The Witch in the Woods: The Transmigration of Hazel-Anne Davis
Chapter 25: The General And The Coward

Chapter 25: The General And The Coward

The sun hadn’t yet burned away the mist when the villagers began to gather at the western gate with spears slung across their backs and laughter echoing like windchimes in the crisp morning air.

Sun Longzi watched from the edge of the camp, his black cloak damp from the dew, the collar pulled high to shadow his eyes. Today felt different—not just in the air, but in the cadence of footsteps, in the lack of hesitation in the villagers’ movements.

Zhu Lianhua hadn’t left his tent in days. His screams still echoed from behind the thick canvas—ragged and guttural, often followed by the violent crashing of furniture or a startled soldier stumbling away, white-faced and silent. No one mentioned the cage anymore. No one dared mention the scars. Not even Zhu Deming.

Instead, the Second Prince stood beside Sun Longzi at the edge of the village, their armor traded for plain tunics and hunter’s gear. Their hair was tied back simply, and their weapons hidden beneath layered cloth.

They weren’t soldiers today.

They were shadows.

And without the Third Prince constantly getting underfoot, now was the perfect time for the two of them to see the mountains from the villagers’ point of view. After all, they didn’t die every time they entered it, so what was different?

In fact, the villagers were heading into the mountains, the very ones that had devoured nearly his entire company. They walked through the same entrance, onto the same path...

And yet, they were smiling.

He saw a mother hoist a swaddled child to her hip, brushing hair from her daughter’s sweaty forehead. Her husband kissed them both and handed the woman a small bundle before slinging his quiver over his shoulder and heading off with the other hunters.

It wasn’t desperate, he noticed. No one looked starved, hollowed, or even rushed. They were casual. Familiar. Like people stepping into their own backyards.

Sun Longzi, followed closely by Zhu Deming, pressed deeper into the woods, boots silent on moss and fallen pine. When the woman with the child veered off, Zhu Deming went after her, while Sun Longzi stayed with the hunting party.

From a distance, the hunting party looked like nothing more than a group of villagers hoping for a decent catch. But Sun Longzi didn’t miss the way they avoided the southern ridgeline entirely, even though he had personally seen a large herd of mountain boar there just days ago.

They didn’t glance in that direction, didn’t even acknowledge the possibility of better prey somewhere else.

That meant they weren’t here for luck. They were following something—a route, maybe, or a rhythm learned through repetition. Wherever they were going, they knew they would find what they were looking for.

He slowed as they did, stepping behind a tree just as a massive buck crashed through the underbrush and fell beneath two precisely placed arrows.

Laughter rang out as the hunters cheered their catch, marveling at the size of the creature.

But it was what happened next that truly froze him in place.

A shadow moved from deeper on the path. Not a hunter. Not a man.

Sun Longzi’s breath caught in his throat when he saw the creature step out into the light. It was a massive wolf, but not like one he had ever seen before.

It emerged from the trees like a ghost, easily as large as a yearling bear, its coat a pure and terrifying black that seemed to eat the light around it. The beast didn’t growl or bare its teeth. It simply walked—calm and sure—as if it had every right to be there.

And the villagers didn’t even flinch when they finally spotted it after a moment.

"Is there any part she wants in particular?" one of the hunters called out with a grin. It was like he knew the animal, like it was one of their pets... But that was impossible? Right? No one had ever managed to tame a wolf to that extent.

The wolf lifted its nose, sniffed the air, then nudged the back leg with its snout.

"The shank it is then," the man chuckled, pulling a bone-handled knife from his belt and slicing clean through the joint. "Enjoy! Tell her to come visit us soon! We’ll have some stuff ready for her to take back."

The wolf picked up the leg in its jaws gently and padded off into the trees like a satisfied king.

Sun Longzi didn’t move. Not when the villagers packed up. Not when they passed within twenty feet of his hiding place, joking about the wolf being spoiled. Not even when a small boy glanced his way and squinted suspiciously into the trees.

He waited.

Because the truth was dawning on him, heavy and unwelcome.

They hadn’t entered the mountain the exact same way, no matter what it had looked like in the beginning.

The soldiers had followed a worn trail, straight and visible, lined with worn stones and familiar signs.

These villagers? They had moved like water around rocks—quiet, fluid, and without hesitation. They had turned when there were no markers. Taken forks that weren’t even visible until one stepped right onto them. They had ignored game that would’ve fed them for weeks because they already knew what they would find further in.

They weren’t lucky. They were informed.

More than that, they were protected.

Sun Longzi turned his eyes upward toward the high ridgeline. Somewhere, he knew, someone was watching—someone who had let those villagers pass unharmed, but shredded his men like paper.

His thoughts turned bitter. He’d lost dozens of Red Demons to that forest. Men he’d trained, bled with, called brother.

And yet these villagers went in without armor, without fear. Without consequence.

Sun Longzi’s hand gripped the hilt of the dagger tucked beneath his sleeve.

Whatever lay in those woods—it wasn’t natural.

But more than that, it wasn’t hostile to them.

The hunters returned a short while later, carrying the buck between them with easy banter. Their faces were flushed from exertion, not fear. Behind them, the mother with the sick child appeared again, her face lighter than it had been at dawn.

They strolled past him, unaware. Not a single glance toward the danger that should have been there.

Sun Longzi’s mind churned.

He’d seen the traps—razor wire hidden beneath leaves, spring-loaded stakes made from forged steel. Things that no average village could build.

He’d assumed they were remnants of old wars, or maybe left by a mad hermit.

But that was wrong.

They weren’t meant for everyone.

They were selective.

"Someone," he murmured under his breath, "is choosing who lives and who dies."

The realization settled in his chest like ice. He knew warfare. He knew traps. But this? This was...intimate. Surgical. And the work of a coward.

Whoever ruled that mountain wasn’t just powerful—they were deliberate... and they always chose the easy way out.

He took one final glance at the ridge, then melted into the trees behind the departing villagers.

Tomorrow, they would find out exactly what lived in that mountain.

Or die trying.