Meng Qianzi reached out again, gently patting the yak’s body.

The yak knew no fear and ambled forward unhurriedly. The weather was poor, with snowy mist blurring everything, making the figure ahead indistinct. Meng Qianzi made a backward gesture with her hand, signaling the others to stay alert and cover her. This way, even if the figure suddenly attacked and she couldn’t react in time, the people behind could respond faster than the enemy.

The figure remained motionless. Meng Qianzi held her breath. The unknown was more frightening than anything else—if it had been a mantis-man or bull-headed creature standing there, she wouldn’t have been this nervous.

They drew closer and closer.

Five steps, three steps…

Meng Qianzi finally saw clearly what it was.

Damn, it was indeed a person, with half-open eyes, a deathly pale face, and purplish-blue lips. One leg was planted on the ground, the other extended upward. One hand was curled at the waist, while the other reached emptily into the air.

Normally, such a posture would be difficult to maintain—even someone skilled at standing on one leg could only hold it temporarily. Yet this person remained stable as a mountain for a reason.

He was frozen inside a large block of ice.

This ice wasn’t irregularly shaped; rather, it was a long, slender, cylindrical column. The curved surface wasn’t smooth, but it was completely transparent, making it impossible to notice from a distance that the human figure was encased in ice.

Snow mist continued to drift, with whitish flakes sticking to the ice column, dotting its surface. Meng Qianzi had an ominous feeling. She beckoned to those behind her: “Come here and look at this face… do you recognize him?”

The people behind weren’t skilled at controlling the yaks, so they simply climbed out of their slings and jogged over to look. The first two shook their heads, but the other two recognized him almost simultaneously.

“He’s one of ours!”

“He’s from Shi Xiaohai’s team, one of the missing men!”

Of the eight-person team, four bodies had been found, one had brain damage, and now another was frozen in an ice column—that made six.

For the remaining two, Meng Qianzi felt the outlook was very grim.

However, those two weren’t the main concern now. Where were Jing Rusi, Meng Jinsong, and the twenty-plus people they had led?

Meng Qianzi surveyed her surroundings.

This area wasn’t above the snow line yet, only approaching it. This meant there should be large patches of bare ground. The reason everything was covered in white now was that the avalanche had caused massive amounts of snow to cascade down from above, burying everything.

One of the mountain dwellers had the same thought: “Miss Meng, if our people were buried by the snow, we few can’t possibly dig them all out.”

Meng Qianzi looked at the base of the ice column.

Strangely, there was no accumulated snow piled against any side of the column’s base. This meant it wasn’t here before the avalanche. But if someone had brought it here after the avalanche, that would be inconceivable—there were no footprints in the snow, and a block of ice this size would be incredibly heavy. Even two or three strong adult men might not be able to lift it.

Meng Qianzi suddenly remembered the four mountain dwellers whose bodies had been cut in half.

Just then, a sudden gust of wind came from above and to the side. A sharp-eyed mountain dweller’s face changed drastically as he blurted out: “Quick, dodge!”

Human reflexes are naturally quick. Several people rolled to either side, but Meng Qianzi, with her injured leg, was completely wrapped in the sling and couldn’t see what was happening behind her. Even if she could see, directing the yak would inevitably be slower than the others’ movements.

Fortunately, because she had been hanging from the side of the yak’s belly, she wasn’t visible from most angles, so she wasn’t the target. The attacker seemed intent on striking down the mountain dwellers. From above came the sound of ice shattering upon impact—another ice column had been hurled through the air, partially hitting the one already standing.

The first column immediately shattered, while the thrown one lost its trajectory, grazing the yak’s back before plunging diagonally into the snow. But since it wasn’t pointed, this slanted position only lasted for a second or two before it crashed down completely.

This column also contained a frozen person. Without even looking, Meng Qianzi knew it must be one of their people.

Her yak couldn’t withstand the fright and began to leap about frantically. The other two yaks also turned and fled. Meng Qianzi gritted her teeth and endured the washing machine-like jolting. A rank odor reached her nostrils, and despite her discomfort, she quickly glanced outward. Through her shaking vision, she caught glimpses of two legs covered in grayish-yellow fur darting past.

Those legs were like flesh pillars, at least twice as thick as a normal person’s.

While Meng Qianzi was being tossed about, the mountain dwellers had already scrambled to their feet with cries of alarm. Someone drew their gun in panic. Just then, the sound of rapid hoofbeats came from behind the snow creature.

It was the largest yak, head lowered, sharp horns forward, charging recklessly toward the snow creature.

This snow creature was extremely robust, standing nearly three meters tall when upright. But even so, it couldn’t easily dismiss a yak that stood nearly half its height and weighed about half a ton. It casually tossed the mountain dweller it had grabbed toward the remaining people. Simultaneously, it let out a muffled roar from its throat, turned around, and raised both arms. Quick as lightning, it managed to grab the yak’s horns.

