Chapter 32: True Teammate

Amid the howling wind.

The Arcanine seemed to have figured out a way to carry a person down. It retreated a few steps, then burst into a sprint, leaping deep and bouncing between rock walls, and in the blink of an eye had climbed several meters high.

Charge!

All Baimu no longer hesitated, pouring every ounce of strength he had into running.

The wind muffled his footsteps, so at first the enemy clearly didn't notice, his attention fixed on the miserable Quicksand team member on the boulder.

By the time he realized the Quicksand team member was staring past him in delight, and the instant the wind died down, a sudden violent clatter of hooves rang out from behind—he whipped his head around to find All Baimu already less than fifty meters away.

"Battle!"

He saw the man roar, a Poké Ball's release-light flare at his side, and the Hound Pack member's wristband lit up instantly to respond to the battle.

At that moment, the Arcanine that had leapt to the peak hadn't yet had time to bite the Quicksand team member. Catching the enemy in its peripheral vision, it chose to drop down at once, without the slightest hesitation.

Unbeknownst to it, at the very same instant the Hound Pack member had just pulled out a second Poké Ball—but before he could open it, the ground beneath his feet suddenly buckled upward, throwing his legs off balance.

Immediately.

A great surge of purple smoke burst forth from some unknown place, blocking his and the Arcanine's line of sight; the choking, thick fog left him coughing uncontrollably.

"Ao-woo!"

The anxious Arcanine, having just landed, heard only a single scream from its trainer. Just as it was about to pounce toward the sound, a noisy buzz of wings swept in from far to near in an instant.

The next moment, a visible sound wave punched through the purple smoke; the terrifying, sustained drone contorted its face in agony, as though pinned in place by a hydraulic press, unable to advance an inch.

By the time the Arcanine finally recovered, its trainer was already pinned to the ground by All Baimu, a dagger glinting coldly pressed against his throat.

"You'd best let go of that Poké Ball and that knife, or how much blood you'll lose, I can't say."

All Baimu applied a little more force; the stabbing pain made the gritting-teeth man release both the Poké Ball and the knife in his hand.

"Grrrr—"

The Arcanine lowered its body and growled, clearly itching to pounce.

He glanced at the giant mastiff. "Let's gamble—do you pounce faster, or do I cut faster? Or you can pretend you don't understand and keep growling, but don't blame me for what happens next. Care to bet?"

"... Whine."

The Arcanine saw the fresh blood welling at its trainer's throat and immediately dropped its threatening posture.

The Hound Pack member bit his lower lip, desperate to order his Pokémon to fight to the death—but the pain in his neck and the terror of imminent death left him gasping for air, utterly unable to respond.

Between life and death lies a great terror; very few can truly throw it all away.

"Baimu! Save me! Get me down, quick!"

The Quicksand team member on the boulder saw All Baimu as if he were a savior, shouting in a mix of agony and excitement, "I can't hold on much longer!"

"Vibrava, go give him a hand." The latter, while rifling through the Hound Pack member's pockets, gave Vibrava its orders.

After a week of相处, the fellow had become fairly obedient—though it occasionally showed signs of acting on its own, it basically wouldn't defy his decisions. Hearing his command now, it swiftly flew to the bamboo-shoot-shaped boulder, rescued the imperiled teammate, and set him down on the ground.

Coincidentally, All Baimu had also found the Arcanine's Poké Ball, recalled the glaring, hostile great dog, and stuffed it along with the other two Poké Balls into his own pocket.

The winning side may seize the loser's Pokémon, but after the match ends, the loser has the right to buy them back.

He frisked the Hound Pack member some more, ignoring the man's vicious glare, took the backpack and anything suspicious, removed the wristband, then bound him tight with a prepared rope and gagged his mouth.

At this point, the Hound Pack member before him was thoroughly no longer a threat.

All Baimu finally had room to catch his breath.

"Phew…"

Mid-air, the two Rotom-Drones exchanged a glance; one flew off, the other slowly descended.

"You have received tips totaling 550,000."

"550,000?" All Baimu was taken aback. "Can you tell me who sent them?"

The Rotom-Drone said nothing and silently flew back to a low altitude of three meters off the ground.

Looks like there's no such lookup function.

He felt a twinge of regret, politely thanked the tippers, and quickly calculated thirty percent of 550,000…

A little over 160,000.

Just as he thought.

Crisis does, on occasion, come hand in hand with opportunity.

No wonder the Quicksand team members clearly knew how dangerous this match was, yet still held on to their greatest expectations.

"Roggenrola, go grab my bag for me—it's right where we were just now."

"Goo!"

All Baimu gave Roggenrola its errand, then thanked Vibrava and recalled it into its Poké Ball, took off his cloak, and tossed it along with a capsule to his teammate.

"This is a special-effect painkiller. Did you call for rescue?"

"Called."

The teammate slumped on the ground, his broken ankle draining the color from his face in agony, yet he still used the cloak to cover his vitals first thing. Then, after a moment's hesitation, he swallowed the capsule whole.

Soon, the ache in both feet began to ease.

"... Thanks."

"No problem." All Baimu shook his head. "Who did this to you?"

The man hesitated, then asked in return, "Where did you just come from?"

"The north. Why?"

"Looks like you didn't run into him. Yeah, I'm talking about Jian—that guy's way too strong. I didn't stand a chance."

"Meaning his Pokémon are still in perfect condition?"

"Yeah… same as yours."

The teammate said with a complicated expression—taking down a person so effortlessly, even by ambush, was proof enough of his combat ability.

"What Pokémon did he use?" Baimu's expression didn't change as he tried to gather as much information about Jian as possible.

However.

When he questioned him carefully, he discovered that although the fellow before him had fallen to such a miserable state, he didn't actually have much useful intelligence.

He claimed with his own mouth that he'd been ambushed too, but as he spoke, his own心虚 crept in.

Baimu couldn't be bothered to expose him. He took the backpack from the returning Aron, stuffed everything he'd gotten inside, and pulled out a second cloak to drape over himself.

Suddenly.

He looked toward the horizon and spotted a Pokémon with a white face and red body, resembling both a penguin and Santa Claus, approaching their direction.

"It's a rescue Pokémon, Delibird."

The team member breathed a huge sigh of relief.

Baimu's expression turned strange. "... A rescue Pokémon? How is it supposed to get you out?"

"It stuffs you in a sack. Don't be fooled by its small size — carrying one person flying is still pretty easy for it, just not very comfortable."

His teammate gave a wry smile. When things had gotten this bad, who could still care about anything else?

Getting out sooner was the only sensible thing.

"I've got to go. Good luck to you."

He hauled up the Hound pack captive, ignoring the resentful look in his eyes, and headed west.

A Delibird showing up so brazenly was bound to draw many people toward this direction, and Jian was also very likely to return to the "scene of the crime."

Fortunately, at most only one could come.

As for intelligence related to Jian, he should be able to pry some out of the captive's mouth.

Whether true or false, he'd judge for himself.

The Sand Stream team member watched Baimu's back, opened his mouth wanting to say something, but in the end swallowed the words back down.

He himself had fallen to such a state, yet he had neither been mocked nor taken advantage of to extort money, but had instead been treated with complete ordinariness.

This was for the best.

No need for concern, no need for excessive solicitude — that would only make him feel awkward. Sharing a cloak to cover himself and painkillers, exchanging intel... it was just like real teammates.

The Sand Stream team member had always utterly disdained the rumors about Baimu before, but now he believed them.