What was approaching them?
Que Cha felt afraid. Although in her recent imagination, she could calmly shoot down a Di Xiao with one arrow, that was just fantasy. In reality, she had only ever shot targets, sparrows, and fish.
One couldn’t transform without experience—Yu Rong had good reason for not bringing her along.
She instinctively backed away while trying to keep her voice down: “Sun… Sun Li, there seems to be… something coming. Come take a look.”
Sun Li quickly emerged.
He squinted in that direction, even using night vision goggles, though the thermal imaging couldn’t show clear features. He muttered while looking: “It’s human, a person with their face covered. Not a Di Xiao, no need to panic. If they’re hostile, we can retreat and close the door in time.”
He raised his voice toward the figure: “Who’s there?”
There was no response.
Perhaps because they were still far enough away to safely retreat and close the door, and because she had a companion nearby, Que Cha’s heart wasn’t pounding as heavily now. She took the night vision goggles from Sun Li and carefully observed the approaching figure.
This person was stumbling as if seriously ill, lower face wrapped in cloth, appearing utterly suspicious. Their build…
Que Cha’s heart tightened—that build seemed familiar.
After observing a bit longer, her heart began racing wildly, her eardrums buzzing with each beat. She blurted out: “That’s… that’s Old Jiang!”
Old Jiang, Uncle Jiang… Jiang Baichuan?
Sun Li was startled, stumbling over his words: “Re-really? Wasn’t Uncle Jiang kidnapped?”
Que Cha couldn’t even organize her thoughts, just nodding repeatedly: Yes, it was Jiang Baichuan. After living together for over ten years, she couldn’t possibly mistake his gait and bearing.
Sun Li was both shocked and delighted. He turned on his flashlight and started to go forward, then hesitated and stopped.
He swept the light beam back and forth: “I heard about ten people were taken with Uncle Jiang. How did he suddenly escape? Where are the others? Could Lin Xirou have deliberately released him as bait to lower our guard?”
Que Cha froze: “Then what should we do?”
Sun Li swallowed: “Guarding the gate is most important. Let’s… let’s back up first and… see how things develop.”
One holding a flashlight, the other with an arrow nocked, they kept their aim on the approaching Jiang Baichuan while continuously backing up. Sun Li gathered his courage to call out again: “Are… are you Uncle Jiang?”
As they were about to retreat into the cave, Jiang Baichuan stumbled and fell forward. Panting heavily, he groaned: “That’s Sun Li, isn’t it?”
He could recognize people—did that mean he was still lucid?
Sun Li was overjoyed and hurried forward to help him up: “Uncle Jiang, did you escape? Why are you alone? Where are the others?”
Jiang Baichuan grunted, using Sun Li’s support to stand: “Got… got separated.”
Then asked: “Any… food? I’m hungry.”
It was too much effort to help him inside, so Sun Li first helped Jiang Baichuan sit by the cave entrance: “Wait here, I’ll get some.”
With that, he ran into the cave.
Jiang Baichuan sat with his head down for a while, then looked around, his movements sluggish, his gaze somewhat vacant. When he saw Que Cha, he looked right through her as if she were a wooden post.
Que Cha felt something was wrong, but before she could think it through, Sun Li returned with his backpack.
He walked to Jiang Baichuan and first handed him a small cake: “Uncle Jiang, have this first to tide you over, and I’ll open some water for you.”
Jiang Baichuan took it.
Normally, when someone has their face covered with cloth, they would pull it down to eat, but Jiang Baichuan didn’t. Que Cha noticed he was bringing the cake to his mouth under the wrinkled cloth.
In other words, he still kept his lower face covered while eating.
Moreover, he only took one bite before stopping, lowering his hand holding the cake, and mumbling to Sun Li: “Got any meat?”
Wanting meat?
Sun Li rummaged in his backpack for a while and pulled out a bag of beef jerky, tearing it open to hand to Jiang Baichuan: “Uncle Jiang, does beef jerky count as meat?”
Jiang Baichuan took a piece and again brought it to his mouth under the cloth. After one chew, he shook his head vigorously, mumbling like someone in a trance: “No, no, this meat doesn’t taste right.”
What kind of meat did he want? Sun Li was completely puzzled. Given the conditions of traveling through Qingrang, they only brought dry rations—Uncle Jiang must know this.
Watching from the side, Que Cha grew increasingly alarmed. No one knew him better than those close to him—Jiang Baichuan wasn’t right. He had never been like this before.
