Ning Rongrong woke to the glare of sunlight.
She opened her eyes and saw the whole room filled with light. The sun streamed through the window, spreading a broad swath of gold across the floor. She was lying on the sofa, tucked snugly beneath a blanket.
She stared for a moment, then slowly sat up.
The room was quiet. There was no sound from the kitchen, and no one was in the living room.
She turned to look at the chair Zhang Mo usually sat in—it was empty.
Her heart gave a jolt. She hurried to her feet and headed for the kitchen.
She stopped at the kitchen doorway.
Zhang Mo stood at the stove, cooking something. Steam bubbled from the pot as he stirred it with a spoon. His movements were slow, because his left arm still wasn't working properly.
His back was turned to her, but Ning Rongrong saw the bandages wrapped around it. The white gauze had seeped blood in a few places, staining a small patch red.
She stood in the doorway without a word.
Zhang Mo seemed to sense something and turned around.
Their eyes met.
Ning Rongrong froze.
His face looked much better than it had the night before, but it was still a little swollen. His left eye was ringed with purple bruises, and there was a split at the corner of his mouth, crusted with dark-red blood. A piece of gauze was stuck to his forehead, and his hair was a mess.
He looked at Ning Rongrong, paused, then said:
"You're awake?"
Ning Rongrong nodded.
She walked over and stood beside him, looking into the pot.
He was cooking congee—plain rice congee with chopped greens and minced meat bubbling away in it.
"It'll be ready soon," Zhang Mo said.
Ning Rongrong murmured her assent but didn't leave.
She just stood there, watching him cook.
After a while, she reached out and gently touched his left arm.
Zhang Mo lowered his eyes to look at her.
She asked softly, "Does it still hurt?"
"Much better."
Ning Rongrong said nothing. She touched the bloodstained bandage on his back.
"What about this?"
"It's fine."
Ning Rongrong drew her hand back and lowered her head, lost in thought.
The congee was ready. Zhang Mo served two bowls and carried them to the living room.
Ning Rongrong sat on the sofa, cradling her bowl and sipping slowly.
After a few mouthfuls, she suddenly said:
"Your injuries... they're all my fault."
Zhang Mo paused.
She lowered her head, staring into her bowl, her voice muffled.
"If you hadn't saved me, you wouldn't have taken so many punches."
Zhang Mo set down his bowl and looked at her.
"It's not your fault," he said. "I chose to fight."
Ning Rongrong didn't look up.
Zhang Mo continued, "Fighting Huyan Li was my choice. It had nothing to do with you."
Ning Rongrong was silent for several seconds, then said softly:
"But..."
"No buts," Zhang Mo interrupted. "If it had been someone else, I would've fought just as hard."
Ning Rongrong lifted her head and looked at him.
Her eyes were a little red.
"Then..." She opened her mouth as if to say something, but swallowed the words before they came out.
Zhang Mo watched her, waiting for her to finish.
She looked away and continued drinking her congee.
After a few mouthfuls, she suddenly said:
"Let me see your hand."
Zhang Mo held out his right hand.
Ning Rongrong set down her bowl and took his right hand in both of hers, examining it closely.
There were several cuts on the back of his hand, already scabbed over. His knuckles were swollen and bruised purple. She pressed them lightly, and Zhang Mo's brow twitched.
"Does it hurt?"
"A little."
She didn't let go, just kept holding his hand.
After a while, she suddenly lowered her head and gently blew on the wounds.
Zhang Mo froze.
She blew on them a few times, then looked up at him.
"When I got hurt as a child, Mom used to do this," she said quietly. "If she blew on it, it stopped hurting."
Zhang Mo looked at her without speaking.
His gaze made her uncomfortable. She let go and lowered her head to continue drinking her congee.
Her ears had turned bright red.
Zhang Mo looked at his hand, then at her, and the corner of his mouth lifted slightly.
They finished their congee in silence.
Ning Rongrong carried the bowls to the kitchen. When she came back, she saw Zhang Mo sitting on the sofa, staring into space.
Purple light flickered in his right eye.
She walked over and sat beside him.
"Are there more enemies?"
Zhang Mo nodded.
He brought up the system panel for her to see.
[Detection: The third "Crisis Summon" is about to trigger—]
[Target: Yang Wudi]
[Identity: Clan Leader of the Breaking Clan, wielder of the Soul Breaking Spear Martial Soul]
[Soul Power Level: Level 82 Soul Douluo]
[Spirit Rings: Yellow, Yellow, Purple, Purple, Black, Black, Black, Black]
[Characteristics: Extremely powerful attacks, presses forward without hesitation, never defends]
[Arrival Time: 48 hours from now]
[Arrival Location: Undetermined]
[Mission: Kill Yang Wudi]
[Reward: World Origin Point ×800, random Spirit Bone ×1]
[Failure Penalty: Dual World Collision accelerated by 80 days]
After reading it, Ning Rongrong's expression changed.
"Yang Wudi..." she said softly. "The leader of the Breaking Clan."
Zhang Mo looked at her. "You know him?"
Ning Rongrong nodded, then shook her head.
"Not really. But I've heard of him." She bit her lip. "He's a friend of my father's. He's the leader of the Breaking Clan, one of the Four Single-Attribute Clans. His Martial Soul is the Soul Breaking Spear, and his attacks are incredibly powerful. They say even Titled Douluo don't dare take his spear head-on."
