All Heavenly destiny reduced to ashes

At this point in the conversation, the rider paused, and then continued in a loud voice, "If you have any cold or fever, it will not matter, we will surely cure you all!"

Hearing this, the refugees with children were instantly stirred up with enthusiasm and began to step forward with inquiries. Then they were examined by some individuals from the camp who appeared to be physicians, feeling their bones and asking for their birth details.

"Selling oneself..."

Although An Jing himself had unusual physical roots and appeared somewhat tall for his age, he was indeed just over eleven years old, meeting this requirement.

Listening to the rider's words and watching the lines of refugees already queuing up with their children, he subconsciously clenched his fist: "Curing illness..."

"Sir, my daughter has frostbite..."

At that moment, he saw a father and daughter arrive at the front of the camp. The father knelt in the snow, holding his daughter in his arms, pleading with the leader and the physicians, "She really cannot die, please show some mercy..."

The girl's fingers and arms were swollen and purplish from the cold, and she was somewhat dazed. In An Jing's eyes, she was already at death's door, and it wouldn't be surprising if she passed away within the next hour.

The physicians, however, seemed unconcerned as they stepped forward, grabbed the girl's hand, rolled up her sleeve, and checked her bones, eliciting a quiet cry of pain. They then asked the father for the girl's birth details.

"Hmm." After confirming, the physician turned his head and whispered something to the leader at his side and the Scholar dressed gentleman, both of whom showed satisfaction.

"Treat her," the leader said calmly. The physician then took a pill from a box behind him, gave it to the girl with water, and applied a red-purple ointment to the parts of her body affected by frostbite.

The moment the ointment touched her skin, the girl instinctively let out a shrill scream, as if she were in agonizing pain from being scorched by fire.

But soon, the vacant look in her eyes returned to life, and she stared, dumbfounded, at her hand now covered in ointment. In disbelief, she turned her head toward her father, "Dad, my hand, I can feel my hand!"

"My child!" The father, who wasn't eloquent, knelt and wept with his daughter, then thumped his head several times against the ground in front of the riders and the physicians.

"Enough, step back." The leader, in a good mood, waved them off to continue seeing the next person.

The situation of this father and daughter was well known in the refugee camp, and many knew that the girl was unlikely to be saved. Seeing that the group of riders were actually willing to use their medicine to save her, with miraculous effects, the morale of the crowd soared completely.

They were now fully convinced that these men were house servants of a wealthy family, with a compassionate master!

Yet, An Jing, standing amidst the surging crowd, raised his eyebrow, scanning the entire camp.

He noticed several suspicious points.

First, the movements of the horse bandits were too practiced, obviously having undergone extreme training. The leader's strength was profound, and he was always ready to draw his saber and strike, his lone eye sweeping over the refugee camp without a hint of lax vigilance.

Furthermore, the Scholar standing behind the leader was inscrutable. His mother, Lady An Shen, had decent martial arts skills, reaching the 'Inner Breath like Silk' level, thoroughly established as a Martial Artist, no longer just a village performer.

An Jing could assess his mother's level of ability, but he couldn't see through that Scholar at all.

This meant either the man had attained the Art of Magic or 'Inner Breath as Vast as River' level!

With such training and strength, if they truly were servants of a wealthy family, they must belong to a grand clan—but why did they not give their family name?

"There's something strange... but they really have medicine."

An Jing murmured to himself. Having seen the girl he had deemed a lost cause be cured, he fully believed the group had medicine that could heal his mother.

This didn't seem much like slave traders.

Slave traders only needed children because children had resale value and fundamentally, they needed money; they seldom, if ever, took in sick children, let alone treat them.

These people seemed to actually need the children themselves and were therefore willing to spend money on their treatment.

"Is Da Chen raising 'Loyal Warriors', or could it be a hidden Sect? They're checking physical roots and asking for birth details, it's too detailed."

An Jing frowned slightly. If it were an ordinary noble household, he wouldn't mind selling himself into servitude to exchange for medicine for his mother. Even if they mistreated or killed their servants at will, he was confident he could escape from an average aristocratic family.

Even with slave traders, he had the confidence to bargain with a tiger, finding an opportunity to break free from their grasp.

But facing this 'Mysterious Person' with unfathomable origins and a background too great to perceive, he found it difficult to make up his mind—who knew if they were from some Evil Sect of the Southern Border, a Heaven's Will Demon Sect, or some Monsters/Demons from the depths of the mountains.

——Well then.

Setting aside the doubts that came naturally to his mind, An Jing shook his head slightly.

Regardless, the actions of the people before him were 'good deeds' that saved lives. And he had no other choice at this moment.

An Jing closed his eyes. He thought of his mother whose condition deteriorated day by day and was on the verge of death.

If he sold himself, he would only risk death, and the likelihood of survival was high. Without treatment, his mother was undoubtedly doomed.

There was nothing to hesitate about. Opening his eyes, An Jing took a step forward and headed toward the camp of the riders.

At this moment, many children and families had decided to sell themselves.

To sell their children was a way to survive for both parents and offspring, especially since this group of riders was generous, providing treatment and distributing food reliably. Every family with children was eager to participate.

In just a short time, over twenty children had been gathered. After receiving their share of food, the parents stood aside, gazing at their children from a distance with complex emotions in their eyes.

