Jiang Lian slid one hand up to secure the descender’s brake valve, while his other hand gripped Meng Qianzi’s right waist. He quietly counted: “One, two, three…”
As soon as “three” left his mouth, the descender fully opened. They instantly slid down at high speed. Judging that the distance was about right, Jiang Lian forcefully pushed against the cliff with his foot, and they swung directly toward the stone platform. At the same time, he exerted force with his hand, pushing Meng Qianzi outward forcefully.
The force and direction were perfectly measured. The rope, unable to withstand such strain, suddenly snapped. Jiang Lian lunged and rolled onto the mountain platform, then immediately flipped over and looked up.
Meng Qianzi had landed before him, steadily positioning herself between Shen Gun and the giant snake. The giant snake seemed to sense something, its head moving slightly, but still maintaining its S-shaped attack posture.
Caught off guard, Shen Gun couldn’t tell whether the situation was about to improve or if there was just another person to feed the snake. He opened his mouth wide, not daring to breathe or blink.
Suddenly, he felt someone pat his shoulder. When he turned around in bewilderment, he saw Jiang Lian.
Jiang Lian’s face showed post-battle fatigue, as if he were too tired to speak. He merely beckoned with his hand, indicating that Shen Gun should move back, to the side, and clear some space.
Shen Gun’s legs were weak. He could only scoot backward on his buttocks. He’d heard that snakes actually have poor vision but naturally possess infrared perception abilities, allowing them to “see” heat-emitting animals. Now his whole body was burning hot, fearing that his warm, moving form would attract the giant snake’s attention.
However, the giant snake seemed interested only in Meng Qianzi.
They were now in a standoff. Meng Qianzi had barely moved, except her right foot occasionally stepping out, tracing an arc on the ground before quickly retreating, producing a very light bell sound.
Bell sound…
Shen Gun shuddered. He had extremely complex feelings about bell sounds, unclear whether it was disgust or curiosity. It was said that bell sounds were the only sounds that could penetrate the boundary between the living and dead worlds—the voice of the deceased, capable of transmitting the unwilling murmurs from the underworld to those who could understand…
The giant snake was hissing and flicking its tongue again, each time more urgent than the last. The S-shape of its head and body became more pronounced. Suddenly it opened its bloody mouth, its head darting down swiftly.
With its mouth open, the upper and lower jaws separated almost 180 degrees. The entire head was no longer visible, replaced by a flesh-red cavity as large as a window descending to cover her, with snow-white sharp teeth inside, each standing like an inverted dagger, bringing a gust of foul wind.
Shen Gun couldn’t make a sound. Every muscle in his body was tense. One hand instinctively clutched Jiang Lian’s ankle tightly. He thought: it’s over—Meng Qianzi wouldn’t be enough for it to chew; with her slim figure, swallowing her whole wouldn’t even be a problem…
Unexpectedly, not only did Meng Qianzi not dodge, she stepped forward. Her presence seemed fiercer than the giant snake. Shen Gun couldn’t see her face, but he had an intuition: every part of her body, even her hair strands, exuded a terrifying ferocity.
She tilted her face up, directly meeting that giant mouth, letting out a low but frightening roar from her throat.
This sound seemed faint to human ears, but the giant snake’s attack instantly stopped. Shen Gun wasn’t sure if he was seeing things, but he felt that for a moment, the dense scales on the snake’s body seemed to slightly lift.
The snake’s mouth closed again, as if it had just yawned with immense satisfaction. Meng Qianzi raised her right hand high, her five fingers pinched together in the shape of a snake’s head, drawing a talisman in midair. This talisman seemed very complex. At first, Shen Gun tried to imagine the pattern her hand gestures were tracing, but later his mind became tangled, completely unable to follow. The giant snake’s pendulum-like head initially swayed slightly following her hand movements, but later became motionless, as if fixed in place.
Finally, Meng Qianzi’s hand also stopped.
After a few seconds of stillness, she whistled softly, flicked her hand to the side, and said: “Go.”
The giant snake’s body quickly pressed against the cliff wall above, dragging along and away. The movement was heavy, bringing down many small stones that pattered down, hitting the helmets of Jiang Lian and Shen Gun, who stood near the cliff wall.
Jiang Lian waited patiently for this stone shower to pass before raising his hand to straighten his helmet that had been knocked askew.
Shen Gun still hadn’t recovered from his shock, mumbling continuously, unclear to whom he was asking: “Is it gone? Is it gone?”
