The Northern Song Dynasty returned south, seeking the truth of the Dao.

Looking across the river, Wang Huanzhen saw that the entire village was almost completely engulfed in flames, and hordes of villagers were pouring out of the village entrance. No one had expected the Jurchens to suddenly march south!

Behind the crowd, one could vaguely see a dozen tall horses, upon which sat soldiers dressed in armor and wearing woolen hats, wielding their scimitars and relentlessly hacking and slashing at the people at the back.

The scene was extremely chaotic due to the suddenness of the event. Villagers, along with their families, scrambled and stumbled. The shouts and screams were particularly eerie in the night.

Hearing the cries, Lin Qingyan instinctively looked up. Seeing the horrific scene in the village, she struggled to get off Wang Zhenhuan's back. Wang Zhenhuan held on tightly, refusing to let her off.

After struggling for a while, Lin Qingyan suddenly buried her face in his back and started crying. Her voice was hoarse, and although she tried her best to remain calm, her trembling words betrayed her.

"Brother Zhen, why is this happening? Why are the Jin people here? My parents are still at home, please save them, please... Waaah..."

Wang Huanzhen listened to the girl on his back, his heart breaking. But at this moment, he was just a boy with no special skills. He could only hide in the darkness and watch helplessly as everything unfolded.

Although the villagers tried their best to escape, how could men outrun horses? They were quickly caught up and slaughtered one by one. Wang Huanzhen looked at the Jurchens who were not far from the other side of the river.

These golden figures wore tall, pointed hats and carried curved swords. By the firelight, their features were vaguely discernible; they had large noses and bearded faces. They were shouting something loudly, their expressions cruel and ferocious.

The scimitars in their hands were extremely sharp; slicing through necks was as easy as cutting a melon. The fleeing villagers, in their terror, were beheaded with a single blow. Gushing blood splattered nearly two feet high.

Some villagers who had been slashed in the back did not die immediately, but lay on the ground wailing in agony. Their desperate cries were so piercing in the night.

The entire village, illuminated by the firelight, resembled a living hell. Wang Huanzhen watched as the last villager was caught and beheaded by the Jurchens less than ten feet from the riverbank.

He hid in the woods, his face flushed, his body trembling like a leaf. Any Chinese person, witnessing their compatriots being slaughtered like pigs, would be filled with righteous indignation.

Wang Zhenhuan was in this state of mind at that moment. He felt fear and apprehension, but even more so, he was filled with anger. He bit his lip tightly, trying not to make a sound. At the same time, he pressed Lin Qingyan's head down firmly with his hand.

He didn't want her to see this horrific scene, but whether from overwhelming grief or exhaustion, Lin Qingyan let out a soft moan and fainted.

This low murmur sent a chill down Wang Huanzhen's spine. The Jurchen man, who had been about to leave, suddenly turned his horse around and rode towards the riverbank where the two were hiding.

Upon seeing this, Wang Huanzhen was greatly alarmed. After a moment's thought, he put Lin Qingyan down from his back, laid her flat on the ground, and then covered her body with some fallen leaves. After doing this, he looked up at the riverbank.

The golden figure had already begun crossing the bridge, leaving him little time. Wang Zhenhuan scattered the last handful of fallen leaves, then crouched down, using the bushes for cover, and headed towards the north, opposite Lin Qingyan.

He crouched down in the bushes, gently parting the grass and trees, his eyes fixed on the figure on horseback. He seemed to have heard the sound of Wang Zhen grabbing fallen leaves just now, after the soldier rode across the wooden bridge.

They were heading straight for Lin Qingyan's hiding place. Wang Zhenhuan frowned, watching the approaching Jin soldiers. His face was pale, and his forehead was covered in beads of sweat.

Having determined that the soldier was heading in the direction where Lin Qingyan was hiding, he had no more illusions. Gritting his teeth, he picked up a stone from the ground and threw it fiercely in the direction the soldier was.

He immediately got up from his hiding place, turned around without looking back, and ran into the depths of the woods. Just as he stood up, he heard a horse's mournful whinny, followed by the soldier's loud shouts.

Wang Zhenhuan didn't look back and ran wildly. He wasn't running blindly, but deliberately choosing places with lush vegetation and narrow visibility. But even so, he could still faintly hear heavy breathing behind him.

stab-

Everything has its advantages and disadvantages; to reap the benefits, one must also bear the drawbacks! Although the bushes could help him conceal his figure, the various thorns and barbs made him suffer greatly.

His already tattered clothes were torn apart by the scraping of the grass and thorns, turning into a rope that hung on him.

The sudden tug from behind made Wang Huanzhen stumble. He reached for his waist while turning back to check the location of the Jin soldier.

This sight gave him a fright!

The Jin soldier was now less than five zhang away from him; Wang Zhen could even see the beard on his face and the bloodstains on it. The Jin soldier's face was filled with anger and ferocity at being mocked.

Wang Zhenhuan groped around with his right hand for a few moments and finally found a round handle at his waist. He was overjoyed and immediately reached out, grabbed it, and pulled it out.

He drew a small wood-chopping knife, about the length of a forearm, from his waist. With a swift motion, he brought the knife down on the old clothes hanging on the thorns! The already tattered clothes snapped in two.

Wang Zhen, shirtless, scrambled forward. Just as he got up, he suddenly heard a whooshing sound coming from behind him!

How could it be so fast?!

Before he could even react with surprise, a chill ran down his back, followed by excruciating pain. He rolled forward on the ground, narrowly avoiding the second blow. Gripping the machete, he crouched down, warily watching behind him.

The Jurchen soldier was now only three zhang away from him. His tall hat and armor were gone, revealing a braided head of hair. Blood was still dripping from the end of the scimitar in his hand.

Although Wang Zhenhuan was half-squatting on the ground, his whole body was trembling uncontrollably. He was panting heavily, his eyes fixed on the golden figure. The excruciating pain in his back caused his skin to twitch uncontrollably.

He couldn't wait any longer; the massive blood loss and hypothermia made his eyelids grow increasingly heavy. He took a deep breath and suddenly roared. He leaped to his feet, gripping his wood-chopping knife and striking a desperate pose.

Unexpectedly, the golden man had anticipated this. He stepped forward, holding his curved sword horizontally as if to block. At the same time, he looked at the pale-faced Wang Zhenhuan with a mocking gaze.

To his surprise, Wang Zhenhuan threw the woodcutter's knife at him and then turned and ran!