The driver’s body remained rigid for two seconds, his face filled with disbelief. He tried to reach for the protruding object, then collapsed heavily to the ground.

The car was extremely quiet, with only the sound of suppressed breathing, sometimes light, sometimes heavy. Wei Biao happened to be sitting by the window closest to that side, seeing more clearly than the others, and said softly: “It looks like an arrow.”

An arrow?

In this day and age, who would still use arrows?

Jiang Lian had no time to think deeply and blurted out: “Turn off the lights, quickly turn off the lights!”

In such a pitch-black night, with only the car’s interior brightly lit, weren’t they just sitting targets?

The driver understood and hurriedly turned off all the lights in the car. In an instant, the vehicle plunged into complete darkness. Despite all doors and windows being tightly closed, everyone instinctively tried to lower their bodies as much as possible.

Jiang Lian slowly raised his head, peering out along the bottom edge of the window.

Outside, there were still two light sources: one from the backup car and the other from the fallen searchlight of the dead driver. The person who had been run over earlier still lay motionless on the ground—it was unclear whether they had been killed by the car or if it had been a corpse to begin with.

Jiang Lian lowered his voice and asked Tao Tian, “Is there any weapon in the car for self-defense?”

Tao Tian was nearly crying with anxiety. She had been temporarily assigned to just provide transportation; how could she have anticipated the current situation? Normal passenger vehicles wouldn’t carry weapons—if they were stopped and searched on the highway, wouldn’t that cause trouble?

Fourth Aunt and her team had brought plenty of handy weapons when they entered the mountains, but those were specially transported and didn’t travel on passenger routes.

Her hands and feet grew cold, her voice wavering: “No, there isn’t.”

Jiang Lian’s heart sank, but he quickly rallied: “Have you been here before? Were there… any incidents before?”

“Yes, we’ve been here. Those tents, we’ve visited them more than once. I heard… people from the Ding family even specifically staked them out… there’s never been any trouble before.”

Understood—this place was like an abandoned haunted house. It had been normal when others visited, but this time, with them, something had gone wrong.

No time to dwell on that. The car they were in had a burst tire, clearly unreliable. Even if they had a spare, no one dared to get out and change it. Jiang Lian gritted his teeth and looked toward the backup car with its lights on: “Driver, do you think that car can still be driven?”

The driver knew he was being addressed and quickly responded: “Yes, that car is fine, it’s still in good condition.”

There were more than ten meters between the two cars. Jiang Lian laid out his plan: “Whether it’s human or ghost, we’re exposed and at a disadvantage. Retreat is our best option. Let’s get to that car as quickly as possible, start it, and flee. Once people are safely out, we can investigate later.”

This was the only way—who knew what might happen if they remained trapped in the car?

Tao Tian’s lips were dry. She took out the satellite phone, wanting to report the attack, but her hands were trembling so badly that she dropped it. The car was too dark, and the more frantically she searched for it, the less she could find it.

Time was pressing; they had to act immediately.

Jiang Lian gathered all the powerful flashlights in the car, tucking them into one side of his jacket, holding just one in his hand. He held his breath until the driver and Shen Gun had climbed from the front seats into the rear compartment, then very gently and slowly moved the car door.

Then he exhaled and instructed again: “When I run, you all run immediately!”

With that, he suddenly sprinted to one side, simultaneously turning on the flashlight in his hand. His speed was so fast that the light almost traced an arc.

The remaining people, with the driver leading, Wei Biao carrying Kuang Meiying second, and Tao Tian and Shen Gun trailing third, all aimed for that car and ran for their lives.

Jiang Lian didn’t dare run for too long. His heart pounding like a drum, he estimated that after running five or six steps, he would roll and fall flat on the ground. At the same time, he flung the flashlight farther away—at first glance, it looked as if he was still running with the flashlight.

Sure enough, shortly after the flashlight left his hand, he heard an intense whooshing sound through the air. This sound sent chills down Jiang Lian’s spine, raising goosebumps on his arms: a long arrow had just grazed the edge of the flashlight, streaked past, and then with a thunk, embedded itself in the ground in the distance.

In this age of firearms, cold weapons have been overlooked for too long, generally considered “outdated” and “obsolete.” Jiang Lian had shared this view in the past.

But now, far from the city, in the wilderness, and unarmed, he felt that arrows as cold weapons were terrifying: that sound cutting through the air was like a prelude to murder, letting you hear it, chilling you to the bone.

He swallowed and took out another flashlight, turning it on and employing the same tactic, but this time with less courage. He ran only three or four steps before throwing the flashlight away, then turned back and sprinted toward the car.

