Chapter 331: If Someone Were in the Mountain

"I'll tell you one—"

"Wu wu wu......."

"You can't—"

"Wu wu wu wu......"

"Wait a minute—"

"Wu wu wu wu wu......"

"Don't—"

"Wu wu wu wu wu wu......"

"Wu!"

Bao Yue froze.

Wang Yang: "Wu Wu Wu......"

Bao Yue sniffled:

"You... you... cry... what... what..."

Wang Yang replicated Bao Yue's sobs with perfect precision, even mimicking the stuttered cadence of her final syllables:

"H-how... how... could... you... only... let... you... you cry..."

Bao Yue, hearing Wang Yang imitate her crying, felt like she was watching someone go mad—she nearly laughed, but tears still fell like broken beads, pattering down. The last time she had cried like this was when her mother died; since then, she had learned to swallow her tears, even when her eyes turned red, she would shed them silently, turn away, wipe them off—never again like this, never so broken. Perhaps she had held on too long; once her guard fell, the tears could not be stopped:

"I'm crying because... because of you... what's so sad about you?"

Wang Yang pretended to cry even harder:

"I only now... realize... realizing... stopping crying is much harder than making someone cry... I can make you cry... but I can't stop crying... so... I can only cry to stop crying..."

Crying required atmosphere—it demanded momentum, total immersion. Bao Yue's momentum had been shattered by Wang Yang's interference; half her tears had turned to laughter. She tried to suppress the absurd amusement, but it rose like a buoy in water, stubbornly breaking the surface—so now she cried with laughter:

"You... you rascal... what kind of 'crying to stop crying' is that..."

Wang Yang stopped feigning tears and sighed with deliberate grievance:

"I have no other choice—I must emulate the ancients. The ancients used war to stop war; I must use crying to stop crying..."

Bao Yue cried and laughed, ashamed of herself; thinking of the word "ugly," she became certain she looked hideous now—and that Wang Yang had seen it—she felt both shame and fury, and her suppressed hurt surged back, tears falling even faster.

Seeing Bao Yue's crying threaten to reignite, Wang Yang said:

"Let me tell you a story..."

Bao Yue wept into the fur rug, her voice muffled and dull:

"I don't want to hear..."

"It's a story about crying—"

Bao Yue's sobs softened; she listened as Wang Yang continued:

"Once, there was a wealthy household. The mistress gave birth to a child—not just ugly, but—"

Bao Yue lifted her tear-streaked face and couldn't help muttering through her nose:

"What do you mean 'not just ugly'..."

Wang Yang spoke like a storyteller, rhythmic and dramatic:

"Not just ugly—it was extremely ugly."

Bao Yue's eyes welled, but she couldn't suppress a smile:

"Nonsense! No child could be that... that ugly..."

Wang Yang waved his hand dismissively:

"You can't say no one is ugly just because you're beautiful."

Bao Yue cried, yet her lips twitched upward.

Wang Yang continued smoothly:

"The mistress always thought her child was beautiful. The servants dared not speak the truth—they all praised how lovely the child was. The mistress was delighted, took the child out into the street—and everyone said the child was ugly. Furious, she argued with the passersby. But there were too many of them; she couldn't win. She sat on the ground, clutching the child, and wept. Then a young lord passed by, a man of chivalry. Seeing the crowd bullying a lone woman, he flew into rage, rushed over, and shouted: 'Do you have no mercy at all? This lady is heartbroken! The monkey in her arms is so hungry it's lost all its fur!'"

Bao Yue broke into laughter, tears still streaming.

Wang Yang closed his eyes again, thinking: I wonder how Xiao Shan is? She must be frantic...

The heavy darkness pressed down on the deep, ancient forest; moonlight was sliced into fragments by dense branches, and the ground resembled a vast, rotting carpet, emitting an unpleasant odor.

Chen Chen Chen Qingshan struggled through thorny thickets; sweat seeped into fresh cuts, stinging and burning.

She had lost all sense of direction; she moved only by instinct.

It was not walking—it was fighting.

Her clothes were torn in places; blood streaked her arms and legs. Exhaustion washed over her in waves, battering her will—but she would not stop.

Her spear was still with her,

her life was still hers.

Le Luo Luo said that no Han person, regardless of status, survived if captured by the Yidu barbarians—there was no chance of return.

She did not believe it.

As long as she had not seen the corpse, it was not death.

The gentleman lives ten thousand years—he had said so.

With this simple thought, she plunged into the vast, endless forest.

At first, a patrol accompanied her; but as hope faded, they either fell behind or turned back. They urged her to return too, saying that according to Yidu barbarian custom, if they showed themselves, they had already relocated. Before relocation, they only had a rough direction; after, they vanished completely. This region's forests stretched endlessly—days of walking led nowhere. Without knowing their location, it was like fishing for a needle in a river, searching for sand on a beach. Most importantly, after chasing so long without catching them, either their direction was wrong, or too much time had passed and the enemy had already returned. Either way, saving anyone was now impossible.

Had the other search parties thought the same and given up?

Chen Chen Chen Qingshan didn't care—she would not give up.

