Chapter 00088: The Fleeing Crowd
# The Fleeing Crowd
Chapter 88
Novel: After the Immortals Disappeared
Chapter 88: The Fleeing Crowd
Living a long life and having a wide network of connections meant interacting with many aristocratic families.
At such an old age, it was unlikely for one to go out to listen to operas; instead, opera troupes were often invited to perform at home.
It would be dull for the old lady to enjoy the performance alone, so she would invite three, five, or even ten families of women to join her for a lively gathering.
Garden parties were the same; these wealthy, idle old women seemed to live for socializing, having long grown tired of the familiar faces at home.
Thus, whenever she came across some fresh and juicy gossip, how could she resist sharing it with her old friends?
He Lingchuan shook his head.
His father had sent many people to the capital, so by then, it wouldn’t just be Old Lady He spreading the news.
His second brother’s deduction was correct—their father was doing his best to push rumors among the common folk, ensuring the royal court had no chance to deny the He family’s contributions.
On his way to eat, two bolts of lightning suddenly streaked across the sky.
After just two days of clear weather, the dull rumble of thunder returned, accompanied by heavy rain.
...
The torrential rain made it hard to keep his eyes open.
He Lingchuan wiped the water from his face.
In just a few moments, even his underwear and socks were soaked, clinging uncomfortably to his skin.
He had only gone to the outhouse after dinner, but when he stepped out, the scene had completely changed.
The surroundings were pitch black.
The He family’s windproof lanterns were nowhere to be seen, and the only light came from the occasional flashes of lightning in the sky.
Though it was too dark to see clearly, He Lingchuan was certain this wasn’t the He residence.
The dense weeds before him were as tall as a person.
If the He family’s gardeners had dared to be so lazy, they would have been kicked out by Madam Ying long ago.
The ground was a mix of mud, sand, water, and roots.
He stumbled forward, with no path in sight, forcing him to push through the grass.
He Lingchuan glanced back and saw a massive boulder behind him—a steep, solid piece of basalt with barely any reeds growing on it.
There was no way back; he had to move forward.
The young man groped his way ahead.
After walking about a dozen meters, his foot suddenly stepped into empty air!
He had been fully focused, ensuring each step was solid before shifting his weight.
So when his left foot suddenly found nothing beneath it, he didn’t panic.
He leaned back and retreated.
Pushing aside the grass, He Lingchuan realized this was a dead end.
Below him was a cliff, with a drop of about seven or eight zhang (over twenty meters).
If he had fallen and tumbled down, he might not have died, but he would have been severely injured.
He Lingchuan sighed deeply, wiping the grass seeds and rainwater from his face.
How had he ended up in this desolate wilderness? With his previous experience, he wasn’t overly surprised.
Whenever there was a sudden, inexplicable change of scene and a gap in his memory, it was usually the work of the Broken Blade.
But couldn’t that guy at least hand him a knife when dragging him into these dreams? Even if it was just to cut through the grass and clear a path.
Now, where was he supposed to go?
Two more blue-white flashes of lightning lit up the sky, illuminating He Lingchuan’s surroundings.
He realized that below the cliff was a vast plain, dotted with a few small hills.
From where he stood, he could see the entire landscape.
Most importantly, there were people on the plain!
A long procession was moving almost directly beneath the low cliff where He Lingchuan stood, less than fifteen zhang away.
From his vantage point, he couldn’t see the end of the line.
It wasn’t an army.
The group consisted of both men and women, mostly commoners judging by their clothing.
The wealthy could ride in carriages or on horseback, while the ordinary folk trudged through the storm, supporting each other as they moved forward.
Most were carrying bundles on their shoulders or in their hands.
Oxen and donkeys were laden with household items, and dogs darted around the people’s feet.
He Lingchuan even spotted a girl of about eleven or twelve, clutching her mother’s hand tightly while holding a kitten in her arms.
Her face was pale from the rain, making her eyes seem large and round, filled with confusion and uncertainty.
Was this a group of refugees?
Occasionally, cavalrymen rode back and forth along the line, like soldier ants bustling around a moving colony.
He Lingchuan recognized the light armor of these cavalrymen at once—they were from the Great Wind Army.
The Great Wind Army had appeared early this time.
After a moment’s thought, He Lingchuan decided to blend into the group.
Where else could he go in this desolate wilderness?
Following the Great Wind Army, the group at least had a destination.
Most importantly, he had seen a cavalryman hand his horse to a comrade and start climbing the cliff, using both hands and feet.
In such darkness and with the tall grass, He Lingchuan doubted he would be spotted.
The only reason the cavalryman was climbing in the rain was clear:
He was a scout, tasked with reaching the highest point to keep watch for the group.
This also suggested that there were pursuers behind them.
Without further hesitation, He Lingchuan quietly descended the cliff from the other side, clinging to the solid rock.
The heavy rain masked most sounds, and in the pitch-black night, everyone had to keep their eyes on the ground.
Besides, many in the group had slipped away to nearby hills to relieve themselves and then returned, so He Lingchuan blended in easily without drawing attention.
In a crowd of refugees, who knew who was who?
Even the Great Wind Army cavalrymen who occasionally rode past paid him no mind.
Last time, he had been discovered immediately upon entering the scene because he was alone in a foreign land, easily spotted by the locals.
Now, he was hidden among the masses, keeping his head down like the common folk.
Why would the cavalrymen spare him a second glance?
And so, He Lingchuan followed the group quietly for over an hour.
Along the way, he even helped someone carry their belongings, earning a few words of thanks and using the opportunity to ask some indirect questions.
The rain on the plain seemed endless.
Opening his mouth meant cold rainwater would flow in.
But out of gratitude for his help, the family explained that they lived near a winery in Weicheng’s Sui Town.
The man, surnamed Liu, worked daily at the winery brewing alcohol.
Since he was the third among his siblings, people simply called him Liu Sanjiu (Liu Third Wine).
He was fleeing with his wife and two children because the Balin Army’s attack this time was particularly fierce.
Weicheng couldn’t hold out, so everyone had to pack up and flee overnight, leaving many valuables behind.
Fortunately, after just a few hours on the road, the Great Wind Army had arrived to escort them, bringing some peace of mind.
Where were they headed?
Liu Sanjiu said that if they could reach the Shadan Pass to the east, they would be safe.
That was the territory of Panlong City.
How much farther was it?
On this vast plain with no landmarks, no one could say.
After walking with the group for so long, He Lingchuan felt a slight heaviness in his heart.
He knew that this scene had likely happened in history as well.
Though called the Panlong Wasteland, it was far more fertile than the desert it would later become, capable of supporting many cities.
He remembered that Weicheng was located a few hundred miles west of Panlong City, well-defended and with ample supplies, having held out against enemy attacks for nearly twenty years.
What he was witnessing now was likely the scene before Weicheng fell—a glimpse into history.
The saddest part was that some of these commoners weren’t fleeing their homes for the first time.
(End of Chapter)