Meng Qianzi left the cave, moving as far from the entrance as possible to let the mountain winds cleanse her nostrils of the fishy stench. This would prevent it from interfering with her tracking later. She then made a call to Xian Qionghua.

Xian Qionghua hadn’t gone to sleep—of course, she couldn’t sleep. She was still keeping the news to herself: if nothing happened to Meng Qianzi, all would be well, but if something did happen, she would be the first person held responsible.

No wonder most people didn’t want to take responsibility; the uncertainty was too agonizing.

She quickly answered the phone: “Zi’er, do you need backup?”

Meng Qianzi said, “No need. I’ve entered the mountains. They can’t keep up with me.”

Can’t keep up…

Xian Qionghua immediately understood: “You’re using the Mountain Wind Guide? You don’t care about your leg anymore?”

Those who used the Mountain Wind Guide moved by following scents, at quite a rapid pace. Ordinary people simply couldn’t keep up. Xian Qionghua was concerned about Meng Qianzi’s leg—intense movement could tear the muscles, which would be disastrous.

Meng Qianzi looked down at her leg: “It doesn’t matter. Technology is so advanced now. I can get a multi-functional leg installed later, which might be better than the original… Seventh Mother, please contact Zong Hang.”

This meant business. Xian Qionghua unconsciously sat up straight.

“Ask him how many people were in that final camp, the missing water dwellers. I suspect some of them have already been…”

She paused, unsure of what word to use: “…already been possessed or controlled by ‘them.’ Those who attacked Jiang Lian and the others were these people. They probably won’t attack our camp, but you should still strengthen your defenses. From now on, I’ll send you my GPS coordinates every half hour. If I need help, I’ll contact you.”

Before Xian Qionghua could respond, the call had already ended.

—

Meng Qianzi first sent her current coordinates, took a deep breath, loosened her shoulders and neck, and then continued following the scent.

The scent was faint, but like a resilient thread, it persisted. Although it sometimes suddenly disappeared, if she stood still and sniffed in all directions, she could quickly pick it up again. The direction remained the same—it seemed that the Kunlun Mountains were indeed the destination.

Meng Qianzi’s thoughts stirred: These former water dwellers had emerged from the drifting underground chambers. According to Shen Gun’s theory, after the chambers stopped drifting, they likely took refuge in the Kunlun Mountains. Now these monsters were heading toward Kunlun, and Fourth Mother’s mountain search team on the Kunlun side had suddenly encountered deadly violence…

Could there be a connection between the two?

It seemed incredible to her: the two locations were hundreds of kilometers apart—you couldn’t even drive there in one day.

…

Just as she was about to cross over a mountain peak, Meng Qianzi abruptly stopped. After a moment, she turned southward and sniffed again.

There was a blood scent, quite strong and still warm. It lacked the gamey smell of animals—it was probably human.

Meng Qianzi hesitated, then decided to turn aside and follow the blood scent.

After walking about a kilometer, loose rocks became more numerous. Occasionally, when she stepped down, stones would slide and tumble. Meng Qianzi had to take out her flashlight for illumination. In the light, she could see the puffs of white breath she exhaled—it was getting colder. The Bayan Har Mountains were a series of folded ranges; the higher one went, the colder it became. It was common for a single mountain to experience four seasons: at the foot, there might be cattle and sheep roaming on lush grass, while the upper reaches could be lashed by rain and snow.

Soon, her light revealed a winding fissure in the mountain, about twenty meters long, with varying width. At its narrowest, it was only a dozen centimeters wide; at its widest, less than half a meter—like a giant stone mouth slightly ajar.

Such fissures were mountain splits with complex origins. Sometimes they were caused by earthquakes, sometimes by mountain blasting, and others simply because time had passed and the mountain’s texture had naturally split—after all, mountains were like humans, although with different life spans; they too would eventually decay and collapse.

She shone her flashlight into the crevice. It was quite deep; she couldn’t immediately see the bottom. The light searched around below and suddenly stopped.

At the reach of her flashlight beam was a blood-covered face with wide, staring eyes.

