After running some distance, Zhou Dalan had barely managed to steady herself when Xiao’an raised her foot and kicked the matchmaker’s silk flower.
The flower flew through the air and landed right in front of Zhou Dalan’s feet.
The accuracy made Zhou Dalan suck in a sharp breath.
That was only a silk flower.
What if it had been a sharp knife? Would it have gone straight through her back and pierced out through her chest?
This girl actually knew martial arts.
Zhou Dalan felt her scalp go numb. She suddenly felt an imaginary pain in both her chest and back.
She bent down, picked up her silk flower, and no longer cared about Su Shun and Zhao Daiqin.
She took off running as fast as she could.
Su Shun and Zhao Daiqin were both stunned.
Two years ago, after Xiao’an’s grandmother died, they had come here several times.
Back then, Xiao’an had still been the same as she was when she was little—quiet, timid, and dull. She hadn’t even dared to look them in the eye.
How had she changed so much after living on her own for two years?
Could it be that those two dead old ghosts had possessed her?
Otherwise, where could she have gotten such abilities?
The two exchanged a glance.
They were unwilling to accept it, but they also regretted their past decisions.
Back then, they had refused to learn martial arts from the old couple, always saying that practicing such things was useless.
Now look at them.
They couldn’t even beat a teenage girl.
Especially since Su Shun’s butt had been struck so hard that it was bleeding. That showed just how vicious that damned girl had been.
Zhao Daiqin supported the limping Su Shun as they slowly made their way down the mountain.
Meanwhile, Xiao’an carried her hoe on her shoulder and held the sweet melon seeds as she prepared to go down to the foot of the mountain and plant her crops.
There was only one narrow mountain path leading up and down.
Su Shun happened to look back and saw Xiao’an coming up behind them with a hoe on her shoulder.
He thought she was coming after them to beat them again.
He shouted,
“Run!”
After yelling, he hurried downhill, crying out in pain with every step.
Zhao Daiqin was infected by Su Shun’s panic. She turned around, took one look at Xiao’an, and her face immediately went pale.
She ran downhill as fast as she could.
Xiao’an was stunned for a moment.
Then she understood why the two of them were running for their lives.
Looks like there’s some truth to the saying that evil spirits fear the strong.
She didn’t bother with the terrified Su Shun and Zhao Daiqin.
She simply went down to the foot of the mountain and began planting her fields.
By noon, Xiao’an had planted about half a mu.
The sun was directly overhead, and she was preparing to go back for lunch.
Then, while casually turning her head, she noticed several plants growing along the ditch at the edge of the field.
Their calyxes were purplish-blue, and their entire bodies were covered in fine hairs.
Isn’t that Chinese pulsatilla?
It was an excellent medicinal herb.
In her previous life, when Xiao’an was young, wild pulsatilla grew everywhere in the mountains and fields.
Later, as farmers began using pesticides, wild pulsatilla gradually disappeared.
Although there were no pesticides here, this hardy wild plant was still something Xiao’an was seeing for the first time in this world.
It was already March.
The pulsatilla had just begun flowering and had not yet produced seeds.
This was the perfect time to dig it up.
Xiao’an used her hoe to carefully dig out the roots of several pulsatilla plants.
She brought them back to the bamboo house.
She found a pair of scissors, cut off the stems and leaves, removed the fine roots, then took the plants into her space.
She washed them clean in the small river and placed them on stones along the riverbank to dry.
She would keep them for later.
She might not need them herself, but perhaps someone else would.
That evening, it rained again.
After the rain, a small spring beside the bamboo house began dripping steadily.
Xiao’an didn’t lack water, but she still placed a basin underneath it to collect the water.
That way, if anyone asked, she could explain how she had water to drink without constantly going down the mountain.
She finished planting the rest of her land over the next two days.
On the third day, she spent the entire day digging wild vegetables and also collected half a basket of mushrooms.
She ate some of the vegetables that day and left the mushrooms outside the bamboo house to dry.
That night, as usual, Xiao’an secured the bamboo house door and entered her space to rest.
There were many books inside the house—some she had bought when she was in school, and others that her grandfather had purchased.
Xiao’an lay on the bed reading a book.
Because she could hear sounds from outside while inside the space, she suddenly heard the bamboo house door rattle twice.
It sounded as though someone was trying to open it.
