Having received Fifth Aunt’s praise, Xin Ci felt he could endure this undercover mission a little longer.

At dinner time, he “happened to pass by” that tent and “coincidentally” saw that Qiu Dong and others were eating themselves without sending any food to Bai Shuixiao, so he started an argument.

Qiu Dong shouted: “I should feed her? This woman is so tough, I don’t believe skipping one meal will starve her to death.”

Xin Ci used his usual reasoning: “These are separate matters. Even in war, people don’t mistreat prisoners.”

The final result was Qiu Dong sneering, “If you want to deliver it, do it yourself. I’m not serving a woman like her.”

So Xin Ci carried the tray in.

Once inside, he endured another round of cold mockery. He requested that Bai Shuixiao’s binding ropes be loosened so she could hold chopsticks to eat, but they ridiculed him: “Will you take responsibility if something happens? Either feed her yourself or turn around—the door is right there.”

Eventually, someone even pushed him. With his small frame, how could Xin Ci withstand such a push? He staggered and nearly fell, his face flushed with anger. He thought to himself: it’s just acting, why take it so seriously?

However, this scene, witnessed by Bai Shuixiao, genuinely aroused her gratitude.

She harbored no suspicions.

She knew Xin Ci wasn’t one of the Mountain Ghosts. During their previous meetings, she had noticed how he looked at her—the gaze of a man admiring a woman. She knew she possessed this charm.

Besides, this man was timid, rigid, yet principled. He would neither dare nor attempt to release her; he would only argue reasonably with those fierce Mountain Ghosts to secure some so-called humanitarian conveniences for her.

She watched as Xin Ci angrily set down the tray, and suddenly felt a bit sorry for him: “Life here isn’t easy for you, is it?”

Xin Ci was puzzled: “Huh?”

He didn’t know that not long ago, to “cooperate” with him, those three people in the tent had openly ridiculed and mocked him in front of Bai Shuixiao: calling him effeminate and gutless; skinny-armed and weak-legged with a woman’s soft heart, showing misplaced compassion; a coward constantly bullied by others, openly and secretly…

Hearing all this had evoked Bai Shuixiao’s sympathy, softening her gaze toward him.

Xin Ci sighed: “Everyone has their struggles. Whose life is truly easy?”

He broke off a piece of flatbread and brought it to Bai Shuixiao’s mouth.

Bai Shuixiao bit it and chewed slowly.

A special meal had been prepared for Bai Shuixiao, with excellent dishes—this was Xin Ci’s suggestion: good food relaxes people’s mood, and if Bai Shuixiao ate comfortably, she would naturally speak more, and speaking more inevitably means revealing more.

He thought himself quite clever and planned to claim credit with Qianzi upon her return.

Bai Shuixiao hadn’t eaten a proper meal for several consecutive days. Suddenly tasting these crispy fried delicacies, her relaxed taste buds eased her tense nerves. She felt somewhat dazed and melancholic.

Xin Ci chatted with her intermittently, still maintaining his stance while showing kindness, rambling, and appearing weak. Bai Shuixiao found him amusing, but his foolishness wasn’t offensive.

After a while, Xin Ci hesitantly asked: “Miss Bai, I heard you’re a Luohua Cave Woman, married to the Cave Spirit?”

Bai Shuixiao casually made an affirmative sound.

“Please don’t be angry, I’m not very knowledgeable… but isn’t this some kind of delusion or hallucination? Have you seen a doctor?”

How could she not be angry at that? Bai Shuixiao rolled her eyes: “You’re talking nonsense!”

Xin Ci trembled, clutching the spoon tightly as he silently stirred the rice porridge in the bowl.

Forget it, no point arguing with such a layman. Bai Shuixiao’s anger subsided: “Just because you can’t feel or see him doesn’t mean he doesn’t exist.”

Xin Ci made an “oh” sound, appearing genuinely receptive, then humbly asked: “So you can feel him?”

