“Damn it, this is a military camp’s restricted ground, how could so many venomous creatures appear here for no reason?” The general was skeptical, yet didn’t dare to rush over.

“This subordinate… this subordinate doesn’t know either, but the tents are indeed full of venomous creatures. Those three men have already… already been poisoned, there’s no saving them.”

The three men inside clearly hadn’t completely stopped breathing yet; one of them called out for help in a hoarse voice: “General… General, save me, ah… ah…”

He didn’t know what was biting him again, and the pain made him scream in agony continuously.

What was even more terrifying was that those venomous creatures were crawling out of the tent—snakes, centipedes, scorpions, spiders!

The general retreated in fright, and looking at the tent again, there were clearly still many more venomous creatures crawling out.

Everyone was frantically dodging the venomous creatures, not noticing that the two figures atop the tent had already drifted lightly to a distant rooftop.

“Burn it! Burn it quickly!” Seeing more and more venomous creatures crawling out, the general’s scalp tingled. “Quick, burn that tent down for me!”

With one command, more than a dozen soldiers immediately grabbed torches and swiftly threw them at the tent.

Soon, the tent caught fire, flames soaring into the sky.

But then, a bizarre scene unfolded again—the venomous creatures that had crawled out of the tent and onto the ground, before anyone could even think of a way to deal with them, were already being collected.

That’s right, collected. The ones who came to collect them were a flock of birds.

Birds large and small, harmless to humans for the most part, safely picked up the venomous creatures and flew off toward the distant dense forest.

In the blink of an eye, they vanished without a trace.

Could it be that the reason these venomous creatures had appeared here was because the birds had delivered them?

This… how could this be possible? It was as if the birds had come to take revenge—delivering the poison, biting the three men inside, and then taking the poison away again!

Though the world is vast and full of strange wonders, this was simply too extraordinary.

Divine retribution! These two words suddenly flashed through everyone’s mind, and without warning, each person shuddered with a chill.

Soon the birds dispersed, and the sky returned to calm, leaving only the three brothers in the fire who still hadn’t completely died, still wailing in agony.

They were going to be burned alive. Had they known this would happen, they might as well have let the poison kill them, which would have been better than now having to suffer the punishment of being burned.

The screaming weakened, and finally disappeared completely. Under the night sky, only the still-crackling flames remained, along with the smell of charred corpses in the air.

While the fire still hadn’t gone out, Feng Jiu’er tugged at the back of Tasangnan’s collar.

Tasangnan was still staring at that mass of fire, his eyes lifeless, his soul scattered.

Jiu’er knew that even though revenge had been taken, it wasn’t likely to make him feel much better.

After all, the dead were already gone. Even if he tore his enemies to a thousand pieces, his parents still wouldn’t come back.

Jiu’er said nothing more, and just as on the way there, she grabbed the back of his collar and leapt across several rooftops with her feet. The two figures quickly vanished into the vast night.

Xuegu followed them the whole way, until the two returned to the small house. Only after Feng Jiu’er dropped Tasangnan off and returned to her own room did she follow into Feng Jiu’er’s room, find a corner, and lie down to rest.

Qiaomu was already waiting in the room. Seeing Jiu’er return, she seemed to have something to say, but in the end held back without saying a single word, and instead set down the medicinal herbs and stood watch nearby.

“Help me get two basins of hot water, then you can go to sleep.” Jiu’er knew Qiaomu was silently reproaching her.

But Qiaomu also understood perfectly well—seeing Tasangnan go to take revenge himself, there was no way Jiu’er would just sit by and do nothing, right?

So Qiaomu didn’t say anything. After all, that was just Jiu’er’s nature—even if she said something, at most Jiu’er would smile and agree, only to do it again next time.

In truth, Qiaomu knew that if there were a next time, Jiu’er still wouldn’t stand by and watch someone die, and would still go along.

Wasn’t this exactly what made Feng Jiu’er so captivating? Even if it meant taking risks, she would never just stand by and do nothing.

If Feng Jiu’er weren’t this kind of person, Qiaomu wouldn’t have been willing to give up everything to stay by her side.

So Qiaomu could only sigh softly and walk out the door—helpless, truly helpless.

That night, Jiu’er spent the whole time making medicine pills. As for what Tasangnan did after returning, she no longer concerned herself with it.

Some people, you could save once, but if they still didn’t know how to value their own lives, then sooner or later they would die anyway, and saving them would be in vain.

So Jiu’er would only advise someone once on the same matter, save them once; as for what happened after that, it was entirely up to them.

That night, Tasangnan didn’t do anything in particular—he simply stayed watch over Tasangdong.

In the latter half of the night, Tasangdong woke up, and to keep him from feeling too sad, Tasangnan stayed by his side the whole time.

No one knew what private words the two brothers exchanged, but by the next morning, when everyone saw them again, Tasangnan had calmed down, and Tasangdong had quieted down as well.

That night, Jiu’er didn’t sleep at all—not even for a quarter hour.

The next day when she went out, the dark circles under her eyes were so obvious that anyone could tell how she had spent the previous night.

Although Xuegu had stayed with her the whole time, Xuegu didn’t try to advise her against it.

This temperament of hers was so much like “her” from those years ago—advising her was useless, so Xuegu would rather save herself the trouble of trying.

That way she herself could sleep more, and Feng Jiu’er would be bothered by her less and could get more of her own things done. Why not let it be?

“This is medicine for Adong.” Xiao Yingtao had made some snacks, and after everyone took a few casual bites, Jiu’er and the others were ready to leave.

As they were about to depart, Feng Jiu’er pressed a medicine bottle into Tasangnan’s arms: “From now on, if Adong has a sudden attack of his illness, have him take one pill immediately. It will ease his symptoms and help him catch his breath.”

“But from now on, those heavy chores absolutely cannot be done by him anymore. Martial arts practice is also out of the question, understand?”

This time, Jiu’er looked at Tasangdong.

Tasangdong’s eyes were red, clearly from crying for a long time the night before, though he had calmed down by now.

Meeting Feng Jiu’er’s gaze, he nodded, choking up, unable to say a word.

Tasangnan bowed his head and said, “I understand. I’ll make sure he follows your instructions.”

“There’s also this silver, take it.”

“I can’t…”

“Take it. Let Adong live a better life. His illness is one that comes from a life of comfort—he can’t endure hardship.”

Feng Jiu’er pressed the money pouch into Tasangnan’s hands as well; inside, besides the silver, there were also several valuable pieces of jewelry, enough to give the two brothers more than ten years of comfortable living.

Jiu’er said, “Paths in this world may cross again. If you feel uneasy about this, you can repay me when we meet again in the future, no rush.”

Of course, this so-called “paths may cross again” was, in truth, nothing more than a comfort offered to Tasangnan.

In reality, this parting was likely to be a parting with no chance of meeting again.

Once the matter concerning Ruohe was settled, they would immediately return to Feng Huang City—how could there be any chance of meeting again?