After hearing Xiao Ye's analysis, Roy came to a realization. "You're right. There's no sign of looting. But… could it just be that this village is too poor to be worth robbing?"
Everyone knew the village was impoverished. A remote mountain village like this—how much money could it possibly make? If they managed to produce enough food to feed themselves for the year, that was already a blessing. Savings? Not likely. It wasn't until the film crew arrived that some of the able-bodied young villagers started earning a bit of side income by helping out on set.
Laila had always believed that people acted out of self-interest—whether for money or spiritual satisfaction, there was always some kind of benefit involved.
But this time, something didn't add up. This village was secluded, nearly cut off from the rest of the world. Attacking a place like this served no purpose other than to turn oneself into a wanted criminal. Unless the perpetrators thought they'd never be caught—or that even if they were, it wouldn't matter?
The entire event was shrouded in mystery. No theft, no looting, no killings—just pure destruction, like someone simply wanted the village wiped out. Could it have been the work of some group of psychotic lunatics treating this as a twisted game?
But if they were that deranged, Laila figured they wouldn't have stopped short of murder. People who would go so far as to destroy an entire village surely wouldn't hesitate to kill a few for amusement.
It was when she noticed Xiao Ye and his friends whispering off to the side that she called him over, hoping to get some insight from a professional.
"I discussed it with my guys just now," Xiao Ye said, "and they all think this situation is really strange. It might be tied to religion. We should probably avoid getting too involved."
Other than some sort of fanatical religious motivation, Xiao Ye and his team couldn't think of any logical reason behind what had happened.
Laila nodded, acknowledging the possibility. It did feel like the work of some extremist zealot. She was all too aware of the horrors that had happened throughout history under the guise of religion. If all the attackers did was destroy property without inflicting too much bodily harm, the villagers were—relatively speaking—lucky. As an outsider, she wasn't in the right position to interfere too much.
She could protect these people while she was here, but she wouldn't be staying forever. Once she left, they might suffer even worse retaliation. The best course of action would be to empower them to handle things on their own while she offered what humanitarian aid she could.
"Everyone, let's push through and help tidy things up," Laila instructed the rescue team, mobilizing them into action. Then she went over to speak with the military commander, hoping to learn more from him.
The military hadn't arrived immediately—they were soldiers, and needed proper orders to act. Before heading out, they had to get permission from their superiors.
Even among them, such a ruthless village attack was a first. Compared to other parts of Africa, South Africa was relatively developed. Incidents like this hadn't been seen in quite some time.
What infuriated the authorities the most wasn't the destruction or the injured villagers—it was the fact that this horrendous event had been discovered first by a group of foreigners. And not just any foreigners—some were internationally renowned figures.
If those people posted anything about the attack on social media, what kind of impression would it leave on the world? That South Africa was overrun with violent thugs?
Who would want to visit a country like that?
When Foska received word of the incident, he swept everything off his desk in a rage. He hated those troublemakers to the core. The government had worked so hard to establish a positive image internationally, to make the country better understood and accepted. And now? A bunch of thugs weren't just unhelpful—they were actively sabotaging everything!
As furious as he was, he knew he had to act fast. Carrying orders from his superiors, he rushed to the site, hoping to negotiate with Laila and persuade her not to publicize the incident. Ideally, they could contain the fallout. If not, at the very least, they had to show the international community that they condemned the violence and were taking decisive action against it. That was the best damage control he could think of.
On his way to meet Laila, Foska swore to himself that once the culprits were caught, he'd make sure they received the harshest punishment possible.
Laila wasn't surprised by his arrival. With something this serious, it would've been strange not to see any official response. The fact that they'd sent someone like Foska also made her realize he probably held more power and influence than she had initially thought.
"I understand what you're saying," Laila said after hearing his request. "No one wants to see something like this happen. I just hope those people are caught soon and that justice is served."
Foska replied solemnly, "You have my word, Director Moran. Even if you said nothing, we must resolve this. I still can't believe something so terrible could happen in my own country."
With the authorities stepping in, the military lending their support, and the film crew working under Roy's leadership to assist in the rebuilding efforts, the village quickly began to recover. Within a few days, it was almost unrecognizable compared to the charred remains it had been. If not for the lingering scorch marks and a few bandaged injuries, one might never guess the place had just been attacked.
To everyone's joy, people from neighboring villages had come to help after hearing what happened. Some contributed money, others manpower. The rapid progress in rebuilding was thanks to the collective effort of everyone involved.
In truth, this whole incident had little to do with the film crew. They could have stayed focused on shooting. But what they witnessed had left a deep impression, and many felt that helping out was the only way to ease the horror etched into their minds. Otherwise, they feared they'd be haunted by the memory—reliving that hellish scene every time they closed their eyes.
Roy felt the same. Though exhausted every day, he found the experience deeply fulfilling.
He hadn't grown up well-off. There were times in his childhood when he had no food and nowhere to sleep. The only reason he managed to get by was because he lived in a city—there were always ways to find food if you tried hard enough. But here, where social welfare systems were lacking, the only reason this village was receiving such extensive help was likely because of Laila's presence.
He had been pulled out of his hell by the sunshine that was now in his life—and so, he understood all too well the despair of having absolutely nothing. Helping these displaced villagers meant a lot to him. It felt like he was reaching back in time to help the boy he once was.
Laila approved of his actions. It was a rare opportunity—by offering kindness and help, one could receive healing in return. Still, her heart ached every time Roy returned late, looking utterly drained, covered in dirt and grime.