Reassuringly, Shen Gun, Wei Biao, and the others had already gotten into the car. The driver sat in the driver’s seat, trying to start the engine. The door was wide open for him, and Tao Tian and Shen Gun couldn’t help leaning in his direction, as if they couldn’t resist reaching out to pull him, wishing they could run to him.

Just at that moment, there was suddenly another whooshing sound from behind, the air being rapidly torn, emitting a sharp noise.

Jiang Lian had no time to look back, but he could see Kuang Meiying’s eyes roll back as she fainted, and Tao Tian’s face instantly drained of color. He knew something was wrong and quickly tried to shift his body sideways, but the arrow came too fast, piercing straight into his back shoulder. The force nearly lifted his body briefly off the ground.

Jiang Lian’s vision went black, and he fell heavily to the ground, his body curling and rolling. The world suddenly became surreal. He heard Shen Gun cry out in alarm, heard the car suddenly start, heard Wei Biao angrily shout “What are you doing?”, and heard the driver yell at the top of his lungs, “Don’t know what kind of psycho we’ve encountered, let’s save as many as we can!”…

The roar of the car’s engine faded into the distance. Jiang Lian, enduring the pain, raised his head to look: the car had indeed left, but shadowy figures were moving inside, apparently in fierce argument.

Let them go, then. The car was gone; how could he catch up anyway?

Jiang Lian felt his heart racing and his breath shortening: people new to high altitudes are prone to altitude sickness. He had just engaged in intense activity and was now injured. Under the severe pain, his head throbbed as if about to burst.

He pressed his hand against his chest, gasping for breath several times, not daring to straighten up for fear of another arrow. The injured shoulder and arm had gone numb and were useless. He gritted his teeth, digging into the ground with one hand, dragging his entire body toward the car with the burst tire.

He had barely crawled a meter or two when he heard a loud “boom.” Looking back, he saw that the car that had just escaped had somehow overturned, perhaps due to the passengers fighting over the steering wheel or some other mishap.

Jiang Lian’s heart sank.

There were too many people he cared about in that car, but in his current state, he couldn’t go check on them. He managed to crawl to the car, staggered up, and forcefully closed the door.

The closed car blocked the wind noise from outside, and suddenly it seemed quiet inside. Jiang Lian reached out, trying to break off the arrow shaft, only to discover that the arrowhead and shaft seemed to be one piece, impossible to break.

Breathing hard, he held onto the seat back and looked outside: the surroundings were still silent, and in the distance, the car that hadn’t escaped lay on its side, its wheels spinning in the faint light.

Who on earth were these attackers?

He wanted to lie down, but as soon as he leaned back, the pain made him immediately roll to the side, groaning: the arrow shaft was still embedded in his flesh. This reclining motion caused the flesh to grind against the shaft, making him break out in cold sweat, his face contorted with pain.

However, it was precisely this pain that made him notice something black under the seat, with a signal light blinking on and off.

Tao Tian’s satellite phone?

The blinking signal light indicated poor satellite connection, but at least it had a connection, better than his phone with zero signal. Jiang Lian stretched out his arm, his fingertips touching the device, inching it closer bit by bit until he finally grasped it. Bringing it to his face, he first adjusted the attached antenna. Once the satellite connection stabilized somewhat, he began dialing.

Meng Qianzi’s WeChat account was directly linked to her phone number, and Jiang Lian remembered her number.

He pressed each key of Meng Qianzi’s number one by one, then waited for the connection.

While waiting, he kept looking around to ensure no one was approaching.

Finally, the call connected. Meng Qianzi must not have been familiar with this number, answering with some hesitation: “Hello?”

Jiang Lian couldn’t help but smile.

Even in this life-or-death situation, hearing her voice inexplicably eased his heart, as if something important had been confirmed, or as if that last bit of lingering concern had found its place.

He said: “Qianzi…”

Just as he uttered these two words, his body suddenly stiffened, and he felt the blood in his body turn cold.

A dark shadow loomed over him.

Someone had come and was standing outside the car window.

Meng Qianzi had spent the day recovering from her injury, having lost contact with Jiang Lian. Feeling quite bored, she tried calling him again after dinner but still couldn’t get through.

With nothing to do, she casually picked up one of Duan Wenxi’s ledgers to look at. As she read, her gaze was drawn to the seven-colored halo emanating from the safe.

To keep it secret, she had already arranged for Meng Jinsong to install seven-colored spotlights outside the room during the day, keeping them on day and night. If anyone asked, they would use the lights as an excuse to cover up the truth.

Now, seeing this, Jiang Lian’s words came back to her.

Could these Phoenix Feathers truly not be destroyed?

Since there were fifty or sixty feathers locked in the safe, sacrificing one or two wouldn’t matter. She immediately moved herself into the wheelchair by the bed, slid over to the safe, opened it, and took out the smallest feather. Then she found the lighter used for incense and, very carefully, held the feather in one hand and the lighter in the other, slowly igniting the edge of the feather.

