Chapter 1096
Leaving the Land of the Undead in Xianchi
Zhang Xiaohou seemed startled, his body jerking back to avoid He Yu's embrace, his eyes revealing a hint of confusion and wariness.
"Xiao Hou? It's me! I'm He Yu! This is Mo Fan! Don't you recognize us?"
He Yu burst into tears, not daring to approach him rashly again, but only reaching out her hand, trembling, wanting to touch his face.
Zhang Xiaohou stared blankly at her, then at Mo Fan, his lips moving slightly.
He seemed to want to say something, but his mind was blank and he couldn't remember anything.
"What's wrong with him?!"
Mo Fan's eyes also reddened. He forced back his sadness and looked at Su Xiaoluo beside him.
Su Xiaoluo sighed, put down the medicine spoon, walked over, and looked at Zhang Xiaohou with pity in her eyes.
“About a month ago, I went out to collect herbs and found him on a rocky slope near Yangyang Village. When he was found, he was already like this—severely injured, unconscious, with the scar still on his face. After waking up, he didn’t remember anything, not even who he was, and he couldn’t speak clearly and reacted very slowly.”
She paused, her voice carrying a hint of a doctor's感慨 (gǎnkǎi, a complex emotion encompassing both emotion and reflection).
"It's amazing he survived. That wound almost hit his brain, and he lost too much blood and was also poisoned by a severe case of corpse poison. If he hadn't run into me, he probably would have died by now."
He Yu listened, and her tears flowed even more fiercely.
Fu Ye stood at the door, quietly watching this scene.
Asha Ruya also stood in the shadows outside the door, her purple eyes thoughtfully examining the scars on Zhang Xiaohou's face, and then looking at the environment inside the room.
When Asha Ruya left, she didn't disturb anyone except Fu Ye.
The morning air in Luohua Village was still filled with the muddy smell of rain.
She merely bowed slightly to Fu Ye, her amethyst-like eyes gleaming behind her veil with a meaningful smile.
"Young Master Fu, I have other important matters to attend to, so I must take my leave first."
Her voice was soft, yet it reached Fu Ye's ears clearly.
"I look forward to meeting you again, young master."
Fu Ye simply nodded slightly in response.
Asha'ruya didn't mind. She turned around and, with her taciturn attendant, disappeared from Fu Ye's sight as silently as she had come.
Not long after.
Xie Sang, the old village chief who fought desperately during the undead attack and was seriously injured, dragged his bandaged body and forced himself to gather all the villagers, young and old, in the threshing ground for a meeting.
He stood on the millstone, leaning on the wooden cane inlaid with yellowish-brown crystals. His gray hair trembled slightly in the wind, and his voice was hoarse and sorrowful.
"Fellow villagers, you all saw what happened this morning. The talisman array around Luohua Village has begun to fail, and those things underground are becoming increasingly restless."
"Three days ago, the fence on the east side of the village was breached; yesterday, the fence on the west side; and this morning, that green ghost corpse just smashed open the village entrance. What about next time? And the time after that?"
He paused, his cloudy old eyes sweeping over familiar faces—people he had protected for decades.
“It’s not that I, Xie Sang, want to betray our ancestral land, it’s that our ancestral land can no longer protect us. The military in the ancient capital has agreed to take in refugees. As long as we can reach the north city wall, we have a chance to survive! Staying here means only waiting to die!”
On the threshing floor, hundreds of villagers stood in silence, the atmosphere heavy and oppressive.
After a long silence, an old farmer in his fifties with a deeply lined face finally spoke.
“Village chief, it’s not that we’re ungrateful, but how are we going to get through these three days? There are hardly any able-bodied men left, just a bunch of old and young, including a woman who just gave birth and a sick man lying in bed. And there are ghosts everywhere outside. They’ll come out of the ground as soon as it gets dark. How are we going to survive for three days?”
"Yes, village chief, it's not that we don't want to leave, it's that we can't walk."
"Our ancestors' graves are all here; who will add soil now that they're gone?"
"My father died while fleeing from war, I'm not leaving."
A cacophony of voices arose, but most remained silent, shaking their heads.
Fu Ye stood at the edge of the threshing ground, with Liu Ru and Liu Xian standing behind him, quietly watching the scene. He neither intervened nor expressed his opinion, his eyes reflecting the villagers' fearful faces and Xie Sang's weary back.
Mo Fan stamped his feet in frustration and whispered to He Yu.
"How can these villagers be so stubborn! Staying here will only lead to their deaths!"
He Yu bit her lip, looking at those aged faces, but couldn't bring herself to say anything accusatory.
She understands that fear of the unknown.
Xie Sang continued to persuade him, his voice growing increasingly hoarse, his eyes reddening.
He tried to explain everything he could, but to little avail.
Only about 30% were willing to leave with him.
Most of these are families with young adults or a large number of young people.
The remaining 70% stubbornly shook their heads no matter how much they were persuaded.
Su Xiaoluo stomped her feet in anger, her fair cheeks flushed with excitement, and shouted at the most stubborn old men.
"Why are you all so stubborn! The village chief already said that the ancient capital will accept us! How many days can we hide in a well? Don't the dead dig tunnels?!"
An old woman with a hunched back said tremblingly.
"Little Luo, you don't understand our family's well. It was dug by our great-grandfather's generation. There are hidden caves at the bottom of the well. They've sheltered from the White Hair Storm, from war, and from the zombie horde thirty years ago. They've hidden everything that could be hidden."
"That's because there weren't so many dead thirty years ago!"
Su Xiaoluo was both anxious and angry, and her eyes were red.
"You...you're just waiting to die!"
However, no one responded to her anymore.
Those villagers who decided to stay had a resigned calm on their faces as they silently began carrying food, water, and blankets down into the well.
As Su Xiaoluo watched their retreating figures, tears finally streamed down her face.
She was just a village doctor who had lived in the village for more than ten years, treating the elderly, changing their dressings, and listening to their everyday chatter.
She didn't want to just watch them die.
Xie Sang walked to her side and patted her shoulder heavily, his voice old and weak.
"Xiao Luo, forget it. Everyone has their own destiny, and you can't force it. You should come with us. You're still young and can't stay here."
Su Xiaoluo bit her lip and nodded with tears in her eyes.
Unbeknownst to her, a calm gaze was watching everything unfold from a distance.
Fu Ye remained silent.
He watched as the stubborn villagers carried their last possessions into the well, watched Xie Sang dejectedly count the 30% of the population willing to relocate, and watched Su Xiaoluo wipe away her tears as she packed her medicine kit.
His expression was calm and still, without any ripples.
Liu Ru looked up and asked in a whisper that only she and her servant could hear.
"Master, those who stayed behind..."
"I know."
Fu Ye interrupted her, his tone flat, offering no explanation.
Liu Ru stopped asking questions and lowered her eyes again.
The migrating caravan had assembled by noon.
More than thirty households, plus the elderly, women, and children, totaling about forty people, led by Xie Sang, prepared to set off for the ancient capital. (End of Chapter)