Hearing Xing Shen’s voice, Nie Jiuluo breathed a sigh of relief—his tone and voice were strong, suggesting he was unharmed.
She slowed her pace, increased the flashlight’s brightness, and shone it toward Xing Shen’s location.
He looked alright—wet and dirty with grass ash, disheveled but nothing serious. The grasshopper crouched behind Xing Shen, almost motionless—probably afraid that movement would draw her attention.
Xing Shen smiled: “I knew it was you who scared the grasshopper-like this. Just smelling you from ten meters away would make it wet itself in fear.”
Just as Shaolin disciples must pass through the “Wooden Men Lane” before venturing into the world, to achieve the title of Mad Blade, the final test was to feed one’s blade with ground owls. In ancient times, those bearing the title “Mad Blade” had to take down at least three ground owls alone with a single blade.
Under Jiang Baichuan’s arrangements, Nie Jiuluo underwent intensive training during summer and winter breaks, honing her body and blade skills. At thirteen, she cunningly overpowered Lao Dao; at fifteen, her blade mastery was complete—the grasshopper had “died” more than three times at her hands. To the grasshopper, she was truly the God of Death.
So its fear was reflexive—seeing her meant terror.
Xing Shen had watched one of these battles when his eyes could still see. Throughout the entire fight, his blood had surged with excitement. What he admired most about Nie Jiuluo wasn’t her skill, but her fierce spirit.
However, regrettably, perhaps due to studying sculpture and needing to temper her nature over the years, he felt that fierce spirit gradually disappearing from Nie Jiuluo. She just wanted to be ordinary—Xing Shen found it too wasteful. The world wouldn’t miss one more ordinary person, so why waste such talent? When the Mad Blade gathers dust, can it still be called Mad Blade? The old saying goes: when Mad Blade meets Mad Dog, legends are born. But with Mad Blade sheathed and boxed away, what legends could emerge?
He had asked Jiang Baichuan to think of something, but Jiang declined diplomatically: “In the current situation, with nothing particularly pressing, it’s enough that Second Nie helps occasionally. Xing Shen, times have changed. People need to integrate into life.”
Integrate into life—a boring life of three meals and sleep, what was worth integrating into?
Sometimes, Xing Shen felt he was truly born in the wrong era. Those who could become legends now could only experience legendary lives in games—and because of his eyes, he couldn’t even do that.
…
Nie Jiuluo walked over: “If I’d known you could handle it yourself, I wouldn’t have rushed here so urgently.”
As she spoke, her gaze swept around: “Where’s Lao Dao?”
Lao Dao lay slumped by the riverbank, eyes tightly shut, face frighteningly pale. Only after holding a hand near his nose for a long time could one detect a faint breath.
Hearing it was a head injury, Nie Jiuluo didn’t dare do anything—if it were flesh wounds, she could have helped bandage and treat them.
But the head…
Better leave it to professional emergency personnel.
Nie Jiuluo first sent Jiang Baichuan a message describing the situation here, then waded through the water to the car to find Xing Shen’s phone, having him call emergency services under the pretense of a car accident—this place was too far from the city center; she estimated that even at top speed, an ambulance would take about forty minutes.
After waiting for the call to finish, she asked Xing Shen: “Yan Tuo’s companion—human or owl?”
Xing Shen pondered briefly: “No owl scent, should be human. Probably like Yan Tuo, also a ghost-servant. But that person was quite cunning, holding their breath and playing dead, fooling both me and Lao Dao. And the grasshopper, when it should have attacked, it hesitated—otherwise things wouldn’t have ended up like this…”
He gestured toward the lying Lao Dao.
Nie Jiuluo had a rough outline of what had happened: “That Yan Tuo… he didn’t attack you, did he?”
“The grasshopper took him down; he didn’t get a chance to attack. Should be nearby—didn’t you notice when you came?”
Nie Jiuluo: “No.”
After a pause, she added: “Just saw the grasshopper dart past and followed it.”
Xing Shen bent down, extending his hand toward the grasshopper, which docilely placed its right claw in his palm.
He sniffed the scent, unhurried: “Can’t have gone far, probably collapsed somewhere. When Uncle Jiang and the others arrive, we’ll search around.”
Nie Jiuluo remained silent. After Sun Zhou was injured by the dog’s teeth, although he became sloth-like and sluggish, he at least “held on” for a while, even managing to drive himself to the hospital and back to the hotel. This might have been because the dog’s teeth had become “humanized,” and its bestial nature weakened—the grasshopper was different. It was purely a beast; being clawed or bitten by it would cause physical discomfort very quickly.
Xing Shen relied on having the grasshopper as his trump card, which made him fearless and abruptly provocative.
She paused before saying: “You let the grasshopper harm people?”
Xing Shen countered: “Why shouldn’t I? Is that even a person? That’s a ghost-servant. Think about Sister Hua, Crippled Dad, our three missing people, and Lao Dao. If we weren’t considering keeping him alive to negotiate with the other side…”
Nie Jiuluo laughed coldly: “If you weren’t considering that, you’d kill him, is that it?”
Xing Shen heard the mockery in her tone and looked embarrassed, changing the subject: “It wouldn’t go that far. Luo, tell me… what’s special about that person? Why wouldn’t the grasshopper attack them?”
Nie Jiuluo couldn’t figure it out either: if the grasshopper was getting old and losing its fighting spirit, it certainly hadn’t shown any mercy to Yan Tuo. If that person carried something that could control ground owls, why the discrimination—why not give one to Yan Tuo too?
She replied flatly: “Don’t know, ask Yan Tuo.”
Xing Shen made a sound of agreement: “This guy’s tight-lipped, but no matter…”
Nie Jiuluo’s heart stirred, and she raised the flashlight slightly, illuminating half of Xing Shen’s face.
He wasn’t wearing sunglasses. His eyes were empty, and lifeless, his lips pressed thin with corners slightly downturned—in her memory, Xing Shen was always smiling, smiling gently and warmly, making it easy to overlook his other side.
The last time he had this expression was after she angrily smashed the sculpture. Not long after that, his eyes went blind.
Someone so harsh with himself would only be more cruel to others.
Nie Jiuluo’s fingers loosened slightly, letting the light fall lower as she said: “Is this where you encountered them? I’ll look around for any clues.”
The “surroundings” were very clean, with nothing new to discover except tire tracks and a pair of abandoned children’s shoes.
The grasshopper wanted to put on the shoes but didn’t dare—with Nie Jiuluo present, staying close to Xing Shen was safer.
Not long after, the sound of vehicles came from the distance. The ambulance should have come from the city; this was the opposite direction—Nie Jiuluo checked the time. Jiang Baichuan had said he’d arrive half an hour after her, and she had arranged to meet her driver in half an hour too.
She turned the flashlight to full power and drew two circles in the sky, half to confirm identity and half to provide location. After a while, light circles appeared in the distance too, drawing three circles.
This was called “two followed by three”—they matched. Jiang Baichuan’s people had arrived in two Prados, one after another, gradually coming into view.
Nie Jiuluo instructed Xing Shen: “I’ll go from the south. My car should arrive soon. Before it does, don’t let them go south.”
She didn’t want to meet unnecessary people. Xing Shen nodded, indicating he understood.