The killing of the little boy by Xi Qingyue displeased a scholar in the group ahead. Ignoring his family's attempts to stop him, he walked over.
He approached the mule cart and confronted Xi Qingyue directly. "You clearly had the power to save him, so why save him only to kill him? He was just a child."
Hearing this, Xi Qingyue shot back, "And what then? His whole family is dead. Should I play the saint and raise him too?"
She paused, fixing her gaze on the blue-robed scholar with a mocking tone. "No one in your group stepped in when his family was being beaten to death, did they? He ran past your crowd first when they were chasing him. None of you, with all your numbers, lifted a finger to help. So who are you to judge me? Before he came to me, he had no idea whether I could save him or not. He was already set on harming us. If I killed him, so what?"
The scholar's face flushed red with shame and anger. He pointed at Xi Qingyue, sputtering, "You... you..."
He opened his mouth several times but couldn't form a complete sentence. It was true; the people in his village had watched without lifting a hand.
Still, he refused to back down. "That's different! We didn't save him because we didn't have the strength. You had the power to save him—you could have spared his life."
Xi Qingyue glanced at their group. There were at least a hundred people in all. Even after counting the women, children, and elderly, there were still dozens of able-bodied men. They hadn't acted because they feared casualties among their own.
It was only natural to protect your family first in times like these. But to refuse to help and then try to guilt-trip her? That crossed the line.
With that thought, Xi Qingyue raised her gun and aimed it at the scholar's forehead. "Get back to your group now, and I'll let this slide. Otherwise, you can go join them in the grave."
These people thought she was an easy target—soft, just because she was young and small. Even after seeing her kill, they dared to come at her like this. It was clear they believed that because she was a child, they could scold her without consequences.
For all his fear, the scholar still didn't think Xi Qingyue would actually pull the trigger. He had only spoken a few words. He hadn't tried to rob her or hurt anyone.
But the villagers cared nothing for his reasoning. A few men rushed over, clamped a hand over the scholar's mouth, and dragged him away.
An Old Man stepped forward to apologize to Xi Qingyue. "We're sorry, young lady. He's a fool from too much book-reading. Don't take him seriously. He was even blaming us for not saving those people. We turned our backs for a second, and he came running over here."
Xi Qingyue lowered her gun and shook her head. "No harm done. You'd better keep a close eye on him, though. With someone like that in your group, you must have had a hard journey so far."
She said it casually, but the Old Man's face grew bleak as he sighed. "Ah, we started with more than two hundred people. It was only because we tried to help others that our numbers shrank."
Hearing this, even Xi Weilan poked her head out of the cart curiously. But she simply stared with wide eyes and didn't ask questions. She was never one to pry.
The Old Man left without elaborating. Clearly, it was a painful memory he preferred not to dwell on.
After he was gone, Xi Weilan looked up and asked, "Big Sister, how can helping people make your numbers shrink? Shouldn't helping more people mean more people?"
Xi Qingyue glanced at the corpses on the ground and spoke slowly. "Before you help someone, you need to make sure you have the strength to do it. If your group had stepped in to save the boy's family from those men, maybe the family would have survived, but there'd definitely have been losses among the villagers. Those men would have taken a few with them before dying. I think that village has saved people before. That's probably why their numbers drop every time they do."
Xi Weilan listened thoughtfully as Xi Qingyue swapped out a fresh magazine, placed it back in her waist holster, and set the girl down.
Climbing off the mule cart, she approached the bodies and began searching for silver.
To her surprise, she found several banknotes—two hundred taels, one hundred taels—plus some silver ingots and loose coins. Altogether, it added up to over a thousand taels. These guys were loaded. She wondered which rich household they'd robbed.
She left the food they were carrying alone. Who knew what kind of meat those dried strips were made from?
After pocketing the money, she returned to the cart. Xi Weilan immediately pulled a wet tissue from her small satchel, unfolded it, and handed it over. The others in the distance couldn't make out what it was.
As they drove the mule cart away, nearby refugees rushed toward the bodies, swarming to grab the men's packs.
Seeing that Xi Qingyue had left the supplies behind, they thought they'd take a chance. And indeed, they found food.
One man snatched a small bag and scurried off to the side. Gleefully, he bit into a piece of dried meat, savoring it. He hadn't had meat in ages.
"Ahhh—!"
A woman's scream made him turn his head in curiosity.
When he saw the bloodied, severed arm inside one of the opened packs, he let out a loud "Blargh!" and spat out the meat he was chewing. A wave of nausea hit him. He flung the pack away and bent over at the roadside, retching violently.
The small bag of dried meat landed at another man's feet. He picked it up, took out a piece, and ate it calmly, utterly unbothered by what sort of creature it had come from.
The man who had just vomited turned to see this and immediately gagged again.
Xi Qingyue had expected as much. This was the way of things. Some would puke at the sight of such horrors; others would devour them with a full smile. Everyone had their own limits.
She couldn't bring herself to imagine how long she and Xi Weilan could survive in this world without her spatial storage and abilities.
She looked ahead at the villagers walking in front of them, along with a handful of other refugees scattered about.
To the scholar's right was a family of three: a man in his early twenties holding a little girl of three or four, and a young woman at his side.
The little girl in his arms whimpered softly. "Dad, I'm thirsty."
The man frowned and snapped, "Thirsty, thirsty? Drink too much, and you'll need to pee, slowing us down. Besides, we're almost out of water. We have to save it."
At his refusal, the girl burst into loud wails. The woman quickly tried to comfort her. "Jiaojiao, hold on just a little longer. We'll stop to rest soon, and your father will search for a stream."
But the little girl kept crying, annoying the man to no end.
The scholar beside them couldn't help but chime in. "Honestly, she's just a kid asking for a drink. It won't kill you to give her some. Do you have to be so stingy?"
Hearing this, the woman's husband turned and cursed. "Mind your own business! We have barely any water. If you care so much, why don't you hand over yours?"
The scholar's face flushed with indignation. "Fine! A child doesn't need that much water anyway."
With that, he unfastened the waterskin from his belt and held it out.
The Old Man beside him tried to stop him, but it was too late. He clenched his jaw in frustration.
The woman beside the Old Man could only sigh helplessly; this was the last water skin they had.
The little girl was crying bitterly, but when she saw the water skin, her face lit up with joy. She picked it up and began to drink.
"Gulp, gulp..."
Only after the water skin was nearly empty did the little girl set it down, a satisfied smile spreading across her face. "Thank you, young sir."
The Scholar took back his water skin and shook it. There was no water left inside, and he was stunned, dumbfounded.
