"What was he trying to do?"
Mu Xuehuang's eyes widened instantly, and she covered her mouth in disbelief.
Any ordinary boy would have been too terrified to make a sound at the sight of so many bandits.
Yet the boy in the scene picked up a blade.
Was he going to fight those bandits to the death?
As shock washed over Mu Xuehuang, her heart rose into her throat.
Precisely because she had lived through that era herself, she could least bear to watch such scenes.
She feared for the boy's safety.
In the scene, the boy finally raised his blade and charged.
But the scene went black the very next instant.
When it appeared again, everything had fallen quiet.
"Drip..."
"Drip..."
The boy stood drenched in blood, the edge of the pig-slaughtering knife in his hand already curled from chopping.
Severed limbs and mangled bodies lay scattered all around him-the bandits who had slaughtered the villagers and killed his parents.
One of them had more than a dozen holes stabbed into his body, a truly horrifying sight.
"He... won?"
Mu Xuehuang was dumbfounded.
Only then did she realize she had underestimated this boy.
If he survived, he would surely accomplish great things one day!
With that thought, Mu Xuehuang continued watching.
Soon, a new scene appeared.
The boy had grown up.
He carried himself with ever greater composure.
Ten years had been enough for the blood-soaked child to grow into a broad-shouldered young man.
The pig-slaughtering knife once worn at his waist had long since been replaced with a sharp iron sword. Every day before dawn, he practiced his swordsmanship before his parents' graves.
After ten years, he was no longer the boy who knew only how to fight with his life on the line.
Every movement carried the