Chapter 38

The air in the dilapidated temple froze instantly, like the flame of a frozen oil lamp.

Han Meng's massive figure blocked the entrance, like an iron door god. Rainwater dripped down the edge of his bamboo hat, forming small puddles at his feet. The faint blue sheen of the oilskin wrapped in his hand, under the dim, flickering light, shone like the cold tongue of a venomous snake, emitting a deadly allure and threat. His mouth was wide open, revealing sharp white teeth, his bloodthirsty gaze fixed on the black crow, like a beast admiring its dying prey.

Su Wanwan's icy-gray eyes, like two bottomless pools, clearly reflected Mo Ya's face, distorted by the excruciating pain, the high fever, and the sudden despair. The faint curve of her lips, like a fine crack on the surface of ice, carried the amusement of all-seeing playfulness and the indifference of controlling life and death.

"Lord Mo Ya, is that so?" The cold voice was like an icicle falling to the ground, causing a cold echo in the dead silent ruined temple.

Mo Ya lay on the cold, damp ground, beneath him filthy hay soaked in blood and medicinal juice. The wound on his right shoulder, where the golden needles had burned and scraped him, was like a volcanic crater that would never heal, continuously erupting with searing pain. Every heartbeat, numbing with the toxins, pounded heavily against his numb chest. The high fever blurred and swirled his vision. Han Meng's figure and Su Wanwan's moon-white form twisted and overlapped in the dim light. His consciousness struggled in the mire of excruciating pain and dizziness, like a drowning man.

Medicine...poison...

Cold Pond Grass…Crimson Feather…

Han Meng…Snow Spider Pavilion…Purple Owl…

Fragmented thoughts, like red-hot shards, collided and combined rapidly in his drowsy mind. Su Wanwan's words, the faint blue light wrapped in Han Meng's hand, the life-threatening beeping copper whistle under the Linqing Gate, the unique metal knocking signal outside the land temple... all the clues were instantly ignited!

The oilcloth package contained no life-saving cold pond grass! It was the "Zhenyuhong" (鸩羽红) that was even more sinister and overbearing than the "Blue Spider Saliva," instantly killing anyone who touched it! The so-called "medicine lead" was a poisonous bait designed to lure him into drinking poison to quench his thirst! Su Wanwan's golden needles and moxibustion treatments might have only removed the most superficial residual "Blue Spider Saliva" poison, but they left a deeper hidden danger within him. It was like burying a fire under dry wood, waiting for the poisonous fire of the "Zhenyuhong" to ignite and burn him to ash from the inside out!

This thought was like icy lightning, instantly splitting the chaos of his consciousness! A chill from the depths of his soul even overwhelmed the excruciating pain and numbness in his penis! This woman... had never intended to let him live from the beginning! The so-called treatment was just foreplay to an even more brutal massacre!

"Hoo..." Mo Ya let out a cracking, sandpaper-like cry from his throat. He clenched his remaining left arm, his nails digging deep into the flesh of his palm. The sharp pain brought a brief moment of clarity, fighting the dizziness. He raised his head with difficulty, his bloodshot eyes fixed fearlessly on Su Wanwan's icy gray ones. There was no pain or despair in those eyes, only a coldness and determination tempered by excruciating pain and despair, as cold as iron!

He didn't say anything, but used his eyes to silently convey the all-knowing mockery and the determination to die