The Target

"Why is this happening? Why... why do we keep entering worlds like this?!" Han Juanjuan's shoulders trembled, his voice full of sorrow and helplessness. But all anyone could offer him was silence.

Han Juanjuan needed a moment to calm down. His emotions had reached their breaking point.

Jiang Cheng walked over to Shang Mo, who was slumped on the ground as if he'd lost his soul, and asked, "How are you?"

After a long while, Shang Mo seemed to come back to himself. He raised his head. One side of his face was swollen, and his eyes were dim, filled with helplessness and conflicted emotions. "I'm sorry. It was all my... my grandson's fault. He was blinded by greed, and that's what caused all this trouble. He not only got his parents killed, but dragged everyone else into it too. I'm sorry. I'm truly... truly sorry."

Shang Mo hadn't fought back when he was beaten. He'd just stood there like a block of wood. He was, after all, a sixty-year-old man. Seeing his hunched figure, Fatty felt a little sorry for him.

Jiang Cheng reached out and helped him to his feet. He straightened Shang Mo's clothes and brushed the snow off him, then spoke in a calm voice. "There's no point talking about that now. We should focus on how to get out of here and reach the summit as soon as possible."

"Is there anything else you haven't told us?" Jiang Cheng asked, changing the subject.

Shang Mo raised an eyebrow and said, a little flustered, "No. I've told you everything I know. I'm very grateful that you came to help me. Why would I..."

Jiang Cheng nodded. "Good."

Then he looked around. The familiar scenery suddenly felt strange to him. Their situation was obvious now: they were