Yu Xifeng checked the time in her space.

Every day she had to feed the animals, clean regularly, and harvest — all of which took time.

Although she had been very frugal, avoiding bringing outside tasks into the space whenever possible,

there was still less than ten days of time left in her space reserve.

Freedom from time constraints was still far away.

Even when trapped in the fire zone, Yu Xifeng hadn’t chosen to hide inside the space.

Now that she had come out safely, it was cold but bearable.

Having the space made her luckier than anyone else.

She could still change into warm, dry clothes, and even make herself a bowl of hot soup in this freezing weather.

The space was Yu Xifeng’s last refuge.

Unless it came to a dead end, she still had to crawl and struggle to survive in this world on her own.

Zhang Qiu exchanged a light steel rod for the solid wooden cane in Old Cai’s hands.

He carved it into pieces, wrapped them in paper, and finally managed to start a fire.

Occasionally, people outside would try to share the tent that Zhang Qiu had set up.

“Please, let me in to shelter from the wind. I’m freezing to death.”

Because Yu Xifeng was the only woman, they thought she might be easier to persuade.

“How can you be so heartless, letting people freeze to death?”

“You already have a fire; what’s wrong with sharing a bit of tent space? Think of it as doing good deeds.”

The pleas kept coming. One middle-aged man’s voice was especially pitiful: “I just want a corner to hide from the wind. I promise not to bother you. When I get back, I’ll serve you like a beast of burden.”

That middle-aged man dropped to his knees: “Please, let me in.”

Yu Xifeng grabbed her knife, ready to shoo them away, when the voices outside suddenly changed.

“Give up your stuff, did you hear me?”

Sounds of pulling and fighting followed.

“Brother, I’m from District 8, what good things do I have on me?” the man begged. “The good stuff’s in the tent. Brother, I have old and young depending on me, please have mercy and let me go like a fart.”

The man couldn’t stop the group.

“Leave me something, I won’t survive without it.”

“Shut the hell up.”

Desperation grew in the man’s eyes as he lunged forward: “I’ll fight you!”

The leader had a knife.

The white bandits went in, the red bandits came out.

There were about a dozen men, but only one knife between them.

One knife was enough.

Blood flowed and then slowly congealed.

That group, about ten or so, didn’t even cover their faces, brazenly robbing.

They had pillaged along the way but still weren’t satisfied, spreading out to form a siege around the tent.

Zhang Qiu froze mid-task.

Yu Xifeng sniffed, exhaled a puff of white breath, and said to Zhang Qiu, “You do your thing.”

Old Cai followed with his steel pipe.

Yu Xifeng asked, “What are you here for?”

“Worried you’d get beaten to death,” Old Cai said. “You’re probably really angry.”

Yu Xifeng denied it: “No way, I’m always careful when I strike.”

A flicker of firelight appeared in the tent; this warmth undoubtedly attracted many envious gazes.

“Leave your stuff, then you can scram,” the man raised his voice.

There were sixteen men in the group.

All looked like middle-aged men.

They wore too many clothes, moving awkwardly; it was really cold, so they wanted to finish quickly.

If they could just knock people down and be done with it.

That was what Yu Xifeng thought at first.

Until she carefully identified, in the thin dawn light, a flash of bright red on their heads.

The fire had literally burned down to them.

Sleeping soundly at home, the house was burned, now forced out of the underground shelter to freeze.

Old Cai was right—Yu Xifeng was very angry.

These Sun God Cult followers had survived, and instead of hiding, they still dared to bully others.

They really took her face.

Yu Xifeng didn’t waste words; she swung her knife down.

Besides practicing fists with Old Cai, she had learned some acupoints and meridians from Zhang Qiu.

She was much more adept at cutting people now.

Yu Xifeng wanted to leave them all behind.

But after two fell, the rest scattered like scared rabbits.

When the knife cut them, they felt pain and fear.

Yu Xifeng chased after them, eyes burning with murderous intent towards their leader.

The leader’s face showed panic: “You can’t kill me, I’m a believer in God—”

Yu Xifeng’s knife severed his head: “Your God won’t save you.”

Old Cai’s steel rod knocked out two or three more.

They collapsed on the ground; within moments, they might as well have been dead.

The steel rod dented.

Old Cai had already disliked how slippery it was: “What a crappy stick.”

He held back his strength, unwilling to use more.

Watching Yu Xifeng’s back, he muttered, “What a wild bull.”

“A knife can also be an extension of your fists. Your fists belong to you; the knife won’t always be in your hand. Don’t rely on the sharpness of the blade,” Old Cai rambled. “You used too much strength. Didn’t you learn human anatomy from Zhang Qiu? Why are you so covered in blood? Looks ugly.”

Yu Xifeng quietly sheathed her knife.

She had learned it but had been too caught up in the moment.

Many started trying to light fires.

Those without enough resources pooled together and used people to circle the fire.

Yu Xifeng smelled the blood and felt herself smell bad too, so she sat a little farther away.

“My child is dying, does anyone have medicine? Please, save my child,” a woman stumbled in holding her baby.

After the lesson with those bandits, no one dared approach the tent anymore.

A mother’s crying always moved people.

Zhang Qiu was stirring a ceramic bowl with a stick; his hand froze hearing this.

He lowered his eyes, restraining himself from moving.

Zhang Qiu had medicine, but he couldn’t, and shouldn’t, use it now.

Yu Xifeng chewed on what could barely be called porridge, occasionally biting a tiny piece of meat.

She didn’t know if it was cured pork or duck, cut so finely that even the saltiness was faint.

She focused on counting the meat bits to keep herself distracted

instead of focusing on the increasingly faint baby cries.

When the meal was finished, the fire in the tent suddenly went out.

While burning, it hadn’t felt very warm; now extinguished, it felt suddenly much colder.

The most obvious reaction was Zhang Qiu coughing again.

While coughing, he handed out dried sweet potato slices to everyone: “Recharge some sugar, cough, cough…”

“Yu Xifeng, is that you?”

Yu Xifeng heard a voice outside.

It was Sister Yun.

Sister Yun looked miserable; she and Fatty’s clothes were torn, with two bleeding cuts on her hands.

But the things they brought were clearly more abundant.

A whole cartload.

Many eyes watched their cart.

Coming out so hurriedly, those better off wore thick layers and carried one or two bags.

Many wore mismatched or incomplete clothes, some running in different shoes.

“I heard someone over there said a woman was cutting people with a knife, I figured it was you,” Sister Yun said cheerfully.

What she said was true, but something felt off.

Sister Yun and Fatty came into the tent, and Sister Yun uncovered the cart: “I have coal here.”