Only An Jing walked alone, stepping through the snow.

"Hmm?"

At that moment, the one-eyed leader's companion, the Scholar in White, sensed something and turned his head toward the direction An Jing was coming from.

At first, his gaze was indifferent, but it quickly focused, becoming piercing and intense.

Influenced by him, the one-eyed leader, who had not been paying attention to this direction, also turned his head and saw An Jing.

Then, the one-eyed gleamed.

An Jing was still young and not quite seven feet tall, with a thin physique. At first glance, he seemed like the most common refugee child, only taller, which did not stand out among the people of the Northern Border.

But both the leader and the Scholar were Martial Artists, and they could see that the youth before them had a solid bone structure and was full of Blood Qi. Despite his outwardly skin and bone appearance, this was just a façade.

"Are you offering yourself for service?"

Steering his warhorse in a new direction, the one-eyed leader looked at An Jing with interest, "If it's you, I can make the decision to give your family two bushels of fine rice."

"My lord."

An Jing lifted his head, his gaze fixed on the stern, Evil Qi-filled ranks before him.

He faced the smiling lead horseman, bowing respectfully with clasped hands. There was no fear in his eyes and he spoke evenly and firmly, "I am willing to offer myself in servitude, but not for my own sake, but to procure medicine for my mother."

"My father was a successful candidate in the imperial examinations, and my family has inherited Martial Scriptures, far from a common Martial Family. I am also in good health, without ailment or pain. Life is hard on this ice plain, but I have no need to sell myself short."

"However, my mother has suffered an injury to her lung channels and is in urgent need of Lung Medicine for treatment."

"May I ask if the lord could bestow a dose of medicine?"

"I am worth this price."

Upon hearing this, the leader's smile faded. He narrowed his single eye, evaluating An Jing from head to toe, then suddenly urged his horse forward, rushing towards An Jing and stopping by his side.

The massive warhorse of the northwest, like a flesh and blood chariot, gently leaped down, causing the ground to tremble slightly. Even though one knew they would not be hit, when such a behemoth charges toward oneself, most people would instinctively dodge.

But An Jing maintained his previous posture for making a bow. Not once did his eyelids flutter, nor did his expression change in the slightest.

"Good."

The one-eyed horseman exclaimed, "Without training courage, one is doomed on the battlefield. You said you had practiced Martial Arts, which I initially doubted, but now I believe it."

He revealed a gratified smile, "You indeed are special, but whether or not you are worth this price..."

The one-eyed horseman and the Scholar in White exchanged a glance, the Scholar teasingly commented that he was 'not much different from you back in the day,' and then he disappeared.

At that moment, An Jing's pupils contracted slightly—he couldn't see the Scholar in White's movements at all!

The one-eyed leader dismounted as well.

He was tall and towering like an iron tower. His Blood Qi was so abundant that the falling snowflakes melted instantly upon touching his body, and his steps were heavy as he walked.

If one didn't know he was human, and only felt the weight of his steps, it was almost like a wild yak roaming the high plains.

The stench of Evil Qi was heavy, and the bloodiness on the one-eyed leader was even more intense than that of horse bandits who looted the wilderness all year round. After carefully scrutinizing An Jing, he smiled contentedly, "Though thin, you have a solid foundation; no wonder you have such confidence..."

Before he could finish his sentence, he reached out and grabbed An Jing's arm, pressing firmly to feel the bones and flesh.

"Good bones!" he praised. The one-eyed leader even felt as if he was kneading perfected steel or ice that had been frozen for hundreds of years, "Solid bones, full marrow, correct length, good, good. Such a find is rare in decades..."

During this process, aside from pain, An Jing felt an invisible Qi Force exuding from his hand, pressing on the large acupoints all around his body, bringing a medley of sensations: soreness, numbness, and itchiness.

He remained expressionless, silently enduring, pondering to himself.

This was no ordinary technique, but the 'Inner Breath as Vast as River', a method of Martial Artists whose Inner Breath could emanate from the body!

This surging Inner Breath... the man must be at the level of 'Inner Breath like Tide'!

Just then, the Scholar in White reappeared, nodding slightly at the one-eyed leader. The tall man withdrew his hand, gave An Jing a profound look, and mounted his horse again.

"You indeed are worth it," he said to An Jing from atop his horse, "This is yours now."

At that moment, on the other side, under the arrangement of the Scholar in White and the physician, various medicinal herbs and food were piled into a large chest, which the two men then carried over to An Jing.

"These medicinal herbs and food are enough to heal all of your mother's injuries and deficiencies, enough for a hearty meal for both of you."

"Pick it up and take it to your mother," instructed the one-eyed leader.

"Then come back."

He had nothing more to say, for both he and An Jing knew the consequences of failing to honor a commitment.

An Jing glanced at the chest that was as large as his torso and weighed at least a hundred pounds. He knew he was lucky; for some reason, the one-eyed horseman was very generous and held him in high regard.

The grains and medicines in the chest, in this Northern State ravaged by the Frost Calamity, could buy ten people's lives.

But An Jing did not hesitate. Bending down, he gripped the handles of the chest and lifted it all at once, hoisting it onto his shoulder.

"Thank you, my lord."

Though his breathing was somewhat labored, An Jing could still speak. After speaking, he carried the chest on his shoulders, turned around, and strode back to the shelter he shared with his mother.