Bai Shuixiao showed a hint of pride: “Of course.”

Xin Ci scratched his head: “What does he look like? Is he tall and imposing, full of masculine spirit? Is he gentle and considerate toward you? The type who rushes to do housework, never letting you get tired?”

He knew his questions were stupid—how could something without physical form do housework?—but he had no choice; the stupid, overly kind man was the undercover persona Fifth Aunt had assigned him.

Bai Shuixiao’s expression changed several times, sometimes confused, sometimes blissfully sweet.

Like anyone unable to resist boasting about their partner to others, she finally spoke: “Of course he’s wonderful. When I’m with him, my heart feels… so secure. No matter how painful or wronged I feel, once I’m by his side, I forget everything…”

Xin Ci thought to himself: Isn’t that just like opium? Take a couple of puffs, and you’ll also feel secure, happy, carefree, and all troubles will vanish.

“What he looks like, I’m not sure…”

Xin Ci couldn’t help blurting out: “You don’t know what he looks like? How can that work? Being together as a couple without knowing each other’s appearance?”

Bai Shuixiao gave him a contemptuous look. She initially didn’t want to respond, but his incredulous expression if the sky were falling, made her feel like she had a fishbone stuck in her throat that she couldn’t swallow.

She sneered: “What do you know?”

“You ordinary people naturally care about appearances—women must be beautiful, men handsome. Not just appearances, but money, housing, status, and knowledge. I don’t know if you like the person or just that fancy, pleasant-sounding facade.”

“And then what? When this person loses their looks, becomes poor, loses status and knowledge, your affection fades, right?”

Xin Ci remained silent, because… that’s probably how most romantic relationships in this world work.

“But shouldn’t the purest emotion transcend all these? Not caring about your appearance, wealth, status, not caring whether you’re alive or dead, not caring if you have a physical body or are an intangible substance—I’m telling you, I don’t care.”

Xin Ci was speechless.

Bai Shuixiao murmured audibly, no longer speaking to him, seemingly talking to herself yet also declaring to the whole world: “Those people don’t understand. They just wag their tongues, saying Luohua Cave Women have lost their souls, gone mad, married to the Cave Spirit, ruined, ruined…”

“They don’t understand a damn thing. They only understand men and women rolling in bed, completely ignorant of true feelings. Pathetic, living so pathetically, yet thinking themselves normal, laughing at me behind my back. But I don’t care; I pity them.”

“In their entire lives, they’ll never have the chance or luck to experience such emotion—I’m willing to die for him, willing to do anything to protect him, even sacrifice my life. I’ve done nothing wrong; protecting the one I love is perfectly justified…”

“I only regret that I had the chance to kill Meng Qianzi but was too greedy. I wanted her to obey for the long term, but she escaped. It was my fault. I’ve let you down. Now things have come to this, all because of my mistakes. I’ve failed you…”

Toward the end, her throat choked up, and she wept uncontrollably.

Xin Ci listened with his scalp tingling and eyes wide with astonishment. But mindful of his duty to record every word to report to Fifth Aunt, he could only listen silently—he found her words extreme and alarming, sending chills down his spine.

Just then, Bai Shuixiao’s sobbing suddenly stopped.

It stopped very abruptly, as if something had gripped her throat. Under normal circumstances, that kind of drawn-out sobbing couldn’t possibly stop so completely and thoroughly.

A foreboding strangeness flashed through Xin Ci’s heart. He looked up at Bai Shuixiao.

Bai Shuixiao seemed to have stopped moving. Her mouth was half-open, with extremely faint “ho ho” sounds coming from her throat. Her complexion rapidly turned ashen, and her eyeballs seemed to be slowly sinking deeper into their sockets.

The tent was extremely quiet. The guards, to “create” a more suitable conversation opportunity for Xin Ci, had turned or moved away, huddled together looking at something. None had noticed the change.

Xin Ci became frightened. He licked his lips and shakily asked: “Miss Bai, what’s… what’s wrong with you?”

