Chapter 14: Crimson (Part One)

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On the first day of the new year, auspicious snow began to fall—this would be a bountiful year. Ten Mile Village transitioned from the lively celebrations of the new year into the tranquility following the snow. Wu Yueling fed the little lynx the leftovers of pork and stroked its head. The animal was exceptionally affectionate, and thanks to its presence, the house was now free of those troublesome mice.

Wu Yueling pushed open the door and gazed at the thin layer of snow. It was the third day after the new year, and two days of light snow had covered the ground once more with a delicate white sheet.

“Yueling, be careful!” someone called out.

Only then did Wu Yueling notice the voice, and a snowball struck her squarely in the chest. Cold flakes slipped inside her collar, sending a shiver down her spine. “You mischievous little things, really…”

Brushing the snow from her clothes, Wu Yueling scooped up some of the snow, formed it into a ball, and threw it back at the playful children.

“Yueling, come look at the snowman we made!” called Aya.

After their snowball fight, Wu Yueling heard Aya’s shout and turned to her. The little girl was indeed skillful; her snowman looked even nicer than Wu Yueling’s last attempt. Wu Yueling walked over, patted Aya’s braided head, and warmed her small, red hands. “Aya, you’re amazing.”

“Aqi helped too!” pouted little Aqi, standing nearby, unhappy that only Aya was praised.

“Yes, yes, Aqi is wonderful as well!”

Aqi grinned, revealing a row of new, uneven teeth—he was at the age of losing baby teeth. “Yueling, write names for the snowmen!”

Wu Yueling patted Aqi’s head too, then inscribed the names Wu Yueling, Aqi, and Aya on the three snowmen.

That night, Wu Yueling lay in bed, unable to sleep. Beside her, Mother Lu was already deep in slumber. Quietly, Wu Yueling got up, groped her way to the kitchen in the dark, and finally turned on her flashlight. The little lynx, attracted by the light, hopped from its nest, circled her with curiosity, and leapt onto her shoulder.

Sitting on a wooden stump, Wu Yueling wondered why she was so restless tonight. Resting her chin on her hand, she sat in silence until drowsiness returned, then climbed back into bed and under the covers.

At the third watch, torches flickered across the wild fields. Hundreds of horses thundered along the narrow paths, their riders’ faces masked and blades glinting coldly in the night. Lady Du sat behind Yan Wolf on horseback, clutching a gold ingot as she endured the jostling ride, soon arriving at the entrance to Ten Mile Village.

From the silent village came a few barking dogs, like the low growl of trees in the north wind, casting a somber tone over the desolate settlement.

“Lady Du, get off the horse and lead the way—according to our agreement, we won’t harm your family!” Yan Wolf braced himself against the night chill and ordered the plump Lady Du to dismount.

Lady Du hadn’t slept well for days; dark circles ringed her eyes like a panda’s. She staggered as she got down, swaying before she finally steadied herself.

“Lead the way as agreed, and your family will be spared!”

Lady Du nodded and bowed, clinging to her gold ingot. “Thank you, sirs, thank you all!”

“Hmph!” Yan Wolf grunted impatiently and hefted his spiked club.

Han Wujiao narrowed his eyes, gripping his sword, waiting for this foolish, greedy woman to turn around.

Lady Du turned toward the village. Suddenly, a great force hurled her to the ground, agony stealing her breath as her consciousness faded beneath the cries and chaos of the bandit attack. Her hands still gripped the gold, but it was quickly pried from her grasp.

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“Kill them all—leave no one alive!” Yan Wolf raised his spiked club, spurred his horse, and charged over the woman’s corpse into the village.

Shouts and screams shook the night. Doors were smashed open, mud-brick houses set ablaze, and firelight poured through the rooms. Blades flashed, blood spattered, staining walls and mixing with the melting snow.

At last, cries for help and wails of agony pierced the darkness, the despair and flames rousing the entire village from slumber.

Wu Yueling heard the commotion outside and quickly rose. She found Mother Lu already up, peering anxiously through the window.

“What’s happening? Why is it so bright? Why are there cries for help?” Wu Yueling rubbed her eyes, asking repeatedly as she sensed something was terribly wrong.

The weak glow from the window illuminated Mother Lu’s careworn, anxious face. She turned, limping over to clutch Wu Yueling’s hand.

“Bandits! The brutes are massacring the village! You must run—I can’t keep up with my bad leg!”

Wu Yueling steadied herself, listened again to the clashing steel and dying screams outside, and declared resolutely, “No! We’ll stay here—it should be safe. If not, we’ll escape out back. I won’t leave you behind!”

“We… we can’t escape!” Mother Lu gripped her hand tightly, studying her with a complicated gaze.

“Mother! Father! No, please! Mother!” Aya’s cries echoed outside.

Wu Yueling paused, torn. “Mother, hide under the bed—I’ll be right back!”

She helped Mother Lu under the bed. The old woman wanted to protest, but finally just called after her, “Be careful!”