She raised her crossbow, an arrow pointed forward and kept coughing to attract Sun Li’s attention.
Sun Li wasn’t stupid—one glance back and he understood. Like an agile frog, he suddenly leaped away, maintaining a safe distance from Jiang Baichuan.
The coughing finally caught Jiang Baichuan’s attention. He raised his head, his eyeballs slowly turning toward Que Cha: “Ah, Que Cha.”
Que Cha’s voice trembled: “Why… why is your face covered? Take off the cloth.”
She remembered Yu Rong’s instructions to check those who “returned sporadically” for signs of being grabbed or bitten.
Jiang Baichuan didn’t move, laughing strangely, his voice as if swallowed: “Que Cha, pointing an arrow at me—you’ve grown up.”
Sun Li still tried to mediate: “Uncle Jiang, you know the rules. Remove the cloth so we can check.”
He suspected Jiang Baichuan had been caught and bitten by Di Xiao. The most direct way would be to shine a light to check if his eyes had red lines, but Sun Li didn’t dare.
Jiang Baichuan said coldly: “I won’t talk to you. Get Xing Shen to speak with me.”
As he spoke, he grabbed the cave wall to stand up, shuffling into the cave one step at a time.
Que Cha was at a loss. Without proof, she couldn’t shoot Jiang Baichuan. Looking at Sun Li, she saw he was equally stumped.
Could they just watch Jiang Baichuan go in? In desperation, Que Cha frantically signaled to Sun Li with her eyes.
This was too serious—Sun Li couldn’t worry about elder respect anymore. Worst case, he could apologize later. Watching for when Jiang Baichuan was off guard, he suddenly lunged, tackling him to the ground, adding: “Uncle Jiang, sorry about this.”
Unexpectedly, Jiang Baichuan’s reaction was terrifyingly violent. He screamed, struggling frantically like a madman, and somehow managed to throw off the young and strong Sun Li.
In the struggle, the face covering came loose. Que Cha saw clearly—one side of his mouth, extending to his ear, had almost completely rotted away. The other side was still intact, but this extreme contrast and asymmetry, illuminated by the ghostly glow of the luminous stones, was horrifyingly ghoulish.
Though she was so frightened she could barely stand, her hand was remarkably steady. She raised her crossbow and shouted: “Jiang Baichuan, you know my aim is good! Move again and I’ll shoot! I mean it—try me if you don’t believe it!”
Jiang Baichuan had probably never heard Que Cha speak so harshly in his life. He was momentarily stunned and truly didn’t dare move.
Que Cha ordered Sun Li: “You, tie him up with rope, tie him tight! We’ll deal with this when Yu Rong and the others return!”
Sun Li nervously got up and pulled out a rope coil from his backpack. As he was unraveling it, Jiang Baichuan started giggling.
He said: “Waiting for Yu Rong to return? They won’t be coming back, none of them will. Haven’t you seen all those white eyeballs out there?”
What white eyeballs? Sun Li couldn’t help turning to look outside.
Que Cha also instinctively looked out.
This was exactly what he’d been waiting for. An eerie smile flashed across Jiang Baichuan’s face as he suddenly lunged at Que Cha.
***
A child’s footprint.
Nie Jiuluo wanted to follow the footprint to look further, but they’d already searched the surroundings and found only this one—thanks to the dirt that had been scraped off the nearby mound, without which even this single print wouldn’t have been visible.
She knew what Yan Tuo was suspecting: “You think this is Xinxin? Not necessarily… it could be a young Di Xiao?”
Yan Tuo said: “Wouldn’t a young Di Xiao have claws? But this is a child’s footprint.”
Nie Jiuluo: “Even if it were Xinxin’s, after twenty-some years, she should be grown up by now.”
Both made sense, and they couldn’t sort it out. As they looked at each other, Wu Qinghe suddenly sniffed vigorously and pointed ahead: “There, in that direction—blood smell.”
This time, Sun Zhou was more sensitive than him. Before he finished speaking, Sun Zhou had already darted off in that direction.
Yu Rong’s head felt huge: “Another one?”
Not another—Wu Qinghe explained: “We were too far before, could only smell this one. Now that we’ve come closer, we can smell ones further away.”
With danger lurking all around, they shouldn’t split up. They needed to stay together to be safe. Yu Rong waved her hand: “Let’s go, everyone forward to look. No one stays behind.”
