“Uncle, stay here with the others and wait. I’ll circle through the forest to check the situation. No matter what, don’t let anyone go over,” Shen Qingwan instructed before swiftly turning and disappearing into the nearby woods.

The forest was dense, situated between a winding road with ten curves, making it the perfect place to move unseen.

After pushing forward for a while, she caught sight of the situation outside the forest.

As expected, the black-clad men and the armored guards were engaged in a fierce battle.

Drawing closer, she noticed the two groups were fighting over a bundle. Inside the bundle seemed to be a box.

Shen Qingwan watched as the masked black-clad men slaughtered the armored guards one by one.

The leader of the black-clad group then tore the bundle from the dead leader of the armored guards, opened the box, and upon seeing its contents, quickly shut it again before taking the items and leaving.

Shen Qingwan had no intention of getting involved in their feud, but curiosity got the better of her.

More importantly, she wanted to check if the fallen men had any money or valuables—better she took them than let others have them.

The earlier fight had scared off the refugees nearby, but it wouldn’t be long before they came back to scavenge.

If anyone was going to take advantage of this, it might as well be her.

After all, she would never say no to more money.

There were more than ten corpses.

As she searched them, she found they were indeed carrying a good amount of silver.

The dead leader, in particular, had a thick stack of silver notes, all with a value of a thousand taels each. Without counting them, she quickly stashed them away in her storage space.

Just as she was about to continue searching for other valuables, a sudden force grabbed her wrist.

Startled, she realized she had been too focused on looting and forgot to check if this man was truly dead.

She had assumed he was because a sword had pierced right through his stomach. But to her surprise, he still had a breath left in him.

She instinctively reached for her weapon to finish the job, but the dying man trembled and, with great effort, dug out a dark, heavy iron object from his helmet.

He stuffed it into her hands and mumbled something in a weak voice.

“Deliver… to… war…”

Before he could finish, his head lolled to the side, and his breath ceased.

Shen Qingwan stared blankly at the iron tiger-shaped object in her palm, confused.

However, she had no time to think about it—she heard movement approaching.

Swiftly, she retreated into the forest and rejoined her group.

“The battle is over,” she reported to the village chief. “We should leave quickly before we get dragged into trouble.”

The chief wasted no time leading the villagers forward.

As they passed by, they saw that the corpses had already been stripped of their belongings by the desperate refugees.

Though fearful, poverty drove these people to take whatever they could—armor, weapons, even clothing—anything of value.

The chief urged everyone to move faster.

They couldn’t afford to get involved.

Back on the mule cart, Old Man Lu asked where she had been. Shen Qingwan casually replied, “Just went to relieve myself.”

Hearing her blunt response, the old man turned red with embarrassment and glared at her.

As the group traveled, the villagers continued discussing the corpses they had seen earlier.

The sun was beginning to set when the village chief decided to stop at a crossroads to rest.

Just as they started settling in, they saw a horse-drawn carriage rushing past, moving at an urgent speed as if fleeing from something.

Shortly after, two more carriages followed, chased by groups of desperate refugees.

The villagers immediately sensed danger.

Shen Qingwan stopped one of the carriages.

“Whoa!” The driver, an elderly man, pulled on the reins.

He didn’t seem to be a refugee but rather someone simply passing through.

“Sir, you look anxious. Did something happen behind you?” Shen Qingwan asked calmly.

The old man hesitated, wary of her intentions. But seeing she was only asking, he let out a breath and replied, “You should run. Bandits are coming, and there are many of them. They kill everyone in sight. They’re not far behind, and they’ll be here soon.”

With that, he flicked the reins and hurried off.

Many villagers overheard his warning.

Panic spread through the group, and the Village chief immediately ordered everyone to get moving.

The refugees resting nearby also realized the danger and quickly gathered their belongings, fleeing for their lives.

Screams of terror grew louder from behind, pushing everyone to run even faster.

The bandits weren’t rushing—they were looting as they went, which bought the villagers a little time.

As nightfall approached, Zhao Gang, the bandit leader, and his men continued their rampage.

However, they were growing frustrated.

The refugees were dirt poor, and though they had looted along the way, they hadn’t found much silver. Food was heavy and troublesome to carry, so they left it behind.

At first, they had hesitated to kill, but after spilling enough blood, they became ruthless.

With no government forces to stop them, they indulged in their lawlessness.

“You! Where are you from?” Zhao Gang grabbed an elderly man from the fleeing crowd.

The old man trembled. “W-We are from Dali Village… Please, have mercy!”

“Let go of my father!”

“Grandpa!”

Annoyed, Zhao Gang kicked the old man to the ground and snatched a bundle from a younger man beside him.

The younger man’s entire fortune was in that bundle, and he instinctively tried to protect it—only to have Zhao Gang drive a blade straight into his abdomen.

“Hmph. Overestimating yourself.”

“Dear!”

“Father!”

A woman clutched her child, too terrified to move.

Zhao Gang strode over and, with a single slash, cut both of them down.

The child’s cries were silenced instantly, and the woman collapsed to the ground, eyes wide with horror.

“Damned kids. Their crying gives me a headache,” Zhao Gang muttered, yanking his blade free before walking off with the stolen bundle.

He and his men continued their rampage, slaughtering anyone in their path.

The people of Dali Village scattered in every direction, fleeing for their lives.

Yet Zhao Gang was growing more frustrated.

“Zhao, there’s a group of two or three hundred people up ahead,” a subordinate reported. “They even have mule carts. They might be from Dahe Village.”

Zhao Gang glanced at the panicked refugees around him before brandishing his blade.

“Let’s go. Catch up to them.”

At his command, his men charged forward, hunting their next prey.