At the same time, Meng Qianzi’s group was gradually approaching the cliff top.

Actually, after dealing with Bai Shuixiao, Qiu Beiying had started working on the rope rescue operation: bringing in more ropes from outside and joining them together wasn’t difficult, the challenge was “avoiding mountain beasts”—Qiu Beiying was somewhat plump and unsuited for rope descent, plus she needed blood talisman charms, all of which inevitably took time.

Meng Qianzi’s progress couldn’t be rushed either: going down ropes allowed for rapid descent, but climbing up couldn’t be “rushed,” only step by step. Even with everything going smoothly and people above helping to pull in the final stretch, it still took a full three hours.

The most excited was undoubtedly the little white monkey, following the entire way, busy leaping up and down, chattering, as if it had some important role—even though nobody needed energy bars, it eagerly took them out of its small bag, giving them to Meng Qianzi and then to Jiang Lian, but notably not to Shen Gun, probably still holding a grudge for being hit with a stone.

The people at the cliff top had been waiting anxiously: shortly after lowering the ropes, those weighing them noticed additional weight, and the ropes weren’t still but rhythmically vibrating, clearly indicating people climbing up. Counting the number, it was exactly three—this good news spread quickly, and as time passed, more and more people gathered to watch.

Qiu Beiying initially pretended to be unconcerned, not wanting to appear as impatient as the mountain dwellers, saying things like “they’ll come up eventually, more people watching won’t make Little Qian climb any faster.” But toward the end, hearing the commotion, she couldn’t bear the curiosity and also came to look.

When they were about ten meters from the cliff top, the noise above grew even more boisterous. Jiang Lian nudged Shen Gun, indicating he should slow down: the mountain dwellers weren’t eagerly waiting for them, and in such situations, it was best to know one’s place.

Sure enough, Meng Qianzi was the first to reach the top, and the jubilant sounds instantly merged into one. By the time Jiang Lian and Shen Gun supported each other up, a previous scene repeated itself: no one paid attention to them, leaving them standing awkwardly to the side. Meng Qianzi was the moon surrounded by stars, while they weren’t even stars, merely clouds bordering the very edge.

Fortunately, Shen Gun was thick-skinned and completely unbothered, even standing on tiptoes to watch the excitement.

Jiang Lian was also used to it; after all, this was the Mountain Ghosts’ home territory.

However, looking at Meng Qianzi encircled at the center, he felt somewhat estranged: after spending time together, he’d discovered she wasn’t difficult to approach. But once she returned to the larger Mountain Ghost community, the sense of distance between them grew stronger. Though visible at a glance, she felt very far away.

A smiling middle-aged woman was holding Meng Qianzi, looking her over, saying: “Little Qian, I feel like you’ve grown taller?”

Meng Qianzi replied: “How is that possible? Who grows at this age?”

The woman asked again: “Have you gotten darker?”

Meng Qianzi exclaimed: “How is that possible? It’s just the darkness making it seem that way!”

This must be her “Fifth Mother.” Jiang Lian found their exchange heartwarming and adorable, smiling unconsciously.

But as he smiled, his smile faded.

Not just him—the noisy crowd gradually quieted too—

A blood-curdling scream came from a more distant corner.

The sound erupted so suddenly, or perhaps the scene before them was too exciting, that they couldn’t immediately adjust—the mountain dwellers looked at each other in confusion, momentarily bewildered.

Meng Qianzi was the first to recognize the voice. Her heart jolted, and she blurted out: “What’s happened to Xin Ci?”

Xin Ci was scared out of his wits.

After asking that question, Bai Shuixiao naturally didn’t answer him, but she moved—thinking back, it was an illusion—she didn’t move, but her entire skin was collapsing and shrinking inward, her mouth caving in, eye sockets sinking, even her eyeballs seemed to be sucked inward. All these changes happened right before his eyes, making him feel she was moving, her entire body moving.

