Meng Qianzi felt like she was seeing a ghost.

The first part of Jiang Lian’s speech had been normal, indeed with the tone of discussing urgent matters, and she had listened attentively. But that final sentence wasn’t just a twist—it was a sudden descent into madness.

She suspected she had misheard: “Run?”

“Yes, run hard… Do you know what the most desperate moment for a thief is when stealing something?”

Meng Qianzi replied impatiently: “No idea. Never been one.”

This reaction was within his expectations: “I have been.”

Meng Qianzi wasn’t too surprised.

“Before Master Gan adopted me, when there was nothing to eat, I did some shameless things… Do you know how Master Gan first encountered me?”

Meng Qianzi didn’t speak, but her expression showed she was willing to listen.

Jiang Lian didn’t look at her, instead staring at the not-so-dark night in the distance for a while before he laughed, seemingly finding the memory amusing: “You know, even beggars are divided into upper, middle, and lower classes. This hierarchy isn’t what you’d imagine from the Beggars’ Sect.”

It was strange when you thought about it. Sometimes, even people who were already among the lowest and most vulnerable still practiced bullying the weak within that compressed space: being trampled underfoot, rising with a bruised face, not daring to fight back, but viciously spitting a mouthful of bloody saliva before stomping on someone even weaker.

Initially, he begged for food along the streets. But being quick-witted, within a few days, he’d figured out that large squares and train stations offered a much better chance of getting food than residential areas or commercial streets. Especially at train stations, he could always get leftovers like instant noodles—first shrimp flavor, then beef flavor. He was quite satisfied.

Excited about his discovery, he settled at the train station like he’d found himself a secure job.

Little did he know that on the third night, while fast asleep under a waiting room seat with newspapers covering him, he was dragged out and subjected to punches and kicks. The leader had a wine-red nose and chronic sores on his legs. Jiang Lian had seen him begging during the day, being yelled at like a dog by passengers, nodding and smiling obsequiously. But when beating Jiang Lian, he was as imperious as a gang leader.

Only then did he realize that beggars had territories, too. The train station area had long been divided among Wine-Nose and four or five others. By being there, he’d been eating into their cake.

After a severe beating, he was thrown under a broken bridge. Wine-Nose warned that if he dared show up at the train station again, they’d cut off his little bird.

Jiang Lian didn’t dare make a sound. Only after Wine-Nose and the others had gone far away did he roll over and get up, shouting into the hollow beneath the bridge: “Fuck your mother, how dare you beat your grandpa Lian!”

After that, he didn’t dare return to the train station.

He wandered around the city, and when he really couldn’t beg for food, he resorted to stealing steamed buns, twisted dough sticks, oil cakes, and sweet potatoes. One meal hungry, one meal full, he desperately struggled through each day with his “hard-earned goods.”

But he didn’t consider himself a thief. Each time after eating stolen food, he’d wipe his mouth forcefully, thinking: Just wait, when your grandpa Lian gets rich, I’ll pay you back double, times two!

Unfortunately, getting rich remained a distant dream. One day, while crouching in a small alley, devouring a stolen steamed bun, he was beaten again.

This time, he couldn’t even see clearly who was beating him. He only felt many feet descending from the sky, stomping on his head, chest, stomach, and even his bun. The person scolding him had a shrill voice, not yet changed, probably only thirteen or fourteen years old, shouting: “How dare you steal here? Don’t you know these few streets are the territory of our ‘Seven Wolves’? If you want to steal, go somewhere else!”

So it wasn’t just begging—thieves had territories too.

He was beaten until his eyes were bloodshot and his nose was bleeding. After the group left, he sniffled through blood and mucus, picking up the blackened bun that had been stomped on. Based on his life experience, if he peeled off the dirty outer layer, the inside would still be clean and edible.

While gnawing on the bun, he planned for his future: Where to go? There was nowhere to go. Everywhere had territories, everywhere had fists and feet waiting.

He needed to figure out how to continue stealing and begging here without getting beaten.

After finishing the bun, he stared at his sneakers with two or three broken toes, and suddenly had an insight.

He could run.