Its arm strength was astonishing—the charging yak was forcibly stopped in its tracks, its four hooves scrabbling uselessly in the snow.

Just as the snow creature let out another roar from its throat and twisted its waist, attempting to flip the yak over, Meng Qianzi suddenly emerged from beneath the yak’s belly. One hand remained hidden in the sling. After several muffled sounds, the snow creature tumbled to the ground, seemingly in unbearable pain. As it rolled, a large pool of blood spread beneath it.

It turned out that while being jolted along with the yak, Meng Qianzi had already figured out a plan: she hadn’t been able to smell this snow creature, which meant it had been covered by snow earlier and could only roughly guess the number and position of people by sound. It couldn’t possibly have known someone was hidden beneath the yak.

She had turned the situation to her advantage, letting the mountain dwellers distract the snow creature while she launched a sneak attack. The wrist crossbow wouldn’t be very effective against such a large creature, but the sling, converted from a sleeping bag, had thick enough padding. She had wrapped the gun barrel with the sleeping bag to muffle the sound, and when she emerged, she aimed directly at the snow creature’s lower body. The angle was extremely tricky, ensuring the bullet would travel upward into its vital organs.

The snow creature continued to convulse on the ground as silence once again fell over the surroundings.

Meng Qianzi looked at the gun in her hand and suddenly found something strange.

Even someone like her knew that to prevent avalanches, one should wrap thick fabric around the gun barrel to muffle the sound. Fourth Mother was an old hand in the Northwest and couldn’t possibly lack this awareness. Even if events unfolded suddenly, everyone was wearing thick clothing in this season—improvising a sound suppressor would have been easy.

Why hadn’t they done so? Thinking back to those gunshots, they had been fired with reckless abandon.

Meng Qianzi had a sudden realization.

Could it be that Jing Rusi’s group had deliberately fired their guns to… trigger an avalanche?

Snow flows downward from high places. To survive an avalanche, the most effective method is to find a large boulder and hide behind it. The snow flow, meeting the obstacle, would split and flow around both sides, allowing those sheltering behind it a good chance of survival.

Looking around, there were a few tall, jagged rocks, and those that remained were already buried under snow, appearing like giant snow tumors growing from the mountainside.

Meng Qianzi instructed the mountain dwellers: “Quick, clear the snow from those spots.”

Meanwhile, Shen Gun, escorted by Xian Qionghua and her team, had been walking outward until the satellite phone finally showed a signal. He hurriedly unzipped his down jacket all the way.

Xian Qionghua had never seen anyone who needed to take off their clothes to make a phone call. She peered over and saw four or five numbers written with a fluorescent pen on the inside of the jacket.

She understood now. In this day and age of smart communications, few people memorize specific numbers anymore. Shen Gun had prepared for emergencies by writing them inside his clothes.

Shen Gun didn’t bother with explanations. He first dialed the number for the mansion in Wuwu Town.

Shi Jiaxin was at home as usual and answered promptly.

Shen Gun had no time for pleasantries and rushed to explain the situation: “Old Shi, you’re experienced with this. When Little Tongzi lost her soul in Dunhuang, weren’t you the one who brought her back? How should I handle my little brother’s situation?”

Shi Jiaxin pondered for a moment before saying calmly: “This is quite tricky.”

Damn! Shen Gun nearly jumped up. When he was anxious, he couldn’t stand others speaking slowly and deliberately. But there was nothing he could do—Shi Jiaxin was like a living corpse, remaining unmoved even if a mountain collapsed.

Shen Gun shouted: “This is extremely urgent! Can you speak faster?”

But even “extremely urgent” couldn’t rush Shi Jiaxin: “First, you need to place him in an open area with an upright mirror facing him. His consciousness is lost somewhere—you can’t see the consciousness world, but mirrors can reveal everything. The wider the area the mirror reflects, the better.”

Shen Gun nodded nervously.

“Second, you need to ring the bell. Didn’t I send you the road bell? That’s the best tool. Remember, you can ring it slowly, but don’t stop. The bell sound will bring him back nearby. If you stop, he’ll wander away again, and if he goes too far, it will be hard to find him.”

Damn, the bell-ringing for Jiang Lian had already stopped for a long time. Shen Gun swallowed and said to Xian Qionghua: “Little Sister Xian, tell Miss Meng to keep ringing the bell, quickly!”

Xian Qionghua thought this was nonsensical but still picked up the walkie-talkie. However, the camp’s signal was too poor—even with better reception here, it might not connect.

As she was trying, her whole body suddenly jolted, and she instinctively looked up.

Sound travels far in the mountains. She was certain she had heard gunshots, and from the direction, they seemed to be coming from higher up.

She stopped trying to adjust the radio and spoke directly: “Sister Zi, is Fourth Sister in trouble? What’s your situation? Should I come back right away? Shen Gun is still on the phone.”

Only the latter part of Meng Qianzi’s response came through: “…one thing at a time.”

