As Zhao Ming and Lu Zhi rode toward Eastern Hill, the sounds of chaos grew louder. Shouts, screams, and the clashing of weapons filled the air. Behind them, the militia guards marched with urgency, their hands gripping their weapons tightly.

  Upon arrival, Zhao Ming’s eyes darkened. The peaceful refugee camp was in ruins—sacks of grain had been torn open, spilling precious food onto the ground. Wooden shelters were smashed apart, and frightened women and children huddled in fear.

  Noble guards, dressed in fine armor, behaved no differently from bandits. They overturned baskets, dragged people from their homes, and laughed as they struck down any who resisted.

  One of them sneered, gripping a terrified young woman by the wrist. "Be grateful! You’re being chosen to serve nobles!" He yanked her toward him, her terrified screams piercing the air.

  Nearby, Xu Liang stood his ground, blood trailing down his arm. His blade was already drawn, his breathing heavy. Around him, several Murong Trading House guards and refugees held whatever weapons they could find—wooden clubs, farming tools, anything to defend themselves.

  A noble guard sneered at him. "Do you really think a few peasants can stop us?" He swung his sword at Xu Liang, but the latter parried the strike and countered with a quick slash, cutting into the guard’s arm.

  One of Murong Trading House’s guards shoved another noble lackey back, his voice sharp. "Try looting again, and I’ll cut off your hands!"

  The battle raged on, but the noble guards had the advantage in both numbers and equipment. The refugees fought desperately, but without proper weapons, they were barely holding on.

  Then—

  CLANG!

  The resounding clash of metal on metal silenced the chaos for a brief moment.

  Lu Zhi stepped forward, his Han General’s badge glinting under the sun. Behind him, the militia guards fanned out, their weapons at the ready.

  "ENOUGH!" Lu Zhi’s voice boomed across the battlefield. "Lay down your weapons, or face the consequences!"

  Some of the noble guards faltered, unsure of what to do. They exchanged glances, realizing who they were facing. But others—those drunk on power—ignored the warning.

  A noble captain scoffed. "A general siding with peasants? How pathetic. We serve the nobility! These people should be grateful we—"

  THWACK!

  A heavy fist collided with his jaw. Zhao Ming pulled back his arm, shaking his fist as the man crumpled to the ground.

  The noble guards blinked in shock.

  Zhao Ming’s voice was cold. "You lot have two choices—surrender or be cut down."

  Lu Zhi didn’t wait. He raised his arm, and the militia surged forward.

  The noble guards hesitated, but as soon as the militia attacked, their arrogance turned to panic. Some tried to fight back, but they were no match for the trained soldiers. Within moments, they were disarmed and restrained, their faces pressed into the dirt.

  Lu Zhi turned to the militia captain. "Round them up. Those who resisted, take them to the dungeons. The rest—bind them and await judgment."

  "Yes, General!"

  As order was restored, Zhao Ming walked over to Xu Liang, who was breathing heavily. "Are you alright?"

  Xu Liang nodded, though his grip on his sword remained tight. "We held on as long as we could."

  "You did well," Zhao Ming said firmly, then turned to the refugees. "It’s over. You’re safe now."

  Tears of relief filled their eyes, but Zhao Ming knew—this was only the beginning.

  Lu Zhi stood firm, his sharp gaze scanning the group of subdued noble guards. The refugees watched from a distance, some still shaken, others whispering among themselves. The militia had done their job, rounding up every last one of the attackers.

  The so-called captain of the noble guards, a burly man with a rough beard, struggled against his restraints, his voice filled with desperation. "This isn’t what I signed up for! We were told it was just a group of weak refugees! No one said anything about the militia or a Han general!"

  Lu Zhi’s eyes narrowed. "Who gave you the orders?"

  The man hesitated, glancing toward his captured men. When none of them spoke up, he scowled. "We were told to come here and claim supplies for the nobles—what’s wrong with that? The peasants should serve the aristocracy!"

  Before Lu Zhi could respond, one of the newly arrived militia members stepped forward. "General Lu," he saluted before continuing, "I’ve just returned from delivering Zhao Feng to house arrest. His steward tried to intervene, but he didn’t dare go against your orders."

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  Lu Zhi nodded in approval before turning back to the captured captain. "Bring him forward," he ordered.

  The militia shoved the man ahead, forcing him to kneel in front of Lu Zhi. His defiant expression wavered as Zhao Ming and Xu Liang stepped closer, studying him carefully.

  The militia captain suddenly stiffened. His face darkened as he stepped forward and grabbed the prisoner’s chin, tilting his head to the side. His voice was filled with realization and disgust. "I know this man."

  Lu Zhi’s brows furrowed. "Who is he?"

  The militia captain’s grip tightened. "This bastard is no noble guard—he’s a bandit! A scar-faced bastard who used to operate south of Beihai. His group is infamous for kidnapping women and selling them like cattle!" He pointed at the deep scar running across the man’s left eye. "I’d recognize this mark anywhere."

  A murmur ran through the crowd as the refugees, particularly the women, recoiled in fear and disgust.

  Lu Zhi’s expression darkened. "You’re certain?"

  "Absolutely," the militia captain confirmed. "His group was notorious for human trafficking before they disappeared. I thought they had been wiped out, but it seems they just changed tactics—hiding behind noble banners instead of bandit flags."

  Zhao Ming clenched his fists, anger burning in his chest. This wasn’t just a noble abusing power—this was organized crime hiding under the guise of nobility.

