120 Make Way

August of the Natural Era, in the medieval world.
February 15, Year 0001, Wu Qingchen Era.
Lord’s Common Land, Akeley Village, Barony of Ackford.

The summer corvée, which had been interrupted by the mass accident involving the village’s draft oxen, had resumed.

The families who had some connection to the former oxherd Brown’s household seemed quite uneasy. Everyone was waiting for someone else to step forward and blow the whistle. The Sanchez family had dutifully taken turns keeping watch for two nights, but there had been no movement in the village.

Whether it was the disruption of their circadian rhythms from staying up all night or the hidden anxieties making sleep elusive, the moment the church bell rang for the first time, Sanchez, his wife, and their two sons—eyes red-rimmed—hurried toward the Lord’s common land.

The Sanchez family’s wooden hut was relatively close to the fields designated for the summer corvée, and they had set out quite early. As a worried Sanchez approached the final corner, the sounds of villagers who had arrived earlier—shouting greetings or chatting—already drifted from the direction of the Lord’s common land.

Amidst the clamor were expressions of concern:
"Wade, what happened to you? Why are you covered in mud?"
"Sigh, don't ask! I was in such a rush to get here that I tripped by the creek!"
"There's no need to be in such a hurry!"
"How can I not be? I have to talk to the plowman! If I’m late, I won't be able to get a turn!"
"Why see the plowman?"
"Tsk! Still the same business as before! My ox injured its leg and can’t pull the heavy plow. I get angry just thinking about it! Never mind, I’m going to go wring out my clothes."

There were also anxious requests:
"Neil, Neil! How is your work coming along?"
"Almost done."
"Sigh, I envy you. Can I borrow your ox for an afternoon in a couple of days?"
"Can't do it. You're too late; I already promised Grover two days ago. Why don't you ask the Connor family? Their ox didn't have any trouble last time, so they should be free."
"Sigh, I already asked, and it's been borrowed too."
"Is that so? Nothing to be done then. It’s been really hard to borrow an ox lately."
"Who isn't having trouble? Bastards! It’s all the fault of those damn bastards!"

Occasionally, a bit of good news would surface:
"Wayne, I saw your plot when I walked by the bridge earlier, tsk tsk..."
"What about it?"
"You've already plowed such a far-off plot! Did you borrow an ox? Tell me, how much hay did you give?"
"Same as you, just one bundle."
"Impossible! You can borrow an ox for just one bundle?"
"Ahem, I gave Old William one bundle!"
"Gasp! You can do that? Are you crazy? Isn't that paying twice?"
"Actually, it wasn't much. The total for both times is still less than what that black-hearted bastard used to demand!"

Standing at the final corner, having heard the content of these noisy exchanges, Sanchez and his family stopped one after another. They looked at each other, their faces pale without exception.

After about half a minute of silence, Sanchez was the first to regain his composure.
"Don't say a word. Just follow me."
After saying this, he offered his family a look of reassurance, and they slowly rounded the corner.

As new figures appeared, the villagers’ gazes immediately locked onto them.
"Someone else is here." "Look who it is." "Everyone is so early."

Upon recognizing them, the expressions of almost all the villagers shifted subtly.
"Oh, oh, if it isn't Sanchez! You’re here early too! No wonder you’re always calling me a lazy bones!"
"Tsk, how dare you address him so directly? So impolite? Aren't you afraid he’ll report you to his brother, and you’ll end up like my family last time, having to pull the heaviest plow with your ox?"

"Master Sanchez, can I borrow an ox? Oh, thanks to your ‘blessing’ last time, you left me with one chicken—might as well take that too!"

Sarcasm and insults hit them head-on. The family of the former oxherd’s younger brother, faces flushed and pale, followed Sanchez silently toward a corner at the far end of the path.

"Bastards!" "A family of bastards!" "What garbage!"
As they passed the villagers, sneers, curses, and spittle rained down on the five silent figures.

"You!"
As the youngest son, Kent had the poorest temper. When saliva hit his face, his eyes turned red, his fists clenched, and he prepared to rush at the crowd.
Sanchez, who had been prepared, grabbed him tightly. Like the nights before, he shoved his son forcefully, dragging him all the way to the distant corner of the path.

"Father..."
Sanchez released his grip, and Kent’s tears flowed immediately. "How can they be like this?"

How could they not be?
Sanchez offered a bitter smile.
When Brown was still the oxherd—no, when his father was still alive—their family had already reaped many benefits from the village by virtue of being the oxherd’s kin. Deep down, he knew that after years of smooth sailing, he had intentionally or unintentionally offended many villagers.

"Just endure it," Sanchez said, stroking Kent’s head. "Don't say anything. Once time passes and everyone forgets, it will be fine."
"How long will it take for them to forget?"
"How long..." Sanchez sighed. "If they don't forget this year, then next year. If not next year, then the year after. Life is long; there will be a day."
"There will be a day..." Kent repeated, looking around. His older brother and mother looked equally grim. "Is there no other way?"
"Who knows? We’re all tired from walking, let’s rest for a bit." With that, Sanchez led the way to sit under a tree.

Kent sat down with them, looking over his shoulder. Other village families were pointing in their direction, occasionally bursting into loud laughter.
*Hmph! A bunch of bastards!*
Kent turned his head away in anger. The words spoken by Green and Baker two nights ago flooded his mind:
*If it weren't for Los...*

As the family waited in silence, the number of villagers arriving near the common land gradually increased. Both sides of the path became lively, and more and more hostile glares were cast in the direction of the Sanchez family.

