Chapter 253: A Well-Timed Finishing Blow

They were still rummaging through things and hadn’t yet reached the ambush spot Master Lu had designated.

The villagers whose homes were being searched clenched their fists tight.

But they held back.

At last, Master Lu shouted, “Kill!”

From all directions, men surged out, catching the six intruders off guard. But only for a moment. In the blink of an eye, they reacted—three drew blades, three raised bows—and charged forward with ferocity.

Various wooden boards blocked their view. The archers loosed arrows toward the sounds, but every arrow thudded uselessly into wood. They cursed loudly, and before they could stow their bows, a barrage of stones came flying at them.

The six from Northern Rong: …

They had never seen such a “gentle” battle formation from Guanzhou before.

They were expecting blades, not rocks.

But the rocks hit hard and fast, just as deadly. Dodging frantically, their tight formation was broken apart. The villagers hiding behind the wooden boards never showed themselves, leaving the Northern Rong fighters with no clear target.

Their bloodlust ignited.

One of them shouted something, and the six suddenly charged forward with ferocious momentum—only to swerve at the last second. They scattered and darted through the gaps between the boards.

That was when the difference between villagers became clear. Those with experience fighting mountain bandits reacted instantly, lifting their boards and slamming them forward, trying to knock the intruders down.

The inexperienced ones froze for just a moment at the sight of the fierce Northern Rong warriors. That brief hesitation was all it took—one of the enemies broke through, using the nearby buildings for cover, and vanished from sight in an instant.

Qi Wu’s board was horizontal. If he raised it vertically, he couldn’t see anything.

The six Northern Rong fighters abandoned their bows, which played right into the villagers’ hands.

Qi Wu charged forward, putting his waist and arms into it. He swung the door board with exaggerated force, slamming it straight into one of the intruders.

That Northern Rong fighter was incredibly unlucky. After finally breaking through the encirclement, he ran into this brute who didn’t fight by any normal rules.

The door board hit him full in the face.

A loud *clang* echoed.

The man fell flat on his back.

His face was smeared with blood.

Hu Er swiftly picked up the longbow, quiver, and blade from the fallen man. He tossed the blade to Wang Dalang.

Wang Dalang weighed it in his hand.

Without hesitation, he hurled it like a javelin. The blade struck one of the Northern Rong fighters who was pinned between two boards, unable to escape.

*Thud!*

The sound of metal piercing flesh.

The two boards moved in perfect sync—one slammed down hard, while the other revealed a head peeking out from behind. The villager spotted the longbow on the ground and quickly snatched it up.

With the bow in hand, Hu Er moved like a fish in water.

He scrambled up a newly built earthen wall nearby, his sharp gaze scanning the battlefield.

Suddenly, he locked onto a target.

Bowstring drawn to its fullest.

An arrow shot out.

*Thwack!*

A scream rang out, followed by the sound of something crashing to the ground.

Hu Er’s piercing gaze shifted to the group closest to the fallen target.

Those men flinched as if scalded and rushed over to check if that bastard was dead for good.

The bowstring drew tight again.

Hu Er aimed at another Northern Rong fighter, one still struggling like a trapped beast, and loosed the arrow without hesitation.

*Thwack!*

Another one down.

The villagers quickly retrieved the fallen weapon. The one who picked up the blade instinctively slashed a few more times at the downed enemy.

Then he looked at the bloodied blade in his hand, glanced at the still-empty-handed Master Lu and his group who were locked in hand-to-hand combat, and fell into deep thought.

How should he get the blade to Master Lu?

Throwing it was too risky. If he missed, he could easily injure one of their own.

So he handed the blade back to Wang Dalang.

Wang Dalang was a crack shot—not just with arrows, but with rocks, sticks, boards, and even knives.

He didn’t hesitate. He hadn’t retrieved the knife he threw earlier, and his hands were empty.

He took the new blade, gave it a quick test heft, and joined his companions in surrounding the Northern Rong fighters that Master Lu’s group had cornered.

Master Lu was burning with frustration. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. They had only managed to trap two of the Northern Rong—so many had gotten away!

But he couldn’t afford to lose focus now. All they had were wooden boards.

They pressed forward with the boards, trading blows with the Northern Rong in the chaos, then retreated, repeating the cycle.

The two remaining enemies began to adapt to the pattern. The next time the villagers lunged out, the Northern Rong braced themselves to take the hits and slashed out with their blades.

Master Lu’s cousin took a cut to the arm, blood gushing out.

With him out of the fight, the board defense lost its flexibility.

That was when Wang Dalang and his group arrived.

They stepped in to support the defense, taking over Master Lu’s cousin’s position.

The pattern resumed.

Just as one of the Northern Rong prepared to land another vicious slash—

Two people struck at once.