The deeper and denser the forest, the harder it became to move. At first, she could climb trees for a view. But as the trees grew taller, the mist thicker, her strength waning, and the thorns more tangled, her world soon shrank to only the space her spear's tip could reach.

Her only hope was this: any path walked by humans, no matter how hidden, must leave gaps. She searched for those ambiguous openings and followed them, like a stubborn, blind insect, inching painfully deeper into the forest.

She climbed over a massive boulder; beneath her feet lay a moss-covered forest floor, even denser and more obscuring than before. Chen Chen Chen Qingshan planted her spear's shaft on the ground, braced herself with one hand to catch her breath—then, without warning, her body lurched backward!

Simultaneously, her spear lashed like a serpent, slicing through the thick vines to her right with a muffled rush!

A sharp silver glint flashed past Chen Chen Chen Qingshan's nose—thwack! —it embedded itself in a tree trunk. The spearhead tore through the vines, sending splinters flying!

From among the splinters, a shadow darted out like a ghost, lunging at Chen Chen Chen Qingshan.

Chen Chen Chen Qingshan yanked her spear back—but the phantom advanced like a mirage; her spear's return was too slow—

A pinpoint of cold light flashed in the dim forest—aimed straight at Chen Chen Chen Qingshan's throat!

The attack was lethal, and too fast—Chen Chen Chen Qingshan could only twist her head aside; the icy blade grazed her neck, drawing a thin line of blood.

The attacker struck again without pause, spinning and thrusting!

Chen Chen Chen Qingshan whipped the spear's butt upward, smashing it into the attacker's arm bone!

The attacker gave her no room to retreat, nor did he step back—he spun sideways around her body—

In an instant, the blade switched to his left hand; before the turn was complete, another strike came!

It was a reverse thrust aimed at Chen Chen Chen Qingshan's waist!

Chen Chen Chen Qingshan exploded with abdominal strength, driving her knee upward!

The attacker reacted swiftly, changing thrust to slash—but Chen Chen Chen Qingshan's pull-in and knee-lift forced his blade off course by inches; it scraped along her ribs, tearing a deep gash in her clothing!

Chen Chen Chen Qingshan swung her spear back, retreating—but the attacker clung to her like a leech, never leaving her side, his silver dagger flashing in rapid strikes, each aimed at a vital point!

In close combat, the long spear was unwieldy; the opponent's skill was too great, his assault too fast and fierce—death could come at any moment. Chen Chen Chen Qingshan made a split-second decision: she deliberately slammed her left shoulder into the silver dagger, twisted her body, and with a flick of her wrist, hurled the spear upward!

The spear spun through the air, carving a cold arc.

Beneath the cold light, two figures clashed swiftly, sending droplets of blood flying!

Needle-point stabs sealed the throat's chill; spear shadows piled thick, piercing the moon's cold glow.

The spear shadows fell; Chen Chen Chen Qingshan leapt upward, her bloodied right hand reaching out to grasp the spear's shaft mid-air!

Wind surged sharply, the roar split, blades spun.

The spear swept out with thunderous force, its wind scattering decaying leaves in all directions!

As Xin Yi raised her head, the killing intent struck.

The hairs on her nape stood up—she rolled instinctively, diving to the ground!

The spear blade sliced past Xin Yi's head, knocking loose her hairpin, sending strands of hair falling like rain!

Xin Yi's long hair tumbled, her face pale, she rolled helplessly across the ground, leaving chaotic trails.

Chen Chen Chen Qingshan reclaimed her ground, her phoenix eyes sharpening—she thrust her spear forward!

At that moment, Chen Chen Chen Qingshan suddenly halted, stepping behind a tree.

Xin Yi likewise crouched low in the grass, not rising.

Soon, two figures walked past, stopping a dozen steps away, scanning around.

One said: "There's nothing here!"

"Hmm, seems like it's really gone."

"What did you see?"

"I thought I saw a shadow move."

"Just a mountain cat."

"As long as it's not a mountain ghost."

"With the Divine Messenger here, would a mountain ghost dare show up?"

"True. Our God watches above."

"Our God watches above."

"Hey, I heard the Divine Messenger can summon lightning with a wave of his hand—is that true?"

"Of course! One flash of lightning, and all nine offering basins on the altar exploded!"

The man gasped: "Ah! Really?!"

"Do you think I'm lying? They all exploded at once! My cousin's sister-in-law's husband's nephew's friend saw it with his own eyes—sparks landed on his palm and burned a blister this big! It hasn't faded yet! You remember Huan Xiao-san?"

"Which Huan Xiao-san?"

"The one who couldn't draw his bow after encountering the bear."

"Oh right—I heard his hand was shaking, cursed by a malevolent spirit."

"Exactly him. After the Divine Messenger blessed him, he could draw his bow again."

"My Pan Wang! I want to go tomorrow too!"

"Go ahead—they'll even feed you!"

"What?! What kind of food?!"

"I don't know exactly, but they give you food for free—I'm taking my whole family."

"Count me in! My uncle's family lives in Chengzhai—can I get food there too?"

"Of course you can..."

The two chatted a few more moments before someone called them, and they left.

Once they confirmed the surroundings had fallen utterly silent, Chen Chen Chen Qingshan and Xin Yi both flashed out at once, locking eyes—cautious, yet studying each other...