Shen Qingwan was never one for idle chatter, but when it came to killing, she never hesitated.

She took a few steps forward and stomped her foot onto Zhang Qiao’er’s chest.

Zhang Qiao’er gasped in pain, struggling to breathe, and for the first time, she felt the suffocating grip of death closing in on her.

Zhang Juxiang, seeing how ruthlessly Shen Qingwan struck, was so terrified that she had already fled, not daring to linger.

Zhang Hong and Wu Ernian, seeing their daughter being beaten, rushed over immediately.

“Qingwan, what are you doing?! What did my Qiao’er do to deserve such heavy-handed treatment?” Wu Ernian wailed, trying to help her daughter up, but she froze under Shen Qingwan’s chilling gaze, not daring to move.

Zhang Hong, on the other hand, was more perceptive.

He knew just how formidable Shen Qingwan was, so he didn’t dare provoke her.

“Qingwan, whatever Qiao’er did wrong, I apologize on her behalf. She’s still young—please don’t hold it against her,” he pleaded.

He had actually heard what Zhang Qiao’er had said earlier but hadn’t thought much of it.

Women liked to gossip—it was nothing unusual.

He never expected Shen Qingwan to overhear and take it so seriously.

Shen Qingwan lifted her gaze to Zhang Hong and sneered. “I don’t accept apologies. She tarnished my reputation. If I cripple one of her hands, that’s not excessive, is it?”

As she spoke, she pulled a dagger from her waist.

Zhang Qiao’er screamed in terror, and a foul stench filled the air.

Shen Qingwan looked down to see a wet stain spreading beneath Zhang Qiao’er—she had wet herself in fear.

Realizing she had lost control of her bladder, Zhang Qiao’er was mortified, but she didn’t dare further enrage Shen Qingwan.

“What’s all this commotion instead of getting some rest after a long day?”

The village head, having heard that a fight had broken out, rushed over to check.

He hadn’t expected to find Shen Qingwan beating Zhang Qiao’er—more precisely, Zhang Qiao’er being completely overpowered.

“Village Head, please talk some sense into Madam Wenzhao! She’s about to cut off Qiao’er’s hand! We’re all neighbors—arguments happen all the time, but there’s no need for knives!”

Zhang Hong knew how important Shen Qingwan was to the village and dared not offend her.

He just wanted to settle the matter.

His daughter had already lost her dignity; if she also lost a hand, she would be ruined for life.

The village head turned to Shen Qingwan and asked about the situation.

Shen Qingwan didn’t say much—just that Zhang Qiao’er had slandered her and Bai Yong’an, speaking ill of them.

Hearing this, the village head frowned at Zhang Qiao’er in disapproval.

He hadn’t expected an unmarried girl to be so fond of stirring up trouble.

He then cleared Shen Qingwan’s name:

“Master Bai is a traveling merchant. When he was in Qing’an Prefecture, he was unfortunate enough to be attacked by mountain bandits and nearly lost his life. It was Madam Wenzhao who saved him.

Hunter Zhang and the others can vouch for this. Master Bai, fearing further danger on the road, decided to travel with us for safety.

When Madam Wenzhao brought him back, she informed me, and I agreed to it. As for why he stays close to her family, it’s only natural—she saved his life.

Furthermore, Master Bai has been paying for his food, so of course, they take care of him along the way.

Zhang Qiao’er, you didn’t know the truth, yet you spread baseless rumors and slandered someone’s reputation. That was truly wrong. You should remember—misfortune comes from the mouth.”

With those words, the village head not only cleared Shen Qingwan’s name but also sternly reprimanded Zhang Qiao’er.

Then, he turned to Shen Qingwan and said gently,

“Qingwan, let’s leave it at this for today. If she dares to speak ill of you again, you may deal with her as you see fit.”

This was both a promise to Shen Qingwan and a warning to Zhang Qiao’er.

Shen Qingwan was not unreasonable.

Since the village head had spoken, she wouldn’t push further. “Since you’ve intervened, I’ll let her go this time. But if there’s a next time, I won’t be so lenient.”

She twirled the dagger in her hand before finally lifting her foot off Zhang Qiao’er’s chest.

Zhang Qiao’er, drenched in cold sweat, bit her lip in humiliation but didn’t dare speak back.

Shen Qingwan gave her one last glance before turning to leave.

Bai Yong’an also cast a cold look at Zhang Qiao’er before following her.

Nearby, Widow Chen scolded her daughter-in-law, who still looked shaken. “Stay away from Zhang Qiao’er. She’s nothing but trouble.”

Zhang Juxiang lowered her head and nodded timidly. “Understood, Mother.”

She never thought Zhang Qiao’er would be so bold as to provoke Shen Qingwan head-on.

From now on, she would keep her distance.

The night was dark and eerie.

Not far away, the farmland was dotted with small mounds—graves hastily made for the dead.

The occasional caw of crows made the scene even more desolate and chilling.

Fortunately, their group was large, so they weren’t afraid of encountering anything unclean.

Shen Qingwan sat on the ground beside the mule cart.

A straw mat was spread out beneath her, and a thin blanket was placed on top—that was her bed for the night.

Under the faint moonlight, she examined the half-piece of iron she had retrieved from her storage space.

She hadn’t looked at it closely before, but now she realized it wasn’t just an ordinary chunk of metal—it was meteorite iron.

The backside of the tiger-shaped metal piece was engraved with four words: “Daxia Tiger Tally.”

“A tiger’s mouth carries the emperor’s command. Its size controls ten thousand soldiers.”

It was a tiger tally—an artifact of immense military power in ancient times.

Even a fool would know what this meant. This was a token capable of commanding armies.

She recalled the man’s dying words—deliver this to someone whose name contains “Zhan.”

The black-clad assassins were most likely hunting for this tally.

And yet, it had fallen into her hands.

Unfortunately, it was of no use to her. If anything, it was a dangerous burden—something that could get her killed.

Still, she decided not to throw it away. It might prove useful one day.

As the night deepened, the exhausted villagers gradually fell asleep.

Sleeping outdoors was uncomfortable—not just because of the mosquitoes but also because the heat made it unbearable.

The ground, having been baked by the sun all day, still radiated warmth, and the air remained stifling.

Yet, after days of grueling travel, exhaustion won over discomfort.

Despite spraying herself with insect repellent, Shen Qingwan still tossed and turned in the heat.

Inside the cart, the three children also struggled to sleep.

But there was nothing to be done—life on the road was harsh.

Compared to the refugees who suffered hunger and thirst, they were already faring much better.

As the first rays of sunlight touched the earth, Da Huang nudged Shen Qingwan’s foot, as if reminding her that it was time to wake up.

Startled, she opened her eyes.

Seeing it was Da Huang, she relaxed.

The villagers of Dahe Village were already packing up, preparing to set out.

On the road ahead, groups of refugees had begun passing by.

The village head urged everyone to hurry.

If they moved quickly, they could cover more ground before the sun rose too high—otherwise, the heat would make travel unbearable.

After half a month of fleeing, Shen Qingwan had watched the refugees grow thinner and weaker.

What had begun as mere hunger had turned into streets littered with corpses.

Parents ate their own children.

Corrupt officials and bandits ran rampant.

For these refugees, reaching Suzhou alive was as difficult as a pilgrimage—one filled with endless suffering and trials.