One was Hu Er, waiting patiently from above.

The other was Wang Dalang, poised for this exact moment.

An arrow and a blade landed simultaneously.

Both pierced the Northern Rong fighter’s body.

The raised blade never had a chance to fall.

The man slowly looked down, seeing the arrow and the knife embedded in his chest. His mouth opened wide as if to shout, but only a few meaningless gasps escaped before he collapsed.

Wang Dalang pulled the knife free, yanked out the arrow too, and casually tossed it back.

Hu Er, long used to this, caught the bloody arrow beside him and silently nocked it again.

Out of the corner of his eye, Master Lu saw his cousin wounded.

So did the Northern Rong fighter facing him.

The sight of blood only made him more savage.

Master Lu’s fury ignited.

It felt like a fire had erupted in his chest, burning through his entire body. His eyes locked on, his legs moved.

With a swift, precise kick, he struck the Northern Rong’s hand.

That kick—perfect angle, lightning speed—was the best move Master Lu had ever pulled off.

Never had he been this accurate before.

At that moment, if only he had a knife in hand.

Master Lu thought with a trace of regret.

In the very next blink, a knife really did appear before him.

The handle faced him, hovering right in front of his chest—close enough to grab with just a stretch of the hand.

Without a second thought, he seized it.

His facial muscles twitched with excitement, contorting into a fierce expression.

He stabbed the blade straight into the heart of the Northern Rong warrior.

Gripping the handle tightly, he gave it a vicious twist—then twisted again.

Watching the enemy’s face contort in agony, Master Lu felt an unprecedented rush of satisfaction.

Damn it, finally dead!

Blood splattered across his face.

He didn’t even bother to wipe it off. Eyes gleaming with a savage light, he turned to search for more enemies.

But the murderous glint in his gaze gradually faded, his eyes going blank.

He stood frozen, still in a battle-ready stance, watching as the village men passed by the corpse of the Northern Rong warrior. None of them missed the chance—anyone who got close would deliver a clean, efficient finishing blow.

Those without blades used wooden planks. Those without planks used their feet. One way or another, they made sure the job was done—thoroughly.

Master Lu’s brothers and nephews were dumbfounded.

They had taken down one Northern Rong. These villagers… these villagers…

Had taken down four!

And they were finishing the job too? With that kind of skill? It was almost too practiced.

A few villagers dragged over the other Northern Rong corpses from elsewhere and lined them up neatly.

“There’s still one left,” Master Lu said worriedly. “We need to find him.”

Just then, Village Chief Luo, who had been hiding who-knows-where, stormed over with long, determined strides.

Only moments ago, he had been leaning on someone for support like a frail old man. Now, that same stick had turned into a ruthless weapon, sweeping through the fallen leaves like a storm.

“You little bastards! What, you eat for free? How did one of them get away?!” His eyes bulged, eyebrows bristling, looking even more ferocious than the Northern Rong warrior from earlier. It was as if flames were about to shoot from his nose and mouth. “Get moving! I want to see that bastard’s corpse laid out right here, neat and tidy. If he’s not here, are you planning to lie down in his place? MOVE!”

A group of burly men scattered like children being chased by an angry parent, scrambling through the village in a chaotic search.

Village Chief Luo turned to the few who hadn’t moved, about to say something.

Master Lu quickly stepped in. “Village Chief Luo, we’ll help search too!”

Without delay, he led his brothers and nephews away.

He couldn’t explain it, but Village Chief Luo was terrifying.

That old man act from earlier—what a performance! Even he had almost believed it.

And now, here he was, roaring at the village youths with such force and authority.

He had to admit, just moments ago, he’d been intimidated by these villagers himself.

These men—there was no way they were the type to be scared stiff. Just look at his own son and nephews, pale-faced and trembling at his side. Those were the ones who needed comforting.

And these three had even seen blood before. Yet they were still so shaken. At least they hadn’t embarrassed him—they’d dared to charge forward and fight the Northern Rong.

Wait a second… if even his three who’d seen blood were like this…

Then why were the people of Xiao’an Village acting so…

The more he thought about it, the more something felt off.

He kept replaying the scene of them finishing off the enemies—so clean, so efficient.

“Whoa!” Master Lu suddenly froze in place, body going rigid.

“Dad, what’s wrong?” Young Master Lu looked around warily. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Master Lu held his breath for a long moment before finally exhaling.

“I had it all wrong. There’s no way this road could’ve been so peaceful… they’ve all been through something. All of them…”

His words made no sense, trailing off into muttering.

Master Lu’s weathered face turned red.

Thinking back to how he’d lectured them earlier with such heartfelt sincerity… he must’ve looked like a complete fool. No wonder they’d seemed impatient. He’d embarrassed himself beyond measure.

