Lin Xirou shuddered and unconsciously stepped back. It wasn’t fear—after all these years, she had weathered every storm and had long since moved beyond fear. Rather, she felt unsettled, shocked by this seemingly predestined scene: when she had turned and left back then, she never dreamed there would be any aftermath.
That Yan Xin recognized her wasn’t surprising. Children retain vivid memories of significant events, especially since her face has never changed.
Lin Xirou reminded herself that although Yan Xin still appeared to be a little girl, the soul inhabiting this shell had long since grown into an adult.
It had been over twenty years, after all.
Yan Xin watched her with a pleasant expression. She had inherited her mother’s face—even without expression, she seemed to be smiling.
“I recognized you at (one) glance. You disappeared, missing (one) person, I waited for you.”
Lin Xirou froze as a thought crossed her mind.
—Yan Xin could still speak.
Even if she could speak when thrown in here, after so many years without talking, her language ability should have deteriorated. Yet she could still form sentences, though her pronunciation was strange and words were missing. She needed time to respond, speaking as if struggling with a foreign language, but could still convey meaning.
Could there be someone underground who spoke with her, who had been teaching her to speak all this time?
Moreover, Yan Xin said she recognized her at first glance.
Lin Xirou’s extremities grew cold. No wonder she couldn’t hide—Yan Xin had recognized and watched her early on. Later during the chaos, her schemes had fooled the Wrapped-Head Army and Yan Tuo, but not Yan Xin—looking around, one person was missing, and how could that woman have vanished into thin air?
So Yan Xin hadn’t left, quietly hiding in the darkness, finally waiting her out.
Lin Xirou’s throat went dry. “What do you… want?”
Yan Xin said: “Mama said, you bad woman, see you, take to her.”
This was bizarre—where did Yan Xin get a mother? Her mother had long since become a living corpse, lying in a care facility for over twenty years.
The muscles in Lin Xirou’s face twitched slightly as she forced an extremely ugly smile, saying: “Fine.”
Before the words faded, she swung the bundle from her shoulder, viciously hurling it at Yan Xin. Without waiting to see if it hit, she turned and fled.
If only she could escape this little beast.
But Yan Xin’s speed was incredible. White-Eyed Ghosts were already terrifyingly fast, and with her light bones and small frame, she moved even more swiftly. Lin Xirou had barely run ten steps when her vision blurred—if she hadn’t stopped in time, she would have crashed right into Yan Xin.
Yan Xin blocked her path, hands held loosely at her sides, sharpened fingernails gleaming faintly. Her time underground hadn’t been long enough for her teeth to sharpen or her appearance to change much, but her nails had grown thick and sharp enough. When eating meat, she would use it to tear her prey apart bit by bit before putting it in her mouth.
In her high-pitched voice, she said: “See Mama.”
Lin Xirou gripped the flashlight and swung it at Yan Xin’s head: “See your head!”
She missed—Yan Xin was too fast, dodging with a slight movement. However, Lin Xirou’s repeated attacks had angered her. She made guttural sounds, muttering something unintelligible—likely reverting to the White-Eyed Ghosts’ language in her rage—and charged forward with a shriek.
In desperation, Lin Xirou had an idea. She suddenly cranked the flashlight to maximum brightness and shone it directly into Yan Xin’s eyes.
Having not seen a flashlight for so long, Yan Xin was caught off guard by the sudden intense light. Her inexperience made her think it was something dangerous, causing her to rapidly retreat.
Seizing the opportunity, Lin Xirou quickly climbed the nearest high wall and leaped toward the distance.
The wind whistled in her ears, though she couldn’t tell if it was actually windy or just her speed. Lin Xirou dared not look back—given the speed difference, the chance of escaping Yan Xin was minimal. She needed to think of something…
Just then, her back suddenly felt heavy, followed by a sharp pain in both shoulders—Yan Xin had jumped onto her back, claws digging into her shoulders, voice sharp and sinister: “See my Mama.”
At that moment, as Lin Xirou was climbing over an earthen mound, Yan Xin forcibly pulled her down, sending her tumbling to the ground amid clouds of dust. The flashlight rolled away.
Perfect—Yan Xin had caught her, which meant she temporarily couldn’t use her speed advantage. Lin Xirou gritted her teeth, grabbed Yan Xin’s leg, and with all her strength, lifted her entire body and swung it toward a nearby rock.
How wonderful it would be if she could smash her brains out.
But Yan Xin reacted quickly. With a scraping sound, the moment her body touched the rock surface, her fingers had already firmly gripped it. Her sharp nails carved several grooves into the stone surface, halting her momentum. She immediately kicked off the rock, shooting back at Lin Xirou like a bullet.
