Zhao Erhu’s pants were completely soaked, and the foul stench spread through the small thatched hut. He clutched his broken arm, tears and snot streaming down his face as he repeatedly kowtowed to Xu Lang. “Grandfather, I was wrong… I’m not human… I’ll never dare again…”
The smile on Xu Lang’s face did not fade, but the firewood stick in his hand bounced lightly as he weighed it. He turned to look at the three pale-faced wives behind him. “Turn your heads away. What comes next will be a little bloody. Don’t let it scare you.”
Hua Yourong and Xia Zhiruo were already terrified out of their wits.
Hearing him, they immediately turned around obediently and squeezed their eyes shut. Only Murong Yanran remained frozen in place, her phoenix eyes locked firmly on Xu Lang. She wanted to see what this man intended to do.
Xu Lang ignored her and lowered his gaze back to Zhao Erhu. “In your next life, remember to be a good person.”
The moment his words fell, the firewood stick in his hand cut through the air and came crashing down.
Thud.
It was not the crack of bone breaking, but a heavier, wetter sound of something being smashed apart. Zhao Erhu’s wails and pleas ended abruptly. His head burst like a crushed watermelon, red and white splattering across the ground.
The two remaining conscious thugs stared at the scene, their eyes nearly popping out of their sockets. A strange rasping sound escaped their throats before they fainted on the spot from sheer terror.
The thatched hut fell into deathly silence. The thick smell of blood mixed with the earlier stench, forming a nauseating odor.
Xu Lang casually tossed aside the filthy firewood stick as if he had just finished a trivial task. “Too noisy,” he said calmly.
Hua Yourong and Xia Zhiruo, hearing the commotion, could not help but glance back. They let out suppressed cries, their stomachs churning violently as they nearly vomited.
Murong Yanran’s face turned utterly pale. Though born into a military family and trained in martial arts, though she had seen blood on the battlefield, that had been between opposing armies, life and death in combat. She had never witnessed such calm, such clean and decisive execution. This man killed as if crushing an ant.
“You… you killed someone,” Murong Yanran said, her voice trembling in a way she herself did not notice.
Xu Lang glanced at her, utterly composed. “Yes. I killed them. These scum have bullied men and women in the village for years. At least two lives have been lost by their hands. During the famine, the royal authority could not be bothered to intervene, so they lived until today.”
His tone remained steady, as though stating an ordinary fact. “If the royal authority will not act, I will. Keeping them alive would only harm more people. I acted in place of heaven. Do you understand?”
Murong Yanran was left speechless. The reasoning was sound. Yet his indifference disturbed her more than the killing itself. What kind of soul lay hidden within this man?
[Ding! Murong Yanran favorability +5! Current favorability: 20 (Deepening Curiosity).]
Xu Lang offered no further explanation. He handled the aftermath as if dragging dead dogs, hauling Zhao Erhu and the other three corpses one by one out of the thatched hut and dumping them at the mass grave outside the village.
The hut that had felt somewhat warm moments ago was now filled with the scent of blood and death, making them uneasy.
When Xu Lang returned, the blood had been wiped clean from his hands and face, as though nothing had happened. He looked at the three frightened little quails and suddenly grinned. “What’s wrong? All scared stiff?”
“Don’t worry. I’m only ruthless toward bad people. Toward my own wives, I don’t even have enough time to dote on you.” He deliberately puffed out his chest in a proud pose.
The half-joking, half-teasing remark eased the heavy air.
Xia Zhiruo let out a soft laugh through her tears, though fear still lingered in her smile.
Hua Yourong exhaled gently, casting Xu Lang a complicated look filled with fear, admiration, and above all, reassurance. This man might be ruthless, but he was protecting them.
Murong Yanran kept her face stern and snorted softly, turning her head aside, yet her rigid shoulders quietly relaxed.
Xu Lang’s gaze swept over the three of them and suddenly paused. They were still wearing the same worn coarse cloth garments from when they had been escorted here by the royal authority, stained and patched. Hua Yourong’s clothes were especially disheveled, the collar slightly torn.
“These clothes are in such bad shape. I need to get you new ones,” Xu Lang muttered.
He walked to a corner, pretending to rummage around, but with a thought, he took out a small bag of white rice and several boiled eggs from his storage space. “There’s nothing else at home. I’ll take these to town and see if I can exchange them for some cloth.”
He placed the heavy bag of rice and eggs on the broken wooden board.
The three women froze.
In a time when human life was worth less than grass, when a single bite of food could buy a living person, he intended to trade such precious grain for cloth, something deemed useless, just to make them new clothes.
Hua Yourong’s eyes instantly reddened.
Xia Zhiruo was so moved she could not find words.
Even Murong Yanran felt her heart slam against her chest. When her father had been alive, he had cherished her in much the same way.
“Husband, we’ll go with you,” Hua Yourong said first, unwilling to let him travel alone.
“Yes, yes! We’ll go together! We can look out for each other on the road,” Xia Zhiruo quickly added.
Xu Lang thought for a moment and nodded. Someone had just died in the hut; leaving them alone did not feel safe.
Along the road, famine-stricken villagers were everywhere, reduced to skin and bones, their hollow eyes vacant as they lay or sat like walking corpses. A man dragged his seven- or eight-year-old daughter, pleading with a passing merchant caravan. “Sir, please show mercy! I’ll sell my daughter to you. Just half a piece… no, even a small piece of flatbread will do!”
The girl, sallow and thin from hunger, stood numb and silent as her father pushed her forward.
Not far away, another man was beating his newly married wife. “Useless thing! I married you and you can’t even find me food! I’ll beat you to death!”
“Stop… stop hitting me… Where am I supposed to find food?” the woman cried helplessly, curling on the ground. “Don’t hit me… Ah, go on, beat me to death then!”
These scenes of human misery struck the three women deeply.
Xia Zhiruo’s tears fell silently.
Hua Yourong’s face turned pale as she clutched Xu Lang’s sleeve, drawing what comfort she could.
Both of them shared the same thought. If they had not met him, would they have become that sold girl or that beaten woman?
Even Murong Yanran, usually so strong, felt her heart churn. She suddenly realized that the man who could kill without hesitation in a broken hut, who could joke, who would use life-saving grain to buy them clothes, did not seem so detestable anymore.
As Xu Lang led them silently through this living hell, the system notifications in his mind suddenly rang wildly.
[Ding! Hua Yourong favorability +10! Current favorability: 80 (Utter Devotion).]
[Ding! Xia Zhiruo favorability +10! Current favorability: 80 (Utter Devotion).]
[Ding! Murong Yanran favorability +15! Current favorability: 35 (Rapidly Growing Affection).]
The string of notifications left Xu Lang stunned. He halted, turning back in confusion. The three wives all walked behind him with lowered heads, none looking at him.
What the hell was going on?
He had not done anything.
Why was the favorability rising like a rocket?
Xu Lang stood there, a huge question mark practically written across his face.