In the dark cave, mud slowly trickled down the walls, converging at the bottom of the pit. The sluggish flow posed no threat to the two figures still at its base.
The viscous, suffocating sound of the mud’s movement mirrored the blood in Jin’an’s body, which felt nearly frozen. He could hear each of his heartbeats pounding like a drum.
Desperately, he continued to compress Li Shuang’s chest, infusing his efforts with internal energy to revive her. Though uncertain if his actions would save her, he stubbornly clung to her last faint breath, repeating his efforts relentlessly.
His clear tears washed clean streaks across Li Shuang’s mud-caked face.
After an eternity of desperate struggle, he finally heard a faint cough.
Jin’an’s eyes brightened instantly as if witnessing the break of dawn.
Li Shuang’s body trembled, curling slightly in his arms as if in great discomfort. Her cheek instinctively sought the warmth of his chest, unconsciously relying on her savior.
This small movement caused Jin’an’s nearly stilled heart to suddenly race.
His fingertips trembled as he dared not press her chest further or embrace her too tightly, fearing any wrong move might cause her more pain. He even hesitated to speak, terrified his voice might shatter her fragile state.
Li Shuang’s breathing gradually steadied in his arms, and she slowly opened her eyes. Seeing his reflection in them brought Jin’an a sense of peace.
“You…” Li Shuang’s voice was hoarse. “Why…?”
“I won’t let anything happen to you,” Jin’an said, his hand on her heart as he channeled his internal energy into her body.
To Li Shuang, this healing energy felt like a mysterious warmth, reviving her cold limbs. In that moment, she seemed to sense emotions unique to him—his tension, sorrow, and distress.
He was grieving for her.
Li Shuang’s initial surprise faded. She gently raised her hand, covering his.
Jin’an’s body trembled slightly as he cradled her closer, his chin brushing her forehead. “Are you alright now? You’re okay, aren’t you?” he asked softly, seeking her confirmation to quell his lingering anxiety.
Li Shuang, too, allowed herself to indulge in the warmth of another’s body and the sense of security he provided.
He had saved her again.
From despair, at the brink of doom, he had rescued her with a miraculous strength, as if writing a legend.
Never had anyone made her feel so… safe, simply by being present.
Yet, strangely, she barely knew his name or background.
“I’ll take you away from here,” he said, sensing her pulse stabilize. He scooped her up and leaped out of the muddy pit, heading towards the moonlight filtering through the rocks.
As they neared the crevice, a figure suddenly appeared, tapping a folding fan against his chin. “What a captivating show. But I can’t let you leave so easily.”
Behind the man, Li Shuang could see the moonlit landscape outside. She recognized this area as the back of the small forest hill. Technically, they were in Western Rong territory, but due to the lack of cities and Great Jin’s avoidance of the area, it remained desolate and unguarded.
Jin’an’s aura instantly turned hostile.
Sensing the killing intent, the man with the fan laughed. “Don’t misunderstand. Allow me to introduce myself—I’m Wu Yin. My scheme wasn’t aimed at you, General Li.” He opened his fan, smiling seemingly kindly. “It was for you, my little Gu-person.”
Li Shuang was startled. Gu-person… what was that?
She looked up at the man holding her, noticing the blood marks on his chest were more vivid than usual, and his bloodshot eyes more terrifying than ever.
“Get behind me,” Jin’an said, setting Li Shuang down. As her feet touched the ground, she felt a sudden weakness and nearly collapsed.
Jin’an’s heart raced. “What’s wrong?”
“Oh, she’s fine,” Wu Yin interjected. “Just affected by my witchcraft poison.” He pointed at Li Shuang’s arm, smiling. “Applied earlier.”
Jin’an looked down to see a tear in Li Shuang’s sleeve, revealing a small wound on her arm. Since falling into the mud pit, everything had seemed more urgent than this minor cut, so neither Jin’an nor Li Shuang had noticed it.
Jin’an gently covered the wound on Li Shuang’s arm, his eyes narrowing as he stared at Wu Yin. “The antidote.”
