TSMITB Chapter66

The youth remained expressionless throughout as if he were completely accustomed to it. Eventually, he could no longer endure it, and his knees struck the muddy ground with a heavy thud, yet no one came forward to help him up.

The grass rustled softly. Vines seemed to come alive as they stretched out and coiled around his slumped body.

After an unknown length of time, under the cover of night, countless black hard-shelled insects converged from all directions. Connecting head-to-tail, they actually wove themselves into a flowing “black carpet,” supporting the unconscious youth and slowly moving him toward the cave.

Those people remained standing where they were, discussing something in low voices. It wasn’t until the first light of dawn appeared in the sky that they finally left, stepping on the morning dew.

The youth pushed aside the concealment to look for Shen Que, meeting his wide-open eyes.

A moment of silence passed between them. The youth’s voice was soft and slightly hoarse. “You saw everything?”

Shen Que’s breathing was uneven. “Who exactly are you? And who are they? Why did you let them drain your blood? You nearly died!”

At that time, Shen Que still possessed a burst of innocent passion and couldn’t stand such cruelty.

The youth lowered his gaze, “It has always been like this…”

His Mandarin was slow and awkward, each syllable bearing his distinctive way of speaking as he gradually pieced together the past that others had long overlooked.

“You just let them treat you like this? Won’t you fight back?” He looked at the still-bleeding wound on the youth’s wrist. “Are you an idiot?!”

The youth looked a little puzzled, tilting his head to the side as his light brown eyes blinked repeatedly. “Idiot? Are you cursing at me?”

Shen Que looked at him, seeing someone who seemed completely unaware that he was in purgatory. The sharp words on the tip of his tongue were instantly lodged in his throat.

He pulled out the disinfectant and gauze from his backpack, awkwardly yet carefully bandaging him. When the disinfectant touched the broken skin, he subconsciously lightened his touch.

The youth, however, stared intently at him, his brow never furrowing from beginning to end, showing no reaction at all to the stinging pain of cleaning the wound.

Shen Que kept his head lowered, his expression completely focused. His long eyelashes drooped, casting two small shadows in the morning light. The lines of his profile also seemed exceptionally gentle at that moment.

It was at this exact moment that a heart, dormant for countless cycles, suddenly quickened by half a beat. This was the first time, after being covered in wounds, that someone had neither coldly stood by and watched nor taken the opportunity to demand something from him, but instead tended to his injuries with such an awkward yet sincere demeanor.

That warmth, perhaps insignificant to others, traveled through the touch of fingertips and quietly took root in the desolate depths of his heart.

After the bandaging was complete, Shen Que irritably took off the language translator from his wrist and pressed play.

This was a smart device exclusively owned by the expedition team, capable of automatically capturing and translating the target language. Before arriving, they had already set it up for Miao language translation.

A dispassionate electronic voice sounded.

“The power of this blood is getting weaker and weaker.”

“Perhaps it is time to prepare for the next ‘reincarnation’…”

“…After this, destroy him completely and welcome the birth of a new Spirit Master.”

After the cold electronic voice finished speaking, the original recording of those people’s conversation began to play.

The youth listened quietly, his fingertips unconsciously retracting. He was silent for a long time before slowly speaking, his voice filled with confusion, “They said, my blood, is getting less and less useful, and they are preparing to, destroy me…”

“Your life is in your own hands. Why must you obey their arrangements?”

“I once thought about leaving too.” A layer of moisture slowly gathered in his light brown eyes, like the thin mist that had yet to clear from the mountains. “But, besides here, I have nowhere else to go.”

Before coming, Shen Que had checked a lot of information about E’yun Mountain, treating the legends merely as exaggerated rumors. He never expected them to be true. However, his ability to accept things had always been strong. After the initial surprise, a strong desire to protect spontaneously arose, and he presumptuously placed himself in the position of a “savior.”

He was not a good person in the conventional sense. He knew his true nature was selfish and arrogant. He suddenly felt that this youth, bound by fate, was actually no different from himself; someone who seemed to have everything, yet always felt as though he had nowhere to go.

The glamorous shell built by material wealth ultimately could not fill the emptiness of the soul.

“Who says you have nowhere to go?” Shen Que looked up, his gaze intense as it met the youth’s eyes. He said word by word, “You can come with me.”

The youth stared silently back at him, watching him strategize for his sake. The fog in his eyes gradually dissipated. Where Shen Que couldn’t see, the corner of his lips quietly curled into an almost imperceptible smile.

After a long moment, he said softly, “I finally understand, what the painting means.”

“What painting?”

The youth moved aside the clay pots piled in front of the stone wall in the cave, revealing the mural behind it.

In the painting, a young child is gradually raised, repeatedly drained of blood until, at a certain point, they fall into a deep sleep, their body returning to a childlike form as they wait for the next awakening.

Thus, the cycle repeated, endlessly.

“So, you’re a little monster who can rejuvenate?” Shen Que had intended to lighten the oppressive atmosphere, but when he turned his head, he realized the youth had passed out again at some unknown moment.

