If you were to name the largest county in the Cangyun Kingdom, it would undoubtedly be Qingshan County, also known as its poorest region. Qingshan County is characterized by its complex terrain, mostly deep mountains and old forests, leaving little fertile land for cultivation. For the common people, simply avoiding starvation throughout the year is considered a worry-free life. Qingtian Village is nestled at the foot of an unnamed small rocky mountain in Qingshan County. The entire village consists of only a few dozen households, and there are many similar small mountain villages nearby. The villagers of Qingtian Village have lived here for over a century. Most of the families in the village are surnamed Wang, and their ancestors were once prominent, having come here two hundred years ago to escape the ravages of war. After a century of propagation, the population has somewhat dwindled, and now the entire village has just over a hundred people. The villagers usually rely on a few acres of thin land and hunting for a living, and they don't accumulate much surplus grain throughout the year. Life in the village is simple and peaceful, with people working at sunrise and resting at sunset, generation after generation living in this place. One sunny midday, an old man and a young boy were busily working in a small courtyard on the east side of the village. The boy, wearing a gray short shirt, looked to be about eleven or twelve years old. In the center of the courtyard was a bamboo-woven mat, covered with two kinds of herbs: clover and yellow chrysanthemums. The boy, with his sleeves rolled up, was using a long bamboo pole to arrange the herbs, drying them in the sun. The boy's name was Zhang Ling, and he was eleven years old this year. He was already quite familiar with these tasks. Behind him, an old man in linen clothing was holding a water bucket and a wooden basin, washing the soil from the roots of the herbs. Clover and yellow chrysanthemums were just ordinary medicinal materials, but for them, these herbs were precious. Washing them would improve their appearance, making them easier to sell for a better price.
"Cough... cough..." The old man sat on a stool, his body hunched over, occasionally coughing softly. "Grandpa, take a break," Zhang Ling said, turning to the old man. "In a few days, that kid Wang Feng will be going to White Stone Town. If we don't dry this batch of herbs properly, it'll be a problem." "Grandpa, I can do all this by myself." "Oh really? I seem to remember you messing up the last batch of herbs." "Grandpa, that was half a year ago, and you still remember it?" Zhang Ling shrank his neck, and seeing that the old man behind him didn't make any further movements, he breathed a sigh of relief. "Do you think I'm senile? I know all about your little tricks. Have you forgotten who taught you all this?" Zhang Ling pouted, "How could I forget? It's all thanks to your excellent teaching." "Good that you know." "Why did you stop? Talking is fine, but don't stop working." "Oh, the student understands, Master Zhang." Zhang Ling rolled his eyes and casually grabbed a handful of clover that the old man had cleaned, shaking off the water droplets. "Hey, you little rascal, you've even learned to be glib. Cough..." Old Man Zhang chuckled, but his laughter turned into a fit of coughing. "Grandpa, are you alright?" "Why are you talking so much, kid? Hurry up and work." Zhang Ling dried the herbs while chatting idly with his grandfather. He was a little excited, thinking about his grandfather's promise to take him to White Stone Town this time. He had been in Qingtian Village since he could remember, and he had long wanted to see the outside world. However, his grandfather's health had been getting worse lately, and he wanted to help his grandfather with as much work as he could. Time passed unnoticed until dusk. Most of the villagers of Qingtian Village had returned home, and wisps of smoke rose from the chimneys. The village became lively, with the sounds of adults talking and children playing, mixed with the occasional crowing of chickens and barking of dogs.
It was also dinnertime at Zhang Ling's house. Two porcelain bowls filled with side dishes were placed on the small wooden table, with a black earthenware pot in the middle, from which wisps of steam rose. "I'm old, I'm old, I can't eat anymore. Kid, finish this fish soup." Old Man Zhang finished the fish soup in his porcelain bowl in large gulps, put down the empty bowl, and got up to walk towards the house. "Grandpa, there's still so much fish soup left. Aren't you going to eat it?" Zhang Ling, who was focused on shoveling food into his mouth, raised his head and asked when he heard the old man's words. "Kid, don't forget to wash the dishes. I'll be checking your homework later." "Grandpa, I've been drying herbs all day. Where would I have time to do homework?" "I don't care about that." Hearing the old man say this, Zhang Ling quickly swallowed the food in his mouth, almost choking. He would be in trouble if he didn't finish his homework. Zhang Ling couldn't help but feel depressed, and the food in his hand suddenly lost its flavor. After finishing his meal, Zhang Ling walked to the side of the water tank, thinking about how to deal with his grandfather's homework later. His grandfather was originally a scholar and had stayed in big cities in his early years. It was said that he had even been a teacher for a while. He was very knowledgeable and quite famous throughout the village. During festivals, any writing work was taken care of by his grandfather. After all, the villagers in this small village were simple and honest, and not many people could read. Having a scholar was the pride of the entire village. Therefore, their lives in the village were considered decent. As for why his grandfather didn't go to other places to make a living, it had to do with his grandfather's experiences. The old man's family was wealthy when he was young. After passing the imperial examination in his early years, he was in high spirits. With this title, he was famous in the surrounding villages. He married and had children early, and his life was not rich, but he was well-fed. But he suffered a catastrophe more than ten years ago, his wife and children were scattered, and his family was ruined. No one knew what happened to grandpa. And he and his grandfather were not related by blood. Zhang Ling did not know his parents, nor had he ever seen them. He was picked up by his grandfather. The old man said that he had already had the idea of suicide, but he heard the crying of a child on the roadside, and then found him, only a few months old, in a pile of weeds. After that, he took him to Qingtian Village, raising him while teaching him to read and be a good person. In his grandfather's words, he didn't expect him to be outstanding, but he had to be a cultured person. Looking at the oil lamp lit in the house, reflecting his grandfather's hunched back, Zhang Ling abandoned his distracting thoughts, uncovered the wooden lid on the water tank, and found it empty, with not a drop of water left. "Hey, the water's all used up." Today, the stored clear water was used up for washing herbs. Zhang Ling sighed inwardly, put down the bowls and chopsticks in his hand, and picked up a wooden bucket next to him to go to the well. Qingtian Village did not have many people, and there were three wells in the entire village. One well in the east of the village, and one well in the west. The remaining largest well was in the center of the village. The three wells were enough for the villagers to use usually. Zhang Ling's house was on the far east side of the village, and he only had to take a few steps out of the door to reach the well. Zhang Ling put down the bucket and was about to draw water. Suddenly, he heard a burst of noise in his ears. He turned his head and saw that there seemed to be a flickering firelight in the west of the village. Qingtian Village was not big, with only a few dozen households. There was only one main road in the entire village, and he could see the end of it at a glance. At first, he didn't care, but the sound became louder and louder, and Zhang Ling couldn't help but stand on a large stone next to him and look in that direction, wondering if something had happened. Now the sky was about to be completely dark, and in theory, the villagers had mostly returned home. Could it be that a child from some family was lost? This kind of thing had not happened before. A year ago, a boy about his age named Gouwa disappeared one night. Gouwa's parents were very anxious, and they mobilized the villagers to search that day. Finally, they found Gouwa miserably in the nearby gully. Could it be that this situation has appeared today?
