novelSusiti Chapter 4
Chapter 4
The setting sun resembled a pool of rotten blood, smeared on the edge of the wasteland.
When Li Qian rushed into the crowd of refugees, he didn't even glance back.
A chill ran down his spine, a fear stemming from the imminent threat of the swords on horseback. He knew all too well that the Qing soldier behind him, mounted on horseback, was high above him, and if he slowed down even a fraction of an inch or hesitated even for a second, that thick-backed, broad-bladed saber would cleave down across the top of his head.
So without hesitation, he plunged headlong into that most turbid wave of people.
People were packed together, flesh was shoving against flesh.
This low-lying area had long since lost all trace of human presence; all that remained was air tainted by the stench of sweat, the smell of earth, and an overwhelming, viscous stench of blood. Li Qian clutched the grain sack tightly to his chest, his back half-bent, like a wild boar driven into a corner, forcefully carving a path through the crowd with his shoulders and skull.
He didn't shout, nor did he dare open his mouth. In a place like this, even taking another breath was like overdrawing on his already depleted life.
This group of people is no longer the "obedient citizens" who can understand what you say.
After three months of starvation, when even grass roots and clay couldn't fill their stomachs, these people only cared about one thing—grain. Whoever had a bulging bulge in their arms became a sitting duck for all the starving people within a hundred miles.
A claw suddenly shot out from the side, its nails filled with black mud and bits of unknown flesh, aiming straight for the cloth bag in Li Qian's arms. Li Qian's eyes hardened, and without pausing his steps, he twisted his waist and hips with the force of the crowd, sidestepping half an inch. At the same time, the sharp knife he had snatched was thrust upwards, piercing the man's ribcage.
"Pfft."
The sound of the sharp blade entering flesh was subtle, yet it pierced through the lung lobe with precision and ruthlessness.
The refugee let out a gurgling sound like a broken bellows leaking air, and the strength in his hand instantly dissipated. Li Qian didn't look at him, and with a shove, he shoved the refugee into the crowd behind him, using the spot where the man had fallen as a stepping stone to move forward three feet.
The deeper you go, the lower the terrain becomes, and the more pungent the smell of blood becomes.
Some people were digging bloody red soil from the mud and stuffing it into their mouths, while others, in groups of three or five, were pressing down on a dead refugee, frantically tearing at something. Li Qian's lungs heaved like bellows, and a rusty sweetness rose in his throat.
A thought suddenly popped into his head, as cold as ice: if there are enough people, even a horse will have to lie down.
The cavalrymen behind finally crashed in.
The horse's speed suddenly decreased, and even the fattest and strongest beast began to slip on the soft, sticky human flesh and mud. The Qing soldiers, enraged, their faces contorted like demons in a temple, wildly brandished their sabers, drawing circles in the crowd: "Get out of the way! Get out of my way! Are you rebelling?!"
A flash of light, and a head with a withered yellow braid flew into the air, blood splattering like a fountain onto the faces of those around.
The crowd shrank slightly, but did not disperse.
The stench of blood seemed to have extinguished the last vestiges of reason in the hearts of these "living dead." As they stared at the corpses that had just fallen, their eyes gleamed with an eerie green light.
Li Qian calculated the position accurately and suddenly stopped.
This stop was extremely dangerous.
Instantly, three or four pairs of eyes, glowing with malice, fixed their gaze on the bag in his arms. Before they could even reach for it, Li Qian swung his knife in a swift motion, slashing viciously at the tiger's mouth of the man in front. Before the man could even scream, Li Qian delivered a groin kick that sent him sprawling under the horse's hooves.
He was waiting, waiting for the horse to completely lose its balance.
"There you are! You untouchable!"
The cavalryman spotted Li Qian, lashed his whip hard, and the warhorse neighed mournfully, forcing its way through the crowd. But just as the beast's forehooves trampled over two overlapping corpses, the mangled intestines became the slipperiest sap. The horse's hooves suddenly lurched backward, the entire horse lurched violently, the Qing soldiers on horseback staggered, and the flashing of their swords became chaotic.
Just this one moment.
Li Qian, like a venomous scorpion lurking in the shadows, darted out close to the ground.
He didn't try to cut the rider on horseback because he couldn't reach him. He gripped the hilt of his sword tightly with both hands, used all his explosive power to aim the tip of the blade at the horse's weakest point, its belly, and thrust it upwards, then pulled it horizontally.
hiss--!
The warhorse let out a grotesque scream, and its scalding entrails and blood gushed out like a burst dam, drenching Li Qian from head to toe.
The horse's belly was completely split open.
The beast tilted its body and fell to the ground like a collapsed mountain, pinning half of the Qing soldier's leg underneath.
The cavalryman screamed in agony, and before he could even pull out his sword from his waist, the group of refugees who had been tearing at each other suddenly fell silent, like a pack of wild dogs that had smelled carrion, and then surged forward madly.
That's not a perimeter.
It was an overwhelming coverage.
Li Qian wiped the blood from his face and watched as the Qing soldier stretched out his hand for help. Amid the man's terrified screams, countless dark hands pressed against his face, chest, and thighs. Some tore open his uniform, some bit his exposed neck, and others desperately tried to snatch the money pouch from his waist.
No one spoke; this silent, primal tearing was colder to the bone than any shout of killing.
Li Qian didn't dare linger. While everyone's attention was drawn to the dead horse and the living soldier, he crawled out of that hell on earth using both his hands and feet.
The wind rushed back into his lungs, still carrying dust, but it made Li Qian feel like he had become human again.
He dragged his leaden legs and slid down a half-collapsed embankment, disappearing into the deepest shadows.
As soon as I sat down, I felt like all my energy had been drained.
His hands trembled like leaves in the wind, and it took him three tries to untie the knot in the grain sack before it came loose.
The bag contained corn kernels so rough they could scratch your throat. In the dim shadows, these pale yellow grains were more precious than any jewel.
Li Qian didn't care whether the rice was clean or not. He grabbed a handful, mixed it with the blood and mud on his hands, and stuffed it directly into his mouth.
Crunch, crunch.
The dry, hard grains of rice crunched between his teeth, like chewing pebbles. His throat was parched, and each bite felt like swallowing a razor blade, yet the satisfying feeling of his stomach being filled made even the pain feel like a reward.
He stopped when his throat was so blocked that he couldn't swallow anymore, and leaned against the cold, hard earthen wall, panting heavily.
Look down.
The blood on the back of my hand had dried, forming a dark red crust, and my fingernails were full of dark brown grime.
He used to be a modern person from that world, educated, concerned with appearances, and knew what the twilight of a "golden age" meant. But now, looking at these hands, only one thought remained in his mind: on the desolate plains of the Qing Dynasty, appearances and benevolence were death warrants.
To survive, to carve a piece of flesh from this empire that was rotten to the core, he had to be more like a beast than the refugees behind him, and more cold-blooded than the emperor in the Forbidden City.
"We survived..."
He tried to smile, but the movement pulled at the scabs on his face, causing him to pull back in pain.
On this land, human life is worth less than grass. If you don't kill the horse, it will trample you to death; if you don't distribute grain, people will eat you.
Just then, a faint sound drifted over from behind the earthen slope.
It's not the faint sound of wind rustling through grass.
It was the sound of thick straw sandals, or rather, feet wrapped in rags, stepping on dry branches.
Li Qian's pupils suddenly contracted, and his breathing rate was forcibly reduced to the lowest level in that instant.
He didn't move, remaining slumped in his seated position. His left hand slowly reached to the side and silently grasped the still-dry knife.
In the twilight in the distance, several dark figures, like ghosts, slowly crawled out from the folds of the wasteland.