She is the most beautiful woman in a hundred miles around!”

Seeing Charles Bolton walking toward his wife, naked from the waist down, the shepherd cried out in misery, “Oh Heaven above, open your eyes and look!”

Charles Bolton grinned widely, glanced at the shepherd, and said, “Heaven is dead!”

With that, he scooped the woman up in his arms and laughed loudly, “Let me have my fun first, then I’ll fill my belly!”

The woman’s body was limp and powerless. Her eyes looked at her husband, who was tied to the withered tree, and she could only hope that after this villain’s rampage, they might still be able to go on living together.

The sheep grazing at the foot of the mountain knew nothing of all this. Even the one that Charles Bolton had thrown was now quietly eating grass.

They didn’t know that the fuller they ate, the fatter they became, the closer they were to the day of their death.

The sky gradually darkened. The flock of sheep huddled together, tightly surrounding the shepherd. After the sun had completely set, the cold mountain wind quietly drifted along the valley, carrying the woman’s cries of misery and sobs up to the ninth heaven.

“Damn you!”

“Damn you!”

“Damn you!”

The shepherd’s furious accusations fell on Charles Bolton’s ears, turning into the most violent aphrodisiac in the world. What galloped on the woman was not only his body, but also the incomparable resentment in his heart.

The shepherd’s voice gradually became hoarse, then turned into screams, and soon fell silent.

At dawn, when Charles Bolton came out of the hut naked, he glanced at the withered tree and couldn’t help but curse, “Damn it!”

The ground was covered with corpses, mostly sheep, and then the shepherd’s.

Whether sheep or shepherd, their bodies were incomplete, scattered in pieces within a radius of about thirty feet.

The shepherd’s entrails had been hollowed out by wolves, and many of the sheep’s innards were also missing.

Looking at the shepherd’s eyes, still open in death, Charles Bolton spat and said, “I actually forgot there are wolves here at night!”

He opened the broken door of the hut. The woman’s naked body lay sideways on a bed covered with dry grass. Charles Bolton pushed at the woman’s head and said, “Get up and make food for me!”

The woman’s head flopped weakly to the other side. Charles Bolton checked her breath and realized the woman was already dead.

Charles Bolton spat again, irritably covered the woman’s corpse with a tattered wool blanket, then sat at the door, worrying about what to eat today.

After sitting for only a moment, Charles Bolton had an idea. He tossed the shepherd’s light remains into the hut, lit the straw with a fire striker, then found some leftover mutton, skewered it on a wooden stick, and waited for the fire to catch.

The hut quickly caught fire, the flames fierce. In no time, the mutton skewered on the branches was sizzling.

The fire burned for more than an hour before gradually dying down. By then, Charles Bolton had finished eating the mutton, still wanting more. He looked around but found nothing else to eat, and the remaining mutton was already covered with flies.

Feeling that the wound on his buttocks had scabbed over, he put on his pants, slung a roasted leg of lamb over his shoulder, skirted the foot of the mountain, and strode away…

☆ Character Profile Three

The Eight Great Bandits—George Wood

George Wood sat on his horse, looking as far as he could see. Before him, apart from the vast white snow, there were only the dark, blackish pine trees on the low hills.

That’s how it is in the north—once there’s snow, all other colors change, even the water turns black.

George Wood greatly envied his uncle Franklin Cooper’s full beard. Only with such a beard could one stand out among thousands of troops.

The warhorse slowly descended the hill. A sentry lifted the cover of the dugout, trembling as he stood outside, waiting for George Wood to inspect.

Six soldiers per sentry post—this was the rule. George Wood glanced at the six soldiers, saw them all wearing sheepskin coats, reeking and disheveled, standing in the snow as shaggy as white bears. He casually took a wine flask from his waist and tossed it to the squad leader, whose face was covered in frostbite, and said indifferently,

“Have the slave bandits caused any trouble?”

The squad leader held the wine flask carefully and said, “Yesterday a group of slave bandits came by. Seeing they were many, we didn’t go out. I watched them head west, about sixty in number, all mounted!

Worried they might make a move, I sent up a wolf smoke signal to report!”

George Wood couldn’t help but glance west. Further west was the Daling River. In winter, the Daling River’s current was swift and wouldn’t freeze. In such weather, even with boats, it was easy for the ice in the river to smash them, so he wasn’t worried the slave bandits would risk crossing.

The squad leader didn’t dare put his mouth to the flask, instead pouring a mouthful of strong liquor into his mouth from a distance, then carefully returned the silver flask to George Wood.

“Have another drink, and let the rest of the brothers have a sip to warm up. Damn this Liaodong, the winter is just too cold.”

The squad leader was overjoyed at these words, couldn’t wait to take another swig, then passed the flask to the brothers behind him.

He was reluctant to exhale, holding the wine vapor in his belly for a long time before finally letting out a stream of white breath like a bolt of silk.