Liu Sheng grinned: “No problem, I’ll wait. Uncle Ga smoking the ghost masks—if I miss this chance, who knows when the next one will be.”
As he spoke, he casually took off his basket, plopped down under the eaves, and wiped his forehead with one hand in the typical posture of someone resting after a tiring walk. His other hand seemingly casually reached into the basket, secretly feeling beneath the covering cloth.
Wei Biao had no choice. In his eyes, Old Ga was just an ordinary rural carpenter who would chisel and carve wood, leaving shavings and chips everywhere—what was so special about ghost mask smoking?
But since this man wouldn’t leave, Wei Biao could hardly drive him away. Resigned, he could only caution him again: “Try not to make loud noises. My sister is a light sleeper and sensitive to noise.”
Liu Sheng nodded repeatedly. With his natural baby face, when he smiled, his eyes curved like fish with upturned tails, making him oddly endearing. Faced with such a face, Wei Biao couldn’t express his displeasure and had to turn to go back upstairs.
He had only taken two steps when he heard a buzzing sound, followed by Liu Sheng’s terrified low cry: “Brother! Don’t move! A wasp! A wasp has stung you!”
Wei Biao had heard that mountain wasps were venomous, but he had no experience dealing with them. Instinctively thinking that listening to a local would be right, he stood still. Yet he failed to consider: if you run, the wasp would chase you, but if you stand still, aren’t you an even better target? Would the wasp just avoid stinging you?
He felt a slight prick on the back of his neck—he had been stung. His instinct was to swat at it, but Liu Sheng had already jumped up, hurriedly stopping him: “Brother, don’t swat it! Your hand will swell badly. The stinger will break off inside! It won’t stop swelling for days. Bend down a bit, you’re too tall… I’ll help you.”
Wei Biao could still feel the wasp’s wings brushing against his neck. Strangely, despite his size, he might not fear knives or clubs, yet he was particularly disturbed by small insects—his scalp was already tingling, and he obediently bent over.
Liu Sheng exhaled softly, carefully extending his hand to firmly pinch the wasp’s transparent double wings.
Wei Biao felt a cold stream flowing into his body. His heart suddenly jolted, and his body instantly tensed. He covered the painful spot with one hand and stumbled back two or three steps before looking up at Liu Sheng.
Liu Sheng held up his hand, and between his thumb and forefinger was indeed a black and yellow-striped wasp. He continued chattering: “Brother, look, this wasp is very poisonous. We mountain people all fear it. One sting, and you’ll be too dizzy to walk.”
Is that so? Wei Biao’s vision blurred, and Liu Sheng appeared to have a double image. He tried to step forward, but his feet wouldn’t move in a straight line. Each step formed a shape. After just a couple of steps, his legs tangled together, and he fell stiffly to one side.
With his weight, a hard fall would make a huge noise. Liu Sheng darted forward, reaching him before his body hit the ground. With both hands supporting his shoulders, he slowly lowered himself down.
Then he made an “OK” gesture in Meng Jinsong’s direction.
Meng Jinsong lowered his binoculars. Liu Sheng’s smile seemed to have transferred to him as well. He turned to look at Meng Qianzi: “The young man is good. He took down the big one without any effort.”
Is that so? Meng Qianzi was curious and moved closer to see. Over there, Liu Sheng was already nimbly binding Wei Biao’s hands and feet.
Meng Jinsong explained: “He released a wasp.”
Releasing a wasp was a small trick of the mountain dwellers. The wasp was fake, of course, but made to appear almost real: the abdomen was a small rubber capsule connected to a “stinger,” and the double wings were a trigger mechanism—the principle was similar to an anesthetic injection. When the mechanism was engaged, the drug that induced unconsciousness was injected.
So, one’s skill depended on how the wasp was “released”: the more skilled practitioners would accompany it with vocal techniques, making the target fall unconscious without suspicion, even actively cooperating—as the saying goes, “helping count the money after being sold.” The entire process was like a performance for both the executor and the observer. Although Meng Jinsong couldn’t hear what Liu Sheng had said, just by watching, he knew Liu Sheng had done it quite smoothly.
