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

The two returned to the Taoist temple. Lin Qingyan opened the straw mat she had brought back the night before, revealing some herbs and dried rations inside. Wang Zhenhuan saw this and said with some dissatisfaction.

"You went back to the village?"

Hearing Wang Zhenhuan's words, Lin Qingyan nodded: "Yes, you're injured, so we need to eat too."

Wang Huanzhen felt deeply distressed upon seeing her nonchalant demeanor. Leaving aside whether there were any golden statues in the village, the mere thought of that hellish scene made it impossible for anyone to approach.

"Are there any survivors in the village? Have they encountered any golden men?"

"I didn't see them. They must have all left. I saw they were all wearing leather armor. I think they were scouts or something, and probably wouldn't stay here for long." Lin Qingyan shook her head.

Hearing the girl's words, Wang Zhenhuan nodded and said, "That's right. When I came back from the riverbank earlier, I saw them hurrying south. It seems the war in the south is getting intense."

Lin Qingyan placed the dried rations by the fire, then suddenly looked up at Wang Zhenhuan and said, "Brother, shall we go home?"

Wang Zhen really knew what she meant, but seeing the tired look on the girl's face, he felt a little sorry for her. He lowered his head, fiddling with the dry rations as he answered.

"Didn't you say there was no one left alive in the village? What's the point of going back?"

Upon hearing his words, Lin Qingyan suddenly pulled him close, placed her hands on his face, and lifted his head. Looking at him earnestly, she said, "Brother, the Jin people probably won't be coming back!"

Wang Huanzhen reached out and took the girl's hand, saying gently, "That's not what I'm worried about. It's just that there are dead people everywhere in and around the village, and I'm afraid it will frighten you."

"It's alright. I saw it last night, and most of the remains were burned to ashes. Besides, even if we were to head south, this Taoist temple has nothing here. We can only survive if we go back and prepare."

Lin Qingyan looked at Wang Zhenhuan and said earnestly. Seeing her insistence on going back, Wang Zhenhuan understood that going back to get some things was much better than going south empty-handed.

So he stopped being perfunctory and nodded in agreement. The two finished eating the dry rations that had already been heated up and packed their things. Lin Qingyan helped Wang Zhenhuan up the bluestone steps in front of the Taoist temple.

Just like yesterday when the two descended the mountain, they relied on each other as they walked towards the village at the foot of the mountain. Wang Zhenhuan had lost too much blood yesterday, and although he had regained some strength, it was not enough for him to walk very far.

So the two had to walk and stop intermittently, taking a full half-hour to traverse the short mountain path. After crossing the wooden bridge, they reached the village entrance. There stood the villager who had been caught up with last yesterday.

He lay quietly on the ground, his eyes open. The flowing blood had stained the ground red, and even after a night, the smell of blood hadn't dissipated much; a pungent, burnt odor still lingered in the air.

Wang Zhenhuan bent down, reached out and closed his eyes, and sighed. He got up and continued walking with Lin Qingyan towards the village, a short distance of a dozen or so feet from the village entrance to the village itself.

Corpses were everywhere, and very few were intact; most were decapitated, with limbs scattered about. It was practically a living slaughterhouse, with the ground mostly littered with the elderly and children.

There were only a small number of young adults and a few scattered women. Although Wang Huanzhen had mentally prepared himself before returning, he still couldn't help but gag upon seeing this scene.

Lin Qingyan was in even worse shape, having already vomited two or three times. Her pretty face was deathly pale as she cautiously followed behind Wang Zhenhuan. Although she had returned once before, that was at night.

The entire village was pitch black, so she hadn't actually seen much of what was eerie. Seeing it now, however, filled her with dread. And she recognized most of the people there.

Every time she saw a familiar face, her body would tremble uncontrollably. Wang Zhenhuan reached out and hugged her, comforting her constantly. And so, they continued until they reached the village.

The two had gone from feeling nauseous and terrified to numb; the fear had vanished. They walked on, searching for dry rations and food.

Unfortunately, a fire broke out in the village yesterday, and most of the houses in the village now have thatched roofs, so not many remain. The two walked and stopped frequently before finally arriving at Lin Qingyan's house.

Because her father was the village schoolteacher, the gate of their house was usually left open. Perhaps for this reason, the Jurchens did not go inside to search thoroughly.

The house was largely intact, and Lin Qingyan stepped shakily across the threshold. Looking at the familiar bricks and tiles, tears streamed down her face.

Home is where relatives and parents live. Although this house is not damaged, the people who lived in it are no longer here, so it can no longer be called a home.

But seeing these familiar things still brought Lin Qingyan a strange sense of peace. She reached out and gently stroked the familiar tables and chairs, but tears streamed down her face uncontrollably.

Wang Zhen didn't say anything, but simply stood quietly beside her, gently holding her in his arms. After passing through the main hall, they arrived at the backyard and saw the remains of her parents.

Lin Qingyan could no longer hold back and collapsed onto the surface, wailing uncontrollably. Before she died, Lin's mother stretched out her hand, as if trying to grasp something, while Lin's father, like a mother hen protecting her chicks, stretched out his arms to shield his mother.

The two lay there on the ground, intertwined. Parents are those who constantly watch their retreating figures, feeling both joy and sorrow, wanting to chase after them for a hug, yet daring not to utter a sound.

But now, it's all too late...

Wang Zhenhuan walked to Lin Qingyan's side and gently patted her back. The girl got up, turned around, and nestled in Wang Zhenhuan's arms.

The intense emotional turmoil and incessant crying eventually caused her to faint. Wang Zhenhuan carried the girl and placed her on the bed in the side room. Then he returned to the courtyard and separated the two piled-up remains.

He took the white sheet he found in the room and gently covered it with the blanket. After finishing that, he took all three braziers from the other rooms to the side room and lit the charcoal fire.

By the time he finished, it was getting dark. As autumn approached, the days grew shorter. When night fell, Lin Qingyan finally woke up.

Her eyes were red and swollen, her lips were chapped, and she looked very unwell. She took the water bag Wang Zhenhuan offered, drank a few sips, and then sat down next to him without saying a word.

Wang Zhenhuan placed the dried rations he had collected that day beside the fire. The two men huddled together, staring silently at the fire. As the last ray of light in the west disappeared, the entire village was plunged into darkness.

Silence reigned all around, broken only by the crackling of burning firewood. In the pitch-black village, only the Lin family's side room emitted a faint light…