Minho finally had a chance to use the [Smartphone] without the constant fear of being caught. It was a rare moment of solitude, and she took full advantage of it. The battery was at 75%, and according to the settings, it would last for 14 days and 7 hours.
With a deep breath, she opened the [Browser] and hesitated for a moment before typing in "[Mandarin Basics]." This was the most logical next step, she thought. Even though she didn’t fully understand the language, trying to learn from scratch might help her grasp it faster. Understanding Mandarin would make her less dependent on deciphering long and complicated sentences and instead allow her to comprehend the information more efficiently. The fewer hours spent in confusion, the better.
As she scrolled through various sites, strange images caught her attention on the sides of the screen. From her initial research on what the [Internet] was, she had learned that these were "advertisements," much like how street vendors in the marketplace would shout to attract customers or display wooden signs to draw attention to their goods. However, unlike those, these ads seemed strange and intrusive, and since she couldn’t actually purchase anything, Minho didn’t bother with them.
That was, until one particular advertisement made her pause.
“Why buy sugar when you can make it at home?”
Minho’s eyes widened in disbelief. Sugar? One of the most valuable and sought-after commodities in the Central Plains, imported at great expense from the Frost Kingdom? The Empire had tried for years to replicate the production process but had failed miserably. And now, this [Internet] was claiming she could make it at home? She almost laughed at the absurdity. Surely, this was one of those tricks, like vendors in the market exaggerating the quality of their wares to make a sale. It seemed too magical to be true.
But then again, she thought of the seemingly impossible things she had already experienced with the [Smartphone]. Just days ago, she had discovered that using certain fruits, berries, could generate electricity and charge the device. That alone had been nothing short of miraculous to her. If such things were possible in the other world, perhaps she shouldn’t dismiss this so easily. After all, what harm could come from exploring further?
With a mix of curiosity and skepticism, Minho clicked on the advertisement. The page loaded, and she found herself staring at a large box with an image of a smiling woman holding a potato. In the center of the image was a strange sideways triangle, and below it were even more images with odd titles. This [website] was unlike any of the others she had visited so far.
Minho squinted at the screen, trying to make sense of it. What was this box? Was it asking her to click the triangle? Hesitantly, she tapped the symbol, and something unexpected happened.
The [Smartphone] emitted a sound—a voice! Minho’s heart leaped into her throat as she watched in horror. The woman in the picture was moving and speaking, her voice cheerful and lively. “Welcome back to my channel, everyone! Today, we’re making homemade sugar!”
Panicked, Minho’s hand shot out and she fumbled for the side button, frantically trying to make the noise stop. In her panic, she tossed the [Smartphone] into the pile of hay beside her, eyes wide with terror as if it had turned into some kind of cursed artifact. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she sat frozen, listening for any signs that someone else had heard.
"Minho! Are you alright?" a voice called out from the entrance. It was Gu. He stormed into the hut, sword drawn, eyes scanning the room for intruders. "I heard a voice coming from here," he said, clearly on edge. To him, it must have sounded like someone had infiltrated their hideout in the middle of the night. His muscles tensed as he gripped his sword tighter, ready for a fight.
Minho’s heart raced even faster. She couldn’t believe how close she had come to being discovered. Still shaken, she quickly scrambled to her feet, trying to compose herself. “It’s nothing, Brother Gu,” she stammered, forcing a nervous smile. “I—I must have dozed off and… well, had a dream. That’s all.”
Gu’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, his gaze flicking to the pile of hay where the [Smartphone] was now hidden. He took a step forward, his sword still in hand. "A dream?" he echoed, unconvinced. "That didn't sound like a dream."
Minho swallowed hard, desperately thinking of a way to divert his attention. "I must have been talking in my sleep," she lied, attempting to laugh it off. "You know how strange dreams can be after a long day."
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Gu studied her for a moment longer, clearly not entirely convinced, but eventually, he let out a sigh and sheathed his sword. “Alright,” he muttered, though there was still a hint of doubt in his eyes. “Just… be careful. We can’t afford to let our guard down, not out here.”
Minho nodded quickly, relief washing over her as Gu turned and left the hut, casting one last wary glance over his shoulder before disappearing into the night. She waited until she was sure he was gone before collapsing back onto her bed of hay, her hands trembling. That had been too close. Much too close.
The [Smartphone] lay hidden in the hay, silent and still now, but the experience lingered in her mind. The woman in the image had spoken—had moved—and the device had created sound, real sound, as if the woman had been right there in the room with her. Minho couldn’t help but wonder just how powerful and advanced this other society must be if they could capture images and voices like that. The thought was both frightening and fascinating.
She cautiously picked up the [Smartphone] from the hay where she had tossed it, her fingers still trembling slightly. When she pressed the side button, the screen lit up, showing the woman from earlier frozen in mid-sentence, her image paused exactly as Minho had left it. Minho hesitated, unsure whether to resume the mysterious moving image. The last thing she wanted was for the device to make that sound again and draw more attention to her. Instead, she decided to investigate further in a quieter way.
