Eastward

The rain had not ceased for several days, as if washing away the accumulated heat of six years in a single breath. The torrential downpour battered the earth, flushing out the remains of perished creatures and washing over the shivering survivors, leaving them afflicted with cold and disease.

Countless rotting corpses were swept by the rainwater into the dried-up riverbeds, drifting eastward with the current. Bones clashed and ground together, emitting a foul stench that reached the heavens. Yet, bizarre, sinister beasts lurked among the remains, gnawing on rotting flesh and maggots.

Inside a dilapidated old temple, over a dozen emaciated disaster victims clad in rags huddled together, desperately trying to share their meager body heat.

But hidden within the temple's shattered Buddha statue, a ghostly humanoid entity crouched over a fresh corpse, continuously tearing at its flesh. Its eyes glowed a spectral green, and its entire body was covered in foul, matted hair.

The wet, tearing sounds of its feast were completely masked by the heavy rain, leaving the miserable refugees entirely unaware.

Scenes like this played out endlessly across the entirety of Nanyang Prefecture. Ghosts and evil spirits lay in wait to devour the Yang souls of the living; wild beasts gorged themselves on human flesh until they mutated into demonic monsters that plagued the land; and demonic cultivators seized the opportunity to prowl, harvesting vital blood and life essence...

Meanwhile, upon Baixi Mountain, Zhou Ping had summoned the members of the Zhou family.

Gazing at the persistent drizzle outside, Zhou Ping asked Zhou Changhe, "Changhe, what is the situation at the foot of the mountain?"

"Four hundred and thirty-seven souls remain. Among them are two hundred and thirteen able-bodied men, one hundred and ninety women and children, and twenty-four elders."

Zhou Ping nodded slightly. To lose less than a hundred people in Baixi Village during such a catastrophic famine was already a great blessing. Had the Zhou family not intervened, it was likely that not even one or two hundred would have survived.

"Later, you boys will head down the mountain and gather all the able-bodied men from the village. We march east to claim land."

Turning to Zhou Minghu, he added, "You must keep that shield on your person at all times. If you encounter any evil spirits or matters you cannot easily resolve, act with the utmost caution. Do not try to be a hero."

"The same goes for the rest of you. Place your own safety above all else, and whatever you do, do not charge blindly to the front."

"Your son understands."

"Your nephew knows."

Zhou Minghu and the others nodded repeatedly in agreement.

Among them, Zhou Changxi stood tall and burly, carrying a hunting bow on his back and wielding a sharp sword; Zhou Xuanya was tall and possessed an otherworldly air, the long spear in his hand gleaming with a cold edge.

Zhou Ping knew well that a matter of this magnitude required family members to lead the charge. If he left the task solely to retainers, the situation could easily spiral out of control once they crossed into the eastern territories.

Given that Zhou Hong was advancing in years and Zhou Ping himself had to remain to oversee Baixi Mountain, he could only entrust this duty to his sons and nephews.

"Take all the estate guards with you. You must not put yourselves in danger. Changhe, Changxi, the two of you especially must keep extra guards by your sides to ward against desperate refugees," Zhou Ping advised with heartfelt earnestness.

After all, his two sons were cultivators with Dharma Artifacts for protection. As long as they did not let themselves get deeply surrounded, they would undoubtedly be fine. But the Changhe brothers were mortal flesh and blood. If any mishap befell them, he would suffer a lifetime of guilt.

Zhou Changhe smiled. "Uncle, none of us are children anymore. We naturally understand these principles."

He knew that Zhou Ping, as their elder, was simply worried for their safety, so he spoke up to ease his uncle's heart.

"You brat, now you're complaining that your uncle is too long-winded," Zhou Ping scolded with a laugh, his anxiety fading significantly.

Standing to the side, Zhou Changxi and Zhou Xuanya's eyes flickered briefly before dimming.

Among the third generation of the Zhou family, only Zhou Changhe dared to speak so casually with Zhou Ping. Though Zhou Minghu was close to him, they were father and son, naturally precluding such informal banter. Zhou Changxi held only deep reverence for Zhou Ping, making their dynamic extremely distant. As for Zhou Xuanya and Zhou Chang'an, they went a step further, harboring a palpable sense of fear toward the Patriarch.

"Alright, I won't nag you any longer. Head down the mountain," Zhou Ping said, waving his hand. "With me holding the fort, the estate will remain secure. Put your minds at ease."

Bidding their farewells, Zhou Changhe and the others led the Zhou family's forty-eight estate guards down the mountain, naturally accompanied by Zhou Shi, Zhou Hu, and the rest.

Every one of these guards and retainers rubbed their palms together in eager anticipation, their aura fierce and aggressive. The Zhou family had promised them that once the eastern territories were secured, they would be granted their own plots of land, allowing them to establish their own households as local landowners.

A ruthless glint shone in Zhou Hu's eyes; he silently vowed to display his full prowess during this eastward march to earn the main family's high regard. As a veteran servant of the Zhou family, he had always been kept suppressed under Zhou Shi's heel, leaving a bitter resentment festering in his chest.

Zhou Shi, on the other hand, appeared rather disinterested, entirely lacking the burning zeal of the other guards. After all, he already held the highest status of anyone outside the Zhou bloodline. Even Zhou Changhe's concubine, Lady Qian, had to give him a modicum of face.

As long as he never defied the family and served them with absolute loyalty, his position as the foremost retainer would remain unshakeable.

Therefore, his sole purpose on this expedition was not to achieve spectacular merit, but simply to avoid making any mistakes.

Zhou Ping watched the group's departing figures until they vanished, then turned and walked back into the courtyard.

Though the guards and able-bodied retainers had left, the Zhou family still employed a flock of maidservants, meaning there was no need to worry about the daily chores. However, with Zhou Hu gone, Lady Lin had arranged for a maid to tend to the elderly Patriarch's father.

