And that was when Jiang Xidai made her move.
Like a venomous snake that had been lying in wait for a long time, she suddenly struck, finally seizing an opportunity. Her long sword, along with her red sleeve, thrust out. This move was decisive and ruthless, showing no mercy.
Her hand was steady, and by a stroke of luck, she did not strike Yan Huirou. Instead, she stirred up a fierce wind, and the pagoda of Lanyue Pavilion collapsed section by section. In an instant, Lanyue Pavilion shook violently, nearly collapsing by half.
Yan Huirou squeezed her eyes shut, subconsciously protecting her head. But when she turned back, there was no sign of Pavilion Lord Zhan.
A faint trace of a spell lingered in the air, scattering a few specks of light.
It had been set up in advance. Seeing that Jiang Xidai had not taken the bait, Zhan Ke immediately chose to flee, likely having made preparations beforehand. She never overestimated herself, and even when she did, she would make thorough preparations. This was different from Jiang Xidai, who had always hovered on the edge of life and death.
Clang—
Something metal fell, making a crisp sound.
Yan Huirou quickly turned to look.
Jiang Xidai’s face was pale, almost drained of all color. She had lost too much blood earlier, had been stabbed through, and the sword was still in the wound, not yet pulled out. And because of her emotional turmoil just now, she had almost suffered a cultivation deviation.
Her crimson dress lay in a pool of blood and mud on the ground. Her long black hair was loose, draping over her body, making her look a little disheveled.
“Are you alright?”
Yan Huirou pursed her lips, looking at the sword in Jiang Xidai’s chest. She didn’t know whether to pull it out or not. So she subconsciously reached out and grasped the hilt. The hilt was cold and damp against her palm; she didn’t know if it was the sword’s own chill or the cold sweat from her hands.
The hilt slipped in her hand, and another hand covered hers. Gripping the blade, she pulled forward with force.
Dark blood splattered.
Jiang Xidai had pulled the sword out herself. The intense pain made her let out a muffled groan, and her wrist trembled slightly. She quickly gripped Yan Huirou, as if unwilling to let her go, leaving a bloody handprint on Yan Huirou’s light-colored clothes, a patch of fabric torn into threads.
Yan Huirou lost her balance and stumbled forward.
She felt herself crash into a soft fragrance mixed with the smell of blood. In a few tumbles, the world spun, and a sense of weightlessness suddenly overcame her. Perhaps Jiang Xidai hadn’t expected Yan Huirou to collide with her. The two of them accidentally ended up in an embrace, rolling swiftly down the cliff from the ruins of Lanyue Pavilion.
This is bad. Yan Huirou was startled. She closed her eyes, subconsciously clinging to anything she could get a hold of.
On the way down, they were scraped by withered branches and sharp rocks, as if they were being cut by a thousand knives. Every part of her body was burning with pain.
She vaguely felt herself hit something. A pain shot through her forehead, and before she could make a sound, she fainted again.
Yan Huirou woke up again—stimulated by the strange sensation of alternating cold and warmth.
She squinted her eyes open and stretched out a hand to block the scorching sun on her cheeks. This was the source of the warmth. However, the lower half of her body was chilled to the bone and damp. She fumbled on the ground with her hand and felt rough sand and pebbles, which were also damp.
Only her body wasn’t hurting from being pricked; she was lying on something soft.
Yan Huirou struggled to turn over. The sound of water splashing crisply rang out. She slowly propped herself up and felt her legs were very heavy. Looking down, she saw that the lower half of her body was completely submerged in a river, thoroughly soaked.
In her confusion, Yan Huirou’s gaze fell on a tattered red robe.
There was another person.
When she saw clearly, she couldn’t help but freeze.
The woman’s eyes were closed peacefully, her lips covered in blood. Dried by the sun, it had turned a bleak, dark red on her chin. Her originally beautiful, peach-like complexion was a shade paler from the excessive blood loss.
It was none other than Sect Master Jiang, who had rolled down with her and even acted as Yan Huirou’s soft cushion.
Like her, half of Jiang Xidai’s body was submerged in the water, stranded on the shore, but she was still unconscious. Her vibrant dress rippled with the waves.
Yan Huirou quickly got off her, feeling extremely guilty.
Sect Master Jiang had traveled thousands of miles to save her, had been stabbed, and seemed to have had her heart broken as well. And now, she was being pinned down by her, silent and still, not knowing if she was dead or alive.
Yan Huirou watched her helplessly for a long time. Seeing no sign of breathing, she cautiously placed two fingers on Jiang Xidai’s neck.
Thank goodness.
There was still a pulse, though it was very weak, like a fragile flame burning in the autumn rain, about to be extinguished by a slightly stronger gust of wind.
As long as she’s alive.
Yan Huirou calmed down a little.