Time slipped away.
A long while passed.
From the direction of the church in the village center, the second bell for the summer corvée rang out.
By this time, the villagers assigned to the northern side of the village for the corvée had mostly arrived.
Under the trees, by the rocks, at the corners, and along the paths—everywhere was crowded.

The families who arrived early held onto nearby stones or branches to secure their spots. The families who arrived late, searching for a place to settle, had fathers pulling sons and mothers dragging daughters, sweating profusely as they squeezed through the crowd, occasionally shouting, making the scene even more chaotic.

Under these pressures, the villagers' loud arguments grew louder, and the taunts thrown their way became increasingly piercing. Kent clenched his fists tightly and buried his head between his knees.

Suddenly, the noisy clamor of the villagers ceased in unison.
What happened?
Kent looked up and immediately saw that at the end of the path leading to the common land, the villagers who had occupied the entire road and were jostling each other now parted neatly to both sides, like snow meeting a torch, clearing a path in the middle.

An exceptionally tall figure appeared in their sight.
It was Espir, the head of the Akeley Village watch!
As part of the village management, a person registered on the Baron’s parchment, and currently carrying out the duty of driving the serfs, the villagers hurried to make way.

Just like that, with Espir as the vanguard and seven or eight watchmen as followers, a large group marched down the path. Their pace was quite brisk, moving much more smoothly than when two or three nimble villagers passed.

Following behind this group, the pace of the serfs was much more difficult.
Once the watchmen passed, the villagers naturally shifted back to their original positions. The cleared path closed rapidly, and shoving and crowding were inevitable. Combined with the deliberate, playful pushing of some, the scene became even more chaotic.

The position the Sanchez family had chosen was relatively high. Kent stood up and saw clearly that in the midst of the chaos, Baker and Green were repeatedly pushed intentionally. Several arms, elbows, and knees slammed into them, accompanied by hidden kicks.

In that short distance, by the time Baker and Green finally arrived at the muddy common land, the two brothers, leaning on each other, were stumbling and bruised. Even among the serfs, all of whom were sweating and covered in dirt, they stood out.

Watching the wretched state of his two cousins, Kent felt a secret chill. He didn't know how long he had been lost in thought until there was another uniform silence at the end of the path, jolting him back to reality.

The crowd parted once again.
This time, it was the right-hand man of the steward, the rare clerk who could keep accounts and write, Thor.
Walking comfortably to a large tree, he sat on a stool brought by a guard, opened his parchment, and began to count the village families who were supposed to be there.

Not long after, the crowd parted for the third time.
The steward’s right arm had arrived at the common land as well, led by O'Connor, the foreman in charge of organizing the summer corvée. More than a dozen strong villagers pushed wooden carts, distributing baskets of farm tools to the villagers already checked by Thor.

After waiting about ten minutes, as some villagers received their tools and headed toward their assigned plots, Sanchez stood up. "Alright, let's go over too."

Following Sanchez’s words, Kent and his family stood up from the muddy ground and began to move toward Thor and O'Connor.
Logically, with some of the crowd having left, the path should have been much wider.
However, as soon as they left the cover of the tree, Kent immediately felt the unintentional crowding from the majority, and the hidden elbows and toes from some.

*It’s intentional!*
Kent instantly thought of the encounter his two cousins had suffered.
"Father..."
"Follow me! Hold on tight!" Before Kent could finish, Sanchez, who had been prepared, pulled Kent to his chest, shielding him firmly.
Even so, Kent took two hard hits.

*They are doing it on purpose!*
Just then, as Kent was once again feeling resentful, the noisy clamor of the crowd ceased in unison, and the villagers hurried to move aside.
The space around Kent quickly became empty.
Before his eyes, a path that was not wide but absolutely clear opened for the fourth time.

Kent saw clearly: with a figure who was short but not thin, dressed in worn but clean clothes, with a calm expression and a steady gait as the vanguard, followed by two high-spirited brothers and two strong assistants guarding their sides, the group of Wu Qingchen/Los walked over.

Limited by his experience and perspective, Kent didn't understand what "presence," "aura," or "prestige" meant.
But as he watched the group walk over, the villagers—just as they had for the head of the watch, the foreman, and the clerk—fell silent, retreated instantly, and made way in unison.

Watching this scene, in an instant, Kent fully understood why his father had been so cautious these past two days.

Undeniably, in the 21st century on Earth, there existed a large number of people with strong nerves who could find joy in suffering. Some called such people "tough guys," while others called them "clowns."

About half an hour after this scene occurred, in the "Dream Sky, You and I Together" video list, a newly produced video went viral at an incredible speed.

Using the scene of Wu Qingchen’s appearance as source material:
Wu Qingchen, walking at the front, had a pair of sunglasses photoshopped onto his eyes, a cigar on his lips, and his robe changed into a long trench coat.
Behind him, the two brothers, Idra and Grace, were also outfitted in standard cool gear, and the oxherd assistants on both sides were given menacing tattoos.
In the hands of the four, machetes, triangular spikes, nunchucks, and nine-section whips shimmered with cold light.

In slow motion, amidst intense music, Wu Qingchen took the lead, followed by his four followers, walking with the swagger of dragons and tigers. As they appeared at the corner, many villagers retreated immediately, the Sanchez family fell into chaos, and Kent fell to the ground, looking up with an expression of despair.

The frame froze there. Seven bold, blood-red, murderous characters jumped out one by one, filling the top of the screen:
*Young and Dangerous: Covering the Field with One Hand*

Field.
The field of the land.