Grandma Gale walked out from the inner room, her back slightly hunched and her steps a bit unsteady, but she was extremely composed. Not only did she quickly map out a plan for the future, she even managed to prepare everything in complete silence: enough food for three days, scattered silver coins stored separately, a few changes of clothes, and so on—all packed into two large bundles. The slip of paper with the address was handed to Grace to keep close, and she even provided a saddle.

Grace changed into a set of Grandma Gale’s old clothes, which fit in length but were a bit baggy. She seemed not quite awake, her face blank with confusion, only showing deep reluctance and shedding many tears when she hugged Grandma Gale goodbye. She mounted the horse herself and from then on kept her head down, saying nothing.

Although grateful for Grandma Gale’s care and guidance, Jack was still happy to be leaving this place. The old woman’s kind gaze always seemed to carry a hint of interrogation, making Jack afraid to meet her eyes.

The chestnut horse knew nothing of the journey ahead. After leaving the courtyard, it naturally turned toward the eastern Wildwood Town, wanting to head for familiar woods to graze. Jack corrected its direction, and the horse did not object, silently walking along the main road.

The two set out at dawn. The sunlight soon became scorching. The chestnut horse instinctively walked in the shade, always wanting to stop and graze. Jack ran back and forth, urging it to keep moving, occasionally glancing up at Grace on the horse’s back.

It was too quiet. The monotonous sound of hooves made Jack uneasy. “Grandma Gale.” After an hour, he finally thought of something to say.

“Mm.” Grace still kept her head down, looking gloomy.

“She’s really amazing. She even has acquaintances in Xijie City, and she’s so kind—she prepared so much for us, even a saddle, as if she knew all along that we… that you would leave Wildwood Town.”

“She’s very good,” Grace said softly, her lips barely moving.

Jack felt awkward, not understanding why Grace, who had seemed excited yesterday, was now so listless after a night’s sleep. He darted into the woods by the roadside, picking colorful wildflowers and quickly weaving them into a wreath.

He did this unconsciously, and only when he held the finished, beautiful wreath in his hands did he realize that only Grace was fit to wear it. But he couldn’t bring himself to speak, not even to hint at it. The girl on the horse was just too much of a stranger; he still hadn’t really seen her true face.

By noon, the wreath was still in Jack’s hands.

The main road made a sharp turn not far ahead, bending from west to south. From there, the lush trees would gradually thin out, giving way to tall fields of mugwort.

Jack ran ahead, and when he was still several yards from the bend, he stopped, drawn by a strange mark on the road.

It was a line of loose earth crossing the road, like a tunnel dug by ants, but the soil was too coarse—more like a child’s handiwork.

Grace caught up on horseback, reined in, and asked, “What’s that?”

It was the first question she’d asked all morning, but Jack didn’t notice, his attention fixed on the line of earth. “Looks like someone drew a line here. I wonder what it means…”

They were about to find out. A long rope, woven from tree bark, suddenly sprang from the loose earth—thick and long—followed by shouts from both sides of the road, piercing and shrill, echoing to the sky and startling dozens of birds nearby.

Both of them and the horse were startled. Jack instinctively jumped back a step. The chestnut horse reared up and neighed loudly, and Grace on its back cried out and fell to the ground.

It all happened too fast. Several figures burst from the grass on both sides. Jack had no time to help Grace, instead rushing to meet the fastest of the ambushers, shouting loudly in return, refusing to be outdone in spirit.

Jack knocked down the first ambusher, then was surrounded and caught up in a melee. People were everywhere—no need to look for a target, just reach out and you’d hit someone. There was no way to defend; fists rained down like a storm.

“Stop, stop, don’t fight, everyone stop!”

The brawl ceased. Jack’s arms were tangled with someone else’s, another had him in a chokehold, and two more stood nearby with fists raised, ready to join in.

A few steps away, Eric swept his gaze over the scene with authority, seeing that everyone was obeying—except for one.

Baldy was younger and smaller, and cleverly hadn’t gone for Jack, but instead took Grace, who had fallen to the ground, as his opponent. The two were still scuffling, with Baldy gaining no clear advantage.

“I said stop,” Eric raised his voice.

Baldy finally heard the leader’s order. He was obedient, immediately going limp, letting Grace push him in the chest with both hands, his arms flailing as he fell onto his back, but instead of crying out in pain, he burst out laughing.

“We’re not here to catch anyone,” said Eric.

All the boys let go, even Jack. He saw Brian Smith and Bruce Smith, the two brothers, and began to believe Eric’s words a little.

Eric kicked Baldy, stopping his inexplicable laughter, then walked up to Jack and said seriously, “Brother Jack, you’re amazing. Let us help you.”

Jack was even more confused and asked warily, “Aren’t you here to take us back to town?”