"Brian, we won't be using the fishing boat for now. When your grandfather comes back, tell him not to go fishing for the time being."

"These fish can't be eaten anymore."

Grace Foster spoke up.

Brian Bolton nodded.

Grace Foster gestured to the others, preparing to leave.

Suddenly, Brian Bolton called out, "Mr. Foster! What should we do with these fish?!"

"Bury them."

"Caw～～～"

A harsh crow's cry echoed from above.

Grace Foster stopped and looked up. A crow was circling overhead.

In the distance, the sound of horse hooves could be heard, the ground trembling slightly.

The boys were startled, stepping back a few paces in fear.

Three knights wearing strange masks spurred their warhorses, galloping toward them from afar.

As the warhorses charged at full speed, the earth shook. The boys wanted to dodge, but their legs went weak—they couldn't take a single step.

The warhorses charged right up to Grace Foster. The knight reined in his horse, its head lowered, face almost touching Grace Foster's.

The horse's angry breath blew through Grace Foster's long hair.

Grace Foster stared at the warhorse, unmoving.

Blood was seeping from a bundle hanging at the horse's side.

The knight sized up the group before him, his gaze focusing on their necks, as if counting heads.

"γr qrqa! kr?"

The leader glanced at the man on his left and spoke.

The children exchanged glances. It was Xianbei language—they couldn't understand.

Grace Foster took a step back, bowed his head to them, and said, "prrgn."

The three knights suddenly fixed their gaze on Grace Foster. The leader smiled, "A native?"

"Han Chinese."

"Oh... What are you doing here?"

"We are local fishermen, fishing here."

The knight's gaze fell on the open ground not far away, spotting the fishing nets and the catch beside them.

"Nice haul. But why did you leave those fish over there?"

"Why not eat them?"

Brian Bolton couldn't wait to answer, "We found a corpse!!"

The knight didn't even look at him, just kept his eyes on Grace Foster.

Grace Foster replied, "These fish don't seem very clean."

"No, these fish are very clean."

"These fish are cleaner than an untouched maiden."

"You should eat them, go ahead and eat them."

The knight offered his advice kindly.

Grace Foster said nothing.

The leader slowly drew a ring-handled saber from his waist, letting it hang by the horse's side. Blood dripped from the blade, blooming on the pitch-black earth.

Grace Foster looked at the smiling mask—both eyes curved in a smile, the mouth as well, as if laughing heartily.

Grace Foster turned and looked at the others. "What are you standing around for? Gather up the fish... take them home to eat."

Shivering, the group walked over to the fishing nets and began packing the fish into bamboo baskets. Their hands shook so badly they could barely pick up the fish.

Once all the fish were packed, Grace Foster glanced at the three knights again, then led the group away.

On the muddy road, the children walked barefoot.

Brian Bolton wiped his tears, unable to stop sobbing.

The others were the same—tears streaming from their terrified eyes, but none dared to stop.

"Mr. Foster, are we going to die?"

"What is it like to die?"

"Does it hurt?"

"Walk slowly, don't run, don't look back, just keep this pace."

Grace Foster's calm tone eased some of their fear.

They walked for a long time, but no one dared look back.

No one knew how long they'd walked before they finally reached a fork in the road, with sheltering trees on both sides and three paths ahead.

Only then did Grace Foster slowly turn around.

On a distant hill, the three knights sat tall on their horses.

Even from far away, Grace Foster seemed to see their grinning masks.

The corner of Grace Foster's left eye twitched, a flash of fierceness in his gaze.

He led the group down the small path to the left.

"Mr. Foster... isn't this the way to Wild Boar Forest? Where are we going?"

"In a moment, I'll take a fall. You throw the fish baskets to me, then go straight on... don't look back, and head home by the stone bridge."

"But you..."

"Don't worry about me. If anyone dares to look back, dares to come back... I'll feed him to the fish."

As Grace Foster spoke, the others nodded in agreement.

They walked for a while longer. Grace Foster suddenly stumbled and fell to the ground, struggling to get up. The others quickly set the fish baskets in front of him and hurried away.

Grace Foster, panting, managed to get up, shouted a few curses into the distance, then picked up the fish baskets, slung them over his shoulder, and hobbled away with his fishing spear as a crutch.

The fishing spear was just a sharpened stick.

Grace Foster moved slowly. No one knew how long he walked. The woods on either side grew denser, and faint hoofbeats could be heard behind him, seemingly drawing closer.