Huyan Li's Threat

"Hmm?"

"Tell me, do you think that newcomer will be stronger than Huyan Li?"

Zhang Mo thought for a moment: "I don't know."

Ning Rongrong fell silent.

After a while, she whispered:

"If he's stronger than Huyan Li and you can't beat him, just run."

Zhang Mo looked at her.

She was still looking out the window, not turning back.

"You're fast, you'll definitely be able to get away," she continued. "I'll hold him off for you."

Zhang Mo asked: "And what about you?"

Ning Rongrong said: "I'll hide. I'm a Support-type; I can't fight, but I know how to hide."

Zhang Mo was silent for a few seconds, then said:

"No need to run."

Ning Rongrong turned her head to look at him.

He was looking out the window, his expression very calm.

"The two of us can win."

Ning Rongrong stared at him for a few seconds, then looked away and whispered:

"Then good luck."

Zhang Mo nodded.

The two sat there like that, neither of them speaking.

The sound of cars occasionally drifted in from outside the window.

After a long time, Ning Rongrong suddenly yawned.

Zhang Mo turned to look at her: "Sleepy?"

Ning Rongrong shook her head: "Not sleepy."

But no sooner had the words left her lips than she yawned again.

Zhang Mo stood up, took the blanket from the inner room, and handed it to her.

"Cover up, don't catch a cold."

Ning Rongrong took the blanket, draped it over herself, and curled up on the sofa.

Zhang Mo sat back down in his chair and continued reading the book he hadn't finished.

Ning Rongrong huddled in the blanket with only her head poking out, her eyes fixed on him.

After a while, she suddenly said:

"Zhang Mo."

"Hmm?"

"Is that book of yours any good?"

Zhang Mo looked at the book in his hands—it was a professional manual on artifact restoration, filled with technical jargon and diagrams.

"It's alright."

Ning Rongrong let out an "oh," then asked: "What's it about?"

"How to fix things."

Ning Rongrong thought for a moment and said: "Then will you teach me later?"

Zhang Mo looked at her: "You want to learn?"

Ning Rongrong nodded: "In case you're not around one day and something breaks, I can fix it myself."

Zhang Mo was silent for a few seconds, then said:

"Alright."

The corners of Ning Rongrong's mouth curled up, and she tucked her face back into the blanket.

After a while, she said again:

"Zhang Mo."

"Hmm?"

"That Spirit Bone of yours, does it really not hurt?"

Zhang Mo thought for a moment and said: "It feels a bit swollen."

Ning Rongrong let out an "oh."

After a while.

"Zhang Mo."

"Hmm?"

"What are we eating tomorrow?"

Zhang Mo put down his book and looked at her.

She was curled up in a blanket, with only her eyes peeking out, sparkling brightly.

He suddenly smiled.

"What do you want to eat?"

Ning Rongrong thought for a moment and said, "Baozi."

Zhang Mo said, "Didn't we have those today?"

Ning Rongrong replied righteously, "Just because I ate them today doesn't mean I can't eat them tomorrow?"

Zhang Mo didn't say anything; he stood up and walked toward the kitchen.

Ning Rongrong called out from behind him:

"What are you doing?"

Zhang Mo didn't look back: "Making the dough. I'll steam fresh ones tomorrow morning."

Ning Rongrong was stunned for a moment, then the corners of her mouth curled way up.

She retreated back into the blanket, leaving only half her face exposed, watching the direction of the kitchen.

The sound of kneading dough came from the kitchen—thump, thump.

Listening to that sound, she suddenly felt that perhaps she wasn't quite as afraid anymore.

Five days, then. So be it.

At least there were baozi to eat.

She closed her eyes and slowly drifted off to sleep.

She slept very soundly, without a single dream.

When she woke up again, it was already the next morning.

Sunlight shone in through the window, warm and cozy. She opened her eyes and saw a steaming basket of baozi on the coffee table, with a cup of soy milk beside it.

