Chapter 2: Sorrow in the Village…

Uncle Laogen, who also lived near the edge of the village, arrived along with the voice. He cautiously peeked his upper body around the corner, trembling slightly, clutching an iron shovel in his hand—clearly scared out of his wits.

“Uncle Laogen, it’s me, Haizi.”

“Haizi?”

Most people in this era suffered from night blindness, and when the sky grew dark, their range of vision was very limited. So even if they weren’t far apart, they still had to rely on voices to recognize one another.

Hmm? Wait a second—how could Fang Dahai see clearly in the dark? Was this another perk of transmigration? It was said that transmigrators often gained enhanced physical abilities. If that were true, and he had transmigrated twice… then maybe he really had scored a bargain?

The random thought flashed through his mind, and Fang Dahai refocused on the reality before him.

“Yeah, I came back to check on things.”

“Oh, oh, as long as everything’s fine, that’s good… That’s…”

Uncle Laogen lowered the iron shovel in his hand, mumbling with relief. But before he could finish his sentence, he took a few steps forward—then froze again.

The shortened distance was enough for him to see the body lying on the ground. He looked at Fang Dahai, then at the body of Fang’s father, which had been slightly arranged. Facing Fang Dahai, who had just lost his father, the middle-aged man didn’t know what to say. After hesitating for a while, he finally seemed to remember something and urgently asked:

“Haizi, where are your little ones?”

Several people were missing from the village today. He wasn’t sure about this kid’s situation… but if the whole family was gone and only this one was left, that would be too tragic.

By this time, Fang Dahai had found two short wooden poles and was pulling up weeds to twist into rope—planning to make a simple stretcher to drag his father’s body home. When he heard Uncle Laogen’s question, he paused slightly, then replied without even lifting his head:

“They’re up in the mountains. I’ll take Father back home first, then go call them back.”

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust others, but since he hadn’t checked the whole village yet and didn’t know the full situation—whether it was truly safe or not—he wasn’t about to rely on hearsay. A Jinyiwei trusts his own eyes.

Uncle Laogen didn’t question Fang Dahai’s decision. After all, as long as it was safe, not letting your father’s body be left exposed in the wilderness was a matter of filial piety. So without another word, he came over to help.

“Right, the village is in chaos right now, and your little Xiangcao is so young—easily scared out of her wits. Come on, let me lend a hand. You’re making a stretcher?”

“Yeah, I’m small and not very strong. This way I can drag him back.”

“Ah, you should’ve said so earlier. No need to waste effort on this. The gate of Old Feng’s house next door got kicked off—it’ll do just fine. Let’s use that to carry him.”

Old Feng’s house? The one by the small path? That was close, but…

“Is that really okay? Won’t they think it’s unlucky?”

“What’s unlucky about it? Their whole family left yesterday to seek shelter with relatives. Honestly, they picked a perfect time to leave—just barely avoided today’s disaster. Talk about dumb luck.”

That convenient? Just one day apart?

Fang Dahai instinctively grew suspicious and silently made a mental note to look into it once he was done with his current task.

“Alright, then we’ll borrow their door for now. Worst case, I’ll trade them my door later.”

“Exactly! At times like this, nothing matters more than getting your father properly taken care of. Go grab the door panel—I’ll go call a few people to help.”

This village was a mixed-surname one, with many households being refugees with no blood ties to each other. So technically, no one was obligated to help. But one thing about our people—when it came to life-and-death matters, even former enemies wouldn’t hold back from lending a hand. Maybe that’s why, despite all the disasters and turmoil our civilization has endured, it keeps rising from the ashes.

Sure enough, before Fang Dahai had even finished dragging the door panel to where his father’s body lay, several villagers had arrived from the direction of the village.

“It really is Old Fang!”

“I thought he’d run away. Who knew he’d die here?”

“Don’t say that. Come on, let’s help carry him back. At least let him spend one last night at home, see his children.”

With the help of these villagers, things were much easier. Fang Dahai didn’t even need to lift a finger—within a short time, he was back home, and his father was lying in the center of the main hall.

At the same time, since several familiar neighbors had come over, Fang Dahai took the opportunity to ask about the situation in the village. Combining what he heard with what he had seen along the way, he was able to form a rough picture of the current safety level.

