Rebirth in a Courtyard: I Am a Little Hunter

"Clang... Clang... Clang..."

The monotonous yet rhythmic clatter of the rails, like the heavy pulse of this era, was clearly transmitted through the steel plates of the carriages. The air was filled with a complex aroma unique to long-distance green trains—a mixture of coal smoke, human sweat, cheap tobacco, inexpensive food, and the smell of old-fashioned leather and paint, so thick it was almost impossible to dissolve.

Carrying his worn-out canvas bag, Wei Chen squeezed onto the green train bound for Baotou with the surging crowd. The chaos and noise on the platform were temporarily shut out, replaced by an even more crowded, hot, and sweaty atmosphere inside the carriage.

The aisles, the connecting areas between carriages, and even under the seats were crammed with large and small bags of luggage and exhausted passengers. Crying children, loudly talking workers, farmers silently gazing out the window, and cadres in various uniforms hurrying by... together they formed a vivid picture of population movement across China.

He found his seat with his ticket—a hard seat by the window. Two people were already sitting opposite him. One was a middle-aged man in faded blue overalls, with a dark face and calloused hands, carefully eating the dark cornbread and pickled vegetables inside an aluminum lunchbox. The other was a thin old man with glasses, gray hair, and who looked like an intellectual or retired teacher, holding a newspaper and reading it carefully in the dim light.

Wei Chen stuffed his canvas bag under the seat, nodded to the two people opposite him as a greeting, and then sat down. The middle-aged man looked up, gave a simple smile, and mumbled, "Comrade, also going to Baotou?" His accent was heavily influenced by Northwest China.

"Yes, on a business trip," Wei Chen smiled and answered briefly.

"Oh, a government official." The middle-aged man nodded, then continued to eat his cornbread without asking any further questions.

The elderly teacher next to him glanced at Wei Chen, his gaze lingering for a moment on Wei Chen's faded but clean cotton-padded jacket. He nodded slightly in response, then returned to his world of newspapers.

The train slowly started moving, and the scenery of Beijing outside the window began to recede. Wei Chen turned his gaze to the window, watching the familiar gray buildings and streets gradually disappear into the distance, a sense of peace washing over him.

His purpose for this trip was clear, but he also knew that the road ahead was long and full of unknowns. This long journey was a good opportunity to meditate and consolidate his cultivation after achieving minor success in the "Nine Heavens Sun Shooting Technique." Although he could not absorb spiritual energy in the real world, he could refine the true essence within his body to make it more condensed.

However, just as he was calming his mind and preparing to enter a shallow meditative state, a sharp, disgruntled voice rang out from his side, interrupting his thoughts.

"What are you pushing for! Are you blind? Can't you see there's a child sleeping here? Are you going to take responsibility if you bump into him?" It was a middle-aged woman's shrill voice.

Wei Chen looked in the direction of the sound and saw an old man from the countryside standing next to the seat diagonally opposite, near the aisle. He was carrying a huge bundle and trying to squeeze through, and he was apologizing with an embarrassed expression.

Meanwhile, a middle-aged woman wearing a gray checkered headscarf and a dark blue cotton-padded jacket stood in front of the seat, arms outstretched like a mother hen protecting her chicks, her face showing an overly agitated wariness and irritation. Beside her sat a middle-aged man, also wearing a dark blue old cotton-padded jacket and an old military cap, who also looked up, glaring at the old man with somewhat unfriendly eyes.

The old man muttered, "Sorry, sorry," and squeezed his way in with difficulty. The middle-aged couple then sat down again. The woman even pulled up a small floral quilt covering the seat and tucked the corner in, as if afraid the child would catch a chill. From Wei Chen's angle, he could see a small figure curled up under the quilt, facing inward, motionless.

This was originally just a common minor friction in the carriage, and Wei Chen didn't pay any attention to it. But just as he was about to close his eyes again, the man and woman whispered a few words to each other. Their voices were very low, but because they were not far away, and because Wei Chen's hearing was far beyond that of an ordinary person, he still managed to catch some snippets of their conversation.

"...I told you to be careful...you had to squeeze in here..." It was a woman's voice, tinged with reproach.

"...Say less...Watch your step..." The man's voice was deep and somewhat impatient.

"...Is the medicine...enough? No..." The woman's voice was even lower, and the last few words were almost inaudible.

"...I know what I'm doing...Shut up..." The man's tone was laced with warning.

