By the time night fell, they finally reached the village.
But instead of peace, they were met with chaos.
A large crowd had gathered in the middle of the village. People were shouting, their voices loud and angry. In the center, a middle-aged woman was on the ground, trying to cover her head with her arms. Her body shook as she crouched low.
A few men stood over her, yelling. One of them raised his hand like he was about to hit her. Another spat near her. The others just watched. No one helped.
Suddenly, from behind, the little girl gasped.
She quickly jumped down from Qiu Yue's horse and ran into the crowd, shouting, "Mother! Mother!"
The woman on the ground looked up. Her eyes went wide in shock.
"Xiao Lan! Why did you come back? I told you to run!"
One of the villagers pointed at her. "That's her! That's the girl! Grab her—tie her up!"
Several people started to move toward the girl, reaching out with rough hands. But before they could touch her, Qiu Yue stepped forward.
She moved fast—"Stop," she said.
Her voice was calm, but cold. It made the crowd freeze on the spot.
Everyone turned to look.
Nearby, Lang Huan sat tall on a huge white wolf, her black robes trimmed with silver that shimmered under the moonlight In front of her sat a woman wearing a fine veil, her posture elegant and calm. Behind them stood a few guards in matching clothes, serious and alert.
The villagers fell silent. Their eyes scanned the group, clearly realizing—these weren't ordinary travelers.
They looked noble and rich.
A moment later, the village chief pushed through the crowd. As soon as he saw them, his expression changed completely. His eyes lit up with fake warmth, and he forced a wide, eager smile.
"Honored guests! Welcome, welcome!" he said with an exaggerated bow.
"I deeply apologize for this chaos. Please don't take it the wrong way."
Lang Huan didn't respond.
There was something about the village chief's greasy smile that made her skin crawl.
Slowly, she got down from Xiao Bai, her hand still resting on the hilt of her sword.
She stepped forward, placing herself between the villagers and the woman on the ground.
"Let them go," Lang Huan said firmly.
The village chief raised a hand, keeping his fake smile. "Ah… Young Master, I'm afraid that's not possible," he said with a sigh full of fake sadness.
"If we don't offer Xiao Lan, our mountain god will be angry. He might send the eight-headed serpent to destroy us all."
Lang Huan's eyes narrowed. "Nonsense."
The tension in the air rose instantly. Another man stepped forward, his voice louder and filled with anger. "This is our village's affair, Young Master! Outsiders like you have no right to meddle!"
The villagers muttered in agreement, their voices growing uneasy. But in the middle of it all, Xiao Lan's mother—her face bruised and smeared with dirt—slowly lifted her head.
She looked up at Lang Huan, eyes full of pain and gratitude.
"Thank you, young master… for saving my daughter," she whispered hoarsely.
"But this place is no good. You should leave as soon as you can. Please… take Xiao Lan with you. Save her from this."
The crowd immediately erupted.
"No!" someone shouted.
"If she leaves, the god will punish us all!"
More angry voices joined in. No one wanted to offer their own daughters. The fear in their eyes was real, but so was the selfishness.
Lang Huan's eyes burned with anger.
"Why can't I take her with me?" she shouted.
"You all ganged up on an old woman and forced her to give up her child. If you need a sacrifice so badly, then maybe all of you should be offered instead!"
The villagers flinched at her words.
One man tried to defend them. "Young master, we… we have no other way."
"Shut up." Lang Huan snapped, voice cold and sharp.
"I don't believe in this so-called god of yours. If he's real—show me. Take me to him."
"Why are you all so quick to throw her away, while your own daughters are hidden safely behind locked doors?"
Lang Huan turned her cold glare to the village chief, then suddenly reached out and grabbed the front of his robe, yanking him forward roughly.
"If your so-called mountain god truly demands a sacrifice…" she hissed, "…why not offer your own daughter?"
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
No one spoke.
"P-please, young master… there's no need for violence!" the village chief stammered, clearly shaken. His voice trembled, and he dared not meet Lang Huan's eyes.
