The Witch in the Woods: The Transmigration of Hazel-Anne Davis Chapter 230: Ashes That Tasted Like Fear

Southern Reclaid Village

The air still slled like fear.

Not smoke. Not blood. Not even ash—though all of those clung to the thatched roofs and broken windows like moss. No, what lingered was sothing older. Sharper. The kind of fear that soaks into floorboards and stays long after the fire dies.

I dismounted outside the village square.

The people didn’t run.

They just stopped moving.

A woman with a laundry basket froze mid-step, the cloth slipping silently from her arms. A blacksmith’s hamr paused above a cold anvil. A boy, no more than nine, dropped a turnip and hid away behind his mother’s skirt.

They looked at like I was the storm that followed the plague.

Or like I was death.

I guess they weren’t all that wrong.

Shi Yaozu stood beside , silent as ever while Shadow padded three steps ahead, his tongue lolling, his tail high. It was clear that he was completely unbothered by the tension dragging the air like molasses. The others stayed back. This wasn’t a formation. It wasn’t a procession.

It was a warning.

We’d taken this village back three days ago. No fighting. No siege. The Baiguang scouts here had been pulled east to reinforce a failing flank, and the territory was left behind like a carcass no one wanted to claim.

Now, Daiyu’s flags hung on wooden poles.

And no one cheered.

Mingyu rode up beside , tugging his horse to a gentle stop. His voice was soft. "They think it was us."

I didn’t look at him. "It was."

"But it wasn’t us, you know that," he hissed, looking at confused.

"I know that. You know that," I agreed, dismounting from my horse. "But they can’t tell the difference."

The silence followed into the square like a second cloak. No one t my eyes. Not even the old n, the ones too stubborn to die and too proud to beg. I walked slowly, letting the sound of my boots replace the emptiness they’d left behind.

At the center of the square, a stone well sat half-covered in soot. A Baiguang crest had been carved into the side—hastily, like soone had done it with a knife instead of a chisel. It was half-burned now, hacked over with a dull axe.

I traced it with two fingers.

Soone behind whispered, "That’s her."

A child—sharp voice, too loud.

And then a rock flew past my head.

It missed. Barely.

It skidded across the ground behind and landed at Yaozu’s feet.

He didn’t draw his blade. He didn’t move.

I turned slowly.

The boy who’d thrown it couldn’t have been older than ten. Thin. Pale. Eyes bright with hatred and hunger. His mother gasped, pulling him back, already shaking her head.

I held up a hand.

"No punishnt," I said.

The soldiers behind stilled. Mingyu frowned. "Are you sure?"

"He hit nothing," I said. "Not even his mark. Maybe this will give him incentive to work harder and practice more so that the next ti he sees , he is actually able to hit ."

The boy looked like he wanted to spit, but he didn’t. That was smart.

I looked at his mother. "Was it you who fed them?"

She hesitated. "They had swords."

"And what do you think I have?"

She didn’t answer.

I turned back toward the well, crouched, and ran my fingers over the ash again.

"You saw the Daiyu uniform on them," I said. "You saw them burn your fields. Take your fathers. Beat your sons."

A few heads nodded. Others looked away.

"They weren’t mine," I said. "They never were."

I stood.

"But this uniform," I continued, brushing my fingers along the dark fabric of my coat, "obeys . Not them."

Mingyu shifted beside , uncertain. The Empress wasn’t here. Yaozu remained still. Only Shadow moved—pacing near the boy with the rock, watching him like he was a puzzle with too many missing pieces.

I stepped back toward my horse.

"This village is under Daiyu protection," I said aloud. "And under my na. No soldiers will pass through without my mark. No taxes will be taken this season. And if anyone wearing this uniform raises a hand against you again—kill them."

That made them look up.

Not all. But so.

Not with hope.

But with calculation.

At least it was a start.

Letting out a long sigh, I turned around. There was no point in staying long.

The supplies were delivered, the water well checked for poison, and the outer wall re-secured with tripwire and tal rings—my rings. It wasn’t a fortress. But it was a warning.

Mingyu caught up with as we rode out.

"You handled that better than I would have," he said.

"You would have smiled too much," I replied.

He glanced at . "And you smiled not at all."

"I’m not here to be rembered kindly."

He looked at the path ahead. "Then how?"

"As the one they feared enough to survive."

He didn’t speak again after that.

That night, in the strategy tent, Yaozu laid out the map again.

"Baiguang’s press is working faster than their army," he said. "They’re distributing leaflets in border towns. Drawings of you—burning rice fields. Holding a sword to children. So have you laughing."

I leaned over the map.

"They’re not trying to win anymore," I said. "They’re trying to make untouchable. Not politically, but personally."

Longzi was already standing at the far edge of the tent, arms crossed. "The more villages we reclaim, the worse it will get."

"Because we’re too fast."

Mingyu looked confused. "Too fast?"

"They can’t kill ," I said. "So they’re trying to kill what I an. If they make the south believe I’m a monster, then I stop being a weapon the court can use. I beco a liability."

The Empress arrived late, her cloak wet with snow.

She sat, folded her hands once, and said, "So what do we do?"

I tapped the map.

"We give them exactly what they think I am."

Longzi smiled faintly. "You’re going to confirm the myth?"

"No," I said. "I’m going to make it mine."

-------

When I returned to my tent that night, a basket waited for .

Inside: a child’s drawing. Crude. Blood red crayon. A woman in black burning houses.

The paper curled at the edges.

The ink slled faintly of lavender—sothing only sold in Baiguang’s eastern markets.

Yaozu entered a minute later, but he didn’t ask.

He saw it. Picked it up. Turned it over.

"No signature," he said.

"No need," I replied.

He burned it without asking.

And for the first ti in days, I sat by the fire and didn’t look away from the fla.

Let them draw in red.

They don’t know how close they were to the truth.