At the door, the little lynx blocked Wu Yueling’s path, but she scooped it up, set it aside, and drew her twin black revolvers before dashing toward the blazing Fu household. Her foot struck something soft—a human arm. She glanced down and saw Aqi, his body severed at the waist, blood staining the white snow and the three snowmen. Something inside Wu Yueling shattered; she swayed but steeled herself.

Aya’s cries had ceased. The Fu house was aflame, and from the doorway emerged a man in gray robes, shaking blood from his blade.

Wu Yueling stared at his bloody sword, frozen in shock. The biting wind brought her back to reality—people had been killed. People had been slaughtered!

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

Wu Yueling advanced as she fired, emptying her revolvers into the man until the bullets were spent. Even after he fell dead, riddled with bullets, she kept pulling the trigger, unable to quell the hatred in her heart.

Reaching the inferno that was once the Fu home, Wu Yueling saw Aya’s burning corpse, and in the flames, the innocent, smiling face of a lost life.

Taking a deep breath, Wu Yueling pulled herself from the grief and rushed home, only to see Mother Lu struggling with a brute at the door. Hadn’t she told her to hide inside? Wu Yueling’s heart leapt. She reloaded as she ran, but the inevitable had already happened.

Han Wujiao grappled with the old woman—this must be the Mother Lu from the portraits, and the young lady Cuilie hated should be in this house. The old woman struggled fiercely, even biting his hand hard.

Unable to endure the pain, Han Wujiao stabbed her in the waist, pushing her to the ground just as Wu Yueling came running.

Wu Yueling bit her lip until it bled, tears in her eyes, and fired at Han Wujiao. He dodged, taking a wound to his arm but escaping serious injury.

She knelt by Mother Lu, who was bleeding profusely from a wound that pierced her waist—blood gushed from both sides. Still, Wu Yueling refused to give up, trying to stem the flow, but her hand touched something soft—her intestines...

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“I… I can’t… Run… quickly…”

Wu Yueling’s hands were soaked in blood. She knelt there, dazed, tears welling in her eyes as she listened to Mother Lu’s fading voice and watched the light dim in her eyes. Everything had happened so suddenly—she was lost.

Thwack!

An arrow struck Wu Yueling’s shoulder, searing pain wrenching her from her sorrow. She toppled over, suppressing her cries.

“Hahaha! So, you used hidden weapons on me—how does it feel to be struck by a hidden arrow yourself?” Han Wujiao, astride his horse, endured the pain in his arm thanks to years of slaughter. Dozens of mounted bandits surrounded him. “Capture her! I want her as my bride—hahaha!”

The bandits spurred their horses toward Wu Yueling.

She watched the oncoming riders through the firelight. From her storeroom, she summoned a Firepower Sentinel. The machine gun roared to life—blood mist filled the air, horses and men toppling in heaps.

The dozen bandits and their horses fell as one. Han Wujiao, as if seeing a ghost, leapt from his horse to escape the hail of bullets, dodging aside as his mount collapsed in a spray of blood. He fled into the night.

Wu Yueling lacked the strength to turn the gun on him. She put away her weapon, limped inside, and crawled under the bed. She stripped off her clothes, stuffed them in her mouth to muffle the sound, yanked out the arrow, and pressed a hemp cloth to her wound to staunch the bleeding.

The little lynx crept into her arms. Together, they endured the cold and pain until the bleeding stopped. Only then did Wu Yueling dress herself and keep vigilant at the door.

Seeing Mother Lu’s body lying in the blood-soaked snow, Wu Yueling’s grief was unspeakable. Only after confirming no bandits remained did she drag Mother Lu’s body inside, close her eyes, and cover her with a quilt, fearing she would get cold.

Wu Yueling stepped outside and looked at the burning village. Apart from the crackle of flames, only the groans of wounded bandits remained.

She approached one bandit, who had fallen near the three snowmen. Wu Yueling glanced numbly at Aqi’s long-dead body and the snowmen standing before him. Hardening her heart, she stomped on the bandit’s bullet wound.

The bandit gasped in pain, finally begging for mercy. Wu Yueling questioned him, then shot him in the forehead.

She checked the other corpses—no survivors remained. Now she understood: the bandits had been hired by the Cui family for revenge. If their target was her, why slaughter the entire village? Why take vengeance on them all?

She blamed herself—why had she been so merciful? Why hadn’t she destroyed the Cui family when she had the chance? Why did she wait for them to come for her? Too naive!

Outside the flames, Wu Yueling made up her mind. She went to the three snowmen, looked at the names carved into them by firelight, and mercilessly toppled them beside Aqi’s corpse.

Dawn broke, the sky stained blood-red. Wu Yueling sat at her door, lost in thought. She glanced at her wounded shoulder—at least the bleeding had stopped, though pain and swelling remained.

On the walls of Jingzhou City, a sentry had just woken and saw thick smoke rising from Ten Mile Village. Alarmed, he reported to Captain Gongyang, who in turn informed Prefect Liu.

But Prefect Liu, though he sent Captain Gongyang to investigate, already knew what had happened—the Cui family had told him, and even sent eight hundred taels of gold. Measures had long since been taken.