Chapter 55: Most Beautiful Is the Era of Peace, Part 1

Chapter 55: Most of All, That Era of Peace and Prosperity (1)

Blood quickly soaked the earth, and the air was thick with the stench of gore. Yet to Zhang Sanlu at this moment, even this brutality was its own form of catharsis.

His actions left everyone present frozen in shock. The bandits stared in bewilderment, unable to comprehend how their vanguard had all collapsed, butchered one by one like livestock by a one-armed Taoist.

Zhang Sanlu spat a mouthful of bloody froth, flicked the gore from his blade, and shouted fiercely at the bandits surging forward:

“Come on, then! It’s your turn now!”

Beneath the midday sun, Zhang Sanlu resembled a wounded beast. Blood covered him—his own mingled with that of the bandits—a testament to his desperate struggle. He swung his blade, each strike accompanied by the bandits’ screams and splashes of crimson.

The harrowing battle he’d just endured had left more than a dozen once-arrogant bandits sprawled lifeless on the ground. Their bodies, drenched in blood, bloomed across the earth like flowers of death nourished by flesh and bone.

The air was so thick with the coppery tang of blood it made one sick.

Standing among the corpses, Zhang Sanlu’s gaze was cold and resolute. He had spent nearly all his strength, paid with broken ribs, two wounds to his left shoulder, and an injured eye, but he had slaughtered every bandit who dared charge at him.

Drawing a deep breath, Zhang Sanlu squeezed his left eye, trying to clear his vision through the sticky fluid that blurred it.

The remaining bandits had long since been terrified out of their wits by the carnage. They scattered in panic, fleeing into the depths of the forest, leaving only hurried footsteps and cries of “Monster!” and “Demon!” echoing through the mountains.

Zhang Sanlu cast a cold glance at the fleeing figures but did not pursue. Instead, his gaze shifted to the roadside, where several women had huddled together, their faces etched with terror and helplessness. Two had perished amid the earlier chaos.

He strode over and, with a swift flick of his blade, severed the ropes binding the women’s hands. Freed, they rose to bow in gratitude to the Taoist, though none recognized him.

“Thank you... Thank you, Master, for saving our lives,” they wept.

Though rescued, the women’s faces showed no trace of relief—only lingering fear.

“Are you hurt, Master?” one woman asked tremulously, her eyes glistening with tears of gratitude.

Zhang Sanlu shook his head slightly, glancing around but failing to spot Han, the woman he remembered.

“Where is Han?” he asked, his voice tinged with anxiety and foreboding.

The women exchanged uneasy looks and shook their heads. A chill settled in Zhang Sanlu’s heart. Had Han already been taken by the bandits, or worse?

“When the bandits seized you, did none of you see Hui Niang’s mother, Han?” he pressed.

“Master, we were in such a panic when we were tied up. But truly, we did not see Han,” one replied.

“Hurry and gather your things. I’ll take you back,” Zhang Sanlu said, worried the bandits might return and the women would again descend into hell. Though uneasy, he decided to escort them home first.

His rashness on the way here now faded, replaced by a growing sense of unease.

Though the road back was long, these women were accustomed to farm labor and strong in body. With all hearts set on home, they made quick progress and soon returned to the village.

Anxiety churned in Zhang Sanlu’s chest.

Back in the village, people were dealing with the aftermath, their grief audible in every corner. Seeing Zhang Sanlu return with the women, the villagers embraced and wept with abandon. Those who had lost loved ones grieved all the more bitterly, and soon the whole village rang with sorrow.

At this moment, the village head hurried out with several elders, their faces full of gratitude and awe.

“Master, your powers are profound, your virtue boundless, your compassion and righteousness unmatched!” the headman spoke with trembling voice, bowing deeply in respect and urging the villagers to kneel and thank Zhang Sanlu, showering him with praise.

But Zhang Sanlu had no mind for courtesies. He cut the headman off, asking urgently, “Headman, where is Han? You said she was taken by the bandits, but I killed them and did not see her. The rescued women say the same.”

At his words, the headman’s expression shifted. He glanced at the elders before lowering his voice. “Master, perhaps the women were mistaken. Han... she may already have met with misfortune. Those bandits are cruel beyond measure...”

A few villagers stood silent and uneasy.

A heaviness pressed on Zhang Sanlu’s heart. He sensed the villagers knew more than they would say but chose silence. He did not press further, but neither did he give up. Frowning, he asked, “I know you wanted me to rescue her; I hold no grudge for that. But where is Hui Niang now?”

Seeing the headman about to equivocate again, Zhang Sanlu’s heart twisted sharply.

Without another word, he rushed to Guo Wang’s house. There, he found the yard cluttered with scattered belongings, as if someone new was already living there. A sense of foreboding surged within him, for he knew that preying on the bereaved was not uncommon in the village; families who lost loved ones often became the target of others’ greed.

He pushed open the door and entered. Inside, the place was a mess, utterly unlike his last visit. The ominous feeling grew, and he hurried into the inner room.

“Who’s making such a racket? Have you no manners?” A woman lying on the kang barked out at the noise.

Seeing Zhang Sanlu burst in, her brow furrowed, and she was about to scold him. But when she caught sight of his blood-soaked figure and smelled the reek of blood, she fell instantly silent, cowed by fear.

At that moment, the headman came panting after him, calling out, “Master, don’t be alarmed, don’t be rash.” But his voice was full of tension and unease.

Zhang Sanlu ignored him, fixing his gaze on the woman on the kang. He knew in his heart that she likely knew something of Han’s fate.