Chapter 115: Ying's Secret

The man called Na Yao was very tall, about two meters, his skin, like Ying's, a healthy wheat color, his features were straight, and he even had a pair of narrow peach‑blossom eyes with a bright red tear‑mole at the corner.

When he saw the dead clan member, anger surged in his eyes, and his look at Nan Qinghuan also grew fierce.

Nan Qinghuan naturally knew who they were—the wolf tribe rumored to eat people, but she saw that they didn't seem like cannibals, at most merely barbaric.

She was about to go look for them, but they came on their own.

She tightened her grip on a few corn kernels in her hand, straightened her back, and faced the man before her.

A breeze brushed by, bringing fresh air, yet she was drenched in sweat.

She knew that the more panicked she became, the worse it would be for her, so… she could only stay calm!

Having been in the tribe so long, she had learned to face all kinds of ferocious savages: the more you panic, the more they bully you; conversely, if you aren't afraid, they will respect you.

Na Yao pretended not to hear the clan members, went to check a few of them—who seemed to know a bit of medicine—sniffed, then furrowed his brows, and turned his head toward Nan Qinghuan standing there.

It was hard to imagine that the petite, oddly dressed female had killed his clansmen; a murderous glint appeared in Na Yao's eyes, then he strode to Nan Qinghuan's side, scanning her up and down, his peach‑blossom eyes filled with disbelief.

A female so tiny could kill his clansmen? He didn't believe it!

"Did you kill them?"

He asked calmly, unlike the savage rumors.

Nan Qinghuan held a Fruit Knife in her hand; her hand had been in her pocket, ready to pull out Pepper Water to attack them at any moment.

Seeing the leader wasn't overly brutish, she moved her lips and began a theatrical performance, "I'm just passing through; leader, do you think I have the skill to kill them?"

Na Yao saw she wasn't afraid and furrowed his brows, about to ask her, when he suddenly saw… what was that? On her shoulder was Ying's Totem; his face turned pale with shock, and his gaze grew dark.

"Are you Ying's female?"

Nan Qinghuan remained still, glanced at the Totem on her shoulder, gave a bitter smile, and lightly brushed the imprint with her fingertips; she seemed to still remember the sharp pain he had etched into her that night, and now… it was nothing!

She clenched her teeth and did not deny, "It was, but now not…"

"Now you are, too."

Suddenly, a sharp voice came from behind; she whirled to look and saw Ying, spear in hand, striding toward them.

"It's Ying."

The Wolf tribe's clansmen, seeing him arrive, treated him as a great enemy, each pointing their spears at him as if to kill him. Nan Qinghuan hadn't expected him to pursue them; she was about to reflexively call out to him, but recalling his resolute demeanor from last night made her feel so cold she didn't want to look at him any longer.

She clenched her teeth again and turned her face away.

"What are you doing here?"

Ying, seeing Nan Qinghuan alone here, felt great joy; his guess had been right—the earlier incident was a Rongdi plot, and he had almost been fooled into going to the Rongdi Tribe in vain.

His Huaner hadn't betrayed her, no.

His mood, which had been tangled, suddenly improved a lot along the way, but seeing her unhappy and standing with Na Yao, a storm brewed in his eyes.

"Huaner, stop causing trouble and come back to me, come, come to me."

He reached out to call her over, his breathing a bit unsteady, patiently trying to bring her over; he didn't like her getting close to other males.

This patient Ying almost left the Wolf tribe's crowd jaw‑dropping; is this still the cold, ruthless Ying clan leader? He's now so patiently coaxing the petite female? The Wolf tribe members were stunned; Nan Qinghuan saw his lowered posture trying to send her back, but she still felt deeply uneasy—if the Rongdi hadn't rescued her last night, she would have been killed by these Wolf tribe people long ago.

Thinking this, she let out a cold snort, ignored his gentle coaxing, slipped behind Na Yao, and whispered, "Chief, I have nothing to do with this person; please help me get rid of his entanglement."

When Nan Qinghuan said that, Ying's outstretched hand instantly clenched into a fist, the smile at the corner of his mouth froze, gradually turning to ice.