Caught off guard, Lin Xirou was knocked flat on her back. But it wasn’t over—Yan Xin grabbed her hair and repeatedly smashed her head against the ground, her face gradually contorting, tone growing savage: “See my Mama!”
As Lin Xirou’s vision repeatedly darkened from the impacts, in her daze, she seemed to see that other Lin Xirou lying in the care facility bed, slowly removing her feeding tube, gradually sitting up, a relaxed smile spreading across her emaciated, shrunken face.
***
Yan Tuo was indeed a good swimmer, but his experience was mostly in swimming pools and calm rivers—he had never challenged rapids before.
So upon entering the water, he completely lost control. His entire body was wrapped in the current, nearly flipping upside down. Though he barely managed to control his body, he couldn’t reach the inner river wall. Several times he tried to reach out, but each time he raised his hand, the current swept him away.
Yan Tuo broke out in a cold sweat. The underground water was freezing this season, and prolonged exposure would lead to hypothermia. Then, forget climbing ashore—he’d struggle just to stay afloat. He couldn’t let Xing Shen and the others be proven right—that this venture was just asking for trouble, seeking death.
As he struggled to swim, he happened to look up and suddenly saw several pairs of white eyes moving along the high bank.
White-Eyed Ghosts had arrived?
Yan Tuo’s mind went blank: although he had kept the light stick pressed beneath him to minimize light leakage, the White-Eyed Ghosts had the high ground—they must be able to “see” him, right? Was he so unlucky as to walk right into the tiger’s mouth as soon as he set out?
Just then, something whistled through the air above—without looking, he knew arrow ropes were coming for him.
Yan Tuo’s body twisted, using the current’s push to avoid the arrow. The arrowhead struck the diagonal current ahead empty-handed and was quickly retrieved.
Suddenly, a thought occurred to Yan Tuo: since getting ashore was difficult, rather than drowning or being swept to unknown places, why not use the arrow ropes to get ashore? From what he’d seen, the White-Eyed Ghosts only bound people, not kill them. He might as well “fall” into their hands first and then look for opportunities.
However, he needed to wound himself first. White-Eyed Ghosts were sensitive to scent—he’d need to shed some blood to fool them.
His legs couldn’t be injured—he wouldn’t be able to run fast with damaged legs. Arms wouldn’t work either—an arrow rope through the arm would provide too small and off-center a point of force to lift his heavy body…
The second arrow came quickly.
Yan Tuo listened intently to the arrow’s trajectory, using the light stick’s glow to confirm its direction as he turned. At the last moment, he raised his left shoulder to meet it. After crying out in pain, he dove underwater, took a mouthful of water, and quickly wrapped the arrow rope around his shoulder and arm while gripping the rope.
This way, when the White-Eyed Ghosts pulled the rope back, his wound wouldn’t suffer too much.
A strong force yanked the other end of the rope, pulling Yan Tuo from the water with a splash. It wasn’t as dramatic as being instantly pulled back to shore—the first pull lifted him from the water and slammed him against the ravine’s inner wall, and the second pull brought him onto level ground.
As soon as he landed, Yan Tuo played dead, his stomach distended as if he’d swallowed too much water and drowned, with water slowly trickling from his lips.
A White-Eyed Ghost raised its foot and stomped hard on his stomach.
Yan Tuo couldn’t hold it in and spurted out the water he’d just taken in. Then his eyes rolled back and closed, and his head lolled to the side as he continued playing dead.
He sensed the White-Eyed Ghosts discussing something, but their guttural sounds, somewhere between throat squeezings and stomach rumblings, were completely incomprehensible. After a while, his ankle stung as one of them grabbed it, its nails digging into his flesh, and dragged him forward.
Perhaps because his shoulder wound was more severe, the ankle scratches didn’t hurt as badly. Yan Tuo felt slightly worried: being scratched by an Owl Ghost risked beast transformation, but what about being scratched by a White-Eyed Ghost? Maybe since they were all “human,” their scratches wouldn’t have any effect.
He kept his eyes closed, feeling his body swaying as his back and head scraped painfully against the ground. He secretly opened his eyes once during the journey but couldn’t tell where this White-Eyed Ghost was taking him—though the direction was away from the ravine water.
That was good—anywhere but into Black-White Ravine would do.
After an unknown amount of time, the surrounding sounds grew more numerous, and the atmosphere gradually changed, as if moving from a quiet place to an intense battleground. Yan Tuo’s heart pounded, and just as he was about to peek through his eyelids to assess the situation, the White-Eyed Ghost suddenly released his ankle and leaped away.
Immediately after, something heavy crashed into Yan Tuo, nearly making him black out. He rolled over, almost coughing blood. Of course, that thing wasn’t in much better shape—it was an Owl Ghost that, after colliding with Yan Tuo, rolled several times before curling up on the spot, clutching its bloody abdomen and wailing in pain.