Now that Hu Er had a bow, he had Er Tie return the Iron Crossbow.

Li Xuemei set the crossbow aside for now. No need to rush—there were still enemies in the village. Better to wait until they were all dead before collecting weapons.

Just as she was thinking this, Yan Yu’s constantly updating map showed movement.

The target was moving fast. Maomao simply used her claw to scratch a jagged line across the paper.

That line… no matter how you looked at it, it seemed to be heading straight toward them.

Li Xuemei picked up the Iron Crossbow.

Yan Yu stood as well, lifting her iron pot.

This pot had been bought from the Platform. It was made of solid iron, sturdier than most.

Mother and daughter exchanged a glance, then focused on the cellar’s exit.

They listened intently for any sounds outside.

Maomao’s claw kept scratching, but when it reached a certain spot, it stopped.

She tilted her head, her bright cat eyes gleaming in the dark. She looked at the map, then up at the ceiling above the cellar.

Her behavior said it all—no words needed.

Li Xuemei glanced at Madam Rong and silently mouthed for her to take the others farther away.

Madam Rong quickly led Daya, who was closest, to safety, then returned after settling everyone.

Madam Qi Da sensed something was wrong and came over to check.

Seeing the stance of Li Xuemei and her daughter, she understood immediately. Glancing around, she didn’t have much to work with, so she rummaged through her bundle and pulled out a pair of scissors. Holding them in front of her, she stared seriously at the ceiling above.

There was a sound of a cellar door being pushed open—but the ceiling above them remained pitch black.

Yan Yu’s heart skipped a beat.

Mother and daughter exchanged a look, both thinking the same thing:

Not this cellar!

It’s the other one!

Yan Yu darted toward the narrow tunnel connecting the two cellars.

Only she could move quickly through that cramped space. Li Xuemei couldn’t fit.

Sweat beaded on Li Xuemei’s nose.

“Maomao, go. If someone comes down, scratch them. Scratch with everything you’ve got,” she ordered.

Maomao darted after her, trailing behind Yan Yu to the far end of the cellar.

On this side, only Grandpa Hu and his two grandsons were waiting.

The old warrior, a staunch advocate of fighting back, had felt uncomfortable staying with a group of women, so he had brought his grandsons over to wait in this part of the cellar.

As soon as Yan Yu arrived, the trio immediately noticed her presence.

They also noticed that something was wrong with the sounds coming from above.

“Grandpa Hu, go! Head to the other side,” Yan Yu said calmly.

She had already made up her mind—if the enemy started firing arrows down here, she’d curl up and hide under the iron pot. But Grandpa Hu and the boys wouldn’t make it in time.

So, she stayed behind.

Grandpa Hu shot to his feet. The sudden movement made him sway a little, but he knew better than to hesitate. At a time like this, even if your head was spinning or your brain felt like it was about to explode, you had to move.

His two grandsons trusted Yan Yu completely.

Every child in the village was part of the Young Scouts. One of their standing orders was simple: follow commands without question, no hesitation, no whining.

They grabbed their grandfather and took off.

The light above them grew brighter.

Yan Yu’s gaze locked with a pair of cold, sinister eyes.

The man had spotted people below and grinned.

It was a cruel, disgusting smile.

Maomao launched herself off the wall, leaping in a blur of motion. With no mercy, she struck with all four claws.

Ordinary cats might manage two swipes at most.

But the Yan Family’s cat? She could land four solid hits, each one forceful and precise. Balancing power and speed wasn’t easy, but Maomao had mastered it.

Four strikes—her maximum output speed.

“Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah!” Screams rang out from above.

The Hu family trio had already crawled into the connecting tunnel.

Grandpa Hu tried to look back when he heard the commotion, but his grandsons kept pushing him forward.

Yan Yu clenched her small fists and gave a firm pump.

“Nice work, Maomao,” she whispered in praise.

Maomao clung upside down to the cellar door with her claws and let out a proud meow.

Yan Yu thought for a moment, then called her down.

She watched coldly as the cellar door above was violently flung open.

She couldn’t make out the man’s face—it was covered in blood from Maomao’s attack.

Yan Yu thought, Looks like he hasn’t found the entrance to the other cellar.

She gripped the iron pot tightly, fully on guard.

The man tried to draw his bow, but the cellar opening was too small. There wasn’t enough room to pull the string.

Without hesitation, he put the bow away, drew a blade, and leapt down.

At the exact moment he jumped, Yan Yu dashed into the tunnel.

She held the iron pot in front of her, stepping backward as she moved.

One girl and one cat quickly retreated toward the other end of the cellar.

The man landed, rolled to absorb the impact, then popped up in a crouch, blade held horizontally in front of him.

He scanned the area warily.

(End of Chapter)