Meng Qianzi didn’t answer. She knelt and removed the pack she had been carrying. This was a lightweight version of the “mountain ghost basket,” containing everything from essential tools to first aid supplies and energy bars for hunger, even a small bottle of water.
She unzipped it and laid out bandages, cotton swabs, iodine spray, and other items one by one. Clearing her throat lightly, she asked: “Is anyone injured? Need any bandaging?”
Shen Gun quickly examined himself, finally finding an abrasion about half a palm’s size on his elbow. He eagerly approached: “Me, me.”
Meng Qianzi glanced at the wound and casually lifted the iodine spray, giving it a quick spray. The spray was so faint that without deliberately sniffing, one couldn’t even smell the iodine.
Shen Gun asked curiously: “Aren’t you going to clean the wound? Aren’t you going to bandage it?”
Meng Qianzi said, “Such a minor injury, just bear with it. Medical supplies are precious, don’t waste them needlessly.”
It sounded reasonable, so Shen Gun quietly stepped back.
Jiang Lian also came over and crouched down—just a few hours ago, someone had pointed out that having a mouth meant making requests, and he felt he should learn from that. He scanned the items on the ground and asked her: “Do you think I could also… conservatively use something?”
Meng Qianzi didn’t look at him. She rolled up her sleeves and said, “Turn around.”
Jiang Lian obediently turned and sat at the edge of the mountain platform. From behind came the sound of Shen Gun sharply inhaling.
Jiang Lian didn’t feel much pain, or perhaps his back had become somewhat numb. Before him stretched various shades of darkness, with tree shadows of different shapes on the cliff wall, perhaps even rare medicinal herbs.
The cliff top was probably in chaos, but it was too deep here for sound to reach down. Looking down, very far away, there was a faint light—perhaps some fire bat had fallen and ignited a tree or a clump of grass. But this place was still too far from the cliff bottom, so those fiercely burning flames, from here, looked only like several thin candle flames in the distance, swaying back and forth in the darkness, unable to break free or escape.
Meng Jinsong should be arranging a rescue quickly, right? But all the static ropes at the anchor points were destroyed, and redeploying would take considerable time. Flying foxes would be a major problem too. And then there was Bai Shuixiao—how had that woman appeared in a strange bat cave? “Falling into a cave, falling into a cave”—could that cave be the place where the cave spirit dwelled? How did she get in?
Many obscure dangers still lurked around, and many urgent matters needed resolution. But amidst these chaotic thoughts, a few words still firmly interjected themselves.
—She knew.
He hadn’t mentioned where his injuries were, and she hadn’t looked up, just said “turn around.”
She knew. When did she find out?
Jiang Lian lowered his eyes slightly. In this all-around quietness, only urgent and relaxed breathing and the light sounds of scissors remained. The wound cleaning was underway. His back began to feel a persistent, thread-like pain. Jiang Lian exhaled, grimacing in pain, but at the corners of his eyes and eyebrows distorted by pain, a trace of poorly concealed smile quietly crept up—seen by the cliff wall, by the lonely plants that had grown on this cliff for who knows how many years, by the tiny insects dwelling in the crevices between wood and stone…
Meng Qianzi remained silent throughout.
The layer of clothing on Jiang Lian’s back was indeed nearly worn to tatters. Fortunately, this layer of fabric had been there; otherwise, who knows what state his back would be in. Most were abrasions with many small bleeding points and tissue fluid seepage—certainly painful, but skin cells have strong regenerative powers. As long as there was no infection, healing would be quick. However, there were several diagonal cuts across his back from sharp stones, very deep, cutting directly into the flesh, even exposing the yellowish fatty layer. Combined with considerable blood loss, the wounds were truly shocking to see, making her heart ache. She could only try to be as gentle as possible.
Jiang Lian never cried out in pain, but his muscles would involuntarily contract. This was even more heart-wrenching than if he had cried out.
Shen Gun stood aside, startling and hissing sharply, as if providing sound effects. Meng Qianzi found him particularly irritating: the pain wasn’t on his body, so why was he making such noises?
With the wound cleaning complete, she prepared to use medical adhesive to seal the wounds. Shen Gun seemed to have recovered and suddenly remembered the giant snake, asking her: “Miss Meng, what did you do to that snake? It just left like that?”
Meng Qianzi replied stiffly: “To each their expertise.”
This exchange reminded Jiang Lian, who asked: “Was that the ‘Beast Avoidance’ just now?”
Meng Qianzi initially didn’t speak, not wanting to disturb him. Now she changed her mind, thinking that engaging him in conversation would be a good distraction, could reduce the pain: “No, that was ‘Beast Submission.'”