As long as he ran fast enough, he would never get beaten, because those who wanted to beat him couldn’t catch him.

From then on, his frantic running figure became a common sight in the city streets. He was caught two or three times, each time resulting in a severe beating, but the harsher the beating, the greater his motivation. The next time, he would run even faster.

Gradually, he stopped getting beaten because the victims couldn’t outrun him. It wasn’t worth getting out of breath for a bun or two. Those street ruffians couldn’t outrun him either, usually giving up after a few blocks, hands on knees, panting, and cursing: “This little bastard runs faster than a dog.”

Thanks to their blessing, the time Jiang Lian met Kuang Tongsheng was his best performance ever—he truly outran a dog.

That time, he happened upon a funeral banquet. Thieves loved wedding and funeral banquets because the complex flow of people made it easy to operate.

Jiang Lian mingled with the crowd, first securing two pieces of cake for himself, then carefully fishing out a hot chicken leg. Just as he gripped it, someone shouted: “Catch the thief!”

He later learned that someone had lost money, three thousand yuan. Back then, three thousand yuan was no small sum. The thief they were shouting about wasn’t him, but a guilty conscience is a real thing. His whole body jolted, and he took off running.

Immediately, he became the most conspicuous target.

At a funeral banquet, everyone was family or friends—who wouldn’t unite against a common enemy? Without bothering to clarify the situation, a group rushed out in pursuit, even releasing a dog.

On the long field ridge, an intense chase unfolded: Jiang Lian clutching the chicken leg, taking the lead, with a local dog not far behind, and further back, a dense crowd of people.

Soon, due to differences in stamina, the large group stretched into a long line. Those falling behind supported each other with scattered steps. Even those still barely chasing were gasping for breath, with the distance between them and the leading man and dog growing ever larger.

Finally, they all stopped, placing all their hopes on the dog.

That’s when Kuang Tongsheng’s car happened to pass by.

First attracted by the scene, then hearing the shouts, he instructed his driver to follow.

Jiang Lian, clutching the chicken leg, ran like the wind. The temptation of the chicken leg and the fear of being bitten by the dog gave him double motivation. Add to that his occasional wall-climbing and jumping, which gave him an advantage: the dog finally stopped, exhausted, desperately barking at his retreating figure.

By this point, Jiang Lian was already completely exhausted, but the diminishing dog barks behind him gave him a surge of energy. Amid his flight, he glanced back and turned pale with fright.

For just a chicken leg, they had sent a car after him!

Gritting his teeth, he pushed his legs to continue running frantically.

Kuang Tongsheng told the driver to speed up. When they caught up with Jiang Lian, he rolled down the window and called out: “Young brother, stop for a moment.”

Jiang Lian ignored him. Kuang Tongsheng had no choice but to have the driver speed up further, then turn the car sideways to block his path.

With the car cutting him off, Jiang Lian came to an abrupt halt and fell. His reckless momentum dissipated, never to return. Watching Kuang Tongsheng get out with his cane, he instinctively felt that the cane would strike him. His first reaction was to lower his head and desperately chew on the long-cold chicken leg: if he was going to be beaten, he wouldn’t be beaten for nothing. Chicken was nutritious—once in his stomach, it would help him recover faster from any injuries.

He wolfed it down, almost choking. The large chicken leg was gone in no time, leaving just the bone. With bulging cheeks, he threw the bone at Kuang Tongsheng: “Here, nothing left!”

The chicken bone fell on Kuang Tongsheng’s shiny leather shoes.

Kuang Tongsheng looked down, then raised his eyes to look at him, and smiled gently.

…

Jiang Lian reflected: “A person needs to have at least one skill. If I couldn’t run, Master Gan wouldn’t have discovered me.”

He looked at Meng Qianzi: “What’s the most desperate moment for a thief when stealing? Based on my inglorious experience, it’s not when you’re caught or chased—as long as you can outrun everyone.”

“So when I say ‘run hard,’ I’m not joking. I truly believe that once we’re in a confrontation with no chance of winning, we should just run hard. If you can’t run, I’ll pull you along—I outran them even while carrying you before. This time, traveling light, we should have even less of a problem.”

