I’m the Villain, but the Female Leads Didn’t Panic—They Teamed Up with Me to Defy Fate - Chapter 3:

Chapter 3: Long Night at the Relay Station

The setting sun bled like fresh wounds, tinting the last light at the edge of the sky in a stunning yet fleeting shade. Before full night fell, the exile convoy finally reached their planned stop—a dilapidated structure nestled in a mountain hollow, with peeling walls and weather-worn stone.

Heishui Relay Station.

The characters on the signboard were so worn they were barely legible, emanating an aura of long neglect and decay.

Unlike the other prisoners, who were driven directly into the damp firewood shed, Chen Mo was treated a little differently. 

Although Wang Meng didn’t say anything outright, he tacitly allowed Chen Mo to be placed in a cramped storage room beside the stable. The room still smelled of hay and livestock, but it offered shelter from wind and rain—far better than being exposed outdoors or confined in the firewood shed.

[Ding! Successfully arrived at a safe point. Minor fate deviation avoided. Fate Reversal Points +5.]

[Current Fate Reversal Points: 65.]

The system’s prompt confirmed he was temporarily safe. Chen Mo leaned against the cold, earthen wall and let out a quiet breath. The whip marks on his back throbbed under the damp touch of sweat, while the gnawing hunger inside him felt like a dull knife slicing repeatedly into his stomach lining.

But his mind was remarkably clear.

Wang Meng’s shift in attitude stemmed from the value of that secret message. However, this kind of protection built on “value” was fragile. Once the message was delivered, or if Ling Chen exerted more pressure, Wang Meng would discard him without hesitation.

He couldn’t place his hope in someone else’s hands.

“I must recover my strength quickly and gather more information,” Chen Mo told himself silently. It was a habit he had developed while caring for his terminally ill mother—breaking grand goals into concrete, executable steps.

By the faint moonlight seeping through the broken wooden window frame, he began to examine the storage room. Aside from hay and broken farming tools, there were a few discarded jars in the corner and some shards of pottery with sharp edges.

His gaze lingered on those shards for a moment.

Just then, the wooden door creaked open slightly, and something dark was tossed inside, rolling to a stop at his feet. It was a coarse grain cake, still slightly warm and thicker than the one he had eaten before.

A low voice came from outside the door, “Eat it. Keep quiet.”

It was that youngest-looking officer under Wang Meng—Li Gou’er. Chen Mo remembered that it was him who had been ordered to dig up the secret message earlier that day.

“Thank you, Master Li,” Chen Mo rasped, not reaching for the cake right away but instead expressing his gratitude first.

Li Gou’er hesitated for a moment, then quickly whispered, “The boss has already stored the thing away and said he’ll send it to the county as soon as possible. You… be careful.” With that, his footsteps quickly retreated.

Chen Mo’s heart stirred. 

Wang Meng had decided to send the secret message to the county rather than continue escorting the exile convoy as planned. 

That meant he had his own agenda—either to claim credit for himself or to rid himself of this troublesome burden quickly. 

This benefited Chen Mo in the short term but also meant Ling Chen would likely receive the message soon.

He picked up the grain cake and began to chew slowly. The coarse texture scraped his throat, but he ate it seriously. Every bite was fuel for survival.

After finishing the cake, warmth slowly spread through his stomach, and some of his strength returned. He moved to the corner, picked up the sharpest piece of pottery, and tucked it into his sleeve. This insignificant “weapon” gave him a fragile sense of security.

Then he closed his eyes and began combing through his mental palace, searching furiously for everything he could recall from the original novel, Lingyun, about Heishui Relay Station and the early stages of the Northern Frontier arc.

In the original novel, this relay station was nothing more than a background detail. But now that he was living through it, certain details became much clearer. He remembered the novel mentioned how the Northern Army once experienced a minor unrest during this period due to delayed supplies of winter clothes and rations. Though Ling Chen had quelled it easily, it had exposed weaknesses in the logistics system.

He also recalled that near Heishui Relay Station, there was a small abandoned lime kiln…

And regarding the barbarians, aside from the secret message, there was another easily overlooked detail from early in the novel: the barbarian nobles were especially fond of a kind of wild fruit from the Central Plains called “red pulp berries” that were often dried into preserves. They treated these as delicacies and used them for bartering, exchanging them for seemingly trivial information or occasional favors.

These scattered details, originally mere tools to push the plot forward, now appeared to Chen Mo as threads waiting to be connected.

He needed startup resources. He needed a way to gather intel and materials without drawing attention.

A rough outline of a plan began forming in his mind.

He quietly moved to the door and peered outside through the gap. Night had deepened. From the main hall of the relay station came faint sounds of Wang Meng drinking and chatting with the station manager. The other officers and prisoners seemed to have already turned in for the night.

The opportunity had come.

He carefully pushed the door open a bit wider and slipped out like a ghost. His target wasn’t the main entrance—too visible and likely locked—but the row of low earthen buildings in the back courtyard that served as the kitchen and storage.

Relying on basic knowledge of ancient relay station layouts and fragmented memories from the original host, he quickly found what he was looking for. The kitchen door was slightly ajar, and the smell of leftover food and burnt wood hung in the air. Holding his breath, he scanned the interior by moonlight.

Salt blocks, some common dried herbs, and in the corner, a basket of slightly wilted but still vividly red wild fruits—exactly the red pulp berries from his memory!

His heart skipped a beat. He swiftly grabbed a few handfuls of the plumpest berries and stuffed them into his robe, then snatched a small piece of salt and some anti-inflammatory herbs.

The whole operation was swift and silent.

Back in the storage room, he shut the door, sat against the wall, and felt the soft texture of the berries in his chest, the cold shard of pottery in his sleeve, and the vague plan forming in his mind.

With his fingertip, he unconsciously tapped a steady rhythm on the dry grass beneath him.

First, use the red pulp berries to make preserves and find a chance to trade with lower-ranking barbarian figures for information or supplies.

Second, use the salt and herbs to treat his wounds and recover his mobility as quickly as possible.

Third, map out the area around the relay station, especially the abandoned lime kiln—it might serve as a temporary hideout or workshop.

These were minor things, but they marked his shift from being passively controlled by fate to actively shaping it.

The path of reversing fate began with this very step.

The night deepened. From the dark forested mountains beyond the relay station came the occasional chilling howl of wolves.

And above the relay station’s rooftop, in the shadows, a figure blended almost completely into the night. 

Silently, it watched Chen Mo slip into and out of the kitchen. In the moonlight, those cold, clear eyes flickered with a trace of faint surprise—then returned to stillness.

What was he planning to do with those sour red pulp berries?