This probably meant she should finish the task at hand first. Xian Qionghua’s heart raced, but she suppressed the urge to rush back immediately. In terms of the overall battle situation, Meng Qianzi was Jing Rusi’s backup, while she, Xian Qionghua, would be everyone’s backup. She needed to make calls to arrange for additional people and resources.

Meanwhile, Shen Gun had finished his call with Shi Jiaxin and immediately dialed a second number.

This second call was to Yue Feng.

This was because Shi Jiaxin’s third instruction had been: “But even if you bring him back nearby, there’s no guarantee he’ll wake up. There’s a barrier between yin and yang, between the real world and the consciousness world—they’re not freely connected. Your little brother needs a door to cross back. The blood of a Sheng family daughter can open a door on the mirror’s surface. When you see your little brother in the mirror, pull with all your might to bring him back. It’s not like you haven’t done this before.”

Before hanging up, he had added: “I know you’re going to look for Little Xia. I’m warning you, don’t drag her into this mess again. Little Xia has said many times that she just wants to live an ordinary life now.”

…

Shen Gun anxiously waited for the call to connect.

Yue Feng answered: “Hello?”

Shen Gun hurriedly shouted, “Little Feng Feng, it’s me! This is extremely urgent, life or death! Don’t hang up! Someone will die if you hang up!”

He had to make this declaration because while most of his friends were polite and respectful to him, Yue Feng alone didn’t take him seriously. Yue Feng would casually call him “you fool” and, when impatient, would cut off his calls without hesitation. This was probably because they had known each other for too long, meeting when Shen Gun hadn’t yet “established himself” and still resembled a drifter.

This showed how important first impressions and initial power dynamics were—once established, they were difficult to reverse.

Yue Feng grunted in acknowledgment.

Shen Gun asked: “Is Little Tongzi there? I need to speak with her.”

Resistance immediately appeared in Yue Feng’s voice: “Shen Gun, haven’t I told you not to involve Tongtong in those messy affairs anymore?”

Shen Gun was anxious, breaking into a sweat that quickly cooled in the cold wind: “No, Little Feng Feng, I understand the principle, but I need to ask Little Tongzi. Put yourself in my shoes—imagine someone is in the same situation you were in back then. It would just take a small effort…”

Strange sounds came from the other end, like scallions and ginger hitting hot oil with a burst of sizzling. Then a familiar female voice came through: “Shen Gun?”

Shen Gun was startled: “Little Tongzi? How did the phone get to you? Didn’t Little Feng Feng listen to what I was saying?”

Ji Tongtong replied: “Hasn’t he always ignored what you say? He just came in, tossed me the phone, and took my spatula to continue cooking—hey, hey, don’t add pepper, our son doesn’t eat that.”

All his heartfelt persuasion had been wasted on thin air? Shen Gun felt devastated.

Ji Tongtong moved to a quieter place more suitable for talking: “What’s the matter?”

Shen Gun came back to his senses and briefly explained the situation.

Ji Tongtong made a sound of understanding: “That’s simple. You need some blood, right? I can’t understand bell language anymore, but I’m still from the Sheng family—my bloodline remains, so my blood should work.”

Shen Gun saw hope: “So… you’ll come over?”

Ji Tongtong laughed: “No need to go there for such a small matter. It’s not worth the trouble, especially since our little one is about to start elementary school. These days, even elementary schools require interviews—it’s quite troublesome… Give me an address, and I’ll draw some blood and find a way to send it to you.”

Elementary school? Interviews?

Shen Gun held the satellite phone, momentarily dazed.

For an instant, he wasn’t sure if his own life was too disconnected from reality or if the young couple was living too mundanely.

After digging around two large boulders without finding anything unusual, something strange happened at the third one.

When the snow was cleared away, two black openings appeared in the slightly concave ground.

Meng Qianzi initially thought they were wells. Each opening was less than a meter in diameter. But obviously, the mountain below consisted of solid rock—it would be impossible to dig wells there. Moreover, when she shone a flashlight inside, she saw that these “wells” weren’t straight up and down.

That wasn’t all. The well openings were rough, and hanging from the edge of one was a tuft of grayish-brown hair.

Meng Qianzi, supported by a mountain dweller’s hand, descended to the ground and leaned over one of the openings. She took a deep breath first.

The Mountain Wind Attraction technique only worked on the mountain’s surface. Once someone or something went deep inside, with no wind to follow, its effectiveness would be greatly reduced. Despite this, she still detected a complex mixture of scents—some rank, and many human.

She pondered for a moment, then shouted into one of the openings: “Fourth Mother!”

Then she pressed her ear close and listened intently.

Soon, she heard strange and complex sounds, like thousands of people wailing or countless ghosts crying in unison. The sounds floated up eerily, seemingly rising from the depths of the earth, swelling and ebbing, reaching her ears.

Meng Qianzi’s expression changed dramatically.