No wonder that White-Eyed Ghost had jumped away—they’d encountered some unexpected situation.
Yan Tuo quickly glanced toward the other side.
Though the light stick’s glow didn’t reach far, in the ghostly green light amid the flitting shadows, he instantly recognized Nie Jiuluo within the encirclement—that Owl Ghost had probably just fallen victim to her.
But she wasn’t as unstoppable as before. Yan Tuo saw her retreat two steps, her footing unsteady, breathing heavily as she wiped her forehead.
In an instant, several more figures lunged at her.
Yan Tuo’s scalp tingled—he didn’t think Nie Jiuluo could last much longer. This was a war of attrition—others could rest after each round, but she had to fight continuously. At this rate, if she wasn’t killed, she’d be worn to death.
He felt an urge to rush in and help, but forcefully suppressed it—with his current fighting capacity, he’d probably be finished before even reaching her. He needed to patiently wait for the right moment to make his move count.
The White-Eyed Ghost returned, this time grabbing his collar instead of his ankle to drag him forward. Yan Tuo remained unresponsive, his right hand inconspicuously gathering the rope attached to the arrow into his palm.
This time, they didn’t go far, just from one side of the battleground to the other.
Yan Tuo groaned, appearing to be regaining consciousness, his eyelashes fluttering half-open. He saw seven or eight figures standing there, both White-Eyed Ghosts and Owl Ghosts, seemingly watching the battle. The White-Eyed Ghost holding him said something and one of the observers bent down over him, slapping his face twice.
Before Yan Tuo could decide whether to continue feigning semi-consciousness or wake from the slaps, he suddenly heard a hoarse female voice: “Where are your companions hiding?”
Something seemed off…
The next instant, Yan Tuo realized what it was: this was a human voice! Since encountering the White-Eyed Ghosts face-to-face, this was the first time he’d met one who could speak!
Weren’t they supposed to only use ancient dialects?
Yan Tuo slowly opened his eyes.
The woman’s face was close to his. Unlike other White-Eyed Ghosts, although her eyes were white and luminous, her pupils hadn’t expanded outward, and her eyelids hadn’t everted. So she looked more human, with the delicate features of a young woman.
That White-Eyed Ghost had dragged him so long to bring him to this woman—her status must be extraordinary.
Yan Tuo’s heart raced, but he stared blankly, appearing dazed, mumbling: “There’s a path… through the earth mounds…”
The woman didn’t understand and instinctively leaned closer. “What?”
Quick as lightning, Yan Tuo let out a roar, his hands working the rope just as Nie Jiuluo had once used her bracelet against him. He swiftly looped it around the woman’s neck, then rolled to the ground with her, his back against the earth, using her as a shield. He yanked the rope hard and shouted: “Stop! Everyone stop!”
He pulled with great force, making the woman’s body convulse, her eyes bulging as a shrill howl escaped her throat.
Yan Tuo was prepared for the worst—at worst, they’d die together. Even if this woman could tear him to pieces, as long as he didn’t let go, she wouldn’t survive either.
Surprisingly, the fighting did stop.
Nie Jiuluo had indeed reached her limit. Although she could barely hold on, her blade still drawing blood, she’d sustained several injuries. She hadn’t noticed the commotion outside the battle until the encirclement suddenly withdrew. As she stood confused, she heard Yan Tuo call out: “A-Luo, come here! Quickly!”
Yan Tuo?
Nie Jiuluo’s heart leaped with joy. Just as she was about to step forward, her vision blurred—different from before, this time she felt dizzy, the ground seeming to ripple like waves. Unable to keep her balance, she stumbled and fell.
Yan Tuo was frantic, needing to watch Nie Jiuluo while preventing the woman in his grip from suddenly attacking, all while staying alert for the surrounding White-Eyed Ghosts’ ambush. Split three ways, overwhelmed, he quickly stood up, dragging the woman as he retreated, repeatedly tightening the rope to keep her from resisting, while threatening the others: “Back off! Get back!”
They might not understand his words, but they seemed to grasp his meaning, hesitating to approach.
Nie Jiuluo got up, panting heavily. She had only taken a few steps toward Yan Tuo when her expression suddenly changed and she shouted: “Look out!”
What was happening? Was there something behind him?
Yan Tuo’s heart jumped, but before he could turn around, he heard a sharp cry of “Mama!” followed by a violent impact to his back that knocked him off balance, falling to the ground with the woman.
As the rope around her throat loosened, blood rushed back to the woman’s head. She instantly sat up, her hand curling back with fingers like hooks, stabbing down toward Yan Tuo’s face.