Zhang Ling thought for a while and dared not delay. As a member of Qingtian Village, he had to help with this kind of thing. He carried the bucket full of water and walked quickly towards his home. As soon as he entered the courtyard, he saw his grandfather coming out of the house wearing a linen coat. "Ling'er, what happened? Why is there shouting outside?" "Grandpa, it's nothing. I saw a light in the west of the village. Maybe some kid got lost." "Then you go and take a look quickly, and don't let anything happen." Old Man Zhang frowned and looked at the sky and said. "Grandpa, you are not well, so stay in the house. I'll go and see." "You kid, be careful." "Don't worry, Grandpa." Zhang Ling put down the bucket and took a bamboo pole and went out. At this time, the fire in the west of the village was bright, and it was no longer the small fire he had seen before. Could it be that he guessed wrong? Looking at this posture, it was more like a fire. Zhang Ling quickly ran towards the west of the village. As he got closer and closer to the west of the village, his face changed. He saw several houses in the west of the village were burning, and he could also hear a burst of wailing. This was not the reason for him to stop. He could see several strong men riding tall horses, holding bright sabers in their hands, and slashing at several villagers. "Ah, help!" "The bandits are here, run!" "Dad, Mom, wuwu..." A series of shrill screams spread throughout the village, and several panicked villagers ran towards him. Behind them, the sound of horses neighing sounded, and two strong men waved the sabers in their hands and roared excitedly. Zhang Ling had never seen the scene before, and he was stunned in place for a while. Suddenly, a voice next to him woke him up. "Xiao Ling, why is it so noisy?" He saw a dark-skinned middle-aged man walking out of a dark door next to him. Zhang Ling shuddered, came back to his senses, and stiffly turned his head with a cold sweat on his back. When he saw the man next to him, it turned out to be Uncle Wang Feng. "Uncle Feng, something bad has happened. The bandits are here." "Bandits?" Wang Feng also noticed something was wrong at this moment. Seeing the firelight and the strong men riding tall horses in the distance, his face changed greatly. "Grandpa!" Zhang Ling came back to his senses and thought that his grandfather was still at home, so he quickly ran towards his home. He ran towards his home with the fastest speed of his life. The screams from behind made his heart cold, and the more he ran, the more he felt his steps were weak and he couldn't exert any strength. Finally, he came to the door of his house, pushed open the wooden door, and saw his grandfather walking towards the door. "Kid, I heard screams. What happened?"
"Grandpa, there are bandits!" "Bandits!" Old Man Zhang's face changed, and his body trembled and he almost fell. "How could this be?" Without waiting for Old Man Zhang to ask, Zhang Ling pulled his grandfather and ran outside. They couldn't stay here when the bandits entered the village. Thinking that it was not far from the back mountain, they could hide in the mountains. Zhang Ling pulled Old Man Zhang and just walked out of the house when the firelight in front of him lit up. A strong man was holding a torch in one hand and a saber in the other, walking out of a villager's house next to him. Under his feet was the body of a male villager. Zhang Ling was very familiar with this villager. It was Uncle Wang Zhuang. But at this moment, Wang Zhuang's eyes were wide open, and there was a bloodstain diagonally split on his face, and his body was also covered in blood. He had been killed. At this moment, the entire village was in chaos, with screams, cries, and shouts constantly. Seeing the saber in the bandit's hand dripping with blood, Zhang Ling shuddered and quickly pulled his grandfather back. "Hey, old man over there, don't run!" The strong man with the saber behind him also immediately spotted the two and shouted as he chased after them. Zhang Ling ran a few steps, and Old Man Zhang lost his footing and fell to the ground. "Grandpa!" "Xiao Ling, Grandpa can't run anymore. You run!" Zhang Ling pulled his grandfather, trying to help him stand up, but Old Man Zhang pushed him away with a look of anxiety on his face, constantly telling him to run. Zhang Ling used all his strength, but his grandfather still didn't get up. He was sweating profusely with anxiety, tears flashed in his eyes, and his grandfather's face became blurred. After this delay, the strong man behind him reached him. Zhang Ling only felt a pain in his head, and his eyes went black and he lost consciousness. ……