Zhang Mo was silent for several seconds, then asked, "What's his weakness?"
Ning Rongrong thought it over and shook her head.
"He doesn't have one," she said. "When he fights, he never leaves himself a way out. He presses forward without hesitation. Either he dies, or his opponent does. Even Titled Douluo don't want to fight him."
Zhang Mo said nothing.
Ning Rongrong looked at him and suddenly asked:
"An 82nd-level Soul Douluo... How much stronger is he than Huyan Li?"
Zhang Mo thought for a moment. "Huyan Li is level 65, and he's level 82. That's a difference of 17 levels."
Ning Rongrong fell silent.
After a long while, she finally said softly:
"We can't beat him."
Zhang Mo looked at her.
She lowered her head, staring at the floor, her voice growing quieter.
"We almost died fighting Huyan Li. This Yang Wudi is so much stronger than Huyan Li... How are we supposed to fight him?"
Zhang Mo said nothing.
Ning Rongrong raised her head and looked at him.
"Tell me the truth."
Zhang Mo thought for a moment. "We can't beat him head-on."
Ning Rongrong stared at him. "Then what do we do?"
"Figure something out," Zhang Mo said.
"What?"
Zhang Mo looked at her and suddenly asked, "You said he likes making medicine?"
Ning Rongrong nodded.
"The Breaking Clan is a family of alchemists. Yang Wudi himself is a top-tier alchemist. He'd do anything for medicinal ingredients."
Zhang Mo looked thoughtful.
Ning Rongrong caught on. "You want to... lure him with medicinal ingredients?"
Zhang Mo nodded.
Ning Rongrong frowned. "Would he even care about the medicinal ingredients in this world?"
"There's one thing he'd definitely care about," Zhang Mo said.
"What?"
Zhang Mo stood and walked into the inner room. After a while, he came out holding a wooden box.
He opened it. Inside lay a blackish-brown root, about the size of a fist and irregularly shaped. Its surface was wrinkled, but it gave off a faint medicinal fragrance.
Ning Rongrong leaned closer and sniffed. It didn't seem particularly special.
"What is it?"
"Millennium Fleeceflower," Zhang Mo said. "I bought it at the Traditional Chinese Medicine Expo last time. It cost me nearly two hundred thousand."
Ning Rongrong's eyes widened. "Two hundred thousand?"
Zhang Mo nodded. "This thing is practically extinct in this world. And..." He paused. "Feel it carefully. See what's special about it."
Ning Rongrong closed her eyes and sensed it with her spiritual power.
After a while, she opened her eyes, astonished.
"There's... a fluctuation of Soul Power inside?"
Zhang Mo nodded.
"This Fleeceflower grew in a special environment and absorbed the spiritual energy of heaven and earth for hundreds of years. This world doesn't have Soul Power, but the energy contained in the plant itself is very similar to it."
Ning Rongrong stared at the Fleeceflower, her eyes bright.
"If Yang Wudi sees this, he'll go crazy."
Zhang Mo closed the box and put it back in the inner room.
When he came back out, Ning Rongrong was standing by the window, looking outside.
The sunlight fell on her, turning her hair pale gold.
Zhang Mo walked over and stood beside her.
She suddenly said:
"Zhang Mo."
"Yeah?"
"Do you think that Yang Wudi will listen to reason?"
Zhang Mo thought for a moment. "I don't know."
Ning Rongrong was silent for a few seconds, then said:
"What if he won't listen and insists on fighting?"
"Then we fight," Zhang Mo said.
Ning Rongrong turned to look at him.
He was looking out the window, his expression calm.
"Even if we can't beat him?" she asked.
Zhang Mo nodded.
Ning Rongrong stared at him for several seconds, then looked away.
She suddenly reached out and tugged at his sleeve.
Just like before.
Zhang Mo lowered his head to look at that hand, then looked at her.
She was still gazing out the window, but her ears had turned bright red.
"Then," she said softly, "I'll fight alongside you."
Zhang Mo said nothing.
She continued, "You said it yourself. The two of us together can take them on."
Zhang Mo was silent for a few seconds, then said quietly,
"Yeah."
The two of them stood by the window like that, watching the sunlight outside.
Birdsong drifted from the distance, and a vendor's cries rose from downstairs.
Everything was just as usual.
But Ning Rongrong knew something was about to happen again.
She tugged at his sleeve and suddenly felt as if she wasn't quite so afraid anymore.
At least she had someone with her.
She raised her head and looked at the sky outside.
It was blue, with a few white clouds drifting by.
She suddenly asked,
"Zhang Mo, do you think that Yang Wudi looks scary?"
Zhang Mo was taken aback. He hadn't expected her to ask that.
He thought for a moment, then said, "I don't know."
Ning Rongrong pursed her lips.
"I hope he's not too scary," she said softly. "If he is, I'll be scared."
Zhang Mo couldn't help laughing a little.
Ning Rongrong glared at him. "What are you laughing at?"
Zhang Mo stopped laughing, but the corners of his mouth were still lifted.
"I'm laughing at you," he said.
Ning Rongrong's face reddened. She wanted to say something, but in the end, she only gave a snort.
She tugged at his sleeve and continued looking out the window.
The sunlight streamed in, warm and gentle.
The two of them stood there.
Waiting for the day after tomorrow to arrive.
Before you continue