Guozhao Zhiqiang, his heart heavy with a profound sickness and gnawing worry for Deming's safety, knew, with a grim certainty, that someone was waiting for the opportune moment to hurt Deming again, to reclaim their broken toy. He stayed a good distance away from his juniors, his gaze constantly sweeping the road ahead and behind them. Since the early morning, they had ridden their swords relentlessly all day, and the other juniors with lower spiritual energy had already exceeded their maximum strength, their faces pale with exhaustion, and could only walk, their bodies dragging.
Tam Liang looked back at his exhausted juniors, their figures stumbling, desperately chasing after Guozhao Zhiqiang, who, despite his own recent wound, seemed tireless. He shouted, his voice hoarse, "Senior Brother, all the other juniors are tired! They can't keep up!"
Guozhao Zhiqiang, his brow furrowed with concern, walked back to his juniors, seeing the profound tiredness etched on their faces. He sighed, a rare display of exasperation. "Ah Liang and Ah Kun, you slowly help the rest back to Waterfall City, ensuring their safety. I will go ahead, I need to go faster."
Tam Kun, confused, asked, "Why, Senior Brother? What's the urgency?"
"Deming is injured, and his injury isn't fully healed," Guozhao Zhiqiang explained, his voice grim. "He needs proper care, and he is a target."
"But—" Tam Kun began, wanting to protest, wanting to stay with his senior brother.
Tam Qiu, sensing the deeper urgency and the unasked questions, grabbed Tam Kun's shoulder and shook her head at him, a silent warning. "Ah Kun," she whispered, "let him go." She then turned to Guozhao Zhiqiang, her voice gentle, holding out a small pouch. "Senior Brother, these are medicines for Brother Deming's injury, one is for him to take and the other is for his wound."
Guozhao Zhiqiang took the two bottles of medicine, his fingers brushing against hers, and put them carefully into his robe. He drew his sword, its blade glinting, jumped onto it, leaving his juniors behind with a final glance, and continued to chase Deming and Weici towards Waterfall City, a desperate pursuit against an unseen enemy.
Tam Liang looked at his tired juniors, his expression resigned. "We sit and rest first," he commanded, allowing them a reprieve.
The ten hunters sat on the side of the road to eat, their movements slow and weary. After resting for about an hour, the Snow Sector disciples approached, their white robes stark against the dusty road. Hu Dingxiang, his eyes immediately scanning the group, did not find Guozhao Zhiqiang among his juniors, a flicker of irritation crossing his face.
Tam Liang, ever polite, asked, "Young Master Hu, do you want to go to Waterfall City with us? We'd be glad of the company."
"The more people, the better," Hu Dingxiang replied, his voice smooth, a calculated decision for his own safety and continued observation.
"Tsk... why did Ah Liang want him to go with us?" Tam Kun murmured, grumbling softly to Tam Qiu, his brow furrowed with annoyance. "Doesn't he remember how cold the Young Master of Snow Sector acted towards Senior Brother, how he betrayed him? Senior Brother has been treated badly; that's the reason why Senior Brother has never left Peach Blossom Valley for so long, he was heartbroken!"
Tam Qiu sighed, a profound weariness in her voice. "Ah Kun, let bygones be bygones. Senior Brother needs us focused on the present."
Tam Liang looked at Tam Kun, a calm certainty in his eyes. "Senior Brother has moved on. He only pays attention to Brother Deming now, his focus is elsewhere. It doesn't matter if Young Master Hu follows us or not, it doesn't really make any difference to Senior Brother's heart anymore."
Tam Kun frowned madly, his face contorted in disbelief and frustration. "Well... if you think that way, then we will no longer be able to walk on the same path, you and I. Next time, I'm going to team up with the twins, Weisheng and Weimin!"
"I have no problem looking for a new partner," Tam Liang retorted, a challenging glint in his eye, accepting the playful threat.
Tam Kun turned his head, staring madly at Tam Liang, a mock fury in his gaze. "Do you dare?"
As the sun climbed higher, its relentless rays beating down as Deming felt a profound weakness wash over him, his body growing lighter. He looked down at his left chest to see his white robe soaked in crimson, a spreading stain of blood that had already bled through, staining his red outer robe.
"Weici, when will we enter the city?" Deming asked, his voice weak and breathless.
"I don't know," Weici replied, her voice filled with worry. "If someone is nearby, we'll ask for directions. I haven't been to Waterfall City myself, not in this form, so I don't know the exact path."
"I thought you had been there before," Deming said, confusion in his voice.
"I heard from others," Weici said, a soft, self-deprecating laugh escaping her. "Sorry, I didn't make it clear. How about the City in the Clouds? Have you seen that?"
