Food Immortal Master, Section 13

The rain came down fiercely.

Mo Wu quickened his pace again. His only chance of survival was to cross the rope bridge before that beast caught up. Once he cut the bridge down, whatever the thing was, it could never leap across a ravine more than twenty zhang wide.

Stumbling up a steep slope, he suddenly came upon a stream. Mo Wu looked upstream, where its source vanished among dense trees on a high cliff. Delight crossed his face. This was the stream flowing down from Rat Pool. If the pool was just above him, that meant he had fortunately stayed on course-and the rope bridge was not far away.

Mo Wu looked around and barely managed to find a route across the rocks. He stepped onto them cautiously, but after only two steps, his exhausted leg landed on slippery moss, and his foot slid into the stream.

The instant half his lower leg entered the water, Mo Wu froze. His first sensation was bone-piercing cold. Only a moment later did the true sensation reach him-Why was this water hot?!

Mo Wu hurriedly pulled his leg out and crouched on the rock, gently rubbing his calf and foot with both hands. In that brief moment, the submerged skin had already turned red. He looked upstream and only then noticed faint wisps of vapor rising along the entire stream.

Fortunately, the water was not scalding. His skin hurt but was uninjured, and the cool rain kept falling on it. Soon it no longer troubled him. Mo Wu gave the stream a bewildered look, but he had neither the inclination nor the strength to investigate. He simply took greater care as he crossed the rocks.

The moment he stepped onto solid ground, the tension holding his body together suddenly gave way. His trembling thighs could no longer support him, and he collapsed on the bank.

Panting, he lowered his head. The stream distorted his wretched reflection.

A filthy, torn tunic. Disheveled hair sticking out around a face in its fifties.

That face was dark and sallow, rough, familiar, unfamiliar. Its eyes were bloodshot. His nose stung, and as his vision blurred, he slapped himself hard.

How had I survived?

In the darkness before sunrise that morning, the thing had charged into camp. By the time he jolted awake, the inexplicable gale was already thick with a rank stench and the smell of blood.

Amid the young men's furious roars and agonized screams, the thing remained silent. It neither roared nor cried out, moving like a phantom. Had the torches, flickering on the verge of going out, not dimly revealed an enormous, vicious silhouette, he might truly have thought a ghost had risen from the underworld.

He picked up his bow but did not dare loose an arrow in the darkness. So he gritted his teeth, drew his blade, and charged. In that moment, he truly had meant to fight it to the death. But when that demonic head turned toward him, it felt as though a bucket of ice water had been poured over all the hot blood in his body.

Under those golden slit pupils, ravenous yet utterly calm, the courage he had forged through thirty years of mountain hunting, ambushing leopards and shooting tigers, shattered in an instant.

Wolves and leopards did not have that presence. They were certainly dangerous, but they merely tightened his nerves and sent his blood surging, stirring fighting courage with his racing heartbeat. Tigers were different. When facing one head-on, its deep, mighty roar, oppressive body, and gaze could easily strip a man of the courage to fight. Such was the king of the mountain forests.

And if the thing before him was a tiger, it had to be a tiger among tigers. A single glance had chilled his heart and made his courage tremble.

How could anyone kill a monster like this? We couldn't win... couldn't win...

He wanted to shout for everyone to run, but in the next instant, the beast tore Gangzi's belly open before his eyes. A whole human being was no more than a thin sheet of paper before those claws. Blood splashed into his mouth, choking off his voice. Even his mind went blank for a moment.

But beside him, Yunsheng let out a deafening roar. "Uncle Wu! Run, Uncle Wu!"

His already weakened legs seemed to receive an order-and had no wish to determine whether it came from their master. He fled with every ounce of strength he possessed, brushing past Yunsheng as the young man charged forward.

Only after running a long way in terror did he realize that he might be the sole survivor.

He, the only elder among them, the backbone of the group, the man entrusted with sons by more than a dozen pairs of parents before they set out, had abandoned those children in the sea of blood behind him and fled for his own life.

I shouldn't have been the one to live.

Gangzi should have lived. He was born strong, his blood and vitality vigorous. A few more pelts would have given him enough money to apprentice at a martial arts school in the county town. He could have become an instructor, perhaps even found work as a constable.