Zhang Mo was sitting opposite her, holding that same book, his head lowered as he read.

Ning Rongrong sat up and rubbed her eyes.

"Morning." Zhang Mo looked up at her.

Ning Rongrong gave a soft hum, reached out to grab a baozi, and took a bite.

The meat juices scalded her tongue; she hissed, sucking in cool air, but couldn't bear to spit it out.

Zhang Mo handed her a glass of cold water.

She took it, drank a sip, and continued eating.

As she ate, she suddenly remembered something and looked up to ask:

"What time did you get up?"

Zhang Mo said, "Five o'clock."

Ning Rongrong froze.

Up at five to make dough and steam baozi?

She looked down at the baozi in her hand, then back at the person opposite her who was buried in his book, and suddenly felt a sting in her nose.

But she quickly sniffled, pretending nothing was wrong, and kept eating.

After breakfast, the two of them went out again.

It was the same ruins, the same labyrinth.

Sunlight shone on the concrete blocks, and the wild grass rustled.

Ning Rongrong stood in the center of the clearing, took a deep breath, and turned to look at Zhang Mo.

"Come on," she said, "what are we practicing today?"

Zhang Mo thought for a moment and said, "Practicing your running."

Ning Rongrong was stunned: "Me running?"

Zhang Mo nodded: "In case I can't hold them off, you need to be able to run away on your own."

Ning Rongrong wanted to say something, but Zhang Mo didn't give her the chance.

"Didn't you say it yourself? You'd help hold them off for me. It works both ways. If I can't hold them off, you need to be able to run."

Ning Rongrong fell silent.

After a few seconds, she nodded: "Fine."

The training began.

Zhang Mo chased, and Ning Rongrong ran.

At first, she ran in a chaotic mess, either tripping over herself or heading in the wrong direction. Time and again, Zhang Mo hauled her back, telling her where she should run and how to use those concrete blocks to obscure his line of sight.

Slowly, she began to run with some semblance of form.

The sun moved from the east to directly overhead, then from overhead to the west.

The two of them practiced for the entire day.

By evening, Ning Rongrong was so exhausted she sat on the ground, gasping for air.

Zhang Mo handed her a bottle of water.

She took it and drank a mouthful, then suddenly asked:

"How did I do?"

Zhang Mo thought for a moment and said: "Not bad."

The corners of Ning Rongrong's mouth curled up.

She looked up at the sunset glow on the horizon and suddenly said:

"Zhang Mo."

"Hmm?"

"Three days left."

Zhang Mo nodded.

Ning Rongrong was silent for a few seconds, then stood up and brushed the dust off her clothes.

"Let's go," she said, "back to eat steamed buns."

Zhang Mo looked at her and suddenly smiled.

The two walked side by side into the twilight.

Behind them, the ruins waited in silence.

Waiting for the new battle three days later.

Sunlight squeezed through the gap in the curtains, drawing a thin line of gold across the floor.

Ning Rongrong opened her eyes and found herself sleeping on the sofa again. She was wrapped tightly in a blanket, with only her head poking out. She turned her head to look across the room—Zhang Mo was sitting in a chair, staring blankly into the air, a purple light flickering in his right eye.

He was looking at the system again.

She sat up, rubbed her eyes, and leaned over.

"What are you looking at?"

Zhang Mo didn't turn his head, merely shifting the light screen to the side so she could see it too.

[Target: Huyan Li]

[Level: Level 65 Soul Emperor]

[Martial Soul: Diamond Mammoth (Top-tier Beast Martial Soul)]

[Soul Rings: Yellow, Yellow, Purple, Purple, Black, Black]

[Characteristics: Strength-type, extremely high defense, relatively slow speed]

[Subordinates: 5 Soul Elders (Level 40-45), all with Strength-type Martial Souls]

[Note: Direct disciple of the Elephant Armor Sect, once killed a 5,000-year Soul Beast with a single punch.]