In the back courtyard, Zhou Dashan lay resting in a rocking chair. He was frail and withered with age, his back severely hunched and his skin covered in pale age spots. Standing dutifully beside him was a maid named Qiu Yue.

However, as Qiu Yue stared at the senile, dying Zhou Dashan, a peculiar gleam flickered in her eyes, and an ambitious, unorthodox scheme began to take root in her mind.

If she could somehow bear Zhou Dashan's child, wouldn't she be able to elevate her status through her offspring, securing a lifetime of wealth and luxury for herself?

Zhou Ping likely never could have imagined that a lowly servant would dare scheme against his own elderly father.

Baixi Village

All the able-bodied men of Baixi Village had been herded together. Though their faces were sallow and their bodies thin, completely lacking the healthy glow of proper nourishment, the Zhou family's work-for-food relief had at least preserved their physical strength. They looked immeasurably more spirited than the starved wretches roaming outside.

Looking up at the forty or fifty Zhou family guards standing above them-neatly dressed and gripping cold, sharp weapons-the villagers couldn't help but tremble inwardly.

One man muttered under his breath, "What do you think the Zhou family called us all here for? And why are they holding their weapons?"

"It's drizzling out. Even if they wanted us to dredge the riverbed, we couldn't start work now," a man from the Qian family chimed in.

"They... they aren't going to slaughter us, are they?" a timid villager stammered in fear, only to receive a sharp slap across the mouth from the man beside him.

"Keep your mouth shut! The Zhou family has been good to us, even giving us grain during the great famine! If they wanted to kill cheap bones like yours, why would they go to all this trouble? Do you think you're a pig? Do you think they can butcher you for meat?"

"Exactly! The Zhou family is benevolent. How could they possibly kill us? If you sprout any more nonsense, boy, I'll tear your mouth off myself."

The Zhou family's actions over the past few years had firmly etched themselves into the hearts of these villagers. Some even fully recognized the Zhou family as their rightful masters. Thus, even though the sight of the guards holding drawn blades and heavy axes sparked fear, no one broke rank to flee.

On the other side of the gathering, the Sun family crowded around Sun Mingcheng, asking in hushed tones, "Clan Leader, do you think the Zhou family calling us all here means something major is about to happen?"

The previous leader of the Sun clan had died of old age a year prior, leaving Sun Mingcheng to take up the mantle.

"Quiet, all of you. Seize this opportunity tightly. It just might be the chance for our Sun family to soar into prominence," Sun Mingcheng murmured with a dark, intense gleam in his eye.

Although he did not know precisely what the Zhou family was plotting, he had his suspicions. Famine refugees were running rampant outside, and now that the great drought had broken, the Zhou family was bound to make a major move. As long as his own clan stuck closely to the Zhou family's coattails, they could not go wrong.

Meanwhile, the Wang family was practically fractured into two opposing factions.

Ever since Wang Hui's grandson, Wang Dashi, was recruited into the Zhou family for his cultivation aptitude, a large portion of the Wang clan had rallied under Wang Hui's banner. However, Wang Feng refused to be outdone. Since his granddaughter had married Zhou Minghu, a sizable contingent of clansmen naturally sought his patronage instead.

"Uncle Hui, what do you think today is all about?" asked one of the three brothers from the Wang clan's third branch.

"Hold your tongue and follow my lead when the time comes. Would I ever steer you wrong?" Wang Hui replied in a low voice. His grandson Wang Dashi had visited from the mountain a few days prior, allowing the old man to glean a few fragmented hints.

"Uncle Hui speaks the truth."

The man grinned subserviently, but internally he was cursing up a storm. The bitter schism between his three brothers was entirely the handiwork of Wang Hui and Wang Feng. By the time they realized they had been played against each other, it was far too late for regrets.

In the distance, Qian Fangsu had also formed his own faction. However, the men clustered around him were not from the Qian family, but rather peasants from the village's smaller, weaker households.

Zhou Changhe stood upon a flat stone, sweeping his gaze over the dense, black mass of people before him. Then, he spoke with slow, deliberate authority.

"The Imperial Court has issued a decree! Now that the great disaster has passed, our Zhou family is ordered to march east to relieve the suffering of the people and pacify the surrounding villages. Should we succeed in quelling the disaster and settling the refugees, those lands and people shall fall under our governance!"

"Are all of you willing to follow me eastward to save the masses?"

Even though this was, in reality, a blatant campaign to annex territory, Zhou Changhe knew better than to speak so crudely. Doing so would leave them vulnerable to future political accusations.

The villagers below immediately erupted into a cacophony of anxious chatter, clearly terrified at the prospect of throwing their lives away. However, astute figures like Sun Mingcheng caught the underlying promise of land and power, and hurriedly roared at the top of his lungs.

"I am willing!"

Right now, the lands outside were vast and practically depopulated. If they helped secure that territory, even if the Zhou family monopolized the choicest cuts of meat, their own smaller clans would still be able to gorge themselves on the leftover soup.

Although the common peasants were still somewhat confused, the rapid, urgent whispers from the clan leaders soon made them realize that this was a tremendous opportunity. Catching the fever, they naturally joined in the deafening roars of agreement.

Zhou Changhe nodded in satisfaction, then barked, "Then what are you all standing around for? Go grab your tools!"

Instantly, the crowd of villagers scrambled back to their homes in a frenzied rush, snatching up sickles, hoes, and sturdy wooden staves. Many even managed to dig out heavy axes and iron hammers.

By the time they gathered once more, a ragged, heavily armed peasant militia had formed.

Zhou Changhe leveled his gaze toward the east, and his voice boomed out. "March east to save the people!"

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