Chapter 103: Beneath Still Waters The brigands cracked open the great chests from their wagons, dumped out the sundry goods inside, and began stuffing corpses into them. Even so, they failed to stuff in more than twenty to thirty corpses.
The survivors left standing in the clearing trembled like chickens waiting to be slaughtered. The brigands forced them to tidy up the scene, shoveling the blood-soaked earth into baskets and flinging it into the lake.
Within half a quarter-hour, the ground by the water was once again spotless, save for the mound of corpses piled to one side.
Then, a brigand suddenly pointed toward the lake. “Someone’s escaped!”
All eyes turned. Sure enough, a lone figure was steering a boat away from the shore. He must have bolted in the confusion, hidden in the reeds, and loosed one of the little skiffs.
With the wind at its back, the boat quickly pulled away from land.
On the bank, Mrs. Zhu bit her lip. She recognized the back of the man who was escaping. The man was none other than her husband.
The man rowed with all his strength, driving the boat toward the lake’s center. A little farther, and he would be safe. He intended to reach the nearest town, report the crime, and summon soldiers who could slaughter this pack of human-shaped beasts.
But before long, laughter drifted from the shore. He turned, bewildered, to see the brigands pointing at him, grinning and trading jokes, looking not the slightest bit worried.
Have they gone mad? Only a few breaths later, the lake erupted with a sudden crash.
The boat flipped over.
The man was now nowhere to be seen.
Mrs. Zhu clamped a hand over her mouth to keep from screaming. Her mother-in-law fainted right away.
After having violently flipped over, the skiff righted itself again. But this time, it was empty, bobbing alone on the water.
Ripples spread to the shore, then vanished.
Within a dozen breaths, the lake was as smooth as glass once more.
The villagers on the bank stared, stunned, unable to comprehend what they had just seen.
The brigands walked to the pier, loosed a dozen more boats, and loaded the chests aboard. After sending them out to the lake’s heart, they calmly sank them one by one.
Inside the chests lay corpses weighted with stones, which dragged them down to the bottom without fail.
As for the bodies heaped on the shore, the brigands flung them into the water as well.
Soon, one after another, the floating corpses vanished, as if unseen hands had dragged them down. They did not resurface. Only a few ripples and streams of bubbles marked the water before the lake completely stilled again.
By then, the brigands had already seized every child in the village. The air was filled with wailing.
The village chief stirred back to consciousness. At the sight before him, his throat closed on his own phlegm.
The caravan leader clapped him on the shoulder. “Do as you’re told, and you won’t have to die. Understand?”
The village chief bobbed his head frantically.
“I almost forgot. Do you have children under eleven?”
The chief nodded again.
The leader smiled. “Good. Then I can set my mind at ease.”
He coughed twice, then turned to the remaining villagers with a broad grin. “From this moment, we are your family. Act the play with us, and you’ll live. Do that, and you’ll even get your children back alive and breathing!”
Two quarters of an hour later, two brigands discovered Mrs. Zhu hiding inside the shrine, and they immediately dragged her out into the open.
* * *
“Night’s falling. Surely we’re not going to camp in the wilderness?” Madame Ying lifted the bamboo curtain of the carriage to peer at the sky, worry clouding her features.
The mountain scenery was fine enough, but after a whole day of damp, muggy travel, she had grown sick of it. All she longed for was a steaming hot bath.
“Maybe.” He Lingchuan lounged opposite her, a cushion stuffed behind his waist. The cramped space did not suit his long limbs, and he shifted often in search of comfort. “I’ve heard there are blind men’s caves hidden deep in the mountains. If we dig in the right spot, we might even have roast bear paw tonight.”
Madame Ying scowled. “You’ve got your own horse. Why are you still lazing in here?”
“Little Two has a horse, too, but isn’t he here as well?” Riding meant endless jolts and chafed thighs. Why would he choose to suffer when he could enjoy a comfortable carriage ride?
He Yue coughed softly. “The muddy roads have slowed us down. Our guide says the Immortal Spirit Village lies just ahead. Another one or two quarters of an hour at most.”
“So no roast bear paw tonight.” He Lingchuan sighed, slightly disappointed.
“You’re welcome to go hunting yourself,” He Yue replied with a mild smile.
He Lingchuan slumped against the window, sulking, eyes on the sky as it dimmed into dusk.
The past few days had been nothing but travel, travel, and more travel. No dreams of the Panlong Wasteland came to him at night. The broken saber seemed to sense his urgency and deliberately denied him any such dreams.
Beside him, Madame Ying and He Yue kept up idle chatter, discussing what awaited them in Xia Province.
Madame Ying liked the warmth of the east. She dreamed of buying a grand house in Dunyi City, the provincial capital, decorating it to her taste, hiring a household of seventeen or eighteen servants... on and on she went.
Suddenly, He Lingchuan hissed, “Shh!” cutting her off.
“What are you trying to scare us for?” she snapped, glaring. With more than three hundred guards outside, what was there to fear?
“No. Something’s wrong.” His expression had turned grave. “It’s dusk. The birds should be returning to roost, so it doesn’t make sense for the forest to be this silent.”
At such an hour, the air should have been filled with a riot of chirps, enough to rival a street quarrel among neighbors, magnified tenfold by the trees.
Since when had the mountains around them gone so still?
Only the rhythm of hooves and the creak of wheels broke the silence, and in that emptiness those sounds pressed tight against the heart. Madame Ying swallowed. He Yue was just about to speak when Zeng Feixiong’s broad face suddenly appeared at the window.
“Madame, Young Masters, Immortal Spirit Village is just ahead.”
Madame Ying craned her neck. Before them stretched a great shining lake, its mirror surface fringed with the shadowy outlines of houses.
So we arrived after all. With us having reached the village, what’s there to fret about? She exhaled in relief, realizing her eldest had nearly spooked her for nothing.
* * *
The column passed fields where the wheat was already half-harvested, and soon they reached the village outskirts. All the mounted soldiers dismounted.
He Chunhua, his two sons, and Zeng Feixiong went forward to meet the villagers who had come out in welcome.
Producing his mandate token, He Chunhua announced his identity and their request for lodgings. Old Steward Mo stepped up with silver for lodging fees. With the token as proof of office, the village chief agreed readily. Beside him stood a burly fellow, introduced as his nephew, surnamed Lu, given name Han.
Lu Han smiled broadly. He said the village lacked enough houses, but the soldiers could stay overnight in the granaries and drying yards behind the fields. Officials and their families, of course, would be housed in the cottages.
By now, darkness had fallen, and warm lamplight shone from every window. There was nothing more homely and ordinary than a rustic village at supper.
The He Family, Zeng Feixiong, and others were led to the best homes. Villagers brought food for them, but their expressions were strained, eyes flickering.
Madame Ying tried to chat with the woman of the house, but for every three questions she asked, she received only one awkward answer. The woman’s manner was stiff, her gaze uneasy.
The man who appeared to be her husband snapped at her, “What are you gawking at the nobles for, you ignorant shrew?” Then, he turned to Madame Ying with a fawning smile and said, “She’s never left the mountains. Please forgive her rustic ways, respected lady.”
Madame Ying waved it off and pressed two small ingots of silver into their hands. Afterward, she turned to He Chunhua and said, “The night is cold and damp. The soldiers must also have hot food and water.”