The group followed Wu Qinghe forward again, moving even more carefully this time, with armed people arranged at the front, back, left, and right for protection.
After walking about ten minutes, those in front called out in hushed voices: “There, there! Another one!”
In the jumbled flashlight beams, Yan Tuo vaguely saw a man sitting against an earthen mound, head half-drooping, arms splayed—his posture suggested he too was probably dead.
Sun Zhou was anxiously crawling around the man, and probably unable to contain himself, reached out a paw to prod him. The man immediately fell over.
Yu Rong spat through clenched teeth: “Who’s this one? Someone keep a record of names, damn it—write down each death for final checking.”
Several people hurried over to identify the face. Yan Tuo didn’t join the crowd; he carefully examined the surrounding ground with his flashlight, hoping to find something more.
What Nie Jiuluo said made sense—the child might not be Xinxin. After so many years, wouldn’t Xinxin have grown up?
But if not Xinxin, who could it be? Surely children weren’t regularly thrown down here underground?
Soon, the face identification produced results.
“This one… unfamiliar face, don’t know him.”
“Not one of ours, never seen him before.”
“This way of dying is too damn strange—why is there a hole in the top of his head…”
Hearing about the “hole in the head,” Nie Jiuluo felt a strange sensation and hurried over in two quick steps.
She first saw the face—she didn’t recognize him either, but something seemed familiar.
As she wracked her brain, Yan Tuo came over and recognized him at a glance.
“This is Yang Zheng.”
Nie Jiuluo remembered now—no wonder he seemed familiar. Yan Tuo had shown her an Excel spreadsheet about Di Xiao with photos and information. There had been someone called Yang Zheng.
Yu Rong was confused: “Who’s Yang Zheng?”
“One of Lin Xirou’s companions, a Di Xiao.”
The surrounding discussions gradually quieted. Yu Rong opened her mouth to speak but swallowed her words.
The wind picked up again—underground demon wind. This area had many earthen mounds and hills, and the wind’s winding passage through them created a wailing sound like ghost cries.
Those responsible for watching all directions kept their guns pointed outward, not daring to relax for a moment. Others instinctively stood back-to-back, guarding each other.
Nie Jiuluo turned her head, shining her flashlight to examine Yang Zheng’s skull top, feeling nauseous: There was a hole, made with clean, efficient strokes. However, the weapon must have been much larger than her knife.
Interesting—they knew to attack the head, the Di Xiao’s weak point.
Yu Rong licked her lips: “What does this mean? One of our people dead there, a Di Xiao dead here… did the hostages fight with their captors?”
Nie Jiuluo thought this was possible, but on second thought it seemed incredible: Considering Uncle Jiang’s group had been held captive for several months, they were probably all tortured beyond recognition—how could they have the strength to fight Di Xiao?
They exchanged glances without speaking. Just then, the search for clues around them yielded another discovery. Someone brought over something on a light stick: “This… this is creepy. Not one of ours—there weren’t any women among our kidnapped people.”
What was it? Nie Jiuluo bent to look.
One look and her stomach churned again. She grabbed Yan Tuo, nearly vomiting.
It was two braided dreadlocks still attached to a piece of scalp, apparently violently torn from someone’s head.
Yan Tuo steadied her, quickly glancing at the dreadlocks before averting his gaze with a sinking heart: “Should be Feng Mi, another Di Xiao from Lin Xirou’s group.”
Yu Rong finally began to grasp something: “This can’t be hostages fighting back against their captors, right?”
Nie Jiuluo caught her breath and stood up: “And it can’t be Xing Shen’s group either. As you said, they would leave markers for the rear team if they did anything.”
Beside them, the guide Mao Liang was getting panicky, his voice trembling: “Then… what’s going on?”
They’d agreed to come exchange hostages, but how had things changed so drastically right after entering, without any transition?
Yan Tuo pondered: “Seems there’s a third party down here besides us and Lin Xirou. Have you encountered anything like this in your previous trips through Qingrang?”
Mao Liang shook his head like a rattle drum: “Never, absolutely never, never heard of or encountered anything like this.”
Nie Jiuluo murmured: “Lin Xirou’s side probably doesn’t know either. If they did, they wouldn’t have lost people like this.”
A third party…
Yu Rong looked at Yan Tuo, shivering before she could speak: “It couldn’t be… the Xiao Gui? We haven’t even borrowed the Yin soldiers yet, but they’ve… come out on their own?”