Bright Sword: Conquer the monk at the beginning and take down Zhou Weiguo

He glanced back at the road he had come from, the one that led to the village. He hesitated for a moment, but ultimately didn't turn back. If he went back now, Liu San and Xiao Hu would surely cook him some porridge, but that would mean—exposing his current weakness.

He didn't want to.

He cannot show weakness in front of them.

He gathered some dry firewood and squatted down in a small rocky hollow in the woods to start a fire. The moment a spark ignited the fallen leaves, a glimmer of light flashed in his eyes—not joy, but a sense of peace that had regained its rhythm.

He leaned against the stone hollow, stringing a few mushrooms onto a branch. The fire slowly licked the thin layer of mushroom skin, making a soft "crackling" sound. The aroma was faint, mixed with the dampness of grass and wood, yet it was enough to make one's mouth water.

He swallowed the first bite almost ravenously, but he forced himself to maintain a steady chewing motion. He wasn't trying to fool others, but rather himself—even if he was alone in the forest, he wanted to eat slowly and steadily, just like always.

When he ate the third one, he suddenly heard a very faint sound from behind the forest.

He paused, his ears twitched slightly, and his entire being seemed to fall into a deathly silence, even his breathing slowed to an extreme. He did not draw his sword, but simply stared silently in the direction where the shadows of the branches were swaying.

"Come out." He spoke calmly, his voice devoid of emotion, yet carrying an undeniable air of authority.

A small gray shadow emerged from behind the bushes. It was a child who looked no more than eleven or twelve years old, so thin that he was almost malnourished. He was wrapped in a tattered burlap, but his eyes shone like a wildcat.

"You...you're not from the village." The child stared at the mushrooms by the fire, swallowed hard, but dared not approach.

"You are." Qin Cang lowered his head and continued eating the last mushroom, his tone indifferent.

“I grew up on the edge of the village,” the child answered cautiously. “They all called me ‘dog cub’ because my mother didn’t know who my father was.”

Qin Cang did not react upon hearing this, but simply nodded, acknowledging that he was indeed not an enemy.

What are you doing in this woods?

"Looking for food." The sound of the puppy swallowing saliva rang out again. "I haven't eaten for three days."

Qin Cang raised an eyebrow, paused for a moment, then took out two uncooked mushrooms from his bag and tossed them over.

"Go to the back and start a small fire, but don't let it produce too much smoke. We'll leave after we finish eating."

The puppy's eyes lit up, and it pounced to catch the mushroom. It was so happy that it almost wanted to kneel down and kowtow, but looking at Qin Cang's stern face, it could only respond in a low voice: "Thank... thank you, big brother."

Qin Cang leaned back against the stone hollow, looking up at the sky. A few rays of sunlight tried to penetrate the gray clouds, but were always suppressed. His gaze also darkened.

A child has not eaten for three days.

A village, silently sinking into fear.

At this moment, he was alone in the forest, having just eaten a few grass roots and mushrooms, barely enough to suppress the hunger in his chest and stomach.

But all of this seems...too minor compared to the threat of the enemy not yet showing up, and compared to the warning left by Youxing in that letter that "Su Qing is not dead".

He dared not let his guard down. The battle tonight had not yet begun.

He closed his eyes and leaned against the stone hollow, but in his mind he began to make plans:

An ambush point must be set up on the path south of the village; scouts may also be hidden on the slope north of the village; if Su Qing really shows up tonight, she will not be alone—she has never been one to go it alone. If she brings people with her, then what she wants may be more than just a massacre, but a reckoning.

The wild mushrooms roasted over the fire provided some relief from his hunger, but were far from restoring his strength. He could feel that hollow, empty feeling of hunger creeping up his stomach like a snake, gripping his heart.

His eyes held a cold urgency—not anxiety, but pure survival instinct.

After walking another two miles, the woods suddenly opened up. He snorted, and a familiar scent wafted through the air.

—It smells of rice.

He suddenly looked up, a glint of light flashing in his eyes.

Following the scent, he climbed over a small earthen slope, and suddenly the view opened up before him. A small valley came into view, with a few simple houses built against the mountainside. The wooden walls were old, and the tiles were slightly mottled, but warm yellow light shone from the windows, and wisps of smoke rose from the chimneys.

More importantly, the aroma of rice wafted clearly from the house, mixed with the smell of stewed meat, which was very pleasant.

He held his breath, stood motionless on the hilltop, and carefully observed everything happening in the valley.

There were no barking dogs or footsteps outside, only the sound of wind rustling through the bamboo and the occasional clinking of pots and pans. To the left of the simple house was a well, and wet clothes hung beside the bucket, indicating that someone had just finished washing.

"It doesn't look like a trap," he muttered, but he wasn't underestimating his opponent.

He wasn't afraid of traps; what he feared was accidentally wandering into an ordinary person's home and disturbing the innocent. But the past three days of running around had already exhausted him. Now, smelling the aroma of cooked food, although his will was still clear, his instincts had uncontrollably drawn him closer.

He slowly descended the slope, his steps extremely light, until he stood in front of the house. He did not knock on the door rashly, but instead went around to the window and peered inside.

A middle-aged woman sat by the window, her face thin but her expression gentle, adding firewood to the pot. Inside, a child of about seven or eight sat on a low stool, munching on a steamed bun. The large pot on the stove bubbled gently, its aroma rich and enticing.

Qin Cang's heart skipped a beat. This scene was too ordinary, so ordinary that it almost made him lower his guard for a moment. But he knew that it was precisely this "ordinariness" that made it easiest to hide an unusual intention.

He tapped lightly on the window frame.

The woman inside was startled. She looked up at the window and saw a man in black standing there. She frowned slightly, got up, opened the door, and asked hesitantly, "Sir, are you lost?"

Qin Cang clasped his hands in a fist salute, his voice hoarse yet restrained: "These past few days have been filled with wind and snow. I was passing by when I smelled the aroma of food and dared not presume to ask for a bowl of food. If it is inconvenient, I will leave immediately."

The woman frowned and glanced at him a few times, her expression scrutinizing and wary. Qin Cang's attire clearly indicated that he was not an ordinary mountain dweller: his black robe was spotless, his sword was as cold as ice, and although there was mud on the hem of his clothes, his posture was upright and powerful, and his brows and eyes were full of the composure that came from mountains of corpses and seas of blood.

She didn't answer immediately, but took a step back and called out, "Old Zhou!"

A voice answered from behind the house, and a man with graying hair and beard emerged from the back room, holding a wooden cane and limping slightly. He glanced at Qin Cang, said nothing, and slowly walked to the door, scrutinizing Qin Cang from head to toe.

Qin Cang stood still, showing no sign of coercion.

A hint of hesitation flickered in the old man's eyes, but he finally nodded gently and said, "What you want isn't food, but a little respite."

Qin Cang paused for a moment, then remained silent.

The old man turned and went back into the house, saying to the woman, "Give him some soup. Give him a bowl of rice and some meat."