"Nan Qinghuan, what are you saying? You have nothing to do with me? You are my female, you are the Oum of my tribe, and you say it's nothing?"

His eyes seemed ready to spew fire; he was suppressing his inner rage, preparing to stride forward, pull her over, and take her back for a proper reckoning.

His words almost roared, scattering the birds perched in the trees; Nan Qinghuan ignored him, and Na Yao seemed to understand, lifting his head in a snort, "Ha ha, Ying, I never expected you'd have a day like this. Didn't I hear you said you no longer wanted her? Then she's now with anyone and has nothing to do with you?"

When those words left his mouth, Na Yao further shielded Nan Qinghuan behind him; seeing this, Ying's teeth ground in hatred, his eyes blood‑red as he glared fiercely at Na Yao.

"Na Yao, do you want to oppose me?"

Na Yao heard that, the smile at his mouth gradually faded; his sharp gaze turned to Ying, a slightly contemptuous smile, "Last time you said you'd never come here again; why are you back this time? Aren't you afraid that Father will kill you?"

Hearing that, Nan Qinghuan was a bit stunned—Father had killed Ying? Who was this Father? She suddenly recalled the night Ying was injured, but he never said who did it; had he quietly come here? What was he doing here? What was going on? Ying, however, strode toward them; although Na Yao was formidable in fights, he had already lost some momentum before Ying, and as he retreated step by step to protect Nan Qinghuan, Ying, swift as lightning, seized Nan Qinghuan's arm.

Then he pulled her forcefully toward him.

"Come here."

"Let go of me, I won't go back with you, let go of me."

Nan Qinghuan kept struggling to escape, but Ying would give her no chance this time; he held her tightly, pressing her against his chest, never loosening for a moment.

He embraced her so tightly, as if she were his life.

Indeed, she truly was his life; after being apart for just one night, he already felt he couldn't wait another moment.

Nan Qinghuan, taken into Ying's embrace, was held tightly; she tried to struggle free but was powerless, and when she lifted her head she saw a pair of anxious eyes staring at her intently, and in that instant she no longer wanted to struggle.

The man before her was drenched in sweat, his chest slick with perspiration, his hair a mess—clearly a weary traveler who had rushed to find her. Ying's feet were caked in mud, his soles worn by stones, blood trickling from abrasions, yet he paid no mind, simply holding her tightly.

Seeing this, the fortress she had built in her heart collapsed instantly.

Heaven, what a tragedy.

When Ying saw she had quieted, he finally exhaled, his eyes blazing as he stared at her, pressing her head against his chest, "Huaner, stop making a fuss."

She stopped fussing; fussing was useless. Listening to his strong heartbeat and the fresh grass scent emanating from him, at that moment her nose tingled, and she buried her face in his chest, silent.

Ying, seeing she no longer struggled, finally relaxed and looked toward the onlooking Ying, "Go back and tell him I won't come here again; consider the injury he caused me last time as settled, and if we meet again, he'll be an enemy."

A murderous glint flashed in Ying's eyes, a look he had never shown when looking at Nan Qinghuan before; he dropped the words and prepared to take Nan Qinghuan away.

"Come, I'll take you back."

Nan Qinghuan was about to say she wouldn't go back; she still wanted to go to the Wolf tribe to find corn seeds, but before she could speak, Na Yao shouted from behind, "Ying, you're leaving like that? Do you know your Father is injured?"

Hearing that, Ying didn't want to stay; he simply halted, uncertain, "Injured?"

He chuckled self‑derisively, "That's his matter, not mine."

Then he looked at Nan Qinghuan in his arms, reached out to gently stroke her long hair, his movement extremely tender, "We'll go back; Xiao Guai is waiting for you."

Nan Qinghuan didn't want to go back, was thinking how to make him go to the Wolf tribe, when suddenly Na Yao said from behind, "He's dying and you still won't go see him?"

The words made Ying turn his head instantly and glare at Yao, a flash of astonishment crossing his clear, sharp eyes, "What did you say?"