The two continued to plot in the cave about how to resist and escape.

The youth occasionally took Shen Que to explore the nearby mountain forest, teaching him how to catch fish beneath a waterfall.

The youth took off his shirt, revealing a lean yet smoothly contoured back. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting faint shadows on his pale chest. He was immersed in the crystal-clear stream with his wet black hair clinging to his neck, and water droplets slid down his beautiful shoulder blades, disappearing below his waistline.

Shen Que sat on the bank, feeling a sudden warmth. He quickly averted his gaze, but the sound of the waterfall seemed to crash straight into his heart, resonating with his heartbeat.

But for some reason, he compulsively turned his head back, just in time to catch the youth looking back at him.

The corner of the youth’s mouth was slightly lifted, and the water droplets sliding off his hair conveniently gathered in the dimple that appeared next to his cheek. That smile was both innocent and subtly enchanting, lightly tugging at his heart like a butterfly fluttering its wings.

The small doubt in his heart was completely concealed by that smile. In the end, he never managed to voice the question: “Didn’t you say you didn’t know how to catch fish?”

Life in the mountains was unexpectedly pleasant. Free from worldly worries, Shen Que wasn’t in a hurry to leave. For him, this was a new kind of life experience.

Until those people discovered Shen Que’s presence.

They intended to “execute” this outsider.

It was the first time the youth used his ability to resist.

He hadn’t expected those people to be so easily defeated in front of him, and even he himself was stunned. It turned out he wasn’t as weak as he thought; it was just that he had never had anyone he wanted to protect, so he hadn’t tried to use this power.

After driving them back, the two lay on the grass by the pool, looking up at the gradually darkening sky.

“What’s your name?” Shen Que turned his head and asked. They had been companions in the mountains for quite some time but had never exchanged names.

“I… don’t have a name.” The youth’s words were slightly hesitant. “Only during the Moon Glazing Festival do they call me the Spirit Master.”

“Then would you like to have your own name?”

“Can I have the same name as you?” When the youth asked this, there was a careful probing look in his eyes as if sharing the same name as him established the most intimate connection.

“No, you can’t.” Shen Que smiled. “Everyone is unique and should have a name that belongs only to them. However, you can share my surname.” Shen Que thought about it and then instantly rejected the idea, finding it strange. “But the surname Shen isn’t good either; no one surnamed Shen is a good person. How about you take the surname Sheng, and be called Sheng Qixiao? Sheng, as in blossoming! Qixiao means aspiring to the clouds.”

Shen Que casually picked a small purple flower dancing in the wind near his cheek and handed it to Sheng Qixiao. “I hope you can bloom like this little flower, and I hope there will be a broader world waiting for you in the future.”

“Sheng Qixiao… my name.” Sheng Qixiao repeated the words softly, his eyes slowly turning red.

“Yes, your name, a name that belongs only to you.” Shen Que nodded lightly, reaching out his hand to wipe the dampness from his eye corner, but as soon as his fingertip touched the warm skin, he instantly pulled it back as if burned.

He transparently changed the subject, “Sheng Qixiao, do you want to go out and take a look? See what’s outside the mountain. There are tall buildings, grasslands, the ocean… and lots of delicious food and fun things.”

“I want to…” Sheng Qixiao’s voice was very soft, so soft that Shen Que completely missed the rest of his sentence.

But, I can’t.

Having gone through too many cycles of growth and sleep, many complex emotions were added to his eyes.

Shen Que just looked at him like that, and his heart suddenly skipped a beat.

The poisonous mist spread out at night. Sheng Qixiao said he would take him to the stockade to hide for a while and send him out when the mist dispersed.

Immersed in curiosity, Shen Que didn’t notice the strangeness in his wording.

That was the first time he went to Sheng Qixiao’s small house. At that time, the house was far from the exquisite and cozy arrangement it would later have. The yard was full of herbs; there were no flowers, nor swing.

Shen Que couldn’t cook, so Sheng Qixiao always cooked. Shen Que watched from the side as Sheng Qixiao busied himself by the stove, wearing a rough cloth apron. The firelight shone on his beautiful face, making him look warm.

Until one morning, Shen Que woke up from his sleep, and the small house was empty.

He waited all day. From the first light of dawn until the twilight gathered. His stomach growled with hunger, while his heart felt as though something was missing, leaving him restless and uneasy.

Not until the sky had completely darkened did fear finally stop hiding, completely surrounding him.

So, Shen Que, who had gone hungry all day, grabbed the wooden stick in the corner and bravely stepped into the mist.

He was scared, scared that Sheng Qixiao had suffered some harm again.

The dense mist seemed to solidify, turning into a cold hand that covered his mouth and nose, blurring his vision.

He stumbled and staggered in the mist. Amidst the void, a small light seemed to shine ahead. He followed that sliver of light, stepping into the trap tailor-made for him.

He chased it blankly but relentlessly. Suddenly, the ground gave way beneath his feet, and his body instantly plummeted into the boundless, pitch-black abyss.