She saw that the piercing wound on Jiang Xidai’s chest was still bleeding. She used some strength to lift her up and painstakingly moved her towards the shore.
Although she didn’t know if cultivators had this saying, getting an infection from being damp would be very troublesome. It was best to avoid that.
“Sect Master Jiang.”
“Jiang Xidai?” Yan Huirou cupped some water and wiped the blood from her chin.
The woman didn’t respond; she was still unconscious. Yan Huirou sat by the side to regain some strength. She propped Jiang Xidai up against herself, grabbed her two arms, and managed to carry her on her back.
She never expected that someone who looked so light would be so heavy to carry. It pressed down on Yan Huirou’s legs, forcing her to strain against the ground, barely able to move more than a few steps.
Sweat beaded on her forehead as she struggled to carry her.
Along the way, there was nothing but overgrown weeds and withered branches, presenting a scene of prosperous yet desolate beauty.
Yan Huirou found a small path, not knowing if it was made by wild animals or people, but there were no footprints to be seen.
She trembled as she carried Jiang Xidai along. Amidst the shadows of the trees, an abandoned ancient temple stood before them.
Yan Huirou observed it for a moment.
Logically speaking, this kind of deserted ancient temple in the wilderness should not be used for rest. It was the prime location for trouble in ghost stories and horror novels.
But the sky, which had just been clear, had now changed again, with a dark cloud pressing in. Yan Huirou smelled the damp scent of grass and earth. She instinctively felt that it was going to rain.
And so, she tremblingly carried Jiang Xidai inside.
The statues inside were dressed in red and green, but the colors had faded and dimmed. The cracked shells had curled up, making the statues’ faces look even more ferocious, with an unprovoked majesty.
As soon as they entered the ancient temple, a cold wind rushed to greet them.
Yan Huirou closed her eyes, not wanting to look. She finally set Jiang Xidai down on the ground. Thinking it wasn’t right to just leave her on the ground, she pulled over a meditation cushion to put under her.
It turned out to be the right decision. Not long after Yan Huirou had put her down, the sky outside had already darkened. A slanting wind blew with a fine rain, and soon the rain grew heavier, “da da da” hitting the dilapidated temple, a clear, ringing sound like a bell being struck.
The temple was truly dilapidated. It barely managed to block most of the rain, with a small part still leaking through, falling like white pearls, quickly accumulating into a puddle on the ground.
Yan Huirou noticed this and thought it would be better to move Jiang Xidai to the incense altar to avoid her lying in the water again.
She rubbed her sore hands and sized up the woman, trying to figure out the best way to pick her up without pressing on the wound on her chest—it had to be her waist.
Finally, her hands landed on her waist. Yan Huirou leaned down and had just gotten a firm hold.
At such close proximity.
She accidentally noticed her long hair falling down, softly curving over Jiang Xidai’s sleeping face. A single strand even stuck to the gap between her lips.
Yan Huirou held back her falling hair with her hand, carefully tucking it away.
The woman seemed to be annoyed by this small disturbance, frowning slightly in her sleep. This gave Yan Huirou a sliver of hope that she might wake up.
She held her breath and remained still for a moment.
But nothing happened. The beautiful brows furrowed for a while, then she fell back into a deep sleep with the sound of the rain.
Looking closely again, Jiang Xidai’s face was calm. Even after Yan Huirou had moved her to the incense altar, she made no sound.
After a sudden downpour, the sky did not clear up again. Instead, it plunged directly into darkness.
The light in the temple grew dimmer by the inch. Yan Huirou stayed by the incense altar, wrapping her clothes tightly around her. But in this deserted mountain, with Jiang Xidai not waking up, she, a mortal with no cultivation, dared not fall into a deep sleep.
By the second half of the night, it was so cold it made one’s teeth ache. Yan Huirou took off her outer robe and draped it over Jiang Xidai. She let out a cold breath. The incense altar was cold, and the floor was cold, as if the only source of heat in the world was herself.
She barely made it through the night like this. In the early morning, Yan Huirou accidentally touched Jiang Xidai’s hand and found that her body was burning hot.
This is probably not good… Yan Huirou frowned and quickly went to check on Jiang Xidai.
Her own clothes were light-colored, and she had taken them off to cover her earlier. Now, on the outer robe draped over Jiang Xidai, a few patches were soaked red with blood.
She gently lifted the clothes and put them back down. As she had thought, the piercing wound on the woman’s chest had not yet healed and was still seeping a tiny amount of blood.
Yan Huirou placed her cold hand on her burning forehead to help cool her down, but her gaze couldn’t help but be drawn to the deep, bone-visible wound.
…She needs medicine.
Leaving her like this won’t do.
But now that they’re in a deserted mountain, where could Yan Huirou possibly find medicine for her?
