Chapter 626: Nighttime Assault

"Is it there?"

"Yes, exactly there. She came back from there; it can't be wrong."

"Very good."

In the deep forest, a dozen or so silhouettes crouched behind the trees, speaking in hushed tones.

Their clothing varied: some were wrapped in animal hides, others wore jackets patched upon patches; their shoes were all sorts, some even bound broken cloth to their feet with grass rope.

Their faces were frost‑nipped purple, noses tip red as if about to bleed, and white frost clung to their eyebrows and stubble.

But their eyes were like wolves starving, filled with that predatory gleam!!

Leading them was a tall man with a tangled beard, a scar running from the left eyebrow tip to the right corner of his mouth, like a centipede crawling across his face.

He crouched in the snow, gripping an axe whose blade was polished to a bright sheen, flashing cold light in the moonlight.

He stared at the Wooden House ahead, his gaze fixed like a nail.

A thin, ash‑gray plume still rose from the chimney.

Inside, a yellow lamp glimmered through the window cracks, casting a small patch of light on the snow.

The light was warm, warm enough to make the heart itch with envy................

"They gave that woman so much... they must have stored a lot of food!" a Thin Monkey‑like man beside him rubbed his hands, his voice thin, as if his throat were being strangled:

"Dried meat, dried fish, and bread—enough for us to eat for a while."

"Then that's fine," Scarface sneered, standing, slinging the axe over his shoulder, and glancing back at the crouching men behind him,

"Never mind, eat first, then we'll go!"

The group rose, treading the snow, and headed toward the Wooden House.

Their steps were light, but the snow was deep, and hidden branches snapped underfoot, producing a creaking sound.

Scarface led, Thin Monkey followed, and behind them were a dozen grim‑faced men, some wielding knives, some clubs, some sharpened wooden sticks—everything imaginable.

They reached the Wooden House doorway and stopped.

Scarface raised his hand, signaling the others to be quiet.

He pressed his ear to the door plank, listening for a while.

Inside there was no sound, quiet as if uninhabited.

He furrowed his brow, stepped back, and gave Thin Monkey a look.

Thin Monkey nodded, drew a short dagger from his waist, went to the door edge, slipped the tip into the crack, and gently pried the latch.

The door opened.

Whoosh!!

An arrow shot out from inside, striking the chest of the foremost man; he made no sound, fell backward, blood spurted from his chest, staining the snow in a wide splash of red!

Whoosh!

A second arrow followed immediately, hitting the man beside Scarface in the neck; he clutched his throat, gurgling, staggered a few steps, then collapsed in the snow, motionless!

"Back off!" Scarface shouted, leaping back to hide behind the doorframe.

The others hurriedly scattered, taking cover on both sides of the wall base.

Two more arrows flew from the door; one missed, embedding in the opposite tree, its tail buzzing; another skimmed Thin Monkey's shoulder, tearing his clothing. Thin Monkey let out a howl, clutching his shoulder and dropping to his knees!!

Enna stood at the doorway, bow still in hand, an arrow nocked, aiming outside.

His face was half‑lit by the firelight, his eyes shining like two knives.

His left arm was still bound with cloth; the wound hadn't fully healed, yet his hand was steady and the bow drawn to full draw.

"What are you doing here?" his voice was cold,

"Are you here to loot? Did that woman tell you the location?"

No one answered.

Scarface crouched behind the doorframe, teeth clenched, his eyes blazing with fury.

He gave a look to the people on both sides, then pointed toward the roof.

A few understood, crouched low, and crept along the wall base to each side.

Two more men unbuckled a leather shield from their waists, raised it before them, ready to charge straight in.

Enna heard footsteps; his heart sank.

There were people on both sides and the back window; he had only himself, a bow, and a few arrows.

Alf was inside, but he had never fought, only knowing some hunting tricks; Xi Ge Li De and Ying Ge were of no help.

As for Yu Lin........... he didn't know how many opponents Yu Lin could handle!

He gritted his teeth and steadied the bow even more.

At worst, fight to the death: kill one for a good price, kill two and earn one!!

The people outside moved.

The two men bearing leather shields charged straight in, shields covering them; Enna's arrow struck a shield, rebounded, and lodged in the doorframe!

Just as the people on both sides contemplated breaking the window and climbing in from the sides,

the snow suddenly intensified!!

It wasn't a gradual increase, but an instant, all‑covering deluge, as if someone had tipped an entire snow mountain from the sky!!!

Snowflakes ceased to be flakes, becoming clumps that struck the ground with muffled 'puff' sounds!!

The wind rose, huge, swirling so strongly it seemed ready to lift people into the sky!!

The outsiders were tossed by the wind, some slammed into trees, some rolled down slopes, some clung to trunks, faces frost‑purple, lips blackened, bodies shivering violently!

Their body heat dropped rapidly; fingers stiffened, unable to grip weapons, toes went numb from the cold.

Yet inside the Wooden House only thin wisps of wind and snow drifted through the door cracks and broken windows; the hearth still burned, warmth remained.

It was as if something blocked the wind and snow, preventing it from coming in.

Enna didn't know why, he only knew that the wretched cries of those outside grew weaker, grew farther, and finally vanished!

The snow stopped.

The wind stopped, too.

It was quiet as if it were the end of the world.

Enna gripped his bow, stood at the doorway, waited a while, and once he was sure there was no movement outside, he carefully stepped over the threshold.

The snow was piled thickly, more than a foot deeper than when he had gone out.

On the ground lay knives, clubs, leather shields, and several hats and scarves.

People lay on the ground; some on their backs, some prone, some curled up in a ball like infants.

Enna walked over, bent down and checked a person's breath—dead.

He checked another—still dead.

He counted—over a dozen people; most were dead, and the few remaining had lost the ability to move, lying in the snow, eyes half‑open, lips purple, bodies rigid, only a faint breath remaining.

He walked up to Scarface.

Scarface was still alive, leaning against a tree, his axe fallen at his feet, his hand still holding the axe, but his fingers were frozen stiff, unable to bend.

His lips trembled, the light in his eyes had faded, like two lamps about to go out.

Enna crouched, looked at him, about to ask—his gaze suddenly stopped.

On Scarface's chest hung a pendant.

It was wooden, heart‑shaped, with simple patterns carved on the surface; the chain was leather, polished to a shine.

Enna recognized the pendant; he had seen it when that woman came to the house for a meal, it peeking from her neckline, and she said it was the only memory her dead husband had given her.

The pendant now hung on Scarface.

That woman would never casually give away the memory her dead husband left behind.............

Enna closed his eyes briefly; when he opened them again, he said nothing, simply rose, turned, and headed toward the Wooden House.

He took a few steps, stopped, turned back to glance at those lying in the snow.

"You should die!"

The wind and snow began again, fine and scattered, falling on them like a thin blanket.

He withdrew his gaze, walked into the house, and closed the door.

The stove fire burned, crackling.

"It wasn't her who betrayed us; she may already be dead, and those people snatched the pendant."

"But what can we do now that we know? She's dead, those people are dead, winter keeps going, the snow keeps falling, tomorrow, the day after, the day after that, there may be even more people like them coming—for food, for survival."

"What on earth should we do............"

Enna lowered his head, burying his face in his palms.

The stove fire burned, the firewood snapping.

Outside the window the snow kept falling, fine and scattered, as if someone far away were sighing softly.