The two of them lay prone on the ground， barely daring to move. Mo Wen was utterly baffled. The hole from just moments ago had completely vanished. It was as if they had crawled out of some unknown wormhole， which had now sealed shut without leaving a trace. Anyone passing within ten meters of this spot would undoubtedly notice the two of them. Mo Wen turned his head to look at Little Hong. The damn kid was lying on his back， eyes closed， as if accepting his fate.

“What are you doing?“ Mo Wen hissed， his voice trembling with suppressed anger and unease.

Little Hong opened one eye， gave Mo Wen a brief， indifferent glance， and then closed it again.“If you can't fight fate， you might as well lie down and wait for death.“ His voice carried an unsettling despair and coldness， unbefitting his age.

Mo Wen felt a sharp pang in his heart. He thought of the bizarre and dangerous journey he had taken to get here. Fate… what was fate， really? He had never considered yielding to it. Forced to wander， even reverse the flow of time， he had arrived here. He was exhausted. Mo Wen sighed， lay back， and slowly closed his eyes as well. The grass swayed in the wind， eastward then westward， like the two of them drifting in the currents of fate.

But this time， fate played another trick. The sound of hoofbeats grew fainter. It seemed the bandits had chosen another direction back to their convoy.

In reality， Wild Horse hadn’t returned to the convoy. Instead， he circled into a nearby grove， climbed a tree， and silently watched the convoy from afar. His underling， puzzled by the leader’s actions， sat idly beneath the tree， chewing on a blade of grass.

By the convoy， one bandit， grief-stricken over his brother’s death at the hands of the Scorpion Clan nobles， silently collected the corpse， occasionally casting furtive， hate-filled glances at the nobles.

Young Master Ba'er paid no attention to this. He was engrossed， watching one of his men grab a grown woman by the ankle， swing her into the air， and toss her several meters away. The man laughed along with the others as they cheered. In the tribe， throwing a sheep a meter was a feat of strength， but this burly woman had been thrown even farther， earning the man's praise. The bandits took the opportunity to flatter this hulking nomad， completely ignoring the woman's bleeding mouth and broken bones.

The children in the wagons watched in terror. One boy， who had previously betrayed someone， spat on the ground. He recognized the woman. Two days ago， she had been rewarded with a large piece of meat for her betrayal， eating it greedily in front of them. She deserved it， he thought.

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The strong man， pleased with the flattery， laughed heartily and generously handed out lamb legs to the woman and the slaves in the nearby wagon. The slaves thanked him profusely， and the woman， despite her pain， clung to the lamb leg and gnawed at it desperately. The Scorpion Clan nobles laughed even more.

Only the cold-eyed instructor missed nothing. He sensed the bandit's hatred from afar and， without a word， drew his bow. With a swift， piercing sound， the arrow shot through the bandit's throat. The already nervous bandits panicked， scattering in all directions. Wild Horse， startled， fell from his tree， pale-faced. Without a word， he mounted his horse and fled. His underling， seeing the situation， knew it wasn’t the first time the leader had abandoned them. Smartly， he followed suit.

The instructor readied another arrow but was stopped by Young Master Ba'er， whose interest had waned. These timid slaves were less fun than wild sheep. He spurred his horse and galloped away， followed by a cloud of dust as his men hurried after him.

The villagers in the wagons waited， trembling. The bandits didn’t return， and the Scorpion Clan had left. Finally， one villager mustered the courage to run into the grove， followed by another， then another， until all had scattered. Some young women freed their children from the cages， rushing into the woods. One older woman even knelt and kowtowed in the direction the Scorpion Clan had left.

---

As the sun set， their small shadows stretched long. Mo Wen glanced at the child beside him， who looked like a little beggar， and struck up a conversation.“Oh， my surname is Mo， like 'Mo Wen' in 'don't ask about the future.' Do you not have a name? I know many ancient people didn't.“

Little Hong looked at Mo Wen， silent for a moment， then lowered his head and replied，“Little Hong， not sure which 'Hong.'“

Mo Wen chuckled， finding the kid amusing but guessing he hadn’t read many books.

“Hey， do you have a family?“

“No， do you?“

“I don't either. Where do you want to go?“

“Where do you want to go?“

“I don't know.“

“I don't know either.“

Mo Wen sighed，“Kids these days， huh.“

Little Hong retorted，“You think you're an adult? How much older are you?“

Mo Wen raised an eyebrow，“I may look young， but I've seen a lot.“

Little Hong smirked，“You don't just look experienced， you've got thick skin too.“

Mo Wen grinned，“Is that how you talk to your savior?“

Little Hong snorted，“If you hadn't come， I would’ve cut through the rope soon. Saving me is one thing， acting superior is another.“

Mo Wen shook his head，“Ah， arguing with you is making me hungry.“

Their banter grew increasingly humorous， like two mischievous monkeys bickering in a tree. Truly， misery loves company.

The setting sun cast a gentle glow on their faces， softening Mo Wen's gaze. He ruffled Little Hong's messy hair.“We're both homeless. It's fate that brought us together.“

Little Hong didn't retort， merely nodded， a glint of resilience in his eyes. He looked up at Mo Wen，“So where do we go now?“

Mo Wen shrugged，“The world is vast. We'll find a place.“

Little Hong smiled faintly，“Then let's go. Whatever lies ahead， we'll face it together.“

Mo Wen nodded， and they walked side by side toward the setting sun， their shadows growing longer until they disappeared into the twilight.