Early the next morning, the sky had only just begun to brighten.
The middle-aged man walked ahead to lead the way, the young woman followed behind him with the child in her arms, and the two old people supported each other at the very back.
Inuyasha walked at the rear of the group, one hand resting on the Red Fang Blade as his gaze swept over the surrounding woods.
Sakura walked at the very front, the Qinglan Sword gripped in her hand as she watched for any movement around them.
Saku walked in the middle, her silver-white bracers glowing faintly as her sensing power spread across an area of several li around them.
After walking for most of the day, when it was almost noon, they finally saw a village.
The village was not large, with only a few dozen households or so.
But most of the houses had been burned down, leaving only a few broken walls and ruins.
All kinds of debris lay scattered across the ground: shattered clay jars, overturned wooden buckets, charred cloth...
And some...
Inuyasha looked away.
Those things, he did not want to see.
The middle-aged man stood at the village entrance, looking at the ruins before him, and tears fell again.
"We're here... This is our village..."
His voice was hoarse.
The young woman held the child and stood behind him, her head lowered, her shoulders trembling faintly.
The two old people clung to each other and sobbed aloud.
Sakura stood there in silence, her gaze sweeping over the ruins.
"Are there any other survivors?"
The middle-aged man shook his head.
"I don't know... Maybe there are... Maybe..."
"When we scattered and ran, some people ran north, and some ran east..."
"I don't know if they survived..."
Sakura nodded.
"You rest here for