Meng Qianzi’s scalp tingled, but she quickly realized that the person was Wei Biao.

Was he… dead? Her lips went dry, and her body froze for a second or two.

Fortunately, she soon discovered that Wei Biao wasn’t dead. One of his arms was weakly reaching up into the air, seemingly asking for help.

Meng Qianzi took a deep breath, confirming that no large living creatures were approaching within two or three li, and quickly took out a rope from her bag. She tied one end to a stable large rock, put the other end over her shoulder and around her waist, inserted the flashlight into her shoulder clip, and then stepped down into the fissure.

The closer she got, the more alarming the situation became.

Wei Biao had been thrown into the fissure from above. If he had fallen to the bottom, his brains would have splattered, and he would have died instantly. Fortunately, Wei Biao was tall and robust with a broad back and waist. His build was considerably larger than average, and at a narrowing point in the crevice, he had become wedged, neither able to go up nor down, suspended in place.

If it had been a thinner person, they would have met the King of Hell long ago.

But this situation intensified his pain. Nobody could bear their entire body weight through compression at the chest and abdomen without suffering terribly. Moreover, Wei Biao was injured. Meng Qianzi noticed that he could only emit hoarse, raspy sounds, unable to form complete sentences. There must be a large wound on his lower abdomen, nearly gutting him. One hand was firmly pressed against it to hold his insides in, while his two suspended legs spasmed as if trying to find footing, but there were simply no stable points below to step on.

This was damn near worse than being flayed alive in hell.

Meng Qianzi’s nose stung with emotion. She quickly took out a tube of glucose from her bag, drew her dagger, cut off the top of the tube, and fed it to Wei Biao’s mouth, instructing him: “Don’t talk now. Conserve your strength.”

Then she descended another meter or more and used her dagger to carve two depressions, one above the other, in the opposite rock face. Her dagger, while not as exaggerated as being able to cut through iron like mud, was certainly capable of chiseling stone and chopping.

After preparing the footholds, she grabbed Wei Biao’s legs and helped him place his feet securely.

Finally having solid footing to slightly relieve the pressure on his chest and abdomen was perhaps the happiest thing in the world for Wei Biao at that moment. He sucked on the tube and let out a long breath.

Meng Qianzi then took out bandages with medicinal powder and roughly bandaged his wound. Only then did she climb back up the rope to be level with Wei Biao, bracing her right leg against the rock wall to stabilize herself.

Her leg felt somewhat weak, as if sensation was gradually returning. Reaching down to feel it, she found a layer of blood had soaked through her pants. Meng Qianzi sighed, felt for the zipper at the back of her knee, and opened the pants leg—fortunately, she was wearing clothes designed for easy removal; otherwise, dressing a wound would require taking off her pants, which would be too troublesome.

She wiped the blood from her leg and wrapped her bandage. Wei Biao watched her from the side, his lips slightly moving. The tube with the remaining glucose fell into the depths of the crevice without making a sound.

Wei Biao’s voice was dry, weak, and hoarse, forced out from his throat: “Meiying…”

Kuang Meiying?

Meng Qianzi’s movements froze. She immediately looked up, forgetting to finish wrapping her wound.

“Miss Meng, please save… save Meiying…”

Speaking was too difficult for him. Meng Qianzi tried to ask complete questions: “Was Meiying taken by those people?”

Wei Biao made a sound of affirmation: “She… she had an attack…”

Meng Qianzi felt a chill rise from her heart: “An attack? That disease where the skin splits open by itself and bleeds?”

Wei Biao made another vague sound of confirmation.

This disease picked its moment to flare up. Meng Qianzi pondered for a while, lowered her eyes, and continued bandaging her wound: “Don’t worry. If they wanted to kill her, they would have done so already. The fact that they haven’t killed her means they won’t do so anytime soon.”

Moreover, at the root of it all, the Kuang family and “them” had once been on the same side in ancient times. Perhaps because of this connection, Kuang Meiying was temporarily safe.

