Just as the family of three was happily chatting and enjoying the delicious rabbit meat, a sudden chorus of startled cries erupted outside. Moments later, the main door was flung open with a bang, and a girl of about eight or nine years old stumbled in. “Uncle Lian, Uncle Lian, s-something’s wrong!” She was clearly out of breath, probably from running too fast.

“小秋, what’s got you in such a hurry? Look at you, you’re out of breath. Sit down and catch your breath, then tell us slowly.” Charles King had always been fond of this child, and he pulled her over, seating her on a bamboo chair.

But Autumn was as anxious as an ant on a hot pan. “Uncle Lian, y-you have to come quickly, Tiger, Tiger has something strange happening to him, it seems, it seems…” She was still young, and as she spoke, she didn’t know how to continue, so she simply dragged Samuel Linton outside. Charles King and Henry Linton, sensing something odd, followed them out as well.

A crowd had already gathered in the open space in front of the village. Samuel Linton managed to push through the people and finally saw the village chief’s grandson, Tiger, sitting cross-legged on the ground with his eyes tightly shut, a strange glow faintly emanating from his body. When he asked the onlookers what had happened, no one knew the details. All they knew was that about an hour ago, while chopping wood, Tiger had suddenly run to the open space in front of the village as if he were a different person, and soon after, this scene appeared. Henry Linton, full of curiosity, tried to get closer to see what was going on, but as soon as he got within three feet of Tiger, he found himself unable to move any further.

The village chief, Old Mr. Johnson, leaning on his cane, was well-experienced, but even he had never seen such a strange phenomenon. He stood there, stunned and at a loss for what to do. Zhao Village was just a small village near Qingyuan City, its people honest hunters who had never witnessed such supernatural events. Most of the villagers stood at a distance, pointing and whispering, their faces filled with fear and confusion.

Samuel Linton was about to speak when a piercing shriek suddenly sounded overhead. He looked up at once. In the sky, a dozen or so strange birds were soaring with wings outstretched, and there were faint human figures visible on their backs. The villagers noticed this unusual sight as well, and soon panic broke out. They hurriedly ran to hide in their houses, and in no time, only a handful of people remained in the open space. The Linton Couple wanted to pull their son away to hide, but their feet felt rooted to the ground, unable to move, and they could only watch helplessly as several people leapt down from the backs of the strange birds.

In the center of the open space, Tiger still sat cross-legged, completely unaware, the silvery light on his body growing ever brighter, soon forming a silvery-white cocoon of light. The people who floated down from the birds were all masked with black scarves and wielded gleaming blades. They showed no fear at the strange sight, but instead charged viciously at the meditating Tiger. Henry Linton, standing nearby, cried out in alarm at the scene, but this only brought disaster upon himself. Several of the black-clad men abandoned Tiger and charged toward The Linton Couple.

Henry Linton never imagined things would take such a sudden turn. Watching the gleaming blade swing toward him, he thought he was surely doomed. In the blink of an eye, several deafening howls rang out from above, and a few figures in blue appeared in the open space. As they moved, Henry Linton felt a sharp pain all over his body, his vision blurred, and he finally fainted.

The once peaceful village was suddenly turned into a slaughterhouse. The two mysterious groups fought fiercely without a word, but the newcomers were still a step too late. The silver cocoon around Tiger could not withstand the repeated slashes and stabs, and as the silvery light faded away, he finally collapsed in a pool of blood. Even at the moment of death, this simple country boy never knew what had happened, dying with his eyes open, staring at the once-clear sky.

The black-clad men who had completed their mission did not escape the carnage either. As if venting their rage, their opponents dispatched them to the underworld with the cruelest methods. After the disaster, Zhao Village was filled with the wails of the wounded, and nearly all the children and youths had fallen victim, with gruesome corpses scattered everywhere.

The leader of the blue-clad group stood in the center of the slaughter, his eyes flashing coldly as he surveyed the surroundings. After a long while, he let out a deep sigh. “I didn’t expect to be too late again. Fate… is this really fate?” he muttered to himself. A few of the blue-clad men, having checked the village, walked over and shook their heads in sorrow, clearly having found nothing. They had thought they could succeed in one fell swoop this time, but in the end, someone else beat them to it. Not only had they failed, but they had also lost their last hope. As people born to bear heavy burdens, how could they possibly accept this?

The leader glanced once more at the surviving villagers and was about to give the order to leave when he suddenly felt movement at his feet. Looking down, he saw a blood-soaked youth stir slightly, a faint silver light appearing on his body. This strange sight shocked him. However, The Linton Couple nearby reacted even faster, scooping up the youth and crying out in alarm, “Henry Linton, are you alright?”