After reading it, the color drained from Ning Rongrong's face.

"Someone from the Elephant Armor Sect..." she whispered, "I've heard of him."

Zhang Mo turned to look at her.

Ning Rongrong bit her lip, recalling: "The Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect has dealt with the Elephant Armor Sect before. Everyone in their sect is a lunatic; they rely on their thick skin and fight like their lives don't matter. This Huyan Li is ranked in the top three among the younger generation."

She paused, then added: "My father once said that while the people of the Elephant Armor Sect are dim-witted, they are the most troublesome to deal with. You can hit them ten times and they won't feel a thing; if they hit you once, you're down for the count."

Zhang Mo nodded and continued reading.

[Mission: Kill Huyan Li and his subordinates]

[Reward: World Origin Point ×600, Random Soul Bone ×1]

[Failure Penalty: Dual World Collision accelerated by 50 days]

Ning Rongrong stared at the line about "accelerating by 50 days" and fell silent.

After a long time, she finally spoke: "Five Soul Elders... plus a Soul Emperor. We can't win."

Zhang Mo didn't speak.

Ning Rongrong continued: "That was just luck with Shi Nian; he specialized in illusions, which you happened to counter. But Huyan Li is different. He doesn't need illusions; he just fights head-on. Those ancient martial arts of yours will be like tickling him."

Zhang Mo still did not speak.

Ning Rongrong grew anxious: "Did you hear what I said?"

Zhang Mo looked at her and suddenly asked: "Then what do you suggest we do?"

Ning Rongrong was stunned for a moment, then said: "Hide. Didn't you say this world is huge? Find a place where no one is around and hide for a few months. Once he can't find us, he'll naturally leave."

Zhang Mo shook his head: "We can't hide for a lifetime. Besides, once he descends, he will search everywhere for you. Hiding will only implicate innocent people."

"Then what do you suggest?"

"Take the initiative," Zhang Mo said. "Set an ambush at the place where he descends."

Ning Rongrong stared at him, wanting to say something, but the words died in her throat.

She looked into his eyes—when he said this, his eyes were incredibly bright, completely different from his usual gentle demeanor.

It was just like those people at Shrek Academy when they faced a powerful enemy.

Boss Dai was like this, Xiao Wu was like this, and even that annoying Tang San was like this.

Even when they clearly couldn't win, their eyes would shine with a terrifying intensity.

She suddenly felt a bit dazed.

"Are... are you stupid?" she whispered.

Zhang Mo looked at her without refuting it.

Ning Rongrong took a deep breath and said: "Fine, I'll help you. But you have to promise me one thing."

"What is it?"

"If it truly comes to a situation where death is certain, you must run," she stared at him, enunciating every word. "You are not allowed to worry about me."

Zhang Mo didn't even think about it: "Impossible."

Ning Rongrong grew frantic: "You!"

Zhang Mo interrupted her: "I will not abandon a companion. Besides, we aren't necessarily going to lose."

He stood up, walked into the inner room, and took a wooden box from the deepest part of the cabinet.

The box was not large, about a foot long, pitch black, and carved with some indistinct patterns.

Ning Rongrong leaned in curiously.

Zhang Mo opened the box, and inside lay a short sword.

The sword was very short, only about thirty centimeters long. The blade was covered in dark green rust, looking as if it had just been dug out of the earth. Yet, the edge of the blade glinted with a chilling light.

"What is this?" Ning Rongrong asked.

"An heirloom Fish Gut Sword," Zhang Mo picked up the short sword and held it in his hand. "It is said to be over two thousand years old, specifically designed to pierce heavy armor."

He walked over to the coffee table and gently thrust the short sword into the solid wood—

The blade pierced through it like it was cutting tofu, sinking in all the way to the hilt.

Ning Rongrong's mouth fell open.

Zhang Mo pulled the sword out, leaving a smooth hole in the coffee table.