After finishing the bandaging, she reconnected her pants leg and took out a spare injection, giving herself a second dose: “The disease that affects Kuang family women takes some time to progress from onset to death. There’s still time to do something.”

As she injected herself, the moment the needle entered her flesh, there was a thin line of pain that traveled through her body, as if pulling at her heart, giving it a slight tug.

Meng Qianzi’s voice suddenly trembled, but she tried to maintain normalcy: “Let me ask you, Jiang Lian…”

The question had an unexpected effect—Wei Biao’s eyes reddened, and he trembled as he said: “It was… too sudden. I wanted to go back and save him. From the beginning, he…”

Meng Qianzi made a sound of acknowledgment and lowered her head to slowly push the plunger, still hearing Wei Biao’s murmurings: “We grew up together. Master Gan said the three of us had to rely on each other to survive. I was too useless. Master Gan hasn’t been gone long, and I couldn’t save him or protect Meiying…”

She pushed the plunger to the bottom as her vision gradually blurred. She blinked hard, then opened her eyes, removing the syringe and discarding the used needle: “These things can’t be helped. Some live, some die. Try to accept it.”

“I can’t help you get out. I’ll send the coordinates to the mountain dwellers and make a visible marker at the top. Try to conserve your strength and wait for rescue. There are some things I need to confirm with you—if you can talk, please do. If not, just nod, shake your head, make a sound, or give me a look. I’ll understand.”

From Wei Biao’s account, Meng Qianzi learned roughly what had happened after the vehicle overturned.

At that time, the people in the car had scattered and fled, following Shen Gun’s suggestion that everyone run in different directions to maximize their chances. No one knew that the driver, Sun Yao, had hidden and remained still.

Kuang Meiying had fainted, so naturally Wei Biao carried her. In his panic, he ran without direction, going quite far. In the middle of the night, without any light, he had no idea where he had run to. Eventually, when everything around him became deathly quiet, he became afraid to run further, worried that his heavy breathing and the sound of his footsteps might attract something.

Wei Biao thought the mountains would be safer than the open wilderness, as they offered cover and protection. So he headed toward the mountains, hoping to find a cave or some shelter to spend the night. When daylight came, things might be easier to handle.

Halfway up the mountain, he found a sheltered spot. He held Kuang Meiying tight, not daring to close his eyes, vigilantly surveying his surroundings.

As nothing unusual happened for a while, he mentally relaxed somewhat. In the latter half of the night, he dozed off. He didn’t know which time it was when he woke from his doze, but he suddenly discovered a strange silhouette standing on a nearby ridge.

It was the mantis-person. At that time, all four of its limbs were unfolded, thin and long. It stood with hands and feet on the ground, its head abnormally large, looking extremely terrifying.

Wei Biao was so frightened he didn’t dare breathe, silently thanking himself for finding a relatively hidden spot. The mantis-person walked past the two of them once or twice, very close by, but fortunately didn’t discover anything and gradually moved away.

That was when Kuang Meiying had her attack.

The skin tearing was extremely painful. Kuang Meiying’s arm twitched in her sleep and she moaned. Although Wei Biao immediately covered her mouth, the mantis-person was still drawn back.

Wei Biao picked up a stone, watching the dark figure stop with its back to him. He thought it was now or never—if he could knock it unconscious, that would be best, or even killing it would be justified. But just as he raised his hand, the mantis-person pounced on him, one of its thin, long arms firmly clamping his neck, then leaping with both legs, carrying him in continuous bounds. If the mantis-person had stopped, Wei Biao might have been able to wrestle with it, but it kept moving—who could withstand having their neck pulled like a horse on a bridle?

He struggled continuously, kicking with his legs, and soon lost consciousness.

When he woke up, he was in the cave that Meng Qianzi had visited. By then, it was broad daylight. His hands and feet were bound, and Kuang Meiying lay beside him with a small pool of blood—the symptoms of her first attack were still relatively mild.

Shen Gun was also there, sitting dejectedly to one side. He wasn’t tied up, perhaps because his fighting ability was considered negligible. However, he might have been beaten; one lens of his glasses was cracked, and his nose had been bleeding.

