Chapter 010: The Little Sweetheart Transforms into a Warrior

Whenever their father and eldest brother were away, it was always he who helped their mother send packages back to her family.

That was why Qingzhen could be called a little master of chores, not some pampered young lord.

After breakfast, some went off to repair the houses, others to make furniture and boxes, while those going to pick fruit prepared to set out as well.

Qinghu and Xiaobai got themselves ready, put on coarse linen clothes, slung baskets over their arms, and took along cloth bags.

Qingzhen had already gathered four boys, two cultivators, plus himself, Qingquan, and Deng Xiaolai. They brought plenty of bows and arrows, hemp ropes, and bamboo baskets.

“Why are you bringing so many people?” Qinghu asked as soon as she met up with him.

“Who knows what’s out in the wilderness? What if there are fierce beasts? Can I protect everyone by myself? Besides, some folks are joining us to clear the land,” Qingzhen replied.

“Alright,” Qinghu agreed, even though it seemed a bit excessive to form such a large team just to pick some fruit. But considering the threat of wild beasts and her own safety, she accepted it.

Not far from the village under construction stretched a vast area of wasteland, once cultivated by the former lord and his people. The fields were crisscrossed with ditches, and the irrigation channels still worked.

Unfortunately, the land had lain fallow for too long; the wild grass now reached up to their waists.

In the wilderness, there were wild vegetables, mushrooms, and remnants of old crops, though the roots, stems, and leaves were riddled with holes, some gnawed almost to nothing.

Still, the fruits or edible roots beneath the soil should remain intact.

The mortal men and women who had come along were visibly tempted by these edible things, but dared not act until the whole group reached the small hill Qinghu had mentioned.

Then Qingzhen had everyone line up side by side, forming a long line.

He led Qingquan, Deng Xiaolai, and the two cultivators into the tall tangle of grass.

What followed was pure chaos: snakes slithered, mice dashed, chickens squawked and scattered, rabbits bolted—all at once, the field erupted in wild confusion.

The first to run out were a flock of small mountain chickens, which Qingquan and Xiaobai pinned to the ground or clipped by the wings with swift bamboo arrows.

Soon, the mortals rushed into the nearest thickets or darted toward the fallen chickens, quickly gathering them up and stuffing them into baskets. The dead ones would be plucked and eaten, while the living ones, once treated with medicine, could be raised for meat and eggs.

These small mountain chickens were the descendants of a once-fierce ninth-rank beast, the mountain fowl, long since tamed by humans. They had lost all their wildness, and now only knew how to flee and cluck pitifully at the sight of people.

Unlike their clever ancestors, they simply ran in a panic when chased.

Besides chickens, there were also thick snakes as wide as a wrist, writhing through the grass, leaving trails behind—quite a sight to behold.

And the field mice—when a nest of them dashed through, they flattened the grass into paths.

Bamboo arrows whistled through the air.

But most of the attention remained on the chickens—everyone tacitly agreed they were the best catch. The chickens’ speed had been honed by years of evading snakes and mice; they used both feet and wings in their frantic escape.

Even so, not all of them could outrun the arrows. Quite a few managed to escape to freedom.

Still, with the cultivators focusing on them, the outcome was a bit tragic—every basket was filled to the brim. There were sixty-seven live chickens and another twenty or thirty dead, brought down by a poorly aimed arrow to the neck or head.

They also caught about a dozen gray rabbits, ordinary little beasts with large buck teeth but little fighting ability.

Most of the rabbits were dead, with only four survivors—three males and a single female. Qingzhen had the living ones treated with medicine and placed in baskets.

“Xiaohu, now we won’t need to buy breeding chickens or rabbits,” he said with satisfaction.

“Once they burn off the wilderness, even more rabbits will come running out,” Qinghu said, eyeing the lively contents of the baskets. Mortals couldn’t eat fierce beast meat every day—too much was a problem in itself.

These small animals would solve their meat supply nicely.

There were many types of fierce beast rabbits, but these were clearly descendants of once-domesticated breeds, so although they had gained their freedom, they hadn’t reverted to their wild, vicious ancestors.

The rabbits they’d caught were few not because the wasteland lacked them, but because most had burrowed underground, escaping while the cultivators focused on the chickens.

When they set the fields alight, the thick smoke and flames would drive the foolish rabbits out once more.

“That’s true. Deng Xiaolai, you stay here and watch over the land clearing. We’ll go pick fruit on that little hill. If anything happens, just call out,” Qingzhen instructed.

“Yes, young master,” Deng Xiaolai replied, secretly elated at landing a management role so quickly.

Seeing she could finally go pick fruit, Qinghu dashed off with Xiaobai toward the hill, full of excitement. “Hey, wait! We haven’t cleared the hill yet. What if there are fierce beasts?” Qingzhen called after her.

But Qinghu ignored him, running ahead regardless.

No sooner had she set foot on the slope than a black shadow swooped out and clamped onto her head. Sharp little claws like daggers gleamed coldly, aiming right for her face and neck.

With a well-timed punch, Qinghu smashed her fist into the creature’s head.

With a dull thud, a large bat-winged black rat tumbled to the ground. Shaken, it staggered upright, but before it could lunge again, Qinghu kicked it hard against a rock.

This time, it truly was dazed.

It whimpered weakly, then fell completely unconscious.

Qingzhen rushed over and expertly bound the big black rat with rope.

“Wow, Qinghu, you’re incredible! That’s a ninth-rank flying rat, and you knocked it out with brute force!” Qingzhen stared at his little sister in shock, realizing she’d transformed from a cute girl into a warrior. What was he to do with that?

“It’s just a baby flying rat. Of course I can handle it. I’m a fourth-level Qi Refinement cultivator, after all,” Qinghu said, brimming with pride.

“You dare take on a ninth-rank flying rat head-on at Qi Refinement level four? That’s impressive—truly worthy of being my sister,” Qingzhen said, giving her an enthusiastic thumbs-up. “Alright, now it’s your brother’s turn to perform. Stand here and hold the line—don’t move! Watch as your brother battles the ninth-rank flying rat!”