Just then, an elderly man stepped out from the crowd. His back was slightly hunched, and his long, thin beard gave him an air of wisdom. He raised a hand toward the restless villagers. "Enough for now. Disperse."
The villagers hesitated, then slowly began to scatter. Murmurs filled the air, but none dared to argue with the elder.
The old man turned to Lang Huan. "Please, Young Master. Calm down. This is all a misunderstanding, I assure you."
He bowed slightly. "Why don't you and your companions rest for the night? We can talk about all this again tomorrow, in peace."
He pointed toward a small house near the edge of the village—plain, but clean.
"You may stay there. It's empty now. The owner left some time ago… after his daughter was taken for the sacrifice."
Lang Huan didn't respond right away. She stared at the old man, reading between the lines of his politeness. In the end, she gave a short, silent nod.
Just as she turned to leave, the elder spoke up again. "If I may ask… what is the young master's name?"
"My name is Lang Huan," she said. "And this is my wife, Feng Yao."
Feng Yao remained silent atop Xiao Bai, but at the sound of "my wife," a quiet warmth bloomed in her chest. She didn't show much on the outside, only keeping her usual calm expression. But inside, she smiled.
She loved the way Lang Huan called her. As if she had always belonged to her.
The Eldest Princess quietly gave orders to her guards to watch over Xiao Lan and her mother. Though they were safe for now, she didn't trust the villagers. She was afraid someone might try something in the middle of the night.
Xiao Lan and her mother seemed relieved by the protection, but deep inside, they were still worried.
That night, as darkness covered the village, most of the homes went quiet. But in one small, dimly lit house, two shadows gathered.
The old village elder sat hunched over a table, a faint oil lamp flickering beside him. Across from him sat the village chief, his face tense.
The elder tapped the table slowly with one bony finger.
"We've lost enough of our own," he muttered. "Why not offer the outsiders instead?"
The village chief's eyes widened, then narrowed slowly as the idea took root.
"That woman in white—even if she's already married—she's still valuable. If we don't offer her to the mountain god, we could give her to the bandit leader instead," the village chief muttered, lowering his voice. "I owe him a lot of money anyway. She could pay off my debt."
"And her guards… They're probably virgins."
The elder's eyes gleamed under the flickering light. "A perfect offering."
The village chief nodded slowly.
"It's rare to have such fine offerings walk straight into our village. It's a sign from the gods." the elder replied, his crooked smile stretching wider.
That night, Feng Yao shared a room with Lang Huan, as they were meant to play the roles of husband and wife while staying in the village.
Before leaving, A Li carefully cleaned the room, arranging everything according to the Eldest Princess's preferences. Once she was done, she stepped back, gave a respectful bow, and left the room.
As the oil lamp flickered low, casting soft golden light across the small room, Feng Yao lay beside Lang Huan. Her long black hair spilled over the pillow like silk.
She wore only a bellyband and thin panties, Lang Huan's brows furrowed as she glanced at her. "You're not in your mansion," she muttered, pulling the blanket up. "At least wear your middle garment."
Feng Yao gave her a lazy, teasing smile but didn't argue. She reached for her robe and slipped it on over her bare shoulders. Then, she laid back down beside Lang Huan, the fabric rustling softly.
Satisfied, Lang Huan let out a quiet sigh. She wasn't sure if it was from relief… or frustration.
Feng Yao turned to her side, her fingers gently tracing along Lang Huan's arm. Her eyes lingered on the familiar face beside her—the one she had grown used to seeing every single day. A smile played on her lips as she tried to tease her again.
"Why did you ask me to wear the middle garment?" she whispered. "Don't you like seeing my bare skin?"
But Lang Huan was already half-asleep. Tired from the long journey, she barely opened her eyes. With a faint smirk, she mumbled, "It's better to see you completely naked…"
After she said that—she was out cold.
Feng Yao let out a soft laugh. She shook her head and pulled the blanket over both of them.
There was a quiet warmth in her chest as she watched Lang Huan sleep, peaceful beside her.