Dawn broke.
The night had passed warmer—enough firewood for once, and the three of them huddled under a single quilt, spared the bone-deep chill.
Qingshui nudged Mu Wanhua gently.
"Shh. Don't get up yet. Something's wrong."
Wanhua rubbed her eyes. Layne, already awake, lay stiff in her arms; Qingshui had warned him earlier not to panic. He didn't move.
Soon Wanhua saw it too.
From the new paper pasted on the window, the shadows of several heads swayed outside. Murmurs seeped through the cracks—too muffled to make out.
Qingshui's hand slid quietly toward the twin blades by her pillow. Wanhua laid a calming hand on her, then rose, walked to the front hall, and pulled the door open.
Two men were pressed against it, peering in through gaps and holes. They didn't even flinch when caught.
One stared openly at Wanhua's face, circling his gaze down to her chest, eyes roaming brazenly over her figure.
The other craned to see past her, as though to pierce the wall and glimpse Qingshui on the bed.
Forcing composure, Wanhua demanded to know what they were doing, retreating until her hand closed on the kitchen's worn cleaver.
Only then did she see—more faces at the windows, and still more figures on the path outside, even across the roofs. Nearly the whole village had gathered.
Her eyes fell to slips of paper clutched in their hands. One lay at the feet of the men she had startled. She snatched it up—
Her mind roared.
A wanted poster.
Two women. One boy. The sketch of Qingshui unmistakable. The other woman and child—close enough to herself and Layne to be damning.
"Kingdom Edict: Two women, about thirty. One boy, under ten. Any who see them, report to officials for reward."
When they had entered the village, Qingshui had been swathed in bandages, half her face hidden, bleeding and weak. Wanhua herself had been gaunt, worn. Only a few villagers glimpsed them. That must be why the crowd hesitated outside, instead of storming in.
She slammed the door shut, braced it with the beam. Striding back toward the hearth, she raised her voice:
"What is this? Those posters don't prove anything! Why block our door? Is this how Xi Wang village treats guests?"
Her mind spun, searching for a way out—none came.
Qingshui saw the poster. Her face hardened. She rose, blades in hand.
"Pack quickly. We run."
Wanhua stuffed coin and rations into the bundle, dragging Layne down from the bed. Outside, the shouts grew louder, fists pounding the door.
"If you're innocent, why panic? Open up!"
"Officials are on the way. If it's not you, you'll be cleared."
"Stop stalling! Look how nervous she is—she must be guilty! Break it down! Lock the brat outside, bring the women in. We'll 'question' them first!"
The voices merged in agreement. The pounding turned violent.
Wanhua went pale, clutching Layne in the corner farthest from the windows.
Qingshui slid from the bed, blades sheathed at her waist, then drawn in hand. She stretched her arms, winced. Qi stirred sluggishly around her.
"…Still hurts. Not enough time. Without Layne, without Xuánhǔ's pills, I couldn't summon qi at all."
She walked to the door. Turned back. Flashed a wide, bright grin.
"Don't be afraid."
And Wanhua wasn't. Not anymore.
Though the village loomed like a beast's maw, teeth closing to chew them to pieces—what of it? Qingshui had said: "Don't be afraid."
She flung the door wide. The two men outside toppled forward. Her foot lashed out—both flew, rolling in the dirt, howling.
"Knocking?! I hate knocking!"
Layne ducked behind his mother.
Qingshui stepped out, meeting the crowd with twin blades gleaming. Villagers ringed them, brandishing sickles and pitchforks.
"She came out! She attacked!"
"Seize her! She's the one from the posters! The bounty's ours!"
The mob surged closer.
Qingshui spat, then crooked a finger at Wanhua. Wanhua hurried behind her, clutching Layne's hand.
"Watch closely, you wretches! What comes next—you'll never forget."
She stamped the ground—qi rippled out, water's essence resonating. She twisted, then stomped again.
[Water Technique: Wave Shock]
The earth quaked, ripples spreading in every direction. The very air hummed, vibrating. Waves of force burst outward.
The nearest men spewed blood, flung aside like ragdolls. Those farther staggered, tumbling across the dirt. Behind her, the house collapsed in a crash, shaken to splinters.
Only Wanhua and Layne, shielded, stood unharmed.
"Monster! She's a monster!"
Panic ripped through the crowd. Those less struck shrieked, scattering. The closer ones crawled, coughing blood, legs flailing to get away.
"Monster?! Your mother's the monster! Get lost! Lives are your own—next time, I won't be gentle!"
But Wanhua could see the truth—Qingshui's shoulder had begun to seep blood again. Layne saw it too: her qi churned, unstable. She could never unleash another strike like that.
The villagers didn't know. They had only seen her stomp and send men flying, houses crumbling. Some lay still; most writhed, shrieking about demons, soiling themselves in terror as they fled.
No one dared bar their way.
So the three slipped past, not looking back, fleeing straight out of the village.