Meng Qianzi remained silent. She still felt that Jiang Lian’s “run hard” strategy was absurd, but what was even more absurd was that she found his reasoning quite sensible.

Bai Shuixiao didn’t look like someone who could run well, whereas Jiang Lian was someone who could outrun even a dog to the point of despair.

Unconsciously, she reached out and rubbed her ankle.

When the villagers first approached, there was no significant sound, only a hazy glow of light drawing nearer from the distance.

Meng Qianzi and Jiang Lian had already climbed up a tree, holding their breath in anticipation.

As they came closer, sounds emerged: the soft breaking of twigs underfoot, the accidental clinking of blades against stones—all very faint, but precisely because of their faintness, they sparked the imagination, unconsciously causing a chill down one’s spine.

Eventually, the human shadows became distinct, one by one, as if seeping out from the dense forest, scattered in twos and threes, never stopping, still dragging their feet forward. The people at the front passed woodenly beneath the tree. Meng Qianzi could even clearly see their faces.

Now she understood what Jiang Lian meant by “not normal.”

But why were these people still moving forward? Having reached the spot, shouldn’t they stop?

Just as this thought arose, as if in response, a very light, sharp sound suddenly floated through the night sky. Those who had been walking stopped in unison, like puppets on strings.

The sharp sound seemed familiar. Meng Qianzi’s mind raced, the memory still fresh, and she quickly remembered.

It was an insect whistle, the same one Granny Tian Ya had blown when commanding venomous insects to attack her.

She whispered to Jiang Lian: “These people might be under the control of gu.”

Granny Tian Ya had lived in the village for years; manipulating these people would have been all too easy.

Jiang Lian grunted in acknowledgment: “Notice their positioning. They’ve stopped very strategically, surrounding us in the center.”

Indeed, Bai Shuixiao’s insect whistle had been precisely timed. But the whistle could only command the most basic movements: advance, retreat, and attack. To make these people completely submissive, other methods must have been used.

Meng Qianzi thought of the incense.

It seemed that what had failed on her had succeeded on these people.

Another insect whistle sounded, and the people began rapidly pacing in place, emanating killing intent, as if searching for targets. Some knocked over loose rocks, others pushed through bushes.

Meng Qianzi waited calmly: she and Jiang Lian had deliberately chosen this tree, which had already been attacked, as their hiding place, confident that the cold arrow mechanism had been used and not reloaded. It couldn’t fire again to force them down. The insect whistle couldn’t instruct these people to climb trees to find them. Bai Shuixiao would have to appear in person to give orders.

And once she appeared, they would run.

Bai Shuixiao would never dream they would “run hard.”

As she was thinking this, her wrist suddenly tightened—Jiang Lian had gripped it, saying softly: “She’s here.”

Here? Before Meng Qianzi could look carefully, she heard Bai Shuixiao’s sharp command: “They’re in the tree!”

No sooner had the words fallen than those people instantly looked up, eyes bulging, their pupils gleaming with ferocity. Just as Meng Qianzi and Jiang Lian were about to climb down, the people below had already noticed. Two skilled climbers shouted wildly and leaped up toward the tree like monkeys.

From his higher position, Jiang Lian targeted the lead climber and kicked him hard.

The man fell straight down. The moment his body hit the ground, he immediately flipped up and again began clawing his way up the tree, heedless of everything. In this brief moment, the crowd had already gathered beneath the tree. At a glance, under the not-so-large canopy, heads swarmed, with six or seven people climbing up.

Meng Qianzi urgently said, “Let’s move through the trees!”

Jiang Lian had the same idea, but seeing the commotion below, he held her back: “First, let’s draw as many people here as possible!”

The more people gathered under this tree, the fewer obstacles they would face when escaping by jumping down from other trees.

As they spoke, someone had already leaped up the tree. Meng Qianzi kicked him down, then, seeing another head emerging, without thinking, she quickly delivered another kick. Too many heads and too few legs—now she envied the centipede for its many legs. On the other side, Jiang Lian was also kicking and stomping. Seeing that the ground below was now a churning sea of people piled on people, he finally shouted: “Let’s go!”

