Chapter 32: The Witch

Since the last disturbance, the tourist area had returned to its former calm.

Thanks to the wailing accounts of several survivors, nearly all the refugees sheltering in the tourist district knew there lived a murderous witch in the villa by the sinkhole and landslide. At first, rumors claimed that Su Miao had killed over a dozen people in one night. Three days later, the tale grew into “all former residents of the villas were slaughtered by Su Miao,” instilling unease among the newly settled refugees in the villa area. Another few days passed, and even the sinkhole and landslide were said to have been summoned by Su Miao herself.

Thus, Su Miao acquired the title of “the Witch”—a stroke of accidental fate, in a way.

It was now October 3rd, 2123. The torrential rain continued, several flash floods and landslides had erupted near the tourist zone, and the road leading out had been washed away in several places. Worse still, the temperature was dropping. The number of refugees trickling into the tourist district dwindled; it was said many were swept away by floods and landslides on the way, their end horrific.

The absence of newcomers accelerated the depletion of supplies among those already sheltering there. No matter how they rationed, their food stores were running out. More and more people resorted to eating grass, leaves, and tree bark. With every mouthful, conflicts flared ever more frequently.

Some went to seek answers from Chang Jieming, the head of the security team, but he always replied, “Rest assured and wait for news. We’ll investigate.” In the end, nothing was ever investigated.

Gradually, the refugees realized something: the security team was nothing but a checkpoint for collecting food. Expecting them to resolve anything was futile. Anyone who dared cause trouble for the security team found that their previously cordial guards were truly capable of killing.

This lesson had been learned after several clashes with Fei Chengqiang’s faction. In this world, necessary force was essential for survival.

Chang Jieming’s only regret was not being able to buy a crossbow from Su Miao. If he had one, his words would carry more weight, and he wouldn’t have to watch for Fei Chengqiang’s ambush daily.

Fei Chengqiang desperately wanted to strike back at the security team for revenge. The little food they had managed to save through collecting rent was nearly gone. At such times, the security team, with its ample stores, became the prime target.

Yet, just as Fei Chengqiang plotted an attack, Old Song appeared.

Old Song worked alone, fearless and unpredictable. These days, he often slipped into the ruins unnoticed, killed the sentries, stole some food, and left everyone on edge.

In just a few days, five of Fei Chengqiang’s men had died at Old Song’s hands. Fei Chengqiang was furious, laying traps for days, but Old Song refused to take the bait. And so, the stalemate continued.

Among the new arrivals, three village collectives had fought several times, though deaths were few and restraint prevailed. The construction crew braved the rain to hunt in the hills, hoping for wild rabbits, but always returned empty-handed. The student group, protected by their teachers, remained undisturbed for now—perhaps because the security team would actually intervene, or perhaps because several PE teachers among them were formidable fighters, one even a national sanda champion.

Then there was He Weixin’s group, who had once caused trouble for Su Miao. Now, they kept their villa doors tightly shut, enjoying their food and drink and bothering no one. If anyone bothered them, they wouldn't hesitate to retaliate.

“Sister, lately people keep watching our place,” Xia Xiao’an said cautiously, glancing out the window to spot several furtive figures spying on the villa.

Su Miao put away her umbrella sword and replied, “Ignore them.”

The daily umbrella sword practice was complete. Compared to when she first began, Su Miao felt her speed had improved greatly in drawing and thrusting. When she could move her sword at supersonic speed, perhaps then she’d be considered to have succeeded.

After practice, Su Miao went to a tidied room. Inside, many potted plants flourished—seasonal vegetables like greens and radishes. Though she had plenty of fresh produce in her magical space, it was consumed daily, and one day would run out. Learning to grow her own was, after all, wise.

Her main focus was the mushrooms on the pine racks. Fearing she might fail at cultivating them herself, Su Miao had bought ready-made ones from the wholesale market. Spores had been scattered over the pine logs; she only needed to water them regularly to promote growth.

Now, the pine racks were dotted with beautiful mushrooms—fungi, oyster mushrooms, small and large varieties, even some matsutake. They looked delicious.

Tonight, she could enjoy a pot of fresh mushroom soup hotpot.

With things to do, the days passed swiftly, and soon it was dusk.

Su Miao took out the induction cooker, then retrieved beef rolls, tripe, vegetables, hotpot base, and condiments from her magical space. The mushrooms were all freshly picked that afternoon.

Xia Xiao’an sat at the table, her anticipation growing as the hotpot boiled. The electricity for the induction cooker had all been generated by her cycling indoors for countless laps, stored up bit by bit. At this moment, she felt a special sense of accomplishment.

“All right, let’s eat!” Su Miao said, opening a bottle of apple soda, taking a sip, and picking up a mushroom to taste its exquisite flavor.

Xia Xiao’an eagerly grabbed a piece of beef, dipped it in sauce, and ate it, feeling utter happiness. Truthfully, more than the food itself, she was happiest that Su Miao no longer concealed her magic from her. She had fully adapted to the miracles of Su Miao conjuring things from thin air.

...

“Damn it! What are they eating?”

“Hell, it’s beef hotpot. Smells amazing!”

“The last time I ate meat was ages ago—and it was just a speck in the construction site stir-fry.”

“Stop talking. That smell makes my stomach react.”

“Keep it down—after this job, everyone will have meat!”

“Just follow the boss’s lead.”

Twenty-six workers crept under cover of night to the villa where Su Miao lived. Compared to previous troublemakers, they moved quietly; without searchlights, they were nearly impossible to spot.

But the tourist area had been out of power for ages, backup electricity was gone, and streetlights were not an option.

“For today, we braved freezing torrential rain to observe for over ten days,” the foreman whispered. “Pay attention! Sixteen of you will ram the front door; Mouse, Knife, six of you, find a chance to climb to the second floor. The rest stay with me for backup.”

Driven by the aroma of beef hotpot, the workers swallowed nervously and nodded solemnly. Their eyes gleamed green with hunger, a far cry from the numb expressions they wore when first arriving.

The foreman gave the order in a low voice, “Go!”