Several soldiers crouched in a circle on the dry ground, faint dust spiraling in the soft breeze. The sky had dimmed, and the setting sun painted their faces—half illuminated, half cast in shadow.
"Boss, what are we going to do?" A lanky soldier glanced at the leader, his tone tinged with urgency. Lowering his voice, he asked again,"Should we take a chance and cripple that drifter?"
"No need," the leader replied, brushing dust off his sleeve with an air of irritation."Can't you see Captain Meng is watching? Are you trying to set me up for trouble?"
Another soldier spat out a blade of grass and frowned."That kid's got some kind of reckless energy. Maybe we should find someone tough to teach him a lesson."
"I said no!" The leader waved his hand, frowning deeply as if suppressing anger."In a few days, Captain Kenji will deal with him properly. All we have to do is sit back and enjoy the show."
At the mention of"Captain Kenji," the group fell silent before bursting into low chuckles."True," one of them said, scratching his head, laughter barely contained."Captain Kenji never holds back—ha, serves him right!"
"But…" A scar-faced soldier furrowed his brow, speaking with a hint of dissatisfaction,"Don't you think Captain Kenji uses people like that drifter to vent his anger? Look at how polite he is to Bartholomew, but with us and the villagers, he's brutal."
The moment the words left his mouth, the group fell into uneasy silence. The leader spun around to glare at him, his eyes sharp as a blade."Shut up! Do you want to die?" he hissed through clenched teeth."If he hears that, you're done for!"
He cast a wary glance around, as if expecting someone to emerge from the shadows. The other soldiers lowered their heads in silence, not daring to continue the conversation. Only the whistling wind disturbed the eerie quiet, carrying sand across the camp.
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Not far away, under the shade of a tree, the old lady observed the scene. Her wise eyes glimmered with curiosity as she noted the determination in Little Hong's gaze. When he approached, his face bruised and battered, she asked with feigned concern,"What happened to you? Got into a fight?"
Still packing his belongings, Little Hong replied defiantly,"No, I fell into a ditch!"
"You're not a soldier. Why bother challenging them? They're trained killers, and you're just a villager," the old lady said with concern, fearing Little Hong might be heading into danger.
Little Hong took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling as if to calm the fire burning inside him. He looked up, his voice steady but firm, carrying a resolve that allowed no refutation."I want to get stronger—no matter the cost. This is my only chance."
His sharp gaze pierced the air, unwavering as he continued."I won't spend my life as a farmer or hunter. I'll make people look up to me—just like those who stand above us all."
His clenched fists trembled slightly, and the faint sound of joints cracking underscored the fervor in his heart.
The old lady watched him silently, her weathered eyes betraying a flicker of understanding and sympathy. With a soft sigh, she nodded."Very well. Follow me. Since you've fed me, I won't just stand by and watch you throw yourself into the fire."
But Little Hong dismissed her with a wave, a touch of defiance in his tone."I'm busy these days. I'll treat you to a feast after I win!"
The old lady paused, then broke into a bright, youthful laugh."Win?" she asked, her eyes narrowing with playful amusement."Why don't you try beating me first?"
Little Hong froze, his eyes widening in disbelief and a touch of astonishment as they swept over the frail frame of the elderly matron."Granny, you must be joking, right?" he said, hurriedly wrapping the uneaten fish in a bamboo leaf and handing it to her."I can't bring myself to bully an old lady. Granny, hurry home, okay?"
He nearly blurted out,"Are you out of your mind?" but managed to hold his tongue.
The elderly matron didn't take the fish. Instead, she gave a faint smile, her wrinkles deepening. She bent down, picked up a dry tree branch from the ground, and gave it a light shake."Well then, this won't count as bullying, will it?" Her voice was gentle, but her movements displayed an unexpected agility.
Before Little Hong could react, he heard a sharp "whoosh" as the dry branch sliced through the air, striking him with startling precision. Instinctively, he dodged to the side, only to find the branch seemed to have a mind of its own, landing squarely on his backside.
Thwack! The crisp sound echoed as Little Hong sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes full of disbelief.
"Granny, you—" he started to say, but before he could finish, the branch came at him again. Whack! Whack! Left, then right, it struck from angles he hadn't anticipated.
"Ah! Granny, are you serious?!" he yelped, hopping and dodging while trying to counter. But the old matron moved like the wind, her strikes swift and unpredictable. His backside burned with each blow as he protested loudly,"I said I wouldn't bully an old lady, so why are you bullying me?!"
The elderly matron's face was full of delight, her smile as mischievous as a child's. The branch in her hand danced nimbly through the air."Don't make it sound so pitiful," she said softly."Win against me, and then we'll talk."
Whack! Whack! The sounds of the branch echoed in the empty village square. The wind carried swirling dust as Little Hong stumbled about, a mix of frustration and newfound respect flickering across his face.
"Hey, stop aiming for the same spot!" Little Hong complained. Though the elderly matron wasn't using her full strength, her strikes seemed to mercilessly target his rear, leaving him both embarrassed and exasperated.
The matron remained silent, her brow furrowing slightly as the branch in her hand sang through the air, reflecting her mood in its movements.
"Granny, if you keep this up, I'm gonna hit back!" Little Hong finally shouted, unable to hold back any longer. The pain from the relentless strikes on his arms and legs was too much.
But the matron's hand moved like lightning, her branch landing blow after blow with precision. In no time, Little Hong stood frozen, tears welling up in his eyes. His backside, arms, and thighs trembled under the sting of her strikes.
"Why aren't you fighting back?" the matron asked, pausing to look at him. Her voice carried a hint of genuine concern.
Panting heavily, Little Hong forced out a response,"I can't beat you, so what's the point of fighting back?"