She hadn’t expected that this small feather, only half the size of her palm, once lit, would burst into flames nearly two meters high, dancing among the pendants of the large crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Crystal materials easily refract and transmit light, and suddenly, seven-colored halos filled the entire room, slowly flowing across the walls.

After a full five minutes, the flames gradually subsided, and the feather, far from being charred, looked as if it had been washed with water, more lustrous than before.

Meng Qianzi was stunned for a while.

This discovery, of course, would be most suitable to share with Jiang Lian and Shen Gun, but unfortunately, she couldn’t contact them, so she could only keep it to herself for now.

Just at that moment, her phone rang.

Meng Qianzi’s phone had been specially set up with filtering software, generally not receiving any telemarketing calls. So although the number looked unfamiliar, after a moment’s hesitation, she still answered.

Unexpectedly, it was Jiang Lian on the other end.

Overjoyed, she couldn’t wait to share with him: “Jiang Lian, do you know what? I just actually burned…”

Just as she said this, the sound of glass being violently shattered came through the receiver, not just once but repeatedly, interspersed with Jiang Lian’s heavy breathing.

Meng Qianzi froze: “Jiang Lian, has something happened?”

There was no response, only a dull thud that she instinctively knew was the phone falling to the ground. Then came sounds of struggle, muffled groans, and occasionally the crisp sound of glass falling.

Then, all sounds ceased.

That’s not quite accurate—there were still sounds, the faint whisper of wind.

Meng Qianzi’s lips went dry. Her heart was racing, blood rushing to her head. Knowing something was wrong, she didn’t care about anything else and shouted: “Jiang Lian? Jiang Lian!”

After repeating this dozens of times, someone finally picked up the phone on the other end.

Meng Qianzi heard the breathing from the receiver and felt a momentary joy, but that tiny bit of happiness was immediately swept away as if by a great wave, leaving her body completely cold.

That wasn’t Jiang Lian.

She slowly leaned back into the wheelchair, one hand gripping the armrest. The roaring in her ears completely drowned out all the noises from outside, yet her mind was extraordinarily calm.

She asked: “Who are you?”

No answer, only hoarse inhaling and exhaling, heavy and carrying an unclear, dangerous meaning.

Meng Qianzi spoke gently: “Let’s talk.”

“Don’t hurt my friend. Everything is negotiable. Whatever you want, whatever you hope to gain, just say it. In this world, everything has a price, and rest assured, I can certainly afford it.”

On the other end, there was still that dull breathing, growing heavier with each breath, but for some reason, the person wouldn’t speak.

Meng Qianzi wanted to say more, but then heard a cracking sound, and the call disconnected.

If her guess was correct, that person had crushed the phone in their hand.

Meng Qianzi still maintained her phone-answering posture, except that the hand gripping the wheelchair armrest had unconsciously tightened, the knuckles turning somewhat white.

After a while, she put down the phone, placed her hand over her wildly beating heart, and, following what Xin Ci had taught her, took several deep breaths before reaching for the call button at the head of the bed.

Before her hand could touch it, there came an urgent knocking at the door. Meng Qianzi withdrew her hand and said: “It’s unlocked, come in.”

It was Meng Jinsong who entered, his expression somewhat off, his Adam’s apple repeatedly bobbing, clearly anxious.

Meng Qianzi said, “Speak.”

“Fourth Aunt organized a search for Old Lady Duan’s body in the Kunlun area. One team, eight people, lost contact two days ago. They just called to say that as of…”

At this point, he raised his wrist, glancing at the time: “9 PM, they’ve found four bodies.”

“Natural disaster or human-caused?”

“Human-caused. They said of the four bodies found, two had knife wounds, and two were strangled to death.”

“Have they performed autopsies? Any preliminary findings?”

Meng Jinsong shook his head: “Detailed autopsies couldn’t be done; the people sent weren’t experts in that field. Fourth Aunt did a preliminary examination and only knows that the attacker must have had great strength, because the two with knife wounds were cut in half at the waist…”

Meng Qianzi showed slight emotion: “So that’s four pieces?”

Meng Jinsong dared not look at her: “Yes.”

Then, forcing himself to continue: “The two who were strangled… their neck bones were broken.”

“What about Shen Gun and Jiang Lian, any news?”

Shen Gun and Jiang Lian?

Meng Jinsong was a bit confused: “No, they only set out from Xining today. I heard that even if they drove through the night, they wouldn’t arrive until midnight. If they don’t drive through the night, they’ll arrive tomorrow morning. They… should still be far from Fourth Aunt’s location.”

Meng Qianzi raised her hand and tossed the phone to him: “Check where my last call came from.”