Yunsheng should have lived too. His teacher said he was born for scholarship. When the county examinations opened next year, he might have earned a scholar's degree.

Only I, a sack of old bones, had already lived long enough. Alone, with no ties or worries-what right did I have to steal their chance to escape?

And how could I have the face to return to the village alone?

Fear drove him to flee, but shame stirred another feeling within him: a longing for the beast to catch up and kill him too, so he would not have to return and face the eyes of those parents.

But the beast did not pursue him immediately. Only six or eight hours later, when he looked back toward the mountaintop, did he glimpse that shadow again. Then he realized it had taken its time feasting on more than a dozen corpses before leisurely following his trail.

Blazing fury gained the upper hand again. He no longer wanted to die so badly. Even if his fellow villagers pointed at his back and cursed him for the rest of his life, even if their scorn left him unable to lift his head, he had to return to the village, report to the County Office, summon reinforcements, and enter the mountains again. Then he would personally drive a blade into its body and watch that beast die in agony!

So he began concealing his tracks and setting simple traps. He deliberately left blood on a cliff, then quietly departed in another direction... To stay alive, he made every effort possible, overlooking nothing, great or small.

Now, staring at his reflection in the stream, that same conviction supported his exhausted body as he rose again. He picked up a branch for support and continued onward.

The rain grew denser and the wind wilder. The trees swayed, every branch and every leaf making noise. The whole forest seemed to come alive, roaring in a language no human could understand.

His blood kept washing away, and Mo Wu's heart rose little by little into his throat. Yet after more than an hour of traveling like this, the beast still had not caught up.

At last, Mo Wu relaxed a little. Perhaps the beast's senses were not as unfathomable as he had imagined. Perhaps the false trails he had laid during his flight had worked after all. Perhaps the heavy rain and stream had helped more than he expected. Perhaps, after eating its fill, the beast no longer had much desire to hunt... Whatever the reason, he must have shaken it off for now.

Though his mind relaxed slightly, his steps did not slow. Mo Wu still pushed through the forest and climbed over rocks as fast as he could. After roughly another hour, he finally saw the rope bridge.

On an ordinary hunt, reaching this bridge already meant venturing deep into the mountains. Yet this time, their group had gone so far beyond it.

The village would still be a considerable distance away once he crossed, but at least, after destroying the bridge, he would no longer have to worry every moment about the beast catching him.

He could take a long rest, gather wild fruit, catch a small animal to fill his stomach, and then find a way to make his slow return to the village.

The flames of vengeance flared again. Once I reached the village, I would... I would...

Mo Wu stepped onto the rope bridge, then abruptly stood still.

An inexplicable unease rose in his heart, born of an old hunter's decades of instinct.

The last time he had felt this way, he had brought back a large branch laden with sweet wild fruit after a hunt. As the village children rushed toward it with delighted cries, his heart had suddenly plunged. He shouted for them to stop-and sure enough, found a brightly colored venomous snake clinging beneath the leaves.

Now a terrible suspicion echoed in Mo Wu's mind. He stood frozen like a statue until his body began to tremble.

He whipped around, but behind him there was only the deep forest, rustling loudly in the rain.

Mo Wu drew a deep breath, withdrew the foot he had placed on the rope bridge, and turned back. Slowly, resolutely, step by step, he returned into the depths of the forest.

He carefully examined the traces he had left along the way. Under the intense shock, his muddled mind became sharp again, his eyes searching every patch of ground like a hawk's.

Normal, normal, normal...

He found nothing, but continued deeper with an expressionless face.

Soon... any moment now... As though he had entered some peculiar state, he trusted his judgment with an almost possessed certainty.

Suddenly, his gaze swept over a depression. He hurried over and stood beside it, his body beginning to shake.

A huge, shallow, fresh paw print shaped like a plum blossom.

It had been following right behind him all along.

Perhaps, from the moment he spotted it on the mountaintop, it had seen him too. All along the way, while he bandaged himself, stopped his bleeding, cursed aloud, clambered across the stream, and knelt sobbing on the ground, those golden slit pupils had been behind him-cruel, yet quiet and magnificent.

It meant to follow me all the way to the village!

An uncontrollable chill seeped into his bones, yet exhilaration rose in Mo Wu's heart at the same time. Beast! At last, you couldn't toy with us like a cat with mice! I finally beat you once!