In the cave, there was no sign of the mantis-person, only a man with his head and face wrapped, eyes exposed, and clothes open.

This man’s body was terrifying—white in color, as if soaked in water for a long time, swollen and rotting. Below his chest was a large wound, but there was no blood, only exposed flesh. In his hand, he held a rope with a net pouch at the end containing a stone.

When he saw that Wei Biao was awake, Shen Gun quietly instructed him: Don’t make any sudden movements. The stone-thrower’s accuracy was frightening. Just moments ago, when he had tried to find an opportunity to talk to the man, the man had raised his hand, and the stone in the net had swung over, breaking his glasses lens and causing his nose to bleed.

He also mentioned that this type of rope-and-stone throwing was popular in ancient times, very long ago.

Wei Biao wasn’t concerned about these details. He only wondered where the mantis-person had gone, and with everyone being held here, minus the driver and Tao Tian, had those two escaped, or were they still being hunted?

They endured until midnight when another tall man entered the cave. Similarly, his head and face were covered, but his build was even more robust than Wei Biao’s. He carried a wooden club.

The club-carrier stopped in front of the stone-thrower. Though they made no sound, strangely, Wei Biao felt they were conversing. The stone-thrower seemed very angry, his whole demeanor hysterical, repeatedly pointing at the wound on his body.

After a while, the club-carrier also sat down to one side.

Kuang Meiying had already awakened. After fainting from fear once, she had developed some resilience. This time she didn’t faint, just huddled against Wei Biao, trembling. Sometimes she cried, partly because her disease had started to manifest, and partly for Jiang Lian.

The three of them huddled together, without a grain of food, and passed another night. This time, Wei Biao fell asleep.

When he woke again, it was another day. The mantis-person had returned and was gathered with the two companions, still engaged in that silent conversation. The mantis-person kept pointing at Shen Gun and Kuang Meiying, which gave Wei Biao an ominous feeling: Why wasn’t it pointing at him?

The stone-thrower was still angry but seemed to have been persuaded. Before long, he came over to pull at the three of them.

Kuang Meiying was too frightened to speak and was only pushed along. Shen Gun made quite a scene, even dropping his glasses, though Wei Biao suspected he did it deliberately, probably wanting to leave a clue for the search party.

The three were driven like this, beginning their trek through the mountains. Kuang Meiying couldn’t handle much exertion, which was beneficial because she alone slowed down the entire pace. Later, they reached this mountain peak, and the mantis-person, as if already knowing about the nearby fissure, dragged Wei Biao toward it.

The situation became chaotic. Kuang Meiying cried out in distress, Shen Gun tried to come to his aid, and Wei Biao fought back with all his might. In the confusion, the mantis-person’s sharp claws ripped open his abdomen, and he was half-dragged, half-pulled away and thrown down.

When he was thrown in, the sun hadn’t yet set, which meant it happened roughly seven to eight hours ago.

—

Meng Qianzi made a second call to Xian Qionghua, informing her of three things:

To send people to rescue Wei Biao, as the mountain dweller Tao Tian was missing, and to be wary of an archer.

The archer who had killed the driver and Jiang Lian had not yet appeared, nor had he joined his companions.

After handling these matters, she also drank a tube of glucose.

Seven to eight hours ago.

At Kuang Meiying and Shen Gun’s pace, they couldn’t have gone far in seven or eight hours. Perhaps their captors had stopped to rest or sleep, which meant she was getting close—this time, she would soon catch up to them.

Meng Qianzi ran at full speed, occasionally leaping like a monkey. The thick darkness of night gradually thinned as she ran, and just as the first light broke at the horizon, her back suddenly tensed, and she stopped in her tracks.

This time, it wasn’t because of a scent.

It was because of a sound—the sound of a heavy arrow flying through the air. She also saw a long arrow shot from a distance ahead, though she didn’t know who it was aimed at. Strangely, it flew high into the sky—it wasn’t like Hou Yi shooting down the sun; more likely, someone had missed their target.

