Chapter 263: Wolf’s Charge
Because of excessive blood loss, Qijian was somewhat dazed. It took him a moment to process Zheshou’s words, and then he instantly became much more alert. His face turned even paler as he struggled to turn his head and look at Zheshou’s profile. Seeing that his face was still expressionless, but his eyes had clearly lost their luster, his body went completely rigid.
“You… can’t see?” Qijian’s voice trembled as he spoke, and he tried to get down from Zheshou’s back.
Zheshou had no intention of letting him down. His two hands gripped Qijian’s thighs like iron bands, preventing him from moving.
Feeling the warmth and strength coming from his legs, Qijian was both embarrassed and anxious, using all his strength to try to break free. No matter how he struggled, Zheshou remained unresponsive, standing there like a statue. Qijian’s strength gradually waned, and the intensity of his struggles diminished until he finally gave up, weakly lying back down on Zheshou’s shoulder.
Looking at Zheshou again now, that usually expressionless face, which he had always loathed and wanted to stay away from, suddenly took on some indescribable quality.
Yes, he really did look like a statue, like a wolf standing on a cliff, gazing into the distance—or perhaps a young man.
Without realizing it, Qijian’s heart softened a great deal, and his eyes softened as well. Looking at Zheshou’s face, his pale little face showed an expression of admiration. Yet, for some reason, he felt especially sad, especially when he looked at Zheshou’s eyes. And so he began to cry, crying very bitterly.
Zheshou’s expression remained indifferent, as if he hadn’t been affected at all by his blindness. He said, “If crying could solve problems, I would definitely be the best crier in the world.”
On the snowy plains, in battles against the demons, there were countless problems related to life and death that needed to be solved.
Qijian felt very embarrassed. He raised his arm and used his sleeve to wipe the tears from his face, but he couldn’t get them clean because the tears kept flowing.
Zheshou’s voice became somewhat hesitant: “Or… you…”
Then he was silent for a moment before saying, “Don’t cry anymore. It’s okay.”
Clearly, he wasn’t good at comforting people, nor was he good at coaxing them, so his tone sounded a bit stiff, but because of that, it seemed even more sincere.
Qijian sniffled, letting out a somewhat aggrieved “mm,” though he wasn’t sure who that grievance was directed at. Then he said in a low voice, “Then… let’s go.”
Zheshou stared into the darkness before him, steadied himself, and said, “Still heading toward Panshan Shulin.”
Qijian supported himself on Zheshou’s shoulder, lifted his head with some difficulty, and looked at the straight mountain path ahead of them. He said, “Go straight ahead, turn right after four hundred zhang. I’ll tell you.”
Zheshou didn’t hesitate. He tightened his grip on Qijian’s thighs and walked forward, showing no doubt about his words at all.
This moved Qijian a little, and also puzzled him.
The mountain wind brushed against Zheshou’s face. He had already closed his eyes.
Then the mountain wind fell upon Qijian’s small face.
That wind seemed to carry a certain warmth.
Qijian felt a bit warm, a bit at ease.
In the wilderness of the Garden of Zhou, footsteps and Qijian’s young, weak voice giving directions kept sounding, along with Zheshou’s still calm and indifferent responses.
“Slow down, there’s a ridge ahead.”
“A small stream, two zhang wide. The other side is sandy ground.”
“Are you okay?”
“Faster.”
“But…”
“No buts.”
“Careful, don’t hit that tree.”
According to Zheshou’s plan, they had to find the human cultivators in the Garden of Zhou as quickly as possible. But after running for dozens of li, they hadn’t encountered a single person. The vast majority of human cultivators, following Chen Changsheng’s or that white-clad girl’s arrangements from the night before, had gathered in those few garden areas.
Now that he thought about it, this was probably something the demons’ legendary military strategist had already calculated.
The Garden of Zhou was isolated from the outside world. For the sake of magical artifacts or inheritances, human cultivators would inevitably fall into internal conflict. Even if someone successfully prevented chaos, the human cultivators who entered the garden would definitely be concentrated in a few areas. Meanwhile, targets like Zheshou and the disciples of Lishan Sword Sect, whom the demons were determined to kill, were more likely to act on their own.
Zheshou and Qijian stopped at a certain cliff. The nearest gathering place for human cultivators, Panshan Shulin, was still several dozen li away.
On the slope behind them and to the side, they could already see two extremely long shadows cast by the setting sun.
That pair of demon generals had caught up, still carrying their load and the big iron pot. They looked like they were moving house, but in reality, their speed was terrifyingly fast.
Qijian coughed painfully twice, his small face growing even paler. He reported, “Southwest, Gui Zhen star position, about… six li, no, five li.”
