Chapter 198: 198, Refugees robbing

In the dead of night, Ren Xiaosu’s sudden solitary venture into the wilderness sent ripples of alarm through the gathered refugees. Whether he sought to hunt or merely wander, the mere fact that someone dared such reckless independence left them all aghast—for beyond the firelight, wolves prowled.

Now, as he returned, he bore a massive rabbit slung over his shoulder. Had he truly gone hunting?

The cold gnawed at their bones, goose-feather snowflakes drifting endlessly from the heavens. Many feared that a single night’s slumber might see them entombed beneath ice and snow.

Yet in this merciless weather, someone had ventured forth and returned with such a prize.

When the Wolf King abandoned the rabbit, the snow had already piled deep. Ren Xiaosu watched in silence as the beast carved a path through the drifts, its paws flattening the snow ahead, while its pack trailed behind, easing their passage.

Ren Xiaosu sensed something amiss in the Wolf King’s gift but could not decipher its meaning.

On his way back, he met with many a curious glance, yet he offered no explanations—how could he confess the bounty came from wolves?

At their camp, Yan Liuyuan asked, “Brother, did you hunt this rabbit yourself?”

Ren Xiaosu lowered his voice. “The wolves gave it. The Wolf King seems to mean us no harm. For now, we can rest easier—they won’t ambush us.”

Had the wolves malice, they’d have struck him down moments prior; the distance between them was but a leap.

Yet Ren Xiaosu delayed eating the rabbit. Most had already dined, and hunger was not yet upon them.

The refugees, however, eyed the prize with ravenous longing. Two days of fleeing famine had left some with empty bellies, their lips cracked from thirst. Without the snow, they’d have perished of dehydration.

But the snow, though pristine in appearance, was far from clean. Ren Xiaosu feared that come dawn, many would pay dearly for their recklessness.

Few among them retained scraps of food; most starved. At the sight of the rabbit, their eyes glazed with greed.

Whispers slithered through the crowd, as if conspiring. Yan Liuyuan shot Ren a glance. “Brother, best we kill the chicken to warn the monkeys—cut off their hopes.”

Ren’s gaze swept the refugees. “Find the instigator and put them down. No mercy. If chaos erupts, you shield the others—I’ll handle the killing.”

His face remained unmoved as he spoke the word.

Suddenly, Jiang Wu stirred. “Xiaosu, any spare weapons? May I borrow one?”

Jiang Wu’s group had provisions, though the refugees seemed drawn by the rabbit. Yet they posed a latent threat.

Jiang Wu sought no protection from Ren, only arms to defend herself. Her students huddled around their own fire, keeping them separate from the others. Ren had warned them—they must fend for themselves in the wilds.

Ren smiled and slipped a firearm into her hand. After the 109 Bastion incident, he’d salvaged enough weapons to arm the entire squad.

The Li Clan’s forces had perished under Li Shen’s onslaught, leaving arms scattered. Ren had been there.

“Jiang Laoshi, do you know how to use a gun?”

Jiang Wu shook her head. “No.”

“Have you ever killed?”

“No.” Her voice hardened. “But for my students, I could.”

“Then give it to the boys. That Wang Yuchui seems sturdy—let him train.”

“No.” Jiang Wu’s tone was firm. “Their task is to learn, not to kill. I know the world’s cruelty, but I won’t let them bear that sin. As long as I live, they needn’t.”

Chen Wudi muttered, “If I don’t descend into hell, who will?”

Ren turned to him. “With teachers like Jiang Wu, your heroism has purpose.”

A refugee rose in the crowd, striding toward Ren’s group. “Remember their faces,” Ren told Yan.

The refugees advanced with menace, and Ren spotted the old crone who’d once feigned frailty.

Chen’s expression shifted. “Shifu, in that crowd—there’s someone I saved.”

A man, once stripped of his coat and shielded by Chen, now stood among them, seeking to rob his savior.

Ren found himself speechless as the refugees halted before them. “You foresaw the Bastion’s fall, didn’t you? Are you behind this?”

“Need a moral high ground?” Ren laughed. “The Li, Qing, and Yang clans knew. Why not you?”

They exchanged uneasy glances, hearing of the incident for the first time. Soon, a voice rose in fury. “You’re so few—how could you hoard so much? Why not share?”

Before Ren could answer, a hand reached for the rabbit.

He drew his pistol and fired skyward. The crowd froze, stunned by the weapon’s bark.

They recoiled, shoving one another forward, desperate to avoid the bullet’s wrath.

“Who sent you to steal?” Ren smiled.

The crowd erupted in chaos. “Not me—the blue-clad one!”

The blue-clad man stammered, “I didn’t! I warned you not to come!”

“Enough.” Ren’s tone cooled. “I know.”

He raised his gun and fired at the ringleaders. In two heartbeats, three lay dead, their bodies sprawled in the snow.

The refugees screamed, fleeing in terror. They’d not expected Ren’s gun—or his resolve.

Thus is the mob: aimless, heedless of consequence.

When true peril strikes, even one man can scatter ten thousand souls.

The man Chen had saved crumpled beneath their stampede, too broken to rise.

Then a voice hissed, “Seize the students—they’re defenseless!”

Their attention turned to Jiang Wu’s group. The refugees knew—they too had food.