The night was bleak, with stars scattered across the sky.
The mass burial ground behind the mountain was littered with corpses and crisscrossed with white bones.
Some tombstones had been eroded by time, their inscriptions blurred, while straw mats had been torn open by wild dogs, revealing ghastly skeletons.
The air was thick with the stench of rotting flesh, nauseating to the point of choking…
Two servants were carrying a thin, narrow coffin toward a flat area on the hillside.
One of the servants was a fatty, with eyes as large as bronze bells.
He grumbled incessantly: “Having to come bury a corpse in the dead of night—what damn bad luck!”
Liu Wu had a sharp, weasel-like face with a pair of triangular eyes that gleamed with malice.
On the left side of his nose was a black mole the size of a broad bean, with a few white hairs growing from it, giving him a thoroughly sleazy appearance.
His voice was shrill: “Stop complaining! The second young lady gave us a hefty reward. Can you earn silver lying around sleeping?”
Fatty was panting heavily, his voice coarse: “Ah! Men die for wealth, birds perish for food. For silver, I’ll push through too. Let’s rest for a bit—I’m exhausted.”
“Rest what? Hurry up and bury her so we can leave early. This place is creepy,” ordered Liu Wu, who was carrying the coffin.
Just then, a dark shadow swept past with a “whoosh,” sending shivers down Fatty’s spine.
“A ghost! A ghost!”
He shouted, threw down the carrying pole, and quickly hid behind Liu Wu.
“Ouch, my foot! You nearly crushed me!”
Liu Wu glared angrily, complaining: “Fatty, could you at least warn me before letting go?
You dropped it and ran—it hit my foot! It hurts like hell!”
He bent down and began rubbing his foot.
As he stood up, the corner of his mouth curled into a smirk, his eyes gleaming with lust: “Fatty, she’s still the eldest young lady, after all.
We’ve never touched a woman before. Why not have some fun and taste what a woman’s like?”
Liu Wu and Fatty exchanged glances, reaching a mutual understanding, and let out a few lewd chuckles.
They picked up their shovels and approached the coffin, ready to pry open the lid.
Just then, a cold, fierce voice rang out: “Stop!
Get lost!”
Fatty halted and looked in the direction of the voice, his bull-like eyes widening: “Who’s the blind fool trying to meddle in our business? Looks like you’ve got a death wish.
Liu Wu, someone wants to ruin our fun. What do we do?”
“Teach him a lesson, show him who’s boss. Let’s go—smash him!”
The two, filled with rage, charged toward the person with their shovels in hand.
Not far away, in front of a thick tree, a man sat on the ground.
He was dressed in black robes, with an exquisitely crafted silver mask covering the upper half of his face, engraved with intricate and mysterious patterns.
Beneath the mask were a pair of slender, sharp phoenix eyes, deep as a ten-thousand-year frigid pool, devoid of any emotion. A single glance sent chills down one’s spine, inspiring fear.
Even the slightest shift in his gaze revealed ruthlessness and decisiveness, as if he could see through a person’s heart yet showed no mercy.
This was none other than the Iron-Blooded Prince of the Great Zhou Kingdom, the Seventh Prince, Nangong Li.
His right hand was pressed against his chest, blood dripping from his wrist, as if he were severely injured.
Seeing the two approach with murderous intent, Nangong Li gripped a sword in his left hand, its tip planted in the ground, using it to barely support himself as he stood up.
His thin lips pressed together, his eyes bloodthirsty, he roared: “Seeking death!”
As he spoke, he exuded an aura of cold arrogance and overwhelming dominance.
Liu Wu’s eyes gleamed with malice. “Since you want to meddle in other people’s business, I’ll grant your wish and let you become a pair of doomed lovebirds.”
Fatty and Liu Wu exchanged a glance, then simultaneously swung their shovels at the masked figure.
Nangong Li’s voice was icy. “Overestimating yourselves!”
His eyes shot out countless cold glints, and a murderous aura emanated from his entire body.
Gripping the sword hilt, he spun a beautiful sword flourish with his left hand.
A wave of deadly energy swept toward Liu Wu and the others.
A sharp, chilling flash of light streaked through the air, and Liu Wu and Fatty were instantly cleaved in two, their blood pooling on the ground.
Both men stopped breathing immediately.
Nangong Li, having exerted his internal energy, triggered the cold poison to attack his heart, causing him to faint on the spot…
The mountain regained its tranquility.
Suddenly, lightning flashed and thunder rumbled in the sky, and a beam of silver light shot directly into the coffin.
The fingers of the woman inside the coffin twitched slightly. Slowly, she opened her clear, deep eyes, which emitted a cold light.
Her voice was somewhat hoarse. “Where is this? Why is it so dark?”
She struggled to recall: she had just finished three consecutive days of surgery and stepped outside the tent for some fresh air when a missile came hurtling toward her from the sky.
She only heard a deafening explosion, and then, and then…
“I’m dead! I must be dead!
I haven’t even spent all my money yet, and now I’m gone!”
…………
Feng Qianqian, 28 years old, had become a leading medical doctor of the 22nd century thanks to her photographic memory and diligent studies.
Born into a family of traditional Chinese medicine practitioners, she could recognize hundreds of herbs by the age of three. She excelled in both Chinese and Western medicine and was the supreme authority in the field of poisons—there was no poison she couldn’t cure.
She possessed the innate Ghost Pupil of Clairvoyance, which was more precise than a color ultrasound.
By day, she saved lives and healed the wounded at the hospital; by midnight, she took lives, walking the line between good and evil.
Her targets were corrupt officials and those who bullied the weak, making her infamous among both the righteous and the underworld.
As the war intensified, she resolutely joined the Eastern Theater Command as a military doctor.
She began muttering to herself, “If only I had a flashlight.”
Suddenly, a flashlight appeared in her hand.
Feng Qianqian felt a surge of joy. “My dimensional space followed me here. That’s wonderful!”
On her 18th birthday, her grandfather had given her a lotus ring engraved with ancient runes. The lotus was a dimensional space.
Inside the space were an herb garden, a spirit spring, a mobile operating room, and a point exchange system.
She could exchange points for anything she needed.
She earned points by healing the sick and punishing evildoers.
Her dimensional space also served as the emergency arms reserve depot for the war zone.
It stored a large quantity of weapons, such as submachine guns, bombs, napalm bombs, PRG rocket launchers, and more, all neatly arranged in crates.
Inside the space was also a twenty-square-meter mobile operating room.
Feng Qianqian turned on the flashlight and discovered she was inside a narrow, low cabinet.
She kicked at it but couldn’t break it open.
“Where am I? Why is it so cramped? There’s no door. This can’t be a coffin, can it?
It’s only tall enough to lie down in. I need to get out quickly, or I’ll suffocate.”
Feng Qianqian frowned, muttering under her breath, “If only I had a cutting machine.”
Immediately, a small cutting machine appeared in her hand.
She also retrieved a mask from her dimensional space, put it on, pressed the button, and began cutting through one side of the coffin lid…
The space inside the coffin was cramped. After a long while of “squeaking” sounds, Feng Qianqian finally managed to kick open the coffin lid and climb out…