For Xin Ci’s courage, one really couldn’t expect too much.

His mind went blank as he collapsed to the ground, screaming desperately.

There were others in the tent who, hearing the commotion and fearing he was under attack, rushed over. Upon seeing Bai Shuixiao’s condition, they all gasped sharply, several “holy shit” exclamations escaping their lips.

At such a moment, fleeing was the best strategy—at the very least, staying far away from Bai Shuixiao.

They grabbed Xin Ci’s hands and legs, dragging him out, when suddenly Bai Shuixiao sprang up—not exactly springing, but the convulsive force within her body was so strong that her bound, previously slumped body suddenly inflated like a half-deflated balloon filled with air. Simultaneously, her face turned toward them, her eyes now just black holes, staring fixedly at everyone: she almost resembled a skull wrapped in skin.

At this, not just Xin Ci but even the mountain dwellers were frightened weak-kneed, falling on their backsides, crawling out on all fours amid hoarse screams. Before they could exit, they suddenly felt intense discomfort: as if hearing the most unbearable sound in the world, their nerves couldn’t withstand it, yet there was no sound around them.

By this time, the people from the cliff top had arrived outside the tent and simultaneously felt a needle-like pain and vibration in their skulls. Some with lower tolerance couldn’t withstand it and immediately began dry heaving.

Enduring the pain, Meng Qianzi pulled down the tent curtain, and the first thing that met her eyes was the inhuman form of Bai Shuixiao.

Having just arrived at the cliff top, she couldn’t guess what had happened, so she grabbed Meng Jinsong: “What’s going on? What’s wrong with her?”

Meng Jinsong, suppressing the discomfort in his chest, explained briefly: “Fifth Aunt suspected she swallowed the water essence. We tried to induce vomiting but weren’t successful.”

Water essence?

What was that phrase again? Mountain gall… mountain gall controls water essence?

Meng Qianzi had no time to think further. She quickly unfastened her backpack, took out the mountain gall, unwrapped the bandages, but holding it, she didn’t know how to use it. She anxiously thought: Control it, go control it.

The mountain gall soon changed.

Originally, it was surrounded by a lustrous milky-white halo, but now one could see that halo, like a comet’s tail, seemed blown by wind or attracted by some force, leaning slightly toward Bai Shuixiao.

Bai Shuixiao’s convulsions suddenly stopped.

That indescribable, extremely uncomfortable feeling also disappeared.

The surroundings gradually quieted. The event was too bizarre—everyone held their breath, making no sound. Xin Ci sat on the ground, not knowing whose leg he was clutching, breathing heavily, afraid to look toward Bai Shuixiao, but unable to resist, he glanced over.

Something seemed to be wriggling in her throat.

Xin Ci swallowed, thinking he’d seen wrong, but soon reality proved this was no illusion, as people successively cried out: “Look at her neck! Something’s moving on her neck, under the skin!”

Indeed, this time something was truly moving, like something swallowed being forcefully squeezed back up. A lump the size of a pigeon egg bulged in her throat, continuously moving toward her mouth. Bai Shuixiao’s eyes were open wide, her mouth stretching wider and wider, her throat emitting unbearably distressing sounds.

Someone couldn’t stand it anymore and rushed out of the tent, vomiting violently.

Bai Shuixiao also vomited. With that final effort, as if using all her strength, she spat out a mouthful of blackish-brown, semi-congealed blood, then slumped sideways, falling to the ground without a sound.

The surroundings were extremely quiet.

The air nearly froze.

After a long while, Qiu Beiying finally said, “Go see what she vomited.”

After some rustling sounds, a mountain dweller put on a mask and gloves, holding a tree branch, cautiously approaching that puddle of “blood,” poking it repeatedly with the branch.

It wasn’t blood but something like blackish-brown, rotten cotton, soft and drooping.

Qiu Beiying made a puzzled sound, murmuring: “Wasn’t the ancestral tablet… supposed to be indestructible?”