The dagger slipped from Jiang Zhizhou's hand!
As a result, the moment his hand touched the vine, his body sank downward.
Covered in green moss, the vine was as slippery as a loach. Jiang Zhizhou had barely closed his hand around it and tried to pull when he discovered, to his shock, that he could muster no strength. His whole body slid down another stretch.
Then he discovered a very serious problem: this cliff actually suppressed one's internal energy!
Unable to exert his strength, and with Yang Qing on his back, he was falling rather quickly.
A flicker of anxiety crossed Jiang Zhizhou's eyes. Where the river plunged down, years upon years of scouring had polished every rock to an extraordinary smoothness. There was nowhere to plant his feet.
But if they kept falling like this, the two of them would either die or be crippled!
At that thought, Jiang Zhizhou tightened his hand fiercely, clamping onto the vine with all his might.
His tug ripped away a large patch of green moss from the vine. Beneath it bristled sharp thorns, which sliced a deep gash into his palm, leaving it streaming with blood.
Yang Qing was strapped to Jiang Zhizhou's back. Under the relentless pounding of the river water, his head had already begun to grow hazy.
But the smell of blood drifted through the spray and into his nostrils.
"Xiao Zhou..." His consciousness was blurred, but he recognized that bloody scent clearly.
While concentrating on finding his next handhold, Jiang Zhizhou glanced back at Yang Qing, who lay against his shoulder. "It's nothing. Just a few small cuts."
As he spoke, his body slid down another stretch. He could only exert still more strength, desperately keeping himself and Yang Qing balanced.
The wound in Jiang Zhizhou's injured hand