Unlike the space, which had electricity, ancient times had no electrical power.
For convenience at night, Xiao’an had taken her grandfather’s flashlight into her room two days earlier and fully charged it.
It was a large handheld flashlight, extremely bright, and could run continuously for more than ten hours on a single charge.
Xiao’an put on her slippers and carried the flashlight out of her space.
However, she didn’t turn it on.
She quietly walked to the door and listened carefully, trying to determine whether the thing outside was a person or an animal.
A man’s low voice came from outside.
He muttered angrily,
“This stinking girl. She even made the door pretty sturdy.
“You think this can keep me out?
“Once I get this door open, I’ll have a good time with you up here on the mountain. You can cry for your parents and beg for mercy all you want. I won’t let you go.”
Xiao’an immediately understood.
There was a man outside.
He was probably from the village and knew that she was living alone halfway up the mountain.
He had developed malicious intentions.
It didn’t matter what kind of man he was.
Even if he was big and strong, Xiao’an could easily deal with him.
Her first thought was to grab her sickle and chop the bastard’s head off.
In ancient times, a woman’s reputation was considered as important as her life.
This man couldn’t possibly be unaware of that.
Yet he still intended to do such a thing.
Clearly, he wasn’t a decent human being.
He was nothing more than an animal.
Xiao’an picked up the sickle.
Just as she was about to open the door, a scene suddenly flashed through her mind.
Many years ago, when she had just entered first grade, she had read a book her grandfather bought for her.
She couldn’t remember the title anymore, but she remembered one particular story very clearly.
A villager from deep in the mountains was traveling out of the mountains at night.
He had spent most of his life deep in the mountains and had never seen a car before.
Coincidentally, on that particular night, a truck was driving toward him from a distance.
The man mistook the truck’s two bright headlights for the eyes of a wild beast.
If its eyes are that big and bright, just how enormous must that beast be?
Terrified, he crouched in the grass beside the road.
He held a wooden stick and prepared to ambush the “beast” when it came close.
He planned to strike it directly in the eyes.
As long as he blinded it, he would have the advantage.
The first to strike gains the upper hand; the one who strikes second suffers.
It was an ancient truth.
So he crouched there with his stick, waiting.
The “beast” came.
Then, with a sudden whoosh, it sped past him.
It moved so quickly that he didn’t even have time to strike.
He was so terrified that he even dropped his stick.
Thinking of this story, Xiao’an glanced at the large flashlight lying on the bed.
She smiled.
She walked over, picked up the flashlight, and quietly returned to the door.
A thin, sharp knife was being pushed through the gap in the door.
The man outside was trying to use it to pry open the door bolt.
Xiao’an suddenly moved.
She quickly pulled open the door bolt and switched on the large flashlight.
The door suddenly swung open.
The crouching man froze for a moment.
Then his eyes were suddenly flooded with light.
A huge “eye,” even larger than the moon, appeared directly in front of him.
The man let out a terrified scream and fell backward onto the ground.
That enormous “eye” was shining directly into his face.
He couldn’t open his eyes.
He screamed so loudly that his voice cracked, then scrambled to his feet and ran.
He stumbled repeatedly as he fled, screaming,
“Ghost! There’s a ghost!”
Xiao’an sneered.
Trying to run? No chance.
She held the flashlight in one hand, shining it at the man’s back.
With the other hand, she pulled the sharp knife out from the gap in the door.
She raised her hand and threw it at the man’s leg.
The knife pierced through the back of his right thigh and came out the front.
One knife, two holes.
The accuracy came from the original owner’s years of martial arts training.
The force behind the throw came from Xiao’an’s golden finger—superhuman strength.
The man collapsed to the ground.
Clutching his thigh, he let out continuous screams of agony.
His cries carried all the way down to Linshi Village.
The few dogs in the village immediately began barking wildly.
Xiao’an switched off the flashlight and bolted the door.
She didn’t enter her space.
Instead, she lay down on the bed inside the bamboo house and quietly listened to the sounds outside.
About half an hour later, she faintly heard many people talking.
People from the village had come up.
Although rural villages didn’t have quite so many rules and formalities, no one would come knocking on an unmarried young woman’s door in the middle of the night.
They still had to avoid giving rise to gossip.
Xiao’an was smart enough to understand this.
So she didn’t open the door and go outside either.