Even women who travel through time can become prime ministers and nobles.

Chapter 491 Returning to Rescue People

Just as the rebel soldier who was grabbing the woman's arm was about to get up, Shi Wanxia pounced on him, her knife plunging straight into his neck.

She didn't dare to look, but then she heard a "splat" sound and blood splattered all over her face. The warm liquid flowed down her cheeks, and the fishy smell made her stomach churn.

Upon seeing this, another rebel's eyes widened, he cursed "You're asking for death," released the woman, and reached out to hug Shi Wanxia's waist.

His filthy hands slid up her back, and he leaned close to her ear with a sinister grin: "You little brat, you dare to kill someone? Today I'll show you what I'm capable of!"

Shi Wanxia felt nauseous, and the wound on her back was painfully constricted by his grip. She suddenly raised her hand and threw the dry dirt in her hand into his eyes: "Go to hell!"

The rebel soldier, his eyes blinded by the dirt, screamed in agony, "My eyes! My eyes!"

He let go, covered his eyes and swayed wildly. Shi Wanxia took the opportunity to step back, and thrust the knife in her hand backward. The blade went into his chest and then pulled it out fiercely.

The rebel soldier fell to the ground, twitched twice, and then remained still.

Shi Wanxia stood there, leaning on her knife, panting heavily. The wound on her back had reopened, and blood was dripping down her clothes, spreading a dark red stain on the ground.

She looked at her hands covered in blood, her fingertips trembling uncontrollably—this was the second time she had killed someone, but she didn't regret it at all; she only felt that the anger in her chest had finally subsided a little.

"Miss...Miss, are you alright?"

The woman shakily got up, grabbed her clothes from the kang (a heated brick bed) and wrapped them around herself. Her eyes were filled with gratitude and lingering fear as she looked at Shi Wanxia. "Again...again, thanks to you..."

Shi Wanxia shook her head, her voice hoarse as if sandpaper had been scraped: "Sister, don't talk, hurry up and pack your things, we can't stay here anymore."

She walked to the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed), dragged the rebel corpses from the ground to the corner of the wall, covered them with a straw mat, and wiped the bloodstains off the kang.

"If other rebels come and see this corpse, none of us will survive."

The woman nodded quickly and nimbly packed a small cloth bag containing a few pieces of clothing, some dry food, and a small porcelain bottle. She handed the bottle to Shi Wanxia: "Miss, this is the remaining hemostatic medicine. Take it; your back is still bleeding."

Shi Wanxia took the porcelain bottle, a warm feeling welling up in her heart, her eyes a little red: "Sister, thank you... but I can't take you with me. I have two seriously injured friends and a child there. It would be too dangerous for me to take you with me."

"I'm not afraid!"

The woman suddenly grabbed Shi Wanxia's hand, her eyes filled with determination.

“Those rebels are inhuman. I’ll die if I stay. I might as well go with you. Maybe I can be of some help. I can cook and bandage wounds. Please let me come with you!”

Looking into the woman's eyes, Shi Wanxia hesitated—she really needed help. Cui Zhihao and Lin Yiyu were both immobile, and Yaya was still young. Having an adult around would provide extra care.

But she was also afraid of implicating her; if they encountered the rebels again, she might not be able to protect everyone.

"Girl, don't hesitate!"

The woman pulled Shi Wanxia toward the door, saying, "If we don't leave now, it'll be dawn, and the rebels will be out patrolling!"

Shi Wanxia gritted her teeth and nodded: "Okay, then come with me. Be careful on the way and don't make a sound."

The two quietly pushed open the courtyard gate and ran towards the City God Temple.

The night wind grew colder, whipping their hair wildly. Shi Wanxia's back ached more and more, each step she took felt like stepping on a knife's edge, but she dared not stop—she was afraid the rebels would catch up, afraid that Cui Zhihao and Lin Yiyu wouldn't get their medicine, and even more afraid that Yaya would be alone and scared in the temple.

After running for about half an hour, we finally saw the shadow of the City God Temple.

Shi Wanxia breathed a sigh of relief and was about to call out to Ya Ya when she heard Ya Ya crying from inside the temple: "Sister! Where are you! I'm scared!"

Shi Wanxia's heart tightened, and she quickened her pace to rush into the temple. She saw Ya Ya sitting by the haystack, crying while hugging a rag doll. Cui Zhihao was still unconscious, but his face was even paler than before. Lin Yiyu was leaning against the wall, his face pale. He wanted to comfort Ya Ya, but he didn't have the strength to get up.

"Yaya, your big sister is back!"

Shi Wanxia ran over and hugged Ya Ya. Ya Ya smelled the blood on her and cried even harder: "Sister, you have blood on you... Are you hurt?"

"My sister is alright,"

Shi Wanxia patted Ya Ya's head and then looked at Lin Yiyu, "I found the medicine, and this Sister Wang will help bandage the wound."

Wang Ying hurried over, took the medicine bottle from Shi Wanxia's hand, squatted down next to Lin Yiyu, and carefully untied the bandage on his arm—the wound was already festering and still bleeding. She gasped, quickly sprinkled some medicine powder on it, and re-bandaged it.

Shi Wanxia also walked to Cui Zhihao's side, put a wet cloth on his forehead, and changed the dressing on the wound on his back.

Seeing that Choi Ji-ho's breathing had gradually calmed down, she breathed a sigh of relief and leaned against the wall, the pain in her back making it almost impossible for her to open her eyes.

Just then, the sound of rebel footsteps came from outside the temple, and someone shouted, "We just saw two people running this way, search them quickly!"

Shi Wanxia's heart jumped into her throat. She quickly covered Ya Ya's mouth and shook her head at Wang Ying and Lin Yiyu, signaling them to keep quiet.

The temple door was ajar, and the footsteps outside grew closer. The light from the torches shone through the cracks in the door, casting swaying shadows on the ground.

"How to do?"

Wang Ying asked in a low voice, her eyes filled with fear.

Shi Wanxia gripped the knife tightly in her hand, with only one thought in her mind—even if it cost her her life, she couldn't let them hurt Ya Ya, Lin Yiyu, and Sister Wang, and she couldn't let Cui Zhihao suffer any more torment.

She quietly walked behind the temple gate, waiting for the rebels to come in. Her back wound was still bleeding, but she didn't feel any pain. She only felt that the blood in her body was burning.

The paper windows of the dilapidated house rustled in the night wind, sounding just like footsteps approaching from afar.

Shi Wanxia clutched the small knife in her arms; the cold iron handle stung her palm, but it also cleared her muddled mind somewhat.

The footsteps were heavy and disordered, the sound of rebel boots rolling over the gravel road, carrying the stench of blood, slowly making their way towards this hidden courtyard.

"Sister Wang,"

She lowered her voice and gently touched Wang Ying, who was hiding behind the pile of firewood, with her fingertips.

"Keep Yaya covered up tightly, and no matter what she hears, she shouldn't come out."

Wang Ying held the child in her arms, her lips trembling as she nodded. Ya Ya seemed to sense the unease, and shrank her little head into Wang Ying's neck, not daring to cry out.

Shi Wanxia glanced at that small face, her heart ached, and she hid the knife in her sleeve again, rubbing her fingertips against the hem of her clothes.

Just now, in order to disguise herself, she deliberately smeared soot on her face, and the rough hem of her clothes, covered in dust, rubbed against her skin. But now she felt it wasn't enough, not slovenly enough, not enough to make the rebels lower their guard.

The footsteps stopped outside the courtyard gate, followed by a violent banging on the door. The wooden door swayed precariously, almost collapsing.