  Lu Zhi turned to the militia. "Take them all to the dungeon. Interrogate them properly. If any more of these ‘noble guards’ turn out to be criminals, I want names and connections."

  The militia saluted and dragged the struggling bandits away.

  As the commotion settled, Zhao Ming exhaled and glanced at Lu Zhi. "It seems Zhao Feng is even more foolish than we thought. A noble relying on bandits?"

  Lu Zhi scoffed. "Foolish doesn’t even begin to describe it."

  With the noble guards restrained and taken away, Lu Zhi turned to Zhao Ming. "This place will need to be reorganized after today’s mess. Zhao Ming, take charge and make sure the settlement is secured."

  Zhao Ming gave a firm nod. "Understood."

  He made his way to Xu Liang, who was already checking on their people. The makeshift shelters showed signs of struggle—some overturned, a few broken, but still standing. Scattered supplies lay on the ground where the looters had been stopped, but fortunately, most of it was still intact.

  "How bad is it?" Zhao Ming asked.

  Xu Liang sighed. "A few injuries, but nothing serious. Some men got bruised trying to defend their families, but thanks to Murong Trading House’s guards and the militia’s quick arrival, no one was taken. We can continue our work without any major issues."

  Zhao Ming exhaled in relief. "Good. We can’t let this shake our progress." He looked over the people—some were still on edge, gripping makeshift weapons, while others were tending to their wounded. "Let everyone rest today. Tomorrow, we focus on rebuilding."

  Xu Liang gave a firm nod, then hesitated. "And what about the families? They’ve been waiting… Do you think it’s time?"

  A small smile formed on Zhao Ming’s lips. "Yes. It’s time."

  His voice carried over the settlement, drawing the attention of the refugees. "I’ve spoken with Governor Kong—we have approval. You can bring your families here."

  For a moment, silence.

  Then, cheers erupted. The once-weary faces brightened with joy and relief. Some men embraced each other, others let out triumphant shouts. Women wiped away tears, and children, sensing the excitement, clung to their parents with bright smiles.

  A middle-aged man stepped forward, his hands trembling. "Truly? We can bring them here safely?"

  Zhao Ming nodded. "Yes. The settlement is stable enough, and with the militia keeping watch, we won’t let anything like today happen again."

  "Thank the heavens!" An elderly woman clasped her hands together. "My grandchildren won’t have to suffer any longer."

  "Finally, a place we can call home!" someone shouted.

  Zhao Ming raised a hand, calming the crowd. "Rest today. Tomorrow, we begin preparations to bring your families here. We’ll need to be ready for more people, which means securing more food, shelter, and protection."

  The people responded with determination, their fatigue momentarily forgotten. The prospect of reuniting with their loved ones gave them new energy.

  As the dust settled over Eastern Hill, the refugees slowly returned to their daily routines. Zhao Ming turned to Xu Liang.

  "We need to be sure this doesn’t happen again. Someone must have sold information about the settlement to the nobles. Keep an eye out—see if anyone is acting suspiciously."

  Xu Liang nodded grimly. "I’ll check around. Some people were still out hunting and foraging when the attack happened. I’ll make sure everyone’s accounted for, see if anything feels off."

  Zhao Ming patted his shoulder. "Be careful. If someone here betrayed us, they won’t take kindly to being found out."

  With that, Xu Liang set off to quietly assess the people. Meanwhile, Zhao Ming approached the Murong Trading House guards, who were preparing to depart. Their leader, a broad-shouldered man with a sharp gaze and a scar running down his cheek, turned as Zhao Ming approached.

  "I appreciate your help today," Zhao Ming said sincerely. "If you hadn’t stepped in, things could’ve gone much worse."

  The guard smirked. "Just following orders. Master Murong sent us with supplies, but I doubt he expected us to get into a fight."

  One of the younger guards grinned. "Not that we mind. It was good to get some action."

  Zhao Ming chuckled. "Well, if you’re looking for action, I can’t say this place will be peaceful for long. We just got rid of one threat, but who knows what comes next?"

  The leader of the guards crossed his arms. "You handled yourself well, Scholar Zhao. Most scholars would’ve run at the first sign of trouble. Instead, you fought back and held your ground. That’s rare."

  Zhao Ming shook his head. "I’m no soldier, but when people rely on you, running isn’t an option."

  The guard nodded approvingly. "A good mindset to have. But if I may give you a piece of advice—" He leaned in slightly. "Watch your back. The nobles don’t take humiliation lightly. This won’t be the last time they try something."

  "I figured as much," Zhao Ming said, his expression darkening. "That’s why I need to make sure we’re prepared."

  The leader of the guards glanced toward the carts. "The tools and stockpile should help stabilize things here. Make sure your people know how to defend themselves too. A settlement like this—out in the open—makes for an easy target."

  Xu Liang returned just in time to hear this. He gave a tired grin. "It’s good to fight alongside reliable people."

  The younger guard scoffed. "You lot are tougher than you look. Thought we’d be protecting scholars and farmers, but you held your own."

  The leader chuckled. "Likewise. Let’s hope next time we meet over drinks instead of a battle."

  Zhao Ming smirked. "Once this is settled, first round’s on me."

  The guards exchanged grins before mounting their horses. "We’ll hold you to that, Scholar Zhao," the leader said before waving his men forward.

  With that, the Murong Trading House guards set off, leaving the settlement to continue rebuilding.

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