The sound of horse hooves hit the winding mountain road like drums. The old horse's mane fluttered as it carried Zhao Wei across the last ridge.
The setting sun dyed the sky blood red. The outline of Zizhu Village was looming in the twilight. The branches of the century-old locust tree at the entrance of the village were twisted, like an open ghost claw.
“Ouch!”
Zhao Wei suddenly tightened the reins, and the old horse dug the ground with its front hooves, with white air coming out of its nostrils.
When he dismounted from his horse, he caught a glimpse of dark brown spots on the stone road at the entrance of the village - they were not mud, but half-dried bloodstains.
“Is anyone there?!”
He clenched the shotgun at his waist, the barrel still retaining the residual heat from the previous shot.
The village was unusually quiet. There was not even the barking of dogs, only the whimpering of the wind through the bamboo fences.
There was smoke coming out of the chimneys of several houses, but there was a dead silence.
Suddenly, with a creaky sound, the wooden door of the low house on the left opened a crack.
A little girl with pigtails poked her head out, her face was covered in mud, but her eyes were surprisingly bright: "Big brother, you..."
Before the little girl could finish her words, the people in the room had already carried her away, as if they were afraid that something might happen to her.
Zhao Wei didn't expect that the people in this village would be so nervous.
How many people had to die to turn a vibrant village into this?
"I'm Zhao Wei from Yushudun Xiangyang Commune. I'm here to investigate the missing persons case in your village."
"Just now, I saw a few criminals at the three-way intersection west of your village and exchanged fire with them."
"They should be catching up soon now."
…
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