Meng Qianzi mentally calculated the time and nodded slightly: “That is good.”
Meng Jinsong said, “Some promising seedlings are worth cultivating. Select them to go to the Shan Gui Chamber for deeper training. They could become… your subordinates. When the aunties are present, with just a little instruction, they’ll improve dramatically.”
Meng Qianzi was quite dismissive: “What’s the point of learning so well? In peaceful times, there’s no use for it. No matter how skilled with a blade, nowadays, one can only perform on TV. Even our mountain dwellers do not need to patrol the mountains anymore. Why bother learning this… Life is short; it’s better to enjoy it.”
Meng Jinsong was speechless. Sometimes he truly admired Meng Qianzi’s ability to make laziness sound so elegant, as if she were being considerate of her subordinates.
Knowing he couldn’t win the argument, he closed his mouth and watched Liu Sheng’s silhouette disappear inside the door. According to the plan, and for safety, Liu Sheng was only supposed to scout, confirm everyone was there, and then send a message back. “Taking down the opponent” was supposed to be a group effort, but it didn’t matter. If he could handle it alone, it would further demonstrate the mountain dwellers’ strength.
Meng Jinsong picked up his phone and unlocked the screen, ready to receive messages at any time.
Before going upstairs, Liu Sheng had tied tiger pads to the soles of both shoes—a trick learned from tigers. Tigers have extremely thick pads under their paws, allowing them to walk silently. Since mountain dwellers operated in the mountains, imitating animals and birds was inevitable.
He followed the old staircase, climbing one step at a time with extremely light movements.
Although his task was just to report back, Liu Sheng still entertained the idea of “taking down all three by myself” and “showing off”—showing off in front of a boss was like displaying carpentry skills at Luban’s door, but who doesn’t want to perform well in front of leaders? He didn’t expect any reward; he’d just be pleased if the boss thought, “There are still capable people in Wuling Mountain.”
As he approached the top of the stairs, he could see the wooden door of the second floor. In such old houses, gaps around the doors made them completely non-soundproof. Faint human voices could be heard coming through.
Liu Sheng felt a string instantly tighten from the top of his skull to the middle of his back. He stopped moving, not even daring to breathe heavily, and perked up his ears with all his attention on that door. Soon, fine sweat appeared on the bridge of his nose.
It seemed mainly a man’s voice, sounding strange and mechanical, just uttering words without complete sentences. Sometimes there would be only a few seconds between words, sometimes two or three minutes, and he was speaking only colors, such as “blue” and “black.”
This should be Jiang Lian—he was there.
Liu Sheng licked his lips, leaning his body further in that direction. Kuang Meiying seemed to be there too. Although she wasn’t speaking, occasionally there would be a very soft, low female cough, as if clearing her throat, along with the light scraping sound of chair legs—the sound of someone sitting uncomfortably for too long, shifting positions.
Liu Sheng slowly exhaled a long breath. Good, confirmed—both were there…
Just at that moment, someone tapped him on the right shoulder.
He instinctively turned his head.
Meng Jinsong stared at the light coming from the second floor, then looked down at the time on his phone again. Something wasn’t right. Compared to the efficiency of the wasp trick, Liu Sheng had been inside too long this time.
His anxiety caught Meng Qianzi’s attention. She looked past Meng Jinsong, examining the stilt house up and down. A strange feeling suddenly rose in her heart: “Don’t wait anymore. Go in immediately.”
Meng Jinsong still tried to argue: “Perhaps the situation inside is difficult to confirm. Liu Sheng might still be looking for an opportunity…”
Before he could finish, an extremely piercing woman’s scream came from the stilt house. The sound was so terrifying that Meng Jinsong felt a chill on the top of his head. Xin Ci also shuddered with fear, and even Old Ga in the distance was startled to his feet, dropping the cigarette from between his fingers.