To them, the shadows of that demon general couple on the distant slope were like the shadow of death. They had to find a way to shake them off.
“They’ve stopped,” Qijian said, somewhat surprised.
Zheshou said, “They’re watching which way we’ll go.”
Although he couldn’t see anything now, he had followed Chen Changsheng through these wilderness areas on the outskirts of the Garden of Zhou many times over the past two days and had memorized the geography. If they still followed their original plan to meet up with the human cultivators at Panshan Shulin, that demon general couple only needed to cut diagonally through a patch of forest to intercept them.
Zheshou was silent for a moment, calculating the distance and positional relationship between them. He knew they couldn’t make it to Panshan Shulin.
He vaguely remembered hearing someone by the lake say that the demons could track their location at any time.
Even if the other side couldn’t pinpoint their location, it was clear now that this couple, worthy of being demon generals, was using military tactics and formations even in a two-on-two pursuit. The chase and escape had been going on for several ke, and they hadn’t been able to get even one step closer to Panshan Shulin. Instead, they were being forced farther and farther away.
Zheshou carried Qijian on his back, feeling the last rays of sunset on his face. After a moment of silence, he turned and looked toward the southwest.
He couldn’t see, but he wanted to look at those demon generals who wanted to kill him.
On the distant slope, shrouded in evening glow, it seemed to be burning.
Liu Xiaowan and Teng Xiaoming stood in the fire-like meadow, also looking at them.
They gazed at each other from afar.
“I’m going to start running,” Zheshou suddenly said, calm and resolute.
He couldn’t see the road, yet he wanted to run?
Qijian was very surprised. His hands, gripping Zheshou’s shoulders, unconsciously tightened.
Zheshou said, “You report their position at all times and guide me at the same time. Now… first, tell me how steep this cliff in front of us is.”
Qijian’s voice was very weak, and now it trembled even more from nervousness. After looking for a while, he said, “It’s about a forty-three-degree angle… Can you really do this?”
“I’ll definitely fall often. I just have to get up and run again.”
Zheshou was silent for a moment, then said, “It’s going to hurt a lot when I fall. Don’t cry.”
Qijian let out a soft “mm.”
Zheshou was silent again for a moment, then said, “Hold on tight.”
Qijian let out another soft “mm,” then brought his hands forward to tightly wrap around Zheshou’s neck, resting his head against his shoulder.
With all preparations made, Zheshou took a deep breath. The true essence in his body surged wildly, suppressing the peacock feather toxin that was trying to spread from his eyes to other parts of his body. Then he crouched down.
As he moved, his knees bent in a strange way that defied human imagination.
The front of his boots split open, and sharp claws emerged from the dark wolf fur, piercing into the hard cliff rock with a scraping sound.
At the same time, the edges of his cheeks and his neck grew countless coarse, stiff hairs.
His pupils, due to the demonization, turned blood-red, which mixed with the green toxin deep in his eyes, creating a very strange color.
It looked like a freshly formed lemon—sour with a lot of power, capable of stimulating endless energy.
“Scared?” he asked.
Qijian didn’t answer. He held on tighter and leaned in closer.
Zheshou seemed a bit surprised. After a moment of stillness, the corners of his lips lifted slightly. He must have been smiling.
If Chen Changsheng had seen this scene, he would have been very shocked, because he didn’t remember ever seeing Zheshou smile.
Unfortunately, Qijian had his face buried in Zheshou’s neck at that moment and didn’t see it.
Zheshou said nothing more. He tightened his hold on Qijian’s legs and charged down the steep rock face of the cliff.
Gravel splattered, rock chips flew everywhere.
Zheshou, carrying Qijian on his back, ran wildly through the wilderness. Every time his foot landed, it deeply pierced the hard cliff, providing excellent traction.
The peacock feather toxin had damaged his eyes but hadn’t affected his other abilities.
After demonization, the wolf tribe youth possessed nearly perfect balance and speed. His use of strength while running and his instinctive adaptation to the environment were unimaginably powerful.
In just a moment, he had carried Qijian down to the bottom of the cliff.
The demon general couple on the slope several li away clearly hadn’t expected them to choose this method or this direction to break through. They paused for a while before resuming the pursuit.
With a rumbling sound, the cliff trembled slightly, and two dust dragons followed closely behind.
“Southern wilderness, Zhen star position, four li.”
Qijian withdrew his gaze and said as clearly as possible in his weak voice, “Three hundred, two hundred forty, two hundred, one hundred seventy, stone steps, forty-one-degree angle, prepare… jump!”