"This... can this pierce Huyan Li's Diamond Mammoth?"

Zhang Mo nodded: "Theoretically, yes. No matter how strong Huyan Li's defense is, it is still flesh and blood. This sword can pierce even bronze armor; it should have no problem piercing him."

Ning Rongrong stared at the short sword for a long time, then suddenly asked: "Then why didn't you use it when you fought Huyan Li last time?"

Zhang Mo said: "I didn't know he was coming last time. Besides, this sword was kept at my old home and was only brought here by someone a few days ago."

Ning Rongrong looked thoughtful.

She pondered for a moment, then asked: "Then how do you plan to use it? He is such a huge guy; can you even get close to him?"

Zhang Mo put the sword back into the wooden box and said: "That is why we need to set an ambush."

He walked to the window and pointed toward the outskirts of the city in the distance.

"The system will notify us in advance of his landing spot. We will go there ahead of time and set traps. We'll use the terrain to restrict his movements. And then—" he paused, "I will find an opportunity to get close and use the Fish Gut Sword to strike his vitals."

As Ning Rongrong listened, her brows furrowed tighter and tighter.

"Easier said than done," she whispered. "He still has five subordinates."

Zhang Mo turned to look at her: "That is why I need you."

Ning Rongrong was taken aback.

Zhang Mo said: "You are responsible for buffing me while simultaneously distracting those subordinates. You don't need to kill them, just hold them off. Once I kill Huyan Li, the remaining five Soul Elders will be nothing to fear."

Ning Rongrong fell silent.

She calculated in her mind—with her current soul power, if she buffed Zhang Mo at full capacity, she could hold on for twenty minutes at most. Using Heart Separation Control to distract five people simultaneously, she could last five minutes at most.

What happens after five minutes?

She didn't ask.

Because she knew the answer.

Five minutes later, either Zhang Mo would have killed Huyan Li, or they would both be dead.

She looked up at Zhang Mo.

He looked back at her.

The two stared at each other for a few seconds, then Ning Rongrong suddenly smiled.

"Fine," she said. "Let's do it."

Zhang Mo looked at her, somewhat surprised.

Feeling uncomfortable under his gaze, Ning Rongrong turned her head away. "What are you looking at! I'm doing this for the sake of both worlds, not for you!"

The corners of Zhang Mo's mouth curled up slightly.

Ning Rongrong walked to the window and stood side-by-side with him, looking at the distant sky.

After a while, she suddenly asked, "That Fish Gut Sword, is it really over two thousand years old?"

"Just about."

"So it's an antique?"

"It is."

"Is it valuable?"

Zhang Mo thought for a moment. "It's priceless."

Ning Rongrong turned to look at him, her expression complex.

"Then aren't you afraid of breaking it by using it?"

Zhang Mo said, "If it breaks, I'll fix it. If a person dies, they can't be fixed."

Ning Rongrong froze for a moment, then looked away.

After a long time, she whispered:

"Zhang Mo."

"Hm?"

"If we're about to die this time," she paused, her voice even softer, "at least let's die together."

Zhang Mo turned his head to look at her.

She was still looking out the window, but her ears had turned bright red.

He was silent for a few seconds, then said:

"Alright."

Ning Rongrong didn't speak again.

But her hand reached out quietly and grabbed his sleeve.

She gripped it very tightly.

Zhang Mo looked down at that hand, then back at her.

She didn't turn around, just held onto his sleeve for dear life, as if clutching at the last straw.

The distant sky was very blue, with a few white clouds drifting by.

From downstairs came the sound of car horns and the cries of street vendors.

Everything was the same as usual.

But Ning Rongrong knew that from this moment on, some things had already changed.

She held his sleeve so tightly, as if afraid that if she let go, he would disappear.

Zhang Mo didn't move either.

The two just stood by the window like that, watching the distant sky.

The sunlight shone in, casting their shadows onto the floor—one tall, one short, pressed closely together.