Together, they leaped to the nearest tree, then quickly slid down.

As soon as they hit the ground, Jiang Lian grabbed Meng Qianzi and ran at full speed.

Although most people had been drawn to that tree, not all were there. Small groups were scattered everywhere. As soon as they started running, people rushed to ram into them. Jiang Lian had to dodge, and this brief delay allowed the mass of people from under the tree to pour toward them like a flowing stream. Amid the chaos, Bai Shuixiao’s angry urging voice could be heard. In the urgency, they couldn’t make out what she was saying, but could guess it was along the lines of “stop them,” “don’t let them escape,” and so on.

The two stumbled, breaking through and avoiding several people trying to block them. Seeing the path ahead relatively clear, they knew victory or defeat hinged on this moment. Almost telepathically, they accelerated simultaneously. This burst of power was tremendous, creating a whistling sound in their ears. But after successfully charging forward only a dozen steps, a dark shadow suddenly lunged from the side and firmly grabbed Jiang Lian’s leg.

It was the man with only half a body. Being able to move only by supporting himself with his hands, he was slower than others and had positioned himself on the outskirts. Seeing Jiang Lian and Meng Qianzi attempting to escape, he had hidden in the shadows. In this dark spot, with his abnormally short stature, when lying motionless, he truly blended with the tree shadows and rocks.

His sudden, fierce attack hit its mark. Jiang Lian’s swiftly raised leg instantly carried over a hundred pounds of extra weight, which he couldn’t withstand. He immediately tumbled over, and Meng Qianzi, being pulled by him, also rolled to the ground. For ordinary people, this fall might have broken their necks or spines. Fortunately, both were trained fighters who knew how to protect vital areas in emergencies. Even so, they were dazed, seeing stars and feeling dizzy.

But they had no time to catch their breath. Dozens of rushing shadows were already swooping down like ghosts. Meng Qianzi was better off—she had rolled further away and could stagger to her feet, avoiding the first wave of attacks. Jiang Lian could hardly get up: the half-bodied man seemed determined to hold him down. No matter how Jiang Lian kicked, the man held on firmly, refusing to let go. Seeing a hoe about to smash down on his head, Jiang Lian had no choice but to ignore this person. With more than a hundred pounds hanging on his leg, he rolled to dodge, barely avoiding the blow when his other leg sank—another person had locked onto it. Just as someone swung an iron shovel at his side, Jiang Lian gritted his teeth, let out a great shout, raised his upper body off the ground, and slid forward like doing a sit-up, barely escaping.

Meanwhile, Meng Qianzi was also in peril. Although a first-class fighter, she had never encountered such reckless fighting methods. Normally, if you kicked, the opponent would dodge; if you swept your leg, they would evade—that was the give-and-take of combat. But these people felt no fear of pain. They would rather take kicks and hits while desperately trying to grab her, block her, or lock her. Once they got hold, they wouldn’t let go. A woman in a red spaghetti-strap top, who walked unsteadily, took a direct kick to the face. Despite her bloodied face, she still fiercely grabbed Meng Qianzi’s lower leg, twisting to bring her down.

Just then, hurried shouts came from nearby—

“It’s Miss Meng!”

“Miss Meng is here!”

“Brothers, charge!”

Before the words faded, several agile figures quickly cut into the battle. The crowd hadn’t expected others to appear and were momentarily stunned.

It was Qiu Dong and his men who had arrived.

Earlier, they had only been following from a distance. Suddenly, this area erupted with voices and chaos like boiling water. The few men were bewildered and quietly approached to look. In the confusion, they couldn’t immediately recognize what was happening, but when they saw Meng Qianzi in danger, they were all shocked and rushed to save her without hesitation.

Meng Qianzi seized the opportunity to kick away the woman, flip up to her feet, and felt great joy.

The Mountain Ghost’s people had arrived!

But when she saw who had come, her heart sank: Where was Meng Jinsong? Where was Liu Guanguo? Why were there no familiar faces, only these few people?