"There is no city in the Cloud," Deming said disappointedly, his voice flat, the lie now a painful, crushing reality.
"Brother Deming, I heard someone is coming, very fast," Weici quickly said, her voice sharp with alarm, shrinking instantly into a little black ant and crawling into Deming's sleeve for concealment.
Deming could not see clearly in front of him. Everything around him became blurred, a swirling haze. His vision grew darker and darker, fading into blackness. "Weici, I can't see," he whispered, his voice weak with fear.
"Brother Deming. Hold on for a little longer," Weici said worriedly, her tiny voice muffled from inside his sleeve.
Deming fell heavily to the ground, his body collapsing. He heard voices coming closer and closer, their sounds indistinguishable, but he couldn't understand a single word. His breathing became shallow, ragged, and his eyes grew heavier, resisting his will. After a while, everything darkened, slipping into oblivion.
Yu Lei looked up, just as the sun was fully rising, casting a warm glow, and saw a person lying motionless in the middle of the road. "Second Senior Brother, look over there," he said to Yang Bao, pointing. "Someone passed out in the middle of the road."
Lee Nianzu said, his voice puzzled, "That person wears our clothes."
Yu Lei turned to look at Lee Nianzu, his brow furrowed. "Could it be one of our juniors who got injure?"
Yang Bao walked from behind Lee Nianzu and Yu Lei, his expression serious. "Let's go see," he decided, taking charge.
When the group arrived, they saw a man lying in a growing pool of blood on the dusty road. They didn't recognize the individual who wore their sector's clothes; his face was unfamiliar.
Yu Lei looked at his brothers, a question in his eyes. "Who is he?"
"Last time we checked, we don't have any red-haired disciples," Lee Nianzu said, his voice puzzled.
"Anyway, let's save him first and ask questions later," Yang Bao suggested, his priorities clear. He knelt down to examine the wound.
Yu Lei, without hesitation, picked up Deming, careful of his wound, and carried him along the river to a small roadside pavilion, a sheltered spot.
Lee Nianzu helped Yang Bao carefully take off Deming's blood-soaked clothes. Yang Bao, with surprising skill, spent two hours meticulously mending Deming's wound, stitching it carefully.
"Ah Lei, find something for us to eat," Yang Bao said, his voice tired. "I think we'll stay here for tonight. It seems that this acquaintance won't wake up anytime soon, and we need to rest as well."
When Deming regained consciousness, he felt his head pressed by something soft, a gentle, comforting weight. Finally, his fuzzy mind remembered that he had passed out on a dirt road, fleeing. He slowly opened his eyes, struggling against the lingering darkness, and stared into the familiar, kind face of Guozhao Zhiqiang, who was holding him.
Guozhao Zhiqiang put a warm hand on Deming's face, and Deming's heart sank, a cold dread washing over him. "Impossible" was the first word Deming thought when he saw Guozhao Zhiqiang. He had successfully escaped from Guozhao Zhiqiang and Hu Dingxiang, endured the journey, and now he was captured again by Guozhao Zhiqiang, his desperate bid for freedom seemingly futile. He saw the small dagger on Guozhao Zhiqiang's waist, a familiar glint of metal. He quickly grabbed the dagger, pulled himself away from Guozhao Zhiqiang, despite the pain, and rushed out of the pavilion, into the open.
"Stay away from me!" Deming demanded, his voice raw with terror and anger, pointing the dagger wildly at Guozhao Zhiqiang, a desperate, pathetic threat.
Guozhao Zhiqiang looked at Deming, his face etched with sorrow, understanding the deep-seated fear. "It's me," he said softly, a statement of undeniable truth.
Deming roared wildly, a raw, animalistic cry of pain and frustration. "I know it's you! I want to hide from you two! Why can't you leave me alone?! Why do you keep coming back to torment me?!"
"Brother Deming, calm down," Yang Bao said, stepping forward cautiously, his voice gentle and reassuring. "When you get angry, your wound will open again, you'll hurt yourself further."
Deming cried and pleaded, his voice breaking, tears streaming down his face, his body trembling. "What do you need me to do to leave me alone?! Tell me, I will do anything you ask me to do as long as you leave me alone!" He knelt on his knees, his body wracked with sobs, and kept kowtowing frantically in front of Guozhao Zhiqiang, begging for mercy. "Please let me go. Let go of me. I'm begging you, just leave me to die!"
Yang Bao looked at Guozhao Zhiqiang, his face concerned. "Senior Brother, if this continues, the wound will open again, he'll bleed out."