Minho tapped on the [URL Bar] at the top of the screen and carefully typed in "Moving Images," hoping to find some explanation. She was determined to understand what she had just witnessed and how it was possible.
Meanwhile, Shun emerged from the dimly lit tunnel, stepping out into the cold night air. He then traveled through the dark, moonlit forest, and now found himself approaching Hisu Town. From a distance, the town looked eerie and silent, its walls still showing signs of recent repair, with scaffolding left behind and parts that remained unfixed.
As Shun drew closer, he could tell that the town had endured more than just a few scuffles. The Greenwood Brotherhood’s activities had clearly escalated; they were no longer content with attacking rival groups but were now brazenly raiding towns. This realization sent a chill down his spine. If they were bold enough to launch assaults on settlements, it meant the situation in the Jing Mountains was spiraling out of control. He couldn’t expect any carriages to be running—people would be too frightened to travel, and merchants would avoid the risk of losing their goods.
By the time Shun reached the town’s entrance, the guards posted at the gates cast suspicious glances at him. He paid them no mind, keeping his head down and walking with purpose. The town’s usual nighttime quiet was more tense than calm, with an air of unease hanging over the empty streets. Most of the buildings were dark, their occupants having turned in.
Eventually, Shun found his way to a blacksmith shop, the only place that still had a faint glow emanating from within. The shop was small but sturdy, built to endure the rugged mountain weather. He pushed open the creaking wooden door, only to be greeted by a gruff voice from inside. “We’re closed! Come back in the morning!”
Shun hesitated, then stepped inside anyway, letting the door shut softly behind him. “Please, sir! I need to sell these. We’re in dire need of money,” he said, his voice low but earnest as he hefted a heavy sack onto the counter.
The man behind the counter looked up, his expression a mix of irritation and curiosity. He was a broad-shouldered, middle-aged blacksmith with thick arms and a stern face. His hair was tied back, and he wore a leather apron smudged with soot. From the look of things, he had been tidying up, ready to close the shop for the night. He scrutinized Shun for a moment, then sighed, as if debating whether to turn him away or hear him out. “Alright, come in then, but make it quick. I don’t have all night,” he muttered, putting down a hammer he had been wiping clean. “You don’t look like you’re from around here, son. Did you come out of the forest?”
Shun took the seat the blacksmith offered, grateful for the chance to rest his weary legs. His clothes were damp, patched, and unsuitable for the biting night chill, clearly showing signs of wear. Anyone could see he had been living rough, and the blacksmith’s keen eyes caught on to this. It didn’t take much to guess that Shun was a bandit, though not one of the Greenwood Brotherhood, judging by the lack of hostility in his demeanor.
“Yes, sir,” Shun replied, putting on a humble smile. “I’m from one of the smaller brotherhoods in the Jing Forest. I came here to sell these so we can get some supplies for winter.” He opened the sack, revealing a collection of metal pieces and chains.
The blacksmith clicked his tongue, a look of disdain crossing his face. “Greenwood Bandits, huh? Those damn dogs,” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head. “They’ve been making life hell for everyone around here. Must be why you’re in this mess. Any proper brotherhood would’ve stocked up for winter by now.” His expression softened a bit as he introduced himself. “Name’s Liang, by the way. What’s yours, lad?”
“Xing,” Shun lied, adopting a persona he had used before once. “From the Tiger Brown Brotherhood.”
Liang’s eyebrows lifted slightly in surprise, but he accepted the name without questioning further. “Tiger Brown, eh? Can’t say I’ve heard of it. Must be a smaller group.” He moved to pour Shun a cup of something hot, the steam rising from the cup with a faint, spiced aroma. Shun took it gratefully, the warmth spreading through his cold fingers and easing the chill that had settled into his bones.
“Yes, we’re a small group near the river,” Shun explained, weaving his story carefully. “Normally, we’d be ready for winter around this time, but... the Greenwood Bandits...” He let his voice trail off, adding a touch of frustration and helplessness.
Liang let out a low growl, clenching his jaw. “Those damn Greenwood Bandits. I knew it! They’ve been terrorizing everyone—towns, brotherhoods, you name it. Just a bunch of power-hungry thugs, thinking they can take what they want. Must’ve tried to force your lot into joining them, eh? Or did they just rob you blind?”
Shun nodded, his grip tightening on the cup. “That’s right. They’ve been trying to bring everyone under their thumb. Those who don’t comply... well, they don’t leave them much choice.”
The blacksmith’s face darkened, and he muttered another curse. “It used to be that bandit groups had a code—an understanding, if nothing else. They’d stick to their own territory, avoiding trouble with the towns. Now it’s all different. Greenwood’s trying to swallow everything up, and it’s bad for everyone, especially for small outfits like yours.”
As they talked, Shun realized he might be able to use this conversation to his advantage. Liang clearly held a deep grudge against the Greenwood Brotherhood, and if Shun played his cards right, he might be able to secure a deal—or at the very least, learn something that could help him and his group navigate the next steps.