“Xian-ge…” Instead of getting acquainted with the other “teammates,” Chen Wei walked right up to Xian Chengyue’s side. Assigned to the group tasked with finding pastries, he appeared quite composed as he lowered his voice to ask: “Xian-ge, do you need me to come with you?”
Xian Chengyue glanced at Chen Wei, his face devoid of any expression: “No need, go handle your own side.”
Chen Wei nodded. The moment he lifted his head, he caught Su Yan watching him, and offered a soft, tight-lipped smile in return.
Su Yan smiled back, though it remained entirely on the surface a detached, polite, and distinctly cold smile.
“I didn’t hear any chickens crowing this morning.” The female teammate paired with Xian Chengyue and Su Yan was trembling all over. Her throat sounded as though it had been clamped by a vice, her voice tiny; having gone without water for a long period, her voice was intensely raspy. “What are we going to do…”
The girl wiped away a tear. Having witnessed her companions die right before her eyes last night, she had grown numb; even her tears weren’t shed because she consciously wanted to cry, but simply because the moisture spilled forth on its own accord.
Su Yan glanced at Xian Chengyue, then offered words of comfort to the girl: “Earlier, I heard veterans say that general instances with a high number of newbies don’t result in too many casualties. Things shouldn’t get too difficult after this.”
“My name is Su Yan, and you?”
The girl answered with trembling lips: “My name is Lin Min.”
The other male teammate chimed in: “My name is Sun Hao. Lin Min and I were both among the people you guys saved and brought inside the house yesterday.”
A total of five people had been rescued last night, though one of them had suffered a nervous breakdown and was dragged away regardless.
The remaining four hadn’t gone out with Xian Chengyue and the others that morning; instead, they had huddled together in weeping, and that collective emotional release had undeniably helped stabilize their moods significantly.
Just when Su Yan assumed Xian Chengyue was going to maintain a stony silence all the way, Xian Chengyue suddenly spoke up: “I’m Xian Chengyue. From this point on, no matter what I do, even if you can’t understand it, do not act on your own accord. Understood?”
Su Yan, Lin Min, and the others looked at Xian Chengyue together. Xian Chengyue wore that same aloof demeanor, devoid of any expression or the slightest trace of warmth in his gaze, making it sound as though his words were spoken not to the living, but to the dead.
Xian Chengyue offered no explanations whatsoever. Before they could fully digest his words, he added: “This village isn’t that scary.”
Sun Hao: “This isn’t scary? So many people died last night!”
“Eight people died! Those are eight human lives!”
His shout was so loud that quite a few people turned to glare in their direction.
The veterans couldn’t help mocking him: “Relax, that’s only eight. Later on, you’ll run into instances where a dozen or so die at once.”
“Don’t treat your teammates like human beings, or you’ll be the first one to break down.”
Sun Hao stared at them in sheer disbelief.
He snapped, past the point of endurance: “Those were living, breathing human beings! They were talking to me just yesterday!”
A veteran sneered: “And then what? Are you going to die in their place?”
Sun Hao: “You guys! You guys!”
Xian Chengyue abruptly cut them off: “Stop arguing.”
The veterans instantly shut their mouths even if they couldn’t latch onto Xian Chengyue’s coattails, they had zero desire to offend him, as making someone disappear here was far too easy.
Xian Chengyue: “Follow me.”
He walked straight out of the courtyard.
Sun Hao looked toward Su Yan and Lin Min. Lin Min swallowed hard and whispered, “Let’s follow him.”
When people are lost and helpless, they tend to gravitate toward whichever attitude is firmest and follow it blindly, without bothering to judge right from wrong, since they are incapable of making decisions for themselves.
Sun Hao’s eyes were red-rimmed, but in the end, he followed behind Su Yan and Lin Min.
The remaining people were still frantically discussing what to do.
The village wasn’t large, but the houses were scattered rather than closely clustered. Every household had a plot of land right outside its door, and at that moment, quite a few people were busy toiling away in the fields either watering crops or weeding. The villagers paid absolutely no attention to the outsiders entering their village, acting as if the questers simply didn’t exist, or had been living there since long ago.
When Xian Chengyue and his group walked past, a villager even paused his labor, raised a hand, and waved a greeting.
Lin Min jumped in fright, instinctively shrinking back behind Xian Chengyue as she asked cautiously, “S-should we answer them?”
Before she could finish, Xian Chengyue had already replied: “We just want to look around the village.”
The villager hoisted his hoe onto his shoulder and responded warmly: “Walk wherever you like. There’s nothing much to see in our village, just don’t go up the mountain.”
Xian Chengyue: “Why can’t we go up the mountain?”
The villager said nothing. He lowered his hoe, the warm, hospitable expression he wore just moments before turning eerily sinister. His small eyes narrowed into slits, and the sunlight falling across his face left his skin deathly pale and devoid of blood.
Sun Hao was so frightened that he collapsed onto the ground, a sharp stench of urine wafting into everyone’s nostrils.
Even Xian Chengyue, who had remained expressionless the whole time, frowned slightly.
Su Yan glanced at Sun Hao. Sun Hao seemed unaware that he had pissed his pants, staring wide-eyed at the villager still standing in the fields and muttering under his breath: “Run… we have to run…”
Su Yan: “Xian-ge, what now?”
Even though he didn’t know Xian Chengyue’s exact age and Xian Chengyue might even be younger than him when lacking a proper form of address, following what others called him was always the safest bet. Didn’t Zhao Feng look significantly older than Xian Chengyue, yet still shamelessly addressed him as Xian-ge?
Xian Chengyue: “Go ask.”
Having uttered those three words, Xian Chengyue stepped directly into the farmland.
