Still Breathing

Stone Bridge Village was much smaller than Willow Creek Village, with barely a dozen households in all.

The man carried his child's body to the village entrance in long strides. He laid it on the ground and shouted at the top of his lungs:

"You people of Stone Bridge Village, get your asses out here! You poisoned my child to death! If you've got the guts, come face me!"

His curses echoed through the empty village lanes, struck the walls on every side, and bounced back.

No one answered.

The man cursed a few more times. The young men from Willow Creek Village behind him joined in, thumping their carrying poles and hoes against the ground.

Still, there was not a sound from the village.

Losing patience, he snatched up his hoe and made to charge in.

But Shen Hui suddenly reached out and stopped him.

The man turned and glared at him. "Daoist priest, don't stop me! Today I'm going to—"

"Don't go in."

As Shen Hui spoke, his gaze passed over the stone bridge at the village entrance and settled on the houses beyond.

On a stone slab by the entrance, a wooden bucket lay tipped over. Its water had spilled across the ground and long since soaked into the earth.

"The people in the village are already dead."

Everyone froze.

"What?"

Still clutching his child, the man stared at him. The ferocity had yet to leave his face, but now bewilderment overtook it.

"Dead... dead? Who's dead?"

Shen Hui looked across the village houses and said slowly:

"All of them."

The villagers looked at one another. For a long moment, no one spoke.

The fury that had gripped the crowd vanished as though a bucket of cold water had been dumped over their heads. They searched one