Senior sister, stop working and go home for dinner.

Chapter 397 Zhou Da's Return

"Driver, go back."

Let's go back.

Zhou Da had lived for forty-three years, spending twenty of those years in the Western Army. He had killed, been killed, watched his comrades die beside him, and nearly died himself under the barbarian's scimitar. He thought there would never be anything in his life that could leave him speechless.

But he was stunned for a long time after hearing the words "Go back".

The old lady didn't look back when she went in.

He waited for the time it takes for one incense stick to burn, then two, until it was completely dark, until the stone beasts in front of the mountain gate turned into two ferocious black shadows in the night.

There was no turning back.

Zhou Da finally made a move.

He walked down the path he had come from, step by step. When he reached the foot of the mountain, he took the reins and headed back.

The tea stalls along the official road had already closed. The hunchbacked old man was bending over to tidy up the tables and chairs when he heard the sound of horses' hooves and looked up.

"Old traveler, still traveling tonight?"

Zhou Da did not respond.

The carriage drove past him, its wheels crunching over the fallen leaves on the official road.

The old man watched the blue-curtained carriage gradually disappear into the night, shook his head, and continued tidying up his table and chairs.

Zhou Da traveled all night.

At daybreak, the carriage stopped in a mountain hollow. He jumped off the carriage shaft, took out some dry biscuits from his satchel, and slowly chewed them with the cool water from his leather bag.

The dry biscuits were bought at the tea stall the day before yesterday, and they were as hard as rocks. He chewed them very hard, his cheeks bulging and sinking, like a ruminating old ox.

After finishing his meal, he sat on the carriage shaft, gazing in the direction he had come from.

The Qingyang Valley is no longer visible from here. Even the outline of the Cangyun Mountains has become blurred, like a fading ink mark.

Zhou Da suddenly remembered sixteen years ago.

That year, he followed Commander Wei on his northern expedition, where he lost half an ear and an eye to the barbarian scimitars. After recovering, Commander Wei asked him, "Would you like to stay?"

He said, "I want to."

Commander Wei stared at him for a long time, his face, etched with countless lines by the harsh winds of the northern frontier, remaining expressionless. Finally, he simply said, "The manor needs a carriage driver."

He stayed.

Later, when the eldest daughter was born, he drove his carriage to the village outside the city to fetch the midwife. Later, when the eldest daughter was learning to walk, he squatted under the eaves to watch her, afraid she would fall. Later, when the eldest daughter began to read and write, he escorted her to and from her tutor every day. Later, when the eldest daughter turned fifteen, he drove his carriage to take her to the gate of this wretched Qingyang Valley.

The old lady didn't look back when she went in.

Zhou Da swallowed the last bite of the dry biscuit and stood up.

"Let's go."

I don't know if he was speaking to the horse or to himself.

The carriage continued on its way.

After traveling for an unknown amount of time, Zhou Da suddenly pulled on the reins.

A group of ragged people stood on the official road ahead.

Zhou Da reined in the horses, his gaze falling on the group of ragged people.

There were a dozen or so people, old and young. At the front was a man in his fifties, thin with high cheekbones, carrying a tattered bundle on his shoulder, the bundle patched upon patched. Behind him were several women, holding nursing babies in their arms, and three or four children, barefoot, their soles covered in dried mud.

refugee.

Zhou Da had seen far too many refugees. During the year of the war in the northern frontier, when the barbarians invaded, the roads were packed with fleeing people, and dozens would die on the roadside every day. Even after the war ended, the number of refugees never stopped—not because of the war, but because they couldn't survive.

When the group saw the carriage, they visibly flinched and moved closer to the side of the road, as if afraid of offending some important person.

Zhou Da did not leave immediately.

He sat on the cart shaft, looking at the man carrying the child, and suddenly asked, "Where to?"

The man was taken aback, instinctively protecting the child on his shoulder. His lips moved, but he didn't speak.

A younger man behind him shrank back, only to be grabbed by the sleeve by an old woman.

Zhou Da asked again, "Where to?"

This time, the man finally spoke, his voice terribly hoarse, as if he hadn't had water in a long time: "Sir...we're heading east..."

"Going east, where to?"

The man swallowed hard, his cloudy eyes darting around before he lowered his voice and said, "Go...go to that mountain..."

The younger man behind him couldn't help but chime in, "Yunyin Mountain! Yunyin Sect!"

No sooner had he finished speaking than the old woman pinched him hard.

Zhou Da's eyebrows twitched.

