Chapter 53: What Did That Vixen Do to Me?

To be honest, the guards felt conflicted about traveling with this large group—a leader accompanied by seven youngsters. As long as the journey remained uneventful, it was tolerable; they simply matched the pace of the donkey cart, moving slower if needed. After all, the leader had no pressing matters to attend to this trip, so there was no rush. It was rare to see the leader in good spirits, uplifted by the company of these seven children, so they were content to accompany them.

But in the current perilous situation, the guards began to consider this large group somewhat of a burden. Despite the danger, the leader insisted that they must protect all seven children at any cost.

That said, it wasn’t entirely fair to blame the children—they had been invited by the leader himself.

Hearing the agonized screams earlier, the guards had been tense. If anything happened to the children, the leader would not be merciful. They were not afraid of reprimands or punishment themselves, but feared the leader’s self-reproach—he was already weary and troubled by court affairs, burdened with melancholy.

Along the way, they grumbled among themselves, wondering why this young lady, who should have been diligent at home practicing embroidery and playing the zither, was wandering outside with a group of children. What was she trying to do? She even pretended to be serious by carrying a sword, as if having that weapon guaranteed safety on the road. Where did she get such courage and confidence? It was laughable!

Even if she had read too many martial heroine novels and wished to imitate them in the world, at the very least she should have hired some capable retainers to protect her in secret.

Yet now, upon hearing the screams and rushing over, the guards saw her response and, following the pained moans, found two figures on the ground—one lying face down motionless, the other curled up and rolling in pain.

Though obscured by the night and difficult to discern their exact condition, it was clear both were alive, but had lost the ability to fight.

She—a young lady who appeared to possess no martial skill—managed this alone?

Or were the two on the ground simply the least capable members of this group? If so, her luck was extraordinary.

No, even the least capable were two grown men, judging by their size and voices, not weak by any means; she shouldn’t have been able to handle them alone.

Could it be that they themselves were mistaken?

As the guards debated whether to dismount and check on the two or report back to the leader first, they heard hoofbeats approaching from behind. Turning to look, they saw an ally had relaxed his vigilance.

“How’s it here? Is anyone injured?” The newcomer called out anxiously from a distance.

The tone was tense—Hong Xiaoduo recognized it, though she did not discern whether it stemmed from concern for her and the children’s safety or fear of the leader’s reprimand.

Such worries were pointless; they were strangers to each other, and the newcomer’s duty was to protect the leader.

“They’re fine,” came the concise reply from the first guard to arrive.

“Hmm? They’re fine? Then the injured must be others? The attackers?” The newcomer understood the situation but shared the same doubts as his counterpart who had arrived earlier.

That young lady, who looked like a fake martial heroine, had resolved the trouble herself?

“My lady, my master says we should continue on,” he suddenly remembered his mission and hurriedly informed Hong Xiaoduo.

“Understood.” She responded, signaling Tian Shu to return inside the carriage.

Though Tian Shu had not witnessed how she subdued the two villains, she heard their successive screams and obediently entered the carriage.

Hong Xiaoduo sat atop the cart rail and lightly tapped the donkey’s hind leg with her whip. The donkey understood and lifted its hoof, stepping forward with a rhythmic clip-clop.

This donkey was truly dependable. Though not especially intelligent, its obedience under such circumstances was commendable. She resolved to tell Tian Shu tomorrow to buy better fodder for it going forward.

The mounted guards followed the donkey cart onward. The first guard, now certain the leader was unharmed, no longer rushed forward. Watching the cart pass by, he noted the rider’s neat attire and calm demeanor.

Inside the carriage, there was no sound of children crying.

This truly surprised him.

Curious, he urged his horse closer to the nearest black-clad figure, dismounted, cautiously drew his side sword, and approached to inspect.

From behind, the man showed no obvious wounds. A kick to his limbs caused only slight movement.

Could the injury be on the front? He flipped the man over but still found no injury.

He pondered, then produced a fire striker, bending down for a closer look.

“What did that witch do to me? What did she do?” The black-clad man tried to move but couldn’t, glaring despairingly at the inspecting guard.

When he sensed something amiss and tried to flee, he took a blow to the back—painful beyond description, spreading from deep within his back to his limbs.

The sensation reminded him of past punishments, when his leader struck him with a whip for failing missions. Though he felt no severe injury, the strange paralysis of his limbs made him unable to control his body.

The guard frowned, examining the man’s limbs thoroughly—joints and bones intact, no wounds.

“Indeed, what exactly did she do to you? I’d like to know myself,” the guard muttered, half to himself, half in response.

“Adian, what are you dawdling for? Hurry and find a witness,” a companion called from nearby.

Adian bound the man and threw him across his horse, then went to check another black-clad figure.

This one was the opposite—his injuries were severe, beyond mere description.

A diagonal gash ran from his left eye to the right side of his mouth; the left eyeball was shriveled, the nasal bridge collapsed, and his right lip split open. His right arm hung limp, flailing as he writhed in pain.

Blood stained his right knee, puzzling Adian since it didn’t look like a sword wound. Using the fire striker’s light for closer inspection, he froze—there was a through-and-through hole.

Hearing his companion urge again, he snapped back to reality, lifted the man, and slung him over his horse.

A live witness must be thoroughly interrogated.

“What are you doing, Adian? Stop dawdling,” another guard asked, puzzled as Adian returned.

Adian hesitated, then said, “We’ll talk about it once we reach the inn…”