Song Jin looked at the “river” formed by the flood refugees ahead of her, her heart sinking. She hurriedly led the one injured adult and four children, tightly following the main group as they migrated eastward.
Most of the refugees were carrying bundles or shouldering loads as they walked on foot. There were also people like her pulling carts, with the elderly, the weak, the sick, and the disabled sitting on them.
Those who could still drive ox carts were relatively well-off in their villages—families like the village head’s or the Third Uncle’s household. But now, with no grass left to feed livestock, many ox carts had eventually been pulled by the refugees themselves.
Occasionally, Song Jin would see mule carts or horse carriages rushing past. The people who owned them were all dressed quite decently—clearly nobles from the prefectural city, or wealthy merchants and landlords from town.
One mule cart after another carried tightly packed supplies, grain, and water.
On both sides of the carts were servants and guards holding large blades.
The refugees knew that if they robbed those carriages, they might gain a chance to survive a little longer—but upon seeing the gleaming swords in the hands of the guards, they all abandoned the thought.
If they didn’t rob, they wouldn’t die immediately.
If they did, they would die for certain.
The migrating masses set out at mao hour and walked continuously until noon without stopping.
It wasn’t until wei hour that Song Jin keenly sensed the refugees ahead beginning to slow down.
Perhaps due to her instincts developed as a military doctor in her past life, she didn’t believe the slowdown was simply due to exhaustion. It felt more like traffic on a highway suddenly encountering an accident, forcing all following vehicles to slow or stop.
Undoubtedly, something had happened ahead that blocked the migration.
What kind of accident could stop tens of thousands of refugees?
Flood? Earthquake? Locusts? War? Bandits?
西北乾旱兩年，洪災是不可能的，能下場雨都能讓百姓笑死！
The northwest had suffered two years of drought—flooding was impossible. Even a single rain shower would make people rejoice to death.
There had been no tremors either, so it likely wasn’t an earthquake.
Song Jin could only think of the last three possibilities.
But she never imagined she would be completely wrong.
There was an accident ahead—but not locusts, not war, not bandits, and not even an ant march.
It was a swarm of rats.
This massive earthquake in the northwest not only shattered a quarter of the Great Hao Empire’s land, but also drove out a quarter of all the rats in the country, gathering them into a terrifying marching swarm even more horrifying than a zombie siege.
Wherever the rat swarm passed, only white, exposed bones remained in an instant—like a scene from hell, leaving no trace of life.
At this moment, countless rats with gaping, bloodthirsty mouths surged forward like an invading army, swallowing everything in their path. It all happened suddenly, without any warning.
“Ahhh!”
“Help!”
“Rats! Rats! Get away!”
“Run!”
In the blink of an eye, the refugees at the very front collapsed one after another in a horrific massacre. Screams filled the air, and those behind, seeing this, turned and fled like headless flies.
But there were simply too many rats.
Whether they were the weak and helpless elderly, women, and children, the strong laborers without weapons, or even the nobles, merchants, and landlords with carriages, servants, and guards—none were spared. All were instantly consumed by the rat swarm, leaving only bones behind.
The swarm continued pushing toward the rear.
At the back, Song Jin—keenly aware—initially thought the front had encountered bandits. She shouted to the village head and Third Uncle who were traveling alongside her:
“Village head! Third Uncle! We can’t go forward! There’s danger ahead! Tell everyone to leave the main migration route quickly!”
She felt that while the bandits had not yet reached them, a village of about fifty households could still escape together; their numbers were small enough that survival might be possible.
So she urged the village head to lead everyone away from the main group.
At that moment, Xiao Yanzhi suddenly heard Song Jin’s shout and quickly turned his head. He saw, in the distance, two horse carriages desperately fleeing back toward them.
The two carriages had broken away from the main group, as if fleeing some monstrous flood behind them, charging wildly off the official road.
Seeing them rushing back, Xiao Yanzhi’s pupils contracted. Like Song Jin, he also assumed bandits had appeared ahead, and he shouted urgently:
“Village head! There may be bandits ahead! We can’t go forward!”
The village head and Third Uncle, seated on their ox cart while having their sons and daughters-in-law pull it, were startled by the successive warnings.
“What?”
“Bandits?”
When they finally reacted, they also saw the two carriages frantically fleeing back.
They were clearly in chaos—something had definitely gone wrong ahead.
After a month of fleeing famine, they had never encountered such a situation.
The Third Uncle, more experienced, immediately realized the severity and reacted quickly, shouting to the village head:
“Lao Si, quickly lead everyone off the official road!”
After shouting, he raised a makeshift flag prepared the night before to signal the other nine groups. The flag had a strip of red cloth tied to it, and each group’s leader also carried one.
The red flag system had been suggested by Song Jin, who had previously told the village head to deliver wild vegetables to the Third Uncle and remind him to prepare it.
Last night, he had even thought Song Jin was being overly troublesome and had struggled to find red cloth.
Fortunately, one family in the village had recently married a daughter-in-law who brought half a bolt of red cloth as part of her dowry.
Because of Song Jin’s reminder, the red flag in the Third Uncle’s hand rose like a guiding light in the dark, immediately noticed by the teams behind.
Seeing the flag, the group leaders quickly raised their own flags and shouted to their households:
“Everyone pay attention! Hold the elderly, watch the children! Follow orders! When I say run, run! Stay with the red flag—don’t get separated!”
With that command, everyone from the Xiao family village knew something had gone wrong ahead.
The women panicked, but remained relatively calm, tightly holding onto their children.
The Third Uncle had already instructed the strong men the night before: once they saw the red flag, do not panic—just follow it.
But there were always troublemakers who dragged the group down, such as the Xiao family’s old branch.
The lazy members of the old Xiao family had thrown all their belongings onto a cart, forcing Xiao Dalang’s couple to pull it from the front and push from behind.
At this moment, Madam Yang saw the flag ahead and immediately rushed over with Xiao Yongtai and Xiao Yongkang to seize the cart:
“Stop! Stop! Put the cart down! You don’t need to pull it anymore! Let the third and fourth do it! Move aside!”
Xiao Dalang and his wife, Xu Shi, immediately understood what was happening.
Madam Yang was discarding them after exhausting their usefulness.
She intended to use them as beasts of burden and then abandon them during the escape.
Thinking of all the years they had worked themselves to exhaustion for the Xiao family, the couple felt a wave of bitterness.
But fortunately, although they were timid, they were not completely foolish. They immediately let go of the cart.
The cart carried only the Xiao family’s belongings—none of it belonged to their own family of four. They only had a few sets of clothes, which Xu Shi was carrying on her back.