The line of refugees stretched long.
The setting sun was the color of blood. Sallow and emaciated, nothing but skin and bones, a crowd of refugees trudged onward, listless, like a horde of walking dead.
There were many of them, yet it was surprisingly quiet. The only sound was the soft shuffle of feet dragging across the ground.
The vast majority of them hadn't eaten in two days. Every ounce of energy was precious, so naturally, they had neither the will nor the strength to speak.
...No one knew how much farther it was to the next county.
The road ahead was uncertain, and they had nearly lost all hope, pressing on mechanically.
THUMP!
As they walked, someone suddenly collapsed. Their breathing was shallow and ragged.
Those nearby glanced over with numb eyes before looking away, dragging their increasingly heavy, weary bodies onward.
The person on the ground struggled for a moment, then fell still.
Qin Fang, his head wrapped in a tattered cloth, silently looked away. He blended back into the column of refugees, continuing his mechanical advance.
His coarse linen clothes barely clung to his now skeletal frame. The cloth belt at his waist was cinched tight, but it couldn't hide the cramping and growling of his stomach.
He used a reasonably sturdy wooden stick as a staff to help him walk. His lips were so dry they had split open in several places, the cuts clotted with dried blood.
Dust obscured his once-handsome face. Prolonged starvation had caused him to lose at least sixty-five pounds in just three months. 'Do I even weigh ninety pounds now?'
Now, his cheekbones jutted out sharply, his eyes bulged, and his cheeks were hollowed pits. The flesh seemed to have melted from his face, leaving only skin stretched taut over bone. There was certainly no trace of 'handsome' left.
Though a ragged cloth was wrapped around his head, the long hours under the scorching sun had made his skin peel again and again. Flakes of dead skin matted his features, rendering him completely unrecognizable.
His body was hunched. Though still young, he had the air of a man at death's door.
His gaze was dim, but he forced himself to stay alert, deliberately putting a fierce gleam into his eyes as he scanned his surroundings.
Suddenly, he stopped. Looking down, he saw that a mud-caked hand had grabbed his ankle.
"Save..."
The person on the ground struggled to lift their head. It was a woman. The filth on her face hid her features, and she was so thin she looked misshapen, but she seemed young.
Qin Fang paused for a moment, then with a slight tug, easily pulled his ankle free. She had clearly reached her limit; she lacked the strength even to clutch at straws.
Qin Fang staggered onward.
The light of pleading hope in the woman's eyes instantly vanished. She lay prone on the ground, her breath coming in faint gasps.
...'It wasn't that he was numb or selfish.'
He just knew that he could barely fend for himself. He simply had no spare energy to waste on kindness.
He had only taken a few more steps when he heard a rustle behind him. Frowning, he glanced back and saw several other skeletal refugees pouncing on the fallen woman.
When Qin Fang suddenly turned back, the refugees snapped their heads toward him.
Their eyes were bloodshot. They stared at Qin Fang, their faces numb and expressionless, and said nothing.
Qin Fang's brow furrowed. He met their gazes without flinching, the deliberate, fierce glint in his own eyes intensifying.
As if intimidated by his stare, they subconsciously averted their eyes.
But then, one of them grit his teeth. He stopped looking at Qin Fang and pulled a small Dagger from his rags. A savage, cruel expression twisted his features as he viciously slit the throat of the woman on the ground, who had yet to breathe her last.
The woman's eyes merely widened slightly. Her body gave a small twitch. She didn't even have the strength to struggle.
Blood welled up.
The man eagerly threw himself upon the wound and began to suck at it greedily.
...He was drinking her blood!
Seeing this, the others paid Qin Fang no more mind. They too pulled out Daggers and sharp pieces of iron, slitting the veins on the woman's wrists. Ignoring the filth, they shoved the cuts into their mouths and began sucking greedily.
The scene was instantly awash in blood!
The surrounding refugees panicked for a moment, subconsciously backing away.
Qin Fang's gaze remained steady. A murderous glint flashed in his eyes but vanished just as quickly. He turned away, his face a mask, and continued on his way.
"If I die, find a ravine and throw my body in... you hear me?"
A weak conversation started up beside him.
It was an old man and a young boy. They had also seen what the refugees behind them were doing. The old man, just as skeletal and weather-beaten as the rest, watched the scene. A look of confusion and pity flashed in his eyes before hardening into resolve. He turned to the boy beside him.
The boy was tall but rail-thin, like a bamboo pole. His open shirt revealed a chest as gaunt as a row of ribs. His eyes, however, were clear. He heard his father and his face filled with panic. "Father?"
"A peaceful burial is too much to hope for. I just don't want to fall into the hands of those Blood-sucking Ghosts after I'm gone... Better to be food for wild animals than to end up in their bellies."
The old man muttered.
The boy was left speechless.
Many of the refugees nearby fell silent.
And then...
They continued onward.
'There's nothing we can do.'
When people are starving, they're capable of anything.
Qin Fang had seen similar things more than once in the past few months. As soon as someone died, others would rush over while the body was still warm, slit the throat to drain the blood, and drink it right there, in front of everyone...
The first time he saw it, Qin Fang's scalp had tingled with horror, and his entire body had frozen.
But now...
He was numb to it.
The old man's request for his son to throw him into a ravine after he died made sense. With so many refugees, and so many dying, those 'Blood-sucking Ghosts' wouldn't waste the energy to go searching in a ravine for a corpse just for a mouthful of blood.