Prisoner

"Blood... I want blood..."

The prisoner's hands locked tightly around Jiang Shuo, straining so hard that the iron chains hummed. He seemed to want nothing more than to stuff Jiang Shuo whole into his own body. He mumbled indistinctly, and a thin line of blood seeped from the corner of his mouth, running down Jiang Shuo's neck. A look of utter satisfaction appeared on his face, the crimson in his pupils growing ever richer as a thick, sinister aura radiated from his entire body.

Like a goat with its throat caught in a cheetah's jaws, Jiang Shuo's limbs were tightly bound, leaving him unable to move. He could only feel the blood throughout his body rushing toward the wound on his neck and pouring out in an endless torrent. Along with it, something unknown seemed to be draining from his body as well.

In that brief span of time, Jiang Shuo's strength rapidly ebbed away. He tried to break free with brute force, but when he raised his hand and struck the other man, it landed limp and powerless.

He was like fish on a chopping block, left for others to butcher. His vision repeatedly darkened, and waves of dizziness crashed through his mind.

Ever since escaping Chiyun Village and seeing the world's evils and the hardships of the road ahead, Jiang Shuo had considered the possibility of death. But he had never imagined he would die under such absurd circumstances.

He did not know why he was dying. He had only met the person killing him for the first time. I still haven't uncovered the truth behind Father's death. I still have so much to do. I don't want to die! Jiang Shuo was overwhelmed by fierce unwillingness, yet his rapidly fading strength mercilessly dragged him into death's abyss. He could no longer even speak, able only to make faint sounds deep in his throat, as thin as a mosquito's buzz.

There was no longer any chance of turning things around. Jiang Shuo's consciousness began to crumble, countless scenes flickering through his mind like lantern slides, their light gradually winking out.

Just as endless darkness was about to swallow Jiang Shuo whole, a glimmer of dawn suddenly tore through the depths, illuminating his clouded eyes.

"Hm?" For some reason, the other man's movements had become sluggish and slow, prolonging Jiang Shuo's fragile life.

Countless questions sprang up in Jiang Shuo's heart. Out of the corner of his peripheral vision, he saw that the light was no illusion—it truly existed. The Hundred Segment Bone in his arms was giving off a gentle radiance, enveloping both Jiang Shuo and the other man.

"Eh, why is it..." Before Jiang Shuo's puzzled thought could even finish forming, darkness suddenly spread out and consumed his entire mind. His eyes closed, his body overwhelmed by crushing exhaustion. The last thread of will he had guarded so closely finally slackened, and, having expended too much, he ultimately fell unconscious.

Jiang Shuo had a dream. He felt someone digging out his bones, just like the corpses of Dream Red Pavilion disciples.

After a long while, the interminable dream came to an end. Jiang Shuo struggled to open his eyes. There was light before him, released by the Hundred Segment Bone in his arms.

"This... what happened? I... I'm not dead?" Jiang Shuo felt as though his entire body ached terribly, his bones scattered apart, as if he had just gone through a great battle.

He tried to sit up, but his hands, feet, and limbs seemed no longer his own, utterly refusing to obey him. After resting for a long time, he finally managed to raise a hand and touch his neck.

His neck was wet, sticky, and rough. Two rows of narrow, crescent-shaped wounds marked it. The slightest touch made him bare his teeth in pain, but his mind, which had been a complete mess, cleared somewhat as well.

"So that wasn't a dream... Then I really didn't die?" At that thought, Jiang Shuo jolted. He had no idea where the strength came from, but he pushed himself upright with his elbow. The movement was too abrupt, and his head felt as though it were splitting apart. He sucked in a sharp breath from the pain.

"You're awake?" A hoarse voice came from across from him. "You lost too much blood. You'd better not move around."

Jiang Shuo narrowed his eyes, and the blurry scene before him gradually became clear. The prisoner opposite him had raised his head. A disorderly mass of grizzled beard covered his chin—he was an old man. His eyes had returned to normal, and he was clutching a roast chicken, stuffing large mouthfuls into his mouth.

Remembering what had happened earlier, Jiang Shuo felt a wave of lingering fear. Without thinking, he grabbed the iron bars with both hands and pulled himself slightly back, widening the distance between them.

The old man lifted his head and swept a glance over Jiang Shuo. He noticed his actions, but merely snorted coldly in disdain. "Heh. There's only this much space here. If you've got the guts, jump back down."

Jiang Shuo looked down. Given his current terrible condition, he no longer had the strength to swim. He would probably drown alive before even half an incense stick's time had passed. The old man's attitude, on the other hand, was impossible to gauge. If he stayed, there might still be a sliver of hope for survival.

As if he had long guessed Jiang Shuo's choice, the old man's shoulders trembled faintly with contempt. He tore off a chicken leg from the roast chicken in his hand and held it out to Jiang Shuo.

Jiang Shuo stared at the chicken leg hanging in midair. His mouth filled with saliva, and its fragrance made his appetite stir, yet he did not dare accept it.

The old man had first tried to kill him, and now he was giving him food. When something was out of the ordinary, there had to be something sinister at work—how could Jiang Shuo dare act rashly? Especially when the old man's method of killing had been to suck him dry of blood alive. That left Jiang Shuo deeply uneasy. He had never seen anything so bizarre before; lingering fear was unavoidable.