Dimensional Supermarket - Chapter 24

The sky is painted with rosy clouds, the scattered ones bathed in a soft, hazy glow. As light and darkness meet, the world is breathtakingly beautiful—so beautiful that it almost takes one’s breath away.

“Let’s rest here.” Wu Yan chooses a spot.

They never travel at night. Even though they have a strong flashlight, it is rarely used, to avoid unnecessary trouble.

Additionally, traveling during the day is tiring enough, and The Lord Immortal doesn’t expect them to rush to a destination at a specific time. There is no need to hurry.

The group takes out the floral water, sprays it on themselves, and passes it around to others. They don’t mind the fragrance, even though it is strong and somewhat overwhelming. After all, insect bites are far worse than the scent.

They haven’t made a fire—they don’t need to. The heat itself is enough to feel like they are being roasted alive. Everyone is eating dry food, though Cao’er’s mother has also prepared cold dishes for them, served alongside dry cakes and biscuits. Even without the drought, it is an extraordinary treat.

“Aunt Li is willing to add sesame oil now!” Wu Yan says, laughing as he bites into his cold dish. “She used to be reluctant to use it.”

Cao’er shoots back, “You don’t know how expensive firewood, rice, oil, and salt are! Salt and oil are so expensive that landlords hesitate to use too much!”

The men around her chuckle. “Back in the day, my family didn’t dare to use too much salt!”

“To get some meat oil in the market, we had to head to town before dawn—otherwise, we’d never get enough fat!”

“Sesame oil is pressed from sesame seeds, right? How many sesame seeds does it take to make a small bottle?”

“Beans don’t yield much oil,” Wu Yan sighs. “If they don’t produce much, the price is high. Not many can afford it.”

“Who’d buy soybean oil when they can get animal fat with just a little more money?”

“My family’s oil press supplies oil to the town’s grain store. But business is bad, so they lower our price each year. I can’t afford to use too much when cooking.”

“These days, we have all kinds of oils—animal fat, soybean oil, sesame oil, rapeseed oil… There are so many kinds, and we don’t even think of them as rare anymore.”

Cao’er nods enthusiastically, agreeing as she says, “I love sesame oil. When my mother mixes cold dishes, she always adds a little, and it’s so fragrant!”

Mustard oil is also a favorite of hers, but she has to be careful not to use too much, or she’ll end up crying when eating.

As they chat, Sarah, who has been silent the entire time, suddenly stands up. Her eyes sharpen, her body tenses, and she leans forward, lips pressed into a thin line. She whispers, “Someone’s coming.”

Chen Liu is momentarily confused but whispers back, “Refugees?”

Sarah replies, “There are thirty of them. All men, armed with knives and axes.”

Everyone’s eyes widen in alarm. Panic sweeps over the group—they are all good people, and while they know such situations might arise, none of them have any experience dealing with it, and fear overtakes them.

Thirty people! They are vastly outnumbered!

Wu Yan quickly barks, “Weapons! Take out your weapons!”

Cao’er scrambles to grab her crossbow, but in her panic, she fumbles and drops it.

Sarah suddenly snaps, “Calm down! I’m here. What’s there to fear? This group came at the perfect time. It’s a chance for us to practice.”

Strangely, Sarah’s small frame seems to give everyone boundless confidence.

Wu Yan, regaining his composure, draws his long knife and orders, “Those with repeating crossbows, retreat to the back. Find some cover. Those with long knives and electric batons, gather close to me.” He worries about being accidentally injured by his companions and reminds them again, “Wait until they get close, then shoot arrows. When we start fighting, don’t shoot. We might hurt our own people while they’re unharmed.”

Cao’er wants to cry but has no tears. She never expected that as a woman, she would end up on the “battlefield.”

But she looks at Sarah, and somehow, an odd courage fills her. With her sister here, surely she won’t die, right?

They have to focus on surviving.

Soon, the firelight comes into view.

In the time they’ve been traveling, their night vision has improved—no longer as impaired as before.

Wu Yan holds his knife in front of him, steeling himself, and the others with knives and sticks gather around him.

The fire suddenly flickers and is extinguished.

Under the cover of darkness, the enemy closes in, but their exact location remains hidden.

The best move now is to scatter and flee in all directions. If the enemy can use the darkness, so can they.

But it’s clear Sarah has no intention of letting them escape.

Fleeing might be easy, but regrouping would be difficult. Not everyone knows the way back.

Sarah’s eyes meet Wu Yan’s, and he understands instantly. She has seen through his thoughts. He purses his lips, pushes those thoughts aside, and focuses on the woods.

The sound of dead branches snapping underfoot echoes from the trees.

Cao’er trembles as she crouches behind a tree. Her hands shake as she tries to load her crossbow, but the tremors make it almost impossible to steady the weapon. She reloads as quickly as she can, but her anxiety makes her hands clumsy.

Sarah’s voice is barely a whisper: “Here they come.”

It is unclear who fires the first shot, but a brief cry of pain rings out, disappearing quickly.

These aren’t ordinary bandits!

Ordinary bandits wouldn’t have been able to hide their movements like this.

Without giving anyone time to think, Sarah shouts, “Shoot!”

Even Cao’er, despite her fear, instinctively fires the first volley of arrows.

The crossbow can hold twelve arrows, and before Cao’er even realizes what is happening, they are already shot.

She quickly reloads and looks up, seeing the figures rush out of the woods!

She can’t count how many there are—just that they feel as formidable as an army. Her hands shake as she loads the crossbow again, the pressure only making her more anxious. The arrows keep slipping from her grip.

Wu Yan hears the clang of metal against metal as he blocks an incoming axe with his long knife. The force of the blow numbs his hand, and the knife almost slips from his grasp. He can’t see his opponent’s face, but the gleam of the axe’s edge is unmistakable.

When the knife nearly falls from his hands, Wu Yan instinctively shuts his eyes.

It looks like this might be the end.

He is going to die—