Meng Qianzi shouted: “Go!”
She was the first to charge forward.
In a sense, she was the signal for action. Meng Jinsong immediately followed. Liu Guanguo and Qiu Dong, who had been waiting in the trees on both sides, quickly descended and rushed out of the forest. Xin Ci hesitated for a moment before following, but the distance was not short, and his physical strength was nothing to boast about. He quickly fell far behind. Only Old Ga ran a few steps before stopping, remembering his words, “I won’t watch the commotion or listen.” He felt going there would be inappropriate, so he could only pace back and forth, his heart pounding almost to his throat: something had happened, something had happened at the stilt house.
From different directions, several people rushed toward the stilt house like small torrents. The woman’s terrified screams still hadn’t stopped, adding to their anxiety. A few households in the village who were still at home seemed to have heard the commotion, with two or three people confusedly poking their heads out of doors—they hadn’t yet determined which direction the sound was coming from.
Meng Qianzi was the first to rush through the door, grabbing the handrail to go upstairs. Perhaps she stepped too heavily; after climbing just two steps, the stair board broke under her feet, causing her to stumble and fall. Fortunately, it was only two steps, so she quickly found her footing and grabbed the higher part of the staircase in time. When she looked up, she saw several drops of dark red blood hanging on one of the wooden stair boards, neither fully congealed nor dripping.
Meng Qianzi’s heart sank. She gripped the handrail and flew upward. There was already a large pool of blood at the top of the stairs. Blood was everywhere, forming a shapeless trail leading to an open wooden door on the second floor, with another large pool at the doorway.
Inside the door, Liu Sheng lay face down. Beside him sat Kuang Meiying, covered in blood. She seemed so frightened that her legs had gone weak, and she was using her trembling arms to retreat continuously. In the pool of blood before her lay a gleaming small blade.
Meng Qianzi had no mind to deal with the woman. She stepped forward quickly, crouched down, and with one forceful movement turned Liu Sheng’s body over.
Liu Sheng was dead.
There was a knife wound at his throat, with the bloody flesh of the wound slightly turned outward. His eyes were wide open, and his expression, just having completed a task and feeling relieved, was mixed with shock and bewilderment.
The sound of footsteps came from the stairs, the second team had arrived.
Only then did Meng Qianzi look up at Kuang Meiying.
At this moment, Meng Qianzi’s face was gloomy, revealing only one eye with a knife-like gaze that carried an eerie chill. Kuang Meiying couldn’t bear it. She raised her blood-covered hands in panic, her voice a hoarse cry: “It wasn’t me, it wasn’t me.”
Meng Qianzi’s lips curled coldly. With one hand, she grabbed Kuang Meiying’s clothes at the chest and dragged her back. Weak, Kuang Meiying was dragged over like a chicken waiting to be slaughtered. Probably thinking Meng Qianzi was going to kill her, she was so frightened that her breath caught, her eyes rolled back, and she fainted.
By this time, Meng Jinsong and the others had rushed to the doorway one after another. Meng Jinsong was relatively composed, as he didn’t have any deep friendship with Liu Sheng, so he could remain calm and controlled when seeing the scene. The other two were different. Liu Guanguo’s legs weakened, and his cry of “Big Sheng” already carried a choked voice. Qiu Dong also seemed as if he had been struck on the head, standing motionless with his eyes gradually reddening.
Meng Qianzi released her hand, letting Kuang Meiying collapse limply to the ground, then instructed Meng Jinsong: “They’re close to Liu Sheng, so their emotions are unstable. You’re responsible for examining the scene. Don’t miss anything important…”
As she was speaking, someone behind her murmured: “Red.”
Meng Qianzi paused, then slowly turned around. The bloody and shocking scene of Liu Sheng’s murder had made her forget that there was still one more person in the room.
The man who had faced off with her the previous night.
Jiang Lian.