Hidden Cloud Sect?

He had never heard of that name before.

But he had lived most of his life and seen too much. For a group of refugees to flee with their families and run in one direction, it was either because there was a way to survive there, or because they couldn't survive here.

Meanwhile, he had just come down from the mountain gate of Qingyang Valley.

"What place is that?" Zhou Da asked.

The man opened his mouth, then closed it again.

The younger one, however, remained defiant even after being pinched, stubbornly insisting, "I've heard that the immortal masters there protect mortals! They don't steal food, they don't arrest people, and they even give them food!"

Zhou Da fell silent.

He looked at the group of people.

Ragged clothes, sunken eye sockets, and the exposed legs of the children were as thin as hemp stalks.

Such a person lives one day at a time, where would he get the audacity to run to some "immortal mountain"?

"Who told you that?"

"Everyone's saying..." The younger voice trailed off, but continued, "Some people escaped to those villages in the south a while ago, and they say they really stayed and are getting enough to eat every day..."

They didn't look at his carriage again, nor did they speak again. After the old woman pinched him, the young man hunched his shoulders and walked with his head down, only occasionally stealing a glance at him before quickly looking away.

Zhou Da did not move.

He held the reins and watched the group of people, with their families in tow, walk slowly to the east—the old and children slowed their pace, and the man carrying the child had to switch shoulders every few steps, the bundle swaying on his shoulders as if it might fall apart at any moment.

Yunyin Sect.

He had never heard of that name before.

But he had heard of many immortal sects that "would protect mortals".

Some immortal sects promised to protect the surrounding people when they accepted disciples, but later the price of "spiritual food" increased countless times. Some immortal sects also promised to protect, but later, any woman in the surrounding villages with even a little bit of beauty dared not go out.

Zhou Da has lived most of his life and has seen far too many things like this.

But the group of people kept walking forward.

There was a light in the young man's eyes when he spoke. Zhou Da had seen that light before.

Sixteen years ago, he followed Commander Wei on the northern expedition. After the first battle, the surviving brothers had that kind of light in their eyes. It wasn't the light of having enough to eat; it was the light of feeling "we can still live."

Zhou Da tightened the reins.

The horse snorted and scratched its hooves impatiently.

"……drive."

The carriage did not head towards Tianjing.

Instead, he slowly followed the group of refugees.

Hearing a noise behind him, the man turned around abruptly, his face turning deathly pale. Instinctively, he tightened his grip on the child on his shoulder. The others also stopped, staring in horror at the blue-curtained carriage.

Zhou Da reined in his horse two zhang away from them.

He didn't get off the carriage; he just sat on the carriage shaft, watching the group of people.

"Go on your way," he said. "I'll just follow and see."

The man's lips trembled; he wanted to say something, but dared not.

The young man couldn't help himself and asked in a low voice, "Sir... are you also going to Cloud Hidden Mountain?"

Zhou Da did not answer.

He simply gazed at the faint outline of the mountain range to the east.

The group started leaving again.

The carriage followed slowly behind, maintaining a distance of about two zhang (approximately 6.6 meters), neither too close nor too far.

After walking for about an hour, the man carrying the child began to stagger, and the baby on his shoulders started to cry.

Zhou Da suddenly spoke up: "Stop."

The group of people were startled and stopped in their tracks.

Zhou Da jumped down from the carriage shaft, walked to the back of the carriage, lifted the curtain, and took out a cloth bag from inside.

"then."

He threw the cloth bag over.

The man instinctively took it, opened it, and found several dry biscuits inside, the kind so hard they could break your teeth.

The man was stunned.

Zhou Da had already returned to the carriage shaft and picked up the reins again.

"Are you coming or not?" he asked.

The man's Adam's apple bobbed violently a few times, and then he suddenly knelt down with a thud.

"Master, you are so kind..."

The group of people behind him also knelt down.

"Don't kneel." Zhou Da frowned. "Get in the car."

The man was stunned again.

Zhou raised his chin impatiently: "Old people and children, get on the bus. Going this slowly, are we going to arrive next year?"

The group exchanged glances, and finally, three elderly people and four children were helped onto the carriage. The carriage was small and packed full. The young man also wanted to get on, but Zhou Da glared at him and stopped him.

"You, go."

The young man sheepishly withdrew his foot and followed behind.

The carriage continued forward.

The sound of an elderly woman sobbing could be heard from inside the carriage, along with children whispering, "Grandma, is that a celestial master?"

"No..." the old man's voice trembled, "He was a good person..."