The routed soldiers had indeed left, but the village had suffered heavily. Five families had lost members, three houses were burned down, and nearly every household had been looted. But as bad as it was, Fang Dahai’s family wasn’t even the worst off. The most unlucky were the village landlords—the Fu family.

“The Fu family’s gone? How?”

Fang Dahai had inherited the original host’s memories, so he knew that the so-called landlord Fu family only owned less than 30 mu of land—barely enough to be called a wealthy household. After all, this was near the capital, right? The rules had been the same for hundreds of years. Land in the area belonged to nobles and officials—private reserves of the rich and powerful. Even if regular folks had money, they wouldn’t get the chance to buy any. So being able to gather 30–50 mu of land was already impressive. Especially in times of war, when the banners on the capital walls changed countless times. To have kept their property intact till now, the Fu family had a real talent for survival. Fang Dahai couldn’t help but admire them every time he thought about it.

“Now you tell me, a family like that—one that’s survived warlords, survived the Japanese, been through everything—suddenly just wiped out today by less than a company of routed soldiers? That just doesn’t sound realistic, does it?

“There’s no one left, or not completely gone, just that… the old madam of the Fu family was frightened by the fleeing soldiers, collapsed on the spot and never got up again. Master Fu, on the other hand, was quite resourceful—he rattled off the names of several high-ranking officials and managed to save his and his two sons’ lives. But there’s more than just the three of them in the family. There’s also a daughter, just turned fifteen this year, and several close-serving maids, all at their most delicate and youthful age…”

Don’t tell me they got raped? But they’re routed troops—shouldn’t they be more focused on looting and running for their lives than on that?

“Master Fu said the eldest girl was already engaged, and the maids were part of her dowry. That was probably just talk, trying to put up a front. Who would’ve guessed that those routed soldiers turned out to be men under the command of the same battalion commander he mentioned? And that was it—they took the whole family away, said they were helping escort the bride. Even took all the food and valuables from the house.”

As Uncle Laogen told the story, his face was full of sighs, and everyone else present shook their heads with heavy sighs too.

Even blind fools like them knew—the fate of being dragged off like that probably wouldn’t be good. Best-case scenario, they lose the daughter and get to keep their lives. Their wealth is basically all gone. Worst-case? The whole family dies out there together.

While they mourned the fate of the village’s finest household, Fang Dahai, although he also felt the chaos of the times was heartbreaking, was actually more relieved deep down.

In times like this, death was common. He’d seen enough of it to be numb. He didn’t have much sympathy left for people who had nothing to do with him. With that energy, it was better to think more about how to survive in the future.

“Sigh, Young Master Fu was such a good man. Last year when he bought a wooden bucket my dad made, he even paid a few extra coins. I hope the heavens watch over them and help them survive this disaster.”

Fang Dahai followed along and gave a sigh of regret, but then quickly tossed the thought from his mind. He bowed sincerely to the few men who had helped him.

“By the way, Uncle Laogen, Uncle Shitou, Uncle Datian, Brother Changsheng—thank you all for bringing my father back home. Everyone’s in chaos right now, and you still went out of your way to help like this. Ah, look, it’s already getting dark! No good—I have to go pick up the little ones. The mountain at night can be dangerous.”

The shift in topic was a bit abrupt, but it had the intended effect immediately.

Uncle Laogen, being the nearest neighbor, quickly took up responsibility.

“You’re right, almost forgot. Haizi, go quickly. Don’t worry, I’ll watch things here for a while. Oh, and there’s still some tung oil left at home—I’ll light a lamp for your father. That way, he can wait for you all to come back and see him one last time.”

Wait—he’s already dead, and still “waiting for them to come back”? That… even though things like lighting a guiding lamp for the dead so their souls can have one last look at home is just superstition, in a world where time travel is real… it’s kind of creepy, to be honest.

Even someone as bold as Fang Dahai couldn’t help but shiver. He suddenly felt the urge to hurry and bring the real sons and daughters back to stand vigil.

“Alright, alright, I’m going now! Thank you, Uncle Laogen!”

As he spoke, Fang Dahai was already heading for the door. The moment he stepped outside, he picked up speed and dashed toward the woods behind the village.

He had no idea if the little ones were safe or not. Damn, better not to think about it— the more he thought, the more anxious he felt!