The door slammed against the mud wall with a thunderous crack.
Dust rained down from the ceiling beams, scattering across the floor like ash.
Wei Lian did not move.
She stood there, spine straight, feet planted firmly between the intruders and the three trembling figures hidden behind her. Her arms stretched slightly backward—shielding without looking—every instinct screaming one truth into her bones:
Do not let them pass.
The step–brother-in-law stepped forward first.
His name was Wei Qiang—the favored son of the first wife. Broad-shouldered, sharp-eyed, with the confidence of someone who had never once been denied anything in his life.
He sneered when he saw her.
"So you're still breathing," he said, spitting the words like phlegm. "I thought hunger would've finished you by now."
Behind him, her mother-in-law followed slowly, hands clasped in front of her stomach, face twisted into practiced sorrow.
"Qiang'er," she sighed loudly, "don't frighten her. She's just a woman… weak and foolish. Look how thin she's become."
Wei Lian's fingers curled.
Thin?
Yes.
Weak?
Not anymore.
She said nothing.
Her silence irritated them more than shouting ever could.
Wei Qiang's gaze slid past her, sharp and calculating, scanning the room.
"Where are they?" he demanded.
Wei Lian did not answer.
His eyes narrowed.
"I asked you something."
Still, silence.
Her mother-in-law's lips twitched.
"You ungrateful thing," she snapped suddenly, voice rising. "We came to check on you out of kindness, and this is how you behave? No greeting, no respect?"
Kindness.
The word tasted rotten in Wei Lian's mouth.
Behind her, she felt a tiny tug on her sleeve.
"Mama…" the youngest whispered, shaking.
Wei Lian reached back without turning and squeezed her daughter's hand once—firm, grounding.
Stay quiet.
She took one step forward.
That single movement made Wei Qiang laugh.
"What? You think standing up makes you brave now?" he mocked. "You're nothing but a burden. A widow with three useless girls."
Her mother-in-law's eyes gleamed.
"That's right," she said coldly. "Those girls should have been sold long ago. Feeding them is a waste."
That—
That was the moment something inside Wei Lian snapped.
Not loudly.
Not explosively.
But completely.
The world seemed to narrow, sharpen, slow.
Her ears rang.
Her heartbeat steadied.
She looked at them—really looked.
At the woman who had smiled sweetly while denying medicine to a feverish child.
At the man who had laughed while dragging her by the hair.
In her previous life, she had bowed.
In this body's past, she had endured.
But now—
She had nothing left to lose.
Wei Lian lifted her head slowly.
Her eyes met Wei Qiang's.
And for the first time—
There was no fear in them.
"Get out," she said.
Her voice was calm.
Too calm.
Wei Qiang blinked, then burst out laughing.
"You hear that, Mother?" he scoffed. "The trash is talking back."
He stepped closer.
So close she could smell alcohol on his breath.
"You think you're protected now?" he hissed. "By what? These three half-wits?"
He raised his hand.
Wei Lian moved.
Not back.
Forward.
She caught his wrist mid-air.
The impact jolted up her arm—but she didn't release.
Wei Qiang froze.
He hadn't expected resistance.
Her grip tightened.
Her mother-in-law gasped. "Qiang'er!"
Wei Lian twisted.
A sharp, precise movement—learned not from this life, but the last.
Wei Qiang screamed.
"AAGH—!"
His wrist bent at an unnatural angle as she wrenched it downward and stepped into his space, driving her shoulder into his chest.
He staggered backward, crashing into the doorframe.
Shock flashed across his face.
"You—!" he snarled, trying to recover.
He lunged again.
This time, Wei Lian was ready.
She ducked, grabbed the front of his shirt, and slammed her forehead into his nose.
CRACK.
Blood burst instantly.
Wei Qiang howled, stumbling back, hands flying to his face.
Her mother-in-law shrieked.
" You crazy bitch!"
Wei Lian did not stop.
She grabbed the stool near the wall and swung it.
Hard.
Wood cracked against Wei Qiang's shoulder.
He collapsed to one knee, gasping.
"Mother—!" he choked.
Her mother-in-law rushed forward instinctively.
That was her mistake.
Wei Lian turned on her.
Years of humiliation poured into that single step forward.
"You," Wei Lian said, voice shaking now—not with fear, but rage. "You denied medicine to a child."
Her mother-in-law backed away.
"You pushed a feverish girl outside in winter."
The woman tried to speak, but no words came.
"You sold my daughters."
Her mother-in-law's face went pale.
Wei Lian grabbed her sleeve and yanked.
The old woman screamed as she fell hard onto the mud floor.
Wei Lian loomed over her.
"No more," she said, each word cutting like a blade. "Not today. Not ever again."
Wei Qiang struggled to his feet, eyes red with fury.
"You think this ends here?" he roared. "You hit me? I'll kill you!"
He rushed at her again.
Wei Lian snatched the knife from the table.
Steel flashed.
She didn't hesitate.
She slashed.
Not deep.
Not fatal.
But enough.
The blade cut across his forearm.
Blood spilled.
Wei Qiang screamed, staggering back.
The room went silent.
Her mother-in-law stared at the blood, trembling.
Wei Lian held the knife steady.
Her hands did not shake.
"If you take one more step," she said quietly, "I will make sure you never use that arm again."
Wei Qiang froze.
Fear flickered—real fear.
"You… you wouldn't," he muttered.
Wei Lian smiled.
It was not a kind smile.
"You already know I would."
Silence stretched.
Then—
Footsteps outside.
A neighbor's voice called faintly.
"What's all this noise?"
Wei Qiang panicked.
Her mother-in-law scrambled to her feet, grabbing his arm.
"Let's go," she hissed urgently. "People will come."
Wei Qiang glared at Wei Lian.
"This isn't over," he spat. "You'll pay for this."
Wei Lian did not respond.
She simply watched as they fled into the night—limping, bleeding, humiliated.
The door slammed shut.
The world exhaled.
Wei Lian dropped the knife.
Her knees gave out.
She slid to the floor, back against the wall, breath coming in ragged gasps.
Behind her—
Three pairs of arms wrapped around her.
"Mama…"
"Mama brave…"
"Mama scary but good…"
She laughed weakly.
Then cried.
She held them tightly, burying her face in their hair.
"It's okay," she whispered. "Mama won't let anyone hurt you again."
Outside, the night was quiet.
But inside that mud house—
A line had been crossed.
The lamb had grown teeth.
And from this moment on—
No one would ever dare treat Wei Lian as prey again.