Chapter 374: Second Uncle, Beat Him

A few days later, the carriage arrived at a small town not far from the border.

Passing a Taoist temple, we saw about a dozen thatched shelters set up on the open space before the gate, several large iron pots placed on makeshift stoves, and the scent of rice porridge drifting in the wind.

More than a dozen officials rolled up their sleeves and hustled about, their ladles stirring the pot into a thick, creamy vortex.

The crowd of civilians queuing for porridge was so large that the line stretched from the temple gate to the roadside.

Although most of them were in tattered clothes, seeing hot porridge to drink, thatched shelters for shade, and an old physician sitting in a corner shelter taking pulses, they all looked very calm.

Xiao Er halted the horse and, looking at the scene, said, "Third Young Master, look, these should all be civilians who fled from the border to here."

A few people got off the carriage, and Xiao Ran nodded, "The settlement is decent."

Xiao Ningxun also gave a slight nod, "Indeed, when the people aren't hungry, the sick have a doctor, the populace won't go chaotic. If the rear remains steady, the front war can be fought firmly."

"The officials here are fairly conscientious. Time is not early, let's go see if we can help, and set off again at first light tomorrow."

Xiao Er stopped the carriage, bent down and lifted Tuan Tuan, and the group walked toward the crowd.

Tuan Tuan widened her eyes, curiously looking around, "So many people!"

She lifted her little finger at those big pots, "Third Brother, are they all drinking porridge? I want some too."

Xiao Ningxun smiled, "Alright, once things settle, Third Brother will ladle some for you."

Just as they spoke, a suppressed cry of pain suddenly rose from the crowd.

"Ouch! My stomach! It hurts so much!"

A black‑faced man in his forties clutched his abdomen, curled up, and the porridge bowl in his hand clanged onto the ground, spilling half a bowl of white porridge.

An old woman beside him immediately squatted down, her face turning pale as she gasped, "My… my stomach started hurting too!"

The previously quiet crowd instantly erupted into commotion.

"What's happening?"

"Is there something wrong with the porridge?"

A tall, thin man shouted sharply, "Could it be that this porridge was made with moldy old rice?"

The officials, hearing this, grew frantic, raising their ladles and loudly defending, "What nonsense! This rice was freshly taken from the government granary, not a single grain is moldy!"

"Then why are their stomachs hurting?"

"Exactly! Two people drank the porridge and their stomachs hurt like this; what are the odds?"

The tall thin man continued shouting, "These officials have become black‑hearted! They give us porridge to earn a good name, yet refuse to give us good rice to eat!"

Anger and panic spread rapidly.

Some put down their bowls and dared not drink, some craned their necks to look, and more people whispered to each other, the buzzing murmur growing louder.

Tuan Tuan clutched Xiao Er's neck and asked softly, "Uncle Xiao Er, what happened to them?"

Xiao Er shook his head, "Miss, moldy old rice can't be eaten; eating it makes the stomach hurt."

"Oh. Tuan Tuan gets it," he said. "Then quickly have them swap the porridge!"

The black‑faced man who first shouted in pain gritted his teeth, lifted his head, cold sweat beading on his forehead, "Everyone, everyone, hurry and leave; run as far as you can!"

The people around looked surprised, "No need, Prince Ning is here."

"Yeah, it won't last long."

"After the battle, I still have to go back and guard my two houses."

The black‑faced man sighed, "I originally didn't want to say this."

"But my mother died from drinking porridge made with moldy old rice; I'm afraid I won't live long either, so I'll tell you all."

The onlookers kept asking, "What's wrong?"

"If you have something to say, just say it!"

The black‑faced man, wincing in pain, gritted his teeth and said, "Prince Ning is already dead!"

The surroundings fell silent all of a sudden.

Tuan Tuan's eyes instantly widened.

Dad dead? Impossible!

If something happened to dad, I would definitely know!

A few people looked at each other, all wearing shocked and doubtful expressions.

The black‑faced man gasped, "The commander is gone, the troops below are already panicking."

They say the higher‑ups are afraid that if the outside learns it will cause disorder, so they keep it secret and forbid any mention.

"You're talking nonsense!" someone blurted, "Prince Ning is the war god of our fiery nation! How could that be…"

"How could it not be possible!" the old woman who had just shouted in pain interrupted, "My nephew is serving in Prince Ning's Main Camp!"

"He told me himself!"

He said Prince Ning led troops to raid the enemy, was struck by several arrows and mortally wounded; the superiors issued a death order, and anyone who dares to leak even a word faces Military law punishment!

She wept profusely, "My nephew pushed me out the door, told me to run south, and said this battle can't be won! If we don't run, when the Da Xia people come to kill us, we won't survive!"

The refugees erupted in a frenzy.

"No wonder they used old rice to make our porridge!"

"These officials must have known long ago! They have no intention of caring for us!"

The tall thin man sighed loudly, "It's over! With Prince Ning dead, this border surely can't be held; we should leave quickly!"

Some began packing their bundles, some held children and sobbed, and others glared at the officials, "Did you already know? You've been fooling us like idiots!"

The officials, sweating profusely, exclaimed, "How could we know what's happening at the front! What does this have to do with the porridge? The porridge is fine!"

Tuan Tuan's little face grew paler as she listened, squirming in Xiao Er's arms like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, shouting at the black‑faced man:

"You villain! Your dad just died!"

"Your dad just turned the arrows into pigs!"

A sharp child's voice drowned out everyone else; the crowd froze, all turning their heads at once.

A tall dark‑faced man cradling a delicate little girl stood at the edge of the crowd, with three well‑dressed men following behind him.

A massive carriage was parked not far away.

The dark‑faced man, his face full of indignation, said, "How dare a little girl speak?"

"We're all suffering refugees who fled the border; how could a passing young lady know more than we do?"

The refugees glanced at the few of them and began to murmur.

"Exactly! As if you're clearer than us, who crawled out of piles of corpses?"

"Kids, don't butt in!"

"A passing rich lady! How could she understand our suffering?"

Xiao Ningxun narrowed his eyes.

Xiao Ningxun had just watched coldly, the dark‑faced man shouting in pain and the old woman, the sharp‑voiced lanky man— their words were perfectly in sync, as if following a pre‑written script.

This was certainly no ordinary gossip.

He turned his head toward Lu Qi beside him and whispered, "Take him down."

Lu Qi's figure flashed as he squeezed into the crowd.

Xiao Er shoved Tuan Tuan into Xiao Ran's arms, hurried forward, and with a big hand seized the dark‑faced man's arm.

Tuan Tuan huffed and shouted, "Uncle 2, beat him up!"