Zheshou, like a real young male wolf, carried him through the wilderness, turning into a gray shadow as he leaped more than ten zhang forward, landing directly on top of the stone steps.
Feeling the violent shock from below, Qijian’s lower abdomen ached sharply, but he endured it without making a sound. He said weakly, “Go straight four hundred zhang, enter the forest?”
Zheshou was now completely focused on running and didn’t answer, just nodded.
Qijian put his head back on Zheshou’s shoulder, feeling the constant vibrations, looking at the forest getting closer and closer. He held on tighter, and his mood grew more tense.
He couldn’t see the road, and he was carrying a severely injured person, yet he still had to run at top speed.
And in the wilderness at that.
This was insane.
What Zheshou was doing was exactly that insane.
Insanity inevitably came with a price.
Even though he had demonized, and Qijian was doing his best to calculate and guide him, he still fell, and fell hard.
But just as he had said on the cliff, every time he fell, he would get up again without pause and keep running.
Because only by charging forward with such insane desperation could they survive.
The first few times he fell, Qijian would instinctively close his eyes. But later, he stopped closing them, because every time Zheshou fell, he would use his powerful body coordination to adjust his posture before hitting the ground, ensuring that he took the brunt of the impact himself, doing his best to keep Qijian from any harm.
No matter whether they fell on mud, sand, soft stream water, or hard, even sharp cliff rock.
Qijian no longer closed his eyes. It wasn’t because Zheshou’s protection made him unafraid, but because he wanted to see the road ahead as clearly as possible, hoping that Zheshou would fall fewer times.
Zheshou’s body was already covered in wounds, blood flowing nonstop.
He kept his eyes closed, head down, silent, continuing to run wildly.
Qijian held him tightly, his eyes already red.
He wanted to cry.
But Zheshou had said not to cry.
He listened.
So he didn’t cry.
The pursuit and escape continued all the way.
They watched the twilight valley but couldn’t get close, only moving parallel to it.
In the end, there was no way forward.
Zheshou, carrying Qijian on his back, arrived at the edge of that grassland and finally stopped running.
Liu Xiaowan and Teng Xiaoming also stopped their pursuit.
This demon general couple looked at the sun about to set in the distance and the figures of the two youths in front of that half-sun, admiration showing in their eyes.
Zheshou lowered his head, panting heavily.
Sweat and blood were everywhere on his body and face, matting the dark fur together, making him look especially disheveled.
Qijian leaned against his shoulder, pressing against those hard, prickly hairs. It should have been very uncomfortable, but he found it soft.
“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I didn’t guide well.”
Zheshou said expressionlessly, “It’s because I didn’t run fast enough.”
The distant setting sun still hung at the edge of the sky. For some reason, it hadn’t been completely swallowed by the horizon.
The boundless, vast grassland shimmered with golden light under the evening glow, like the square of a divine kingdom.
This was the most central, most mysterious, and most dangerous place in the Garden of Zhou—the legendary Never-Setting Sun Grassland.
For hundreds of years, many cultivators had tried to enter this grassland, but those who went in never came back alive, leaving only some rumors.
Strange to say, if no one could really leave this grassland alive, how had those rumors been passed down?
“Where do we go next?” Qijian asked softly.
Going forward was this grassland—death.
Turning around meant battle—also death.
Just as Tang Thirty-Six and Chen Changsheng had said at the Green Vine Banquet, Qijian was a very delicate child.
But he was still a disciple of Lishan Sword Sect, and moreover, the closed-door disciple of the Lishan Sect Leader. At his waist hung the Lishan Dharma Sword.
In his view, if he was going to die, then of course he should turn around and fight to the end.
Zheshou didn’t turn around, nor did he ask for Qijian’s opinion. Carrying him on his back, he walked into the grassland, which was about one person tall.
“No one has ever come out of this grassland alive,” Qijian said nervously.
“I’m not a person. I’m a wolf.”
Zheshou said, “The grassland is my home. I don’t believe any grassland can trap me.”
Qijian said nothing more. He held Zheshou, comfortably resting his head on his shoulder.
In the grassland, the wild grass was everywhere the same. He no longer needed to guide the way.
So, just walk anywhere. Walk as far as you like, walk as long as you like.
Even if it was a dead end, with someone to accompany you, you had to go to the end and take a look.
The wild grass brushed against their clothes, making a rustling sound.
The distant sun still hadn’t set.
Just like them, stubborn and unyielding.
(The middle few lines… I simply couldn’t allow myself to write “him,” so I wrote “her.” I’ll write another chapter today, maybe a bit late. I’ve been waiting to write this chapter… I’m very glad I could write it.)