves.

To these refugees, Qin Zhen and his men looked exactly like such a black village—how else to explain their ferocity?

“Let me go!” The young Taoist still struggled. “If you have the guts, come at me alone—let the others go!”

“Well, aren’t you righteous!” Chen Shu grinned.

The Taoist woman, thinking Qin Zhen and his men were up to no good, stealthily drew a short dagger from her sleeve, ready to take him hostage if need be.

But then she saw Qin Zhen walk over to a pair of mother and daughter, pulling half a steamed bun from his pocket.

“Hungry? Here, eat.”

His gentle smile was a world apart from the cold resolve he’d shown earlier.

He softly patted the little girl’s head, watching her frightened eyes gradually turn to timid curiosity.

Then he turned, looked up at the stunned Taoist woman, and asked in a deep voice, “Where did you come from?”