Chapter 92: Huang Rong's Situation

Li Qingxuan sat on the chair, lost in thought for a while, then stood up, intending to go upstairs to check on Huang Rong.

He knocked lightly twice on the door, and a faint but clear female voice came from inside: "Please come in."

Li Qingxuan pushed the door open and entered.

The room had little furniture, was kept clean and tidy, and the flames in the hearth flickered, bringing warmth.

Huang Rong had already changed into clean clothes; although her face was still pale, her spirit was clearly much better than before.

She was leaning against the headboard, holding a cup of hot water; seeing Li Qingxuan enter, she immediately set the cup down and struggled to sit upright, her face showing gratitude and a faint, barely noticeable tension.

"Just lie down, no need to get up." Li Qingxuan raised his hand in a gesture, his voice calm.

He walked to the chair beside the bed and sat down, his gaze falling on Huang Rong's face, scrutinizing but not overbearing: "How do you feel? How is your recovery?"

"Much better, thank you so much!" Huang Rong's voice was full of sincerity: "The food brought by that little girl named Ling'er was delicious, and this room... is warm and safe. I haven't felt this secure in a long time."

As she spoke, she unconsciously pulled the thin blanket tighter around herself; when her eyes met Li Qingxuan's, they quickly dropped again, and her fingers unconsciously twisted the edge of the blanket.

Li Qingxuan took in all her subtle movements without changing his expression and asked calmly: "You said earlier you escaped from a distant shelter? Could you describe in detail what attacked you and the circumstances at the time?"

Huang Rong drew a deep breath, as if recalling a horrifying scene; her eyes showed deep anguish and fear: "It... it was a horde of night demons, plus a few huge 'Rippers.' They surged in like a tide, soundless, and our defenses couldn't stop them at all..."

Her voice trembled: "Originally there were over a dozen people; the leader was a strength-type ability user, but unfortunately... he was the first torn apart by the Rippers." She closed her eyes, trying to steady herself: "I relied on my occupational skill, taking advantage of the chaos and night to barely escape... I walked two days across the snowfield, freezing and starving, until I could no longer endure, so I hid in a snow cave, lit a fire to keep warm, and then I met you."

Her description basically matched what Li Qingxuan had seen in the ruins; such scale of destruction could indeed not be caused by an ordinary beast horde.

"Do you have any family left?" Li Qingxuan asked.

Huang Rong's body shuddered violently, as if pierced by an invisible ice shard; her already pale face instantly lost the last trace of color, her lips turning ashen.

Those eyes, once firm and vigilant, now held only hollow, shattered despair, like a candle snuffed out by a gale.

She suddenly bowed her head, long strands of hair falling to cover half her face.

Both hands clenched the thin blanket covering her legs until the joints whitened from the force, the blanket twisted into deep folds.

The room was left with only the faint crackle of burning firewood in the hearth, and her strained, ragged breaths that she struggled to suppress but could not fully control.

After what felt like an eternity, just as Li Qingxuan thought she would not answer—or had already broken—a feeble, hoarse voice, barely audible, struggled out from beneath her bowed head:

"No... none left..." The voice sounded as if scraped by sandpaper, filled with tearing pain: "All... all gone... On the third day after arriving here... only... I remained..."

The last word almost vanished into the air, replaced by a low, stifled sob that could no longer be held back.

Her thin shoulders heaved violently as she curled up, as if trying to shrink into a nonexistent shell to shield herself from the overwhelming, icy tide called "loneliness."

Tears slipped down silently, quickly soaking a small dark spot on the blanket.

After Huang Rong's emotions had eased somewhat, Li Qingxuan spoke again.

"My condolences; your ability, 'Night Walker,' is quite special. Surviving in that environment is no easy feat."

Hearing Li Qingxuan mention her profession, Huang Rong's body twitched slightly, then she forced a bitter smile: "It's a means of self-preservation, and also a curse. 'Dance of Death'... each advancement means having struggled on the edge of life and death. If I hadn't luckily escaped to you this time, I might already..."

She said no more, but the meaning was self-evident.

The room fell into a brief silence, only the crackle of burning firewood in the hearth.

Li Qingxuan gazed at her pale yet hard-to-conceal heroic profile, and at those eyes that had weathered countless darkness yet still sparkled with the light of survival.

He rose to his feet: "Rest well, heal your injuries first. This place is temporarily safe. As for the future..." He paused, "When you've recovered, we'll talk again."

"I understand!" Huang Rong nodded eagerly, her eyes full of gratitude and a hint of hope: "I can do anything! Cleaning, standing guard, hauling, fighting... just give the order! As long as I can stay and repay your lifesaving kindness!"

"Hmm." Li Qingxuan gave a noncommittal nod, making no definite promise but also not refusing. He turned and walked toward the door: "Rest and heal; if you need anything, tell Feifei."

"Thank you! Really... thank you so much!" Huang Rong's voice rang out behind him, filled with deep gratitude.

Li Qingxuan reminded her to rest well, left the room, and gently closed the door.

Huang Rong's demeanor showed no cracks for the moment; her fear, gratitude, helplessness about her own ability, and longing for the future all seemed genuine.

Faintly from downstairs came the sounds of Li Feifei and the Zhao sisters sorting supplies—the clear clink of bowls and plates, the girls' chatter, and the slight rustle of shifting shelves.

These sounds wove together into a lively, vibrant daily melody within the fortress, carrying a comforting, homely atmosphere.

Li Qingxuan drew a deep breath; fresh air filled his lungs, letting his tangled thoughts settle.

No matter what, the urgent priority is to let Huang Rong heal her injuries.

He gave one last glance at the tightly shut door, turned, and walked soundlessly toward the stairwell.

Going downstairs, he saw the three who had just finished organizing supplies sitting on the sofa, leisurely drinking tea; Li Qingxuan walked to the sofa and sat down, and Zhao Ling'er poured him a cup of water, pushing it toward him.

Li Qingxuan took the cup; warm steam rose, carrying a faint tea fragrance.

He took a light sip; the warm tea slid down his throat, and the heaviness from his earlier conversation with Huang Rong eased somewhat.

His gaze fell on Li Feifei, who was sipping tea in small mouthfuls, relaxed in expression, yet a trace of fatigue still lingered in her eyes.

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