Xian Chengyue approached the villager. From Su Yan’s angle, he could only see Xian Chengyue’s back and half of the villager’s body. Xian Chengyue seemed to be discussing something with the villager; with Su Yan’s sharp eyesight, he spotted Xian Chengyue unfastening the watch from his wrist and handing it over to the villager.
The moment the watch changed hands, the villager’s expression instantly reverted to a hospitable, smiling face as he spoke loudly: “The monsters in the river come down from the mountain, who knows what’s going on? Maybe there are more up in the mountain. We’re just looking out for you. City folk like you are soft and delicate; forget about running into monsters, you wouldn’t even escape wild boars or snakes.”
The villager continued: “Even we don’t go up the mountain. It was almost winter anyway; in the past, people would take advantage of autumn to hunt in the mountains and get some smoked meat to add a bit of oil and fat to their winter meals, but that’s out of the question now.”
Xian Chengyue asked again: “Does anyone in the village raise chickens?”
The villager’s expression shifted once more. This time, Xian Chengyue pulled a silver ring from his coat pocket, but the villager remained entirely unmoved, staring at Xian Chengyue with a chilling, sinister gaze. Xian Chengyue withdrew the ring, turned around, and walked back up onto the raised earthen ridge.
“Let’s go, walk around the village,” Xian Chengyue told Su Yan and the others.
Lin Min pulled Sun Hao back up to his feet. There was no spare energy to worry about cleanliness now; realizing he was out of immediate danger, Sun Hao began squirming with embarrassment over pissing his pants. He shoved Lin Min’s hand away, refusing her support, and glared at her as he yanked his arm back: “Did I ask you to help me? It’s not like my legs are broken.”
Lin Min found herself rebuffed for trying to be helpful; after blanking for two seconds, she hurried forward to walk alongside Su Yan, never sparing Sun Hao another glance.
Compared to Sun Hao, who kept throwing tantrums, and the aloof Xian Chengyue, the consistently mild-mannered Su Yan was evidently much easier to approach.
Su Yan walked on Xian Chengyue’s left, a smile gracing his face as his voice dropped low and gentle: “Xian-ge, can the villagers here even be bribed?”
Xian Chengyue: “Treat the villagers here like living people, and their behavior becomes very easy to understand.”
Living people would take calculated risks for the sake of profit, and the villagers here naturally did the same. Only information of greater value than ordinary profit could make them tight-lipped.
They had no intention of providing any advantages regarding the sacrificial offerings.
Xian Chengyue adjusted his gloves. A speck of dust had smudged the black fabric, causing his brow to furrow slightly.
Su Yan handed over a wet wipe, which Xian Chengyue did not refuse: “Thank you.”
Su Yan: “It’s nothing. In a place like this, we’re supposed to support each other, right?”
Silence.
Su Yan looked over at Xian Chengyue. Xian Chengyue had already turned his head away, gazing into the distance along the path they had walked.
“Every household has a chicken coop in their backyard,” Xian Chengyue said calmly. “There’s no chicken manure in the yards, no foul odor, and no chickens crowing in the morning.”
Sun Hao: “What does that mean? Stop beating around the bush!”
Lin Min whispered: “The c-chicken coops are rather old… they m-must have raised them before.”
Xian Chengyue glanced at her: “A village like this wouldn’t slaughter every single chicken. They aren’t extravagant enough to eat chicken meat regularly.”
Lin Min closed her legs nervously, a flush rising to her cheeks: “Th-they must have hid the chickens away.”
Having spoken, she didn’t dare meet Xian Chengyue’s gaze, keeping her eyes glued to the tips of her own shoes.
Xian Chengyue: “You’re right.”
Lin Min’s heartbeat skipped a beat as she whipped her head up to stare at Xian Chengyue’s face.
Xian Chengyue: “Go back and rest. We don’t need to walk anymore today.”
Having said that, Xian Chengyue took the lead, stepping onto the path back.
He didn’t care whether the people behind him followed or not.
Lin Min glanced at Su Yan, forced a strained smile toward him, and then hurried after Xian Chengyue. Breaking into a trot, she caught up until she was less than a meter away before slowing down to match Xian Chengyue’s pace.
“Xian-ge, why did you save them?” Su Yan asked suddenly. “If the ones knocking on the door last night hadn’t been them, opening it would have gotten everyone killed.”
Su Yan’s gaze was tender, his tone gentle, completely devoid of any probing edge.
The corpses in the courtyard at dawn seemed to silently proclaim that they themselves had nearly been among the casualties last night.
Xian Chengyue glanced at Su Yan. With his chin slightly lifted, his eyes held not a shred of wavering or emotion as he coldly retorted: “Did I get you killed?”
“Even if you had died, it would be your deaths, not mine.” Xian Chengyue walked onward.
Su Yan watched Xian Chengyue’s retreating back and raised an eyebrow.
He had never encountered someone like this possessing absolute self-confidence and complete indifference toward everyone else.
“Xian-ge was willing to s-save us,” Lin Min mustered her courage to glare at Su Yan. “Without Xian-ge, w-we would be dead. Even if you didn’t want to save anyone yourself, you shouldn’t you shouldn’t try to stop others.”
Lin Min hurried after Xian Chengyue.
Su Yan shrugged.
Clearly, it was Xian Chengyue who held utter disdain for human life, yet somehow he ended up looking like the bad guy.
No matter why Xian Chengyue had opened that door, the reason certainly wasn’t because he wanted to play savior.
The corners of Su Yan’s mouth curved upward. As he watched Xian Chengyue’s receding figure, his eyes burned with a fire that seemed ready to consume everything in its path.