The morning light had just crept over the treetops on the western slope, and Xu Yunche had already walked three li.
He didn’t look back or stop. The bandage on his left arm was fresh, and the blood had stopped dripping, but every step felt as though wire were cinched around the wound, making his whole arm go numb. The waterskin rested against his hip, and his provisions pressed against the handle of his dagger, digging painfully into his ribs. The pain was a good thing. At least it kept him alert.
The dense forest lay ahead, still shrouded in mist. Tree shadows crisscrossed, and low-hanging branches and leaves looked like mouths that hadn’t quite closed. He didn’t take the main road or the dirt path behind the village, where people often walked. Instead, he plunged straight into the brush at the forest’s edge. Thorns tore at his trouser legs, but he ignored them, shifting his dagger to his right hand and using its spine to push aside the vines blocking his way.
The forest was silent. No birds called, and the wind didn’t stir. The only sound was his feet crunching over rotting leaves, again and again.
He walked slowly. Not because he was afraid of disturbing anything, but because he had to conserve his strength. His left arm was useless, and when climbing, he could only push himself forward with his right leg. His knee soon began to ache. He remembered what Lin Jiuniang had said: go around the western slope and cut through the forest. But she hadn’t said how deep the forest was, or whether the mountain path beyond it was still passable.
The System hadn’t made a sound.
He didn’t expect it to help him at every turn. That thing always appeared and disappeared without warning. It stayed silent when it should speak, then suddenly blurted out something like, “Don’t kill anyone today and you’ll receive a jug of spirit spring water.” But he knew that as long as he was alive and still moving, the System wouldn’t cut off contact completely.
When he reached halfway up the mountain, the sky suddenly darkened.
Clouds rolled in from the north, heavy as water-soaked cotton. He looked up