Medicine? What medicine? Wei Chen's heart skipped a beat. He turned his gaze to the lower bunk again, this time looking more closely. The child under the floral quilt had remained in that position for almost two hours since the train started moving, without moving an inch.

The carriage was so noisy and bumpy, with the cries of children across from me, the chatter of people, and the shouts of the train conductor. Even the sleepiest child couldn't possibly be sleeping so soundly; there would be some signs of turning over, mumbling, or being woken up.

A hint of doubt quietly crept into Wei Chen's mind. He didn't make a judgment immediately, but simply noted the detail and continued to meditate with his eyes closed. However, his mind was quietly extending outward, and the keen perception brought by the "Nine Heavens Sun Shooting Technique" acted like invisible tentacles, beginning to explore that direction more carefully.

Gradually, he noticed more unusual things. The child's breathing was extremely weak, shallow, and slow, with a rhythm so rigid that it didn't resemble natural sleep, but rather the physiological maintenance of a coma or deep anesthesia.

Even in the dim light of the carriage, his face was an unhealthy pale, and his lips were bloodless. Most unusually, no matter how much the carriage swayed and shook, how noisy and chaotic the surroundings were, or even when a passing passenger accidentally bumped into the edge of the berth, the child remained unresponsive, like a lifeless doll.

A healthy and lively four- or five-year-old child would never behave like this in such an environment.

Wei Chen's heart sank slightly. He kept his eyes closed, seemingly unintentionally focusing more of his senses and attention on the seat and the two people sitting next to the berth.

The middle-aged couple sat very close together, but rarely made eye contact with the other passengers in the carriage. Their expressions lacked the fatigue or relaxation commonly seen in long-distance travelers; instead, they conveyed a tense, cautious anxiety.

The man's hand would unconsciously reach for a bulging spot at his waist, while the woman's eyes would quickly scan the carriage before darting down again, her hands tightly clutching a homespun cloth bundle.

Just then, a kind-looking older woman in the middle bunk diagonally opposite, probably seeing that the child hadn't woken up, poked her head out and asked, "This baby is sleeping so soundly, hasn't moved at all the way here. Is he alright? It's cold outside, maybe he's caught a chill?"

The middle-aged woman seemed startled, abruptly raising her head. She forced a very unnatural, almost stiff smile and replied in a dry voice, "No...nothing, the child...the child has always been a heavy sleeper, once asleep, he won't wake up." As she spoke, she subconsciously pulled the blanket covering the child even tighter, obscuring the child's face more completely, her movements revealing a panicked attempt to cover up the truth.

The middle-aged man quickly raised his head, forced a smile, and said in a strained voice, "Yes, yes, just like his mother, he can sleep." After saying that, he immediately lowered his head, picked up an empty enamel mug next to him, pretended to drink water, but didn't move it for a long time.

The old woman said "Oh," her face showing even more confusion. She looked at the couple who seemed uneasy, then at the motionless child under the blanket. Her lips moved as if she wanted to say something, but in the end she just sighed, shook her head, and shrank back into the middle bunk.

This brief exchange and reaction, like the last straw, quickly solidified Wei Chen's doubts into a clear judgment. The couple's reaction was not how normal parents would react when asked about their child.

Their panic, their attempts to cover up, and their weak and deliberate words all reeked of a deep sense of guilt. In particular, the woman's repeated actions of pulling the blanket to cover the child's face were almost a conditioned reflex.

Wei Chen held his breath and focused his mental energy into a line, like the finest probe, quietly probing towards the sleeping child.

This time, he sensed something more subtle and certain—deep within the child's body, the flow of qi and blood was extremely weak and slow. More importantly, within his meridians and blood vessels, there remained a faint but obscure trace of a "foreign object" aura.

That aura was completely out of sync with the child's natural vitality, carrying a forceful quality that suppressed the activity of the central nervous system, like cold chains that imprisoned the child's mind.

Drug residues.

Moreover, it's not a regular sleeping pill; it's more like a potent sedative or anesthetic used to control consciousness.

At the same time, he could clearly "feel" that the child's consciousness was as if locked in the deepest, darkest cage, completely shut off and isolated from the outside world, maintained only by a faint life instinct to breathe and beat. This was definitely not natural sleep; it was the child's mind being forcibly imprisoned by drugs!

A chilling rage, mixed with a chilling killing intent, slowly rose from the depths of Wei Chen's heart.

In both his past and present lives, what he hated most was this despicable act of preying on the weak and innocent. Combining the couple's unusual behavior, their suspicious conversation, and the clear traces of drugs on the child, the most likely answer is obvious—human traffickers.