“As I said, I’m not targeting General Li. I only need her to deal with you…”
Before he could finish, Jin’an darted forward like an arrow, moving so quickly that even Li Shuang couldn’t react. She barely managed to steady herself against the rock wall. Turning her head, she saw Jin’an and Wu Yin locked in combat, their movements blurring in her increasingly hazy vision.
The force of their fight shook loose rocks, which clattered to the ground. Li Shuang struggled to dodge a falling stone. When she looked back, Wu Yin was pinned beneath Jin’an, who gripped his throat with blood-red eyes. “The antidote. I won’t ask again.”
Despite the threat, Wu Yin laughed. “If I die, General Li will accompany me to the grave.”
Jin’an’s eyes flickered, the shadow of Li Shuang’s recent brush with death still fresh in his mind.
“It’s simple. I said I didn’t intend to harm General Li. I only want you,” Wu Yin raised his hand, grasping Jin’an’s hair that had fallen beside his ear. “Come with me, and I’ll give her the antidote.”
Jin’an knew that the further he was from Li Shuang, the more pain he would feel. But at that moment, that wasn’t a factor in his decision.
“Don’t… trust him,” Li Shuang struggled to speak, knowing this mysterious man’s simple nature. “I’m fine… Kill him. The army doctors can… treat…”
Li Shuang had never been soft-hearted. Accustomed to making tough decisions, she knew they couldn’t let this man live after he had schemed against her and the Eastern Palace. Eliminating the threat took priority; everything else could wait.
“General Li is truly cold-blooded,” Wu Yin glanced at her. “Right now, you’re just weak, but soon your limbs will go numb. Then you’ll feel as if countless ants are gnawing at your bones. Not long after, you’ll die. Your doctors can’t cure this poison.”
The more casually he spoke, the darker Jin’an’s expression became.
“Kill him,” Li Shuang remained unmoved.
But Jin’an didn’t strike. “I don’t believe you.”
Li Shuang frowned, wanting to stop him, but as she opened her mouth, she realized she didn’t even know what name to call him…
“I said I won’t harm her. I have no use for General Li’s life. Whether you believe me or not is up to you.” Wu Yin’s hand turned, producing a small white porcelain bottle. “This is the drug to control you. Swallow it, and I’ll give General Li the antidote.”
Before Li Shuang could say “Don’t,” her body suddenly went numb. Her throat tightened, followed by excruciating pain throughout her body.
Jin’an snatched the bottle from Wu Yin’s hand and drank its contents. “The antidote.”
Wu Yin smiled slightly. “Good, good. Don’t rush. I’ll give General Li the antidote now.”
As he spoke, a woman in white appeared, supporting the crumpled Li Shuang. She forced Li Shuang’s mouth open and fed her a pill. Instantly, Li Shuang’s eyes closed as she lost consciousness.
Jin’an’s heart skipped a beat. He wanted to go to her, but Wu Yin grabbed his wrist. “You’re mine now.”
As he spoke, it was as if insects were crawling into Jin’an’s brain. Wu Yin’s voice filled his ears, controlling his body, and preventing him from taking even a step towards Li Shuang.
“Let’s go home, Jade Silkworm.” The voice-controlled his limbs, and Jin’an’s consciousness gradually faded under its assault.
Before his eyes closed, he managed one last glimpse of Li Shuang lying motionless on the ground, as peaceful as when she slept.
She’s alright now, isn’t she? If she’s okay… nothing else matters.
“Young Master,” the woman in white approached Wu Yin as at least four or five more women leaped down from the cave ceiling. Some supported Jin’an, while others covered Li Shuang with an ermine fur for warmth.
“Thank you all for your hard work,” Wu Yin stood, dusting off his clothes. “Let’s go. We’ve retrieved the Jade Silkworm. Time to head back.”
“The Jade Silkworm has already recognized its master. Is it appropriate not to bring the master back?”
Wu Yin glanced at Li Shuang. “It’s only been a few days. It’s fine. We’ll just erase the Jade Silkworm’s memories. Besides, taking our Jade Silkworm is no problem, but taking the Northern Frontier’s great general would make leaving difficult. I don’t want to deal with that hassle on the journey back.” He stretched lazily, turning to look at the approaching dawn through the crevice. “This freezing Northern Frontier has made me long for the flowers of the South.”