"Ah Bao, I want to be alone with him for a while," Guozhao Zhiqiang said, his voice low, his eyes fixed on Deming.
Yang Bao and the other hunters, understanding the gravity of the situation, quietly left, leaving Deming and Guozhao Zhiqiang alone in the pavilion, the air thick with unspoken anguish.
"Please get up, Deming," Guozhao Zhiqiang said, his voice soft, trying to help Deming up, but Deming violently pushed his hands away, recoiling from his touch. "Why are you running away from me? Why do you hate me so?"
Deming knew he had nothing left to lose at this moment. He now had only two options: Guozhao Zhiqiang could, by some miracle, let him go, or he only needed to insert the dagger into his own abdomen, ending his torment forever. He would never return to that dark cave, not ever again. "Because I hate you!" he yelled, his voice raw with a sudden, unleashed fury, looking directly at Zhiqiang for the first time, his gaze filled with pure hatred.
Guozhao Zhiqiang was at a profound loss, a searing pain twisting in his heart. He had worked very hard, sacrificed so much, to fulfill his promise to this man, to make him free. He didn't know what he had done wrong. "You hate me?" he asked painfully, his voice barely a whisper, filled with shattered hope. This single sentence shattered Guozhao Zhiqiang's heart into a million pieces. "You hate me? Why do you hate me?"
Deming, fueled by years of torment and the agonizing misunderstanding, screamed angrily, his voice rising, "Yes! I hate you and I hate Hu Dingxiang!" He cried, tears of rage mingling with tears of sorrow. "One person kept me locked up for nineteen years, subjected to unspeakable horrors! When he was angry with the world, I was his sandbag, his punching bag! The other person," he spat, pointing a trembling finger at Guozhao Zhiqiang, his voice dripping with venom, "lied to me and used my body for entertainment and pleasure, played with my innocence and hope!" He pointed again, wildly, his voice breaking with fury. "Hu Dingxiang is the boss, and you are his friend, his accomplice! What did I do to you, huh?! What did I do to either of you?!" He coughed, a violent, rattling sound, and vomited blood onto the ground, his body giving out under the weight of his rage and pain.
Guozhao Zhiqiang looked at Deming, his face a mask of profound sadness and unbearable guilt, finally understanding the depth of the illusion. "You didn't do anything wrong, Deming," he said softly, tears welling in his own eyes. "I have told you; I was also deceived. I loved who I thought was Hu Dingxiang, not knowing you were suffering in his place."
Deming shook his head frantically, his distrust absolute. "I don't believe it! I can't believe you! You and Hu Dingxiang are good friends, I saw it with my own eyes! You want to bring me back to him, lock me in the dungeon and continue to be his sandbag, his plaything!"
"I will never let that happen, Deming," Guozhao Zhiqiang assured him, his voice firm, unwavering, a solemn oath.
"I don't believe you!" Deming insisted, his voice raw with a lifetime of broken promises. He pleaded, his voice a broken whisper, "Please let me go. I promise I will never say anything to anyone, and your identity will not be compromised. Just leave me be."
"You don't want to see me, I won't let you see me, Deming," Guozhao Zhiqiang said, his voice filled with a desperate longing to ease his pain, "but please don't run away. Stay with my juniors. I don't want you to be injured, not again." He took the scabbard from his waist, its empty sheath a symbol of his vulnerability, and placed it on the ground beside Deming. "Keep the dagger. Protect yourself." He walked towards his juniors, his heart heavy. After giving Yang Bao some urgent instructions, Guozhao Zhiqiang walked in front of his juniors, placing himself deliberately further away from the rest of his juniors, keeping his distance from Deming, a painful act of trust.
Yang Bao walked back to Deming, his expression kind. He picked up the scabbard on the ground and handed it to Deming. He smiled softly. "Brother Deming, shall we go to Waterfall City?"
The group continued towards Waterfall City, the sun now high in the sky, but the weather was getting colder, a crisp bite in the air. The grass and trees had started to turn from vibrant green to muted brown, and winter was coming in a few short months, a season of stark change.
"Brother Deming, he is not a human being," Weici whispered, her voice tiny, from inside Deming's sleeve.
"What? Who?" Deming asked, startled by the unexpected voice.
"Their senior," Weici clarified, "Guozhao Zhiqiang. He is not human."
"Fairy?" Deming wondered, a flicker of something ancient in his eyes.
"He is not a fairy either," Weici stated, a hint of wonder in her voice.
"What is he?" Deming asked, his mind reeling from the new information, the new illusion shattered.
"I don't know," Weici concluded, a rare admission of uncertainty. "I only know that he is neither a human nor a fairy. He is something else entirely."