He laughed aloud, flung away his walking stick, and turned to run with all his strength. He moved so swiftly, as though flying, as though he had wrung out the last energy of his life.

Reaching the bridge, he drew his dagger and slashed through the ropes with a hoarse roar. The rope bridge crashed down, the clatter of scattering planks mingling with the heavy rain.

Then Mo Wu fell to the ground. He took one last, long look at the opposite bank, gripped his dagger, and turned back with a savage grin. "You donkey-fucked bastard! Come on!"

At the edge of the forest before him, a vaguely shaped shadow emerged, a pair of cruel, luminous golden eyes set within it. It seemed never to have intended to stop Mo Wu, merely watching everything with indifference. Now, as though answering his summons, it leisurely licked its paw, then stepped slowly out, revealing its form so clearly for the first time.

Mo Wu's expression froze.

He felt that everything he had done was a joke.

A roar seemed to ring out, but rain fell over the mountains like smoke, and the clamor of all things blended into a vast silence, erasing every detail.

Now, within the Lin Residence, likewise lashed by wind and rain.

After doing all this, the taut string in Pei Ye's mind slackened. At last, he could no longer sustain his body, which had long since been pushed to its limit. He toppled onto his side and closed his eyes.

Once his eyes stopped receiving information, the sensations from every part of his body flooded his mind.

Apart from the persistent burning heat, there was little discomfort in his abdomen. Although the gourd appeared to have a tangible form, it seemed to be nothing but pure energy. Not only had it caused no harm, it even seemed to be repairing and healing his body.

The old injuries of the past two years, the traces left by the parasitic Little Flood Dragon Heart, even the bloody hole in his abdomen were all being repaired. Amid that enveloping warmth, Pei Ye's consciousness finally sank into deep sleep.

He did not know how long he spent in the darkness.

Pei Ye felt wind blowing past his ears. As his consciousness gradually awakened, the sound grew louder and louder, until it became a howl.

Pei Ye opened his eyes. A sea of white lay before him: clouds.

"You did very well."

At those words, Pei Ye lowered his head. The chi was still carrying him. When he looked back, the enormous, blood-red maw was a little farther away.

"Thank you. [Quail Head] helped me a great deal. How can I return it to you?"

"You're flattering yourself."

Pei Ye said nothing.

"There's no need to find a way to get rid of it. You don't yet have the capacity to bear it in the first place. Once twenty-four hours have passed, it will disappear on its own."

Black Chi paused, then added, "But you can borrow it from me again whenever you like."

Pei Ye's body stiffened. "I probably won't need it very often," he said cautiously.

"..." Though he could not see Black Chi's face, Pei Ye suspected its expression was not particularly pleasant.

"Do you think I live by collecting rent?" Black Chi asked evenly. "That I spend every day finding ways to lend out my power, then collect a price you'll regret for the rest of your life?"

Pei Ye remained silent.

"You're very wary of me," Black Chi pointed out.

Chapter 23: Shared Fate Pact

There was clearly a discrepancy between Pei Ye's view of Black Chi and Black Chi's intentions toward Pei Ye.

Pei Ye had regarded Black Chi with suspicion and wariness from the very beginning. His principle was plain and simple, precisely what he had told Lu Youcai: "It's exactly because I'm penniless now that I have to reckon everything clearly."

If he could not repay a kindness, he dared not accept the favor. Some people might think that, as a poor boy, they had nothing anyone could covet, and simply let the cracked pot shatter. Whatever was offered, they would accept it all; if the day came to collect the debt, they would deal with it then. Pei Ye thought Grandpa Yue was probably that sort of person.

But for Pei Ye himself, precisely because he could think of nothing about him worth coveting, such generous, miraculous benefits made him shrink back with even greater wariness. Eat another's food and your tongue grows short; take another's gifts and your hands grow soft. When what he received exceeded the value of his entire life, yet the other party still tried to give him more, he could not help fearing what price would be demanded in repayment.

What deepened his suspicion further was the method of activating [Quail Head].

"Yes," Pei Ye admitted.

"We can speak openly-why?"

"Was this your goal?" Pei Ye asked in return.

"What?"

"Getting that gourd into my body."

"Why would you think that? Wasn't revenge your own choice? Didn't you kill that man through your own efforts?"