Not far from the mountaintop, he suddenly heard intermittent groans coming from deep within a mountain hollow. "It hurts so much—" The cry was shrill and heart-rending.
Ma Yuan's heart stirred. He hurriedly turned back and slid down the slope, pushing aside the waist-high wild grass. Sure enough, he found a woman sprawled among it. Squatting down, he demanded, "Who are you? What are you howling about out here?"
The woman was barely breathing. In a trembling voice, she only pleaded, "Sir... save me..."
"Where did you come from? And how am I supposed to save you?"
Panting heavily, the woman answered, "This little woman is merely a village girl. I was returning to my parents' home to visit family when I suddenly suffered a stabbing pain in my chest along the way. I am about to breathe my last... I beg you, sir, to seek a bowl of hot soup from a nearby village and pour it down my throat. Even if it only prolongs my life for a moment, it would be worth more than building a seven-story treasure pagoda... Should I somehow survive, your kindness would outweigh giving me life anew!"
Ma Yuan gave a cold smile. "Miss, in these desolate mountains and wild ridges, where would hot soup come from? You are doomed to die either way. Better fulfill this humble daoist's need for a vegetarian meal—filling my belly while earning merit. Would that not serve both purposes?"
The woman said urgently, "If I can truly live, then being eaten as an offering would be only right and proper."
Ma Yuan's guts were already burning with hunger. How could he have the patience to listen to her ramble on? He lunged forward in a step, viciously planting one foot on her chest and pinning her thigh