Meng Qianzi smiled. She wiped the sweat from her forehead, brushing her damp hair behind her ears, drew her gun, gritted her teeth, and, no longer bothering with tracking scents, ran directly toward the direction from which the arrow had been shot.

Damn it, the person who had made her run all night, ruining her leg, was right there.

Halfway there, she heard screams and roars coming from that location. The screams were from a woman, possibly Kuang Meiying—she wasn’t familiar enough with her to recognize her voice. But the roars sounded like Shen Gun—what was happening? Had these two suddenly risen in rebellion?

She didn’t slow down. The incident was taking place at a lower elevation, requiring her to descend continuously. Soon, the scene became clear, and Meng Qianzi cursed.

Damn it, she couldn’t use her gun now.

To put it simply, below was a chaotic fight. Shen Gun was roaring, wrestling with a man—even the weakest person has some strength when fighting for their life, making it difficult to determine who had the upper hand. But with Meng Qianzi’s shooting skills, hitting moving targets was challenging enough, let alone two people tangled together like melted sugar?

The other situation was even more urgent: an extremely robust, tall man was kneeling over someone, pressing them down. A woman was screaming hoarsely, desperately trying to pull him off. There was no one else visible in the scene, though another woman lay prostrate on the ground.

This was no time for aiming.

The situation was critical, and she had reached the end of the path—a low cliff. Taking the sloping path down from the side would be too late. Meng Qianzi shouted: “Get off of them!”

She couldn’t even say clearly whether she was shouting at the woman or the man.

But it had the desired effect. The man turned around in shock. Meng Qianzi locked onto her target and swooped down like a great bird, instantly mounting the man’s shoulders and neck, then twisting her body.

Her strength wasn’t enough, so she tried to use the momentum of her entire body’s dive and twist to break the man’s neck.

But to her great surprise, the man’s neck was incredibly solid. Despite the force she applied, it had no effect. The two of them merely rolled on the ground. Meng Qianzi’s gun fell, and she had no time to retrieve it. From Wei Biao’s description, she knew this man was extremely strong, and she couldn’t fight him for long—she could only strike quickly.

Using the momentum of sitting up, she bent her lower leg, swiftly drawing the dagger from her leg and thrusting it toward the man’s throat. The man moved with extreme speed, reaching out to grab it. His hand was enormous, with thick, callused palms, and he managed to grip the blade tip.

This played right into her hands. Meng Qianzi smiled and said, “Go to hell.”

This was a nested dagger.

She lightly brushed the hidden catch with the web of her hand and, with a sweeping motion, drew the blade across the man’s throat. Before he could react, still holding the outer shell of the dagger, Meng Qianzi reached for the gun on the ground, pressed it under his jaw, and without hesitation fired a final shot.

In the echo of the gunshot, Shen Gun shouted: “Miss Meng, help me quickly!”

It turned out that while Shen Gun wasn’t good at fighting, his mind was sharp. Knowing reinforcements had arrived and that he couldn’t beat his opponent, he had taken advantage of the moment when the man was distracted to break free and run. The man reacted quickly, not allowing him to escape, and chased after him.

Meng Qianzi was breathing heavily, but she immediately raised her gun. Shen Gun, seeing the gun pointed in his direction, quickly veered to the side.

Meng Qianzi fired her first shot.

She missed.

She fired a second shot and missed again. Her marksmanship was indeed poor.

The man had initially been startled by these two shots and hesitated slightly. Seeing that she couldn’t aim properly, he became less concerned. But this meant it would be difficult to take anyone away now. He made a decision and swung his stone-throwing sling.

Meng Qianzi aimed carefully and fired a third shot.

This shot hit its mark. The stone that was about to be thrown lost its trajectory and flew high into the air, while on the horizon, the dawn was spreading across the sky.

When shooting, one shouldn’t rush—it’s better to aim carefully.

From behind her, someone called: “Qianzi.”

Then said: “How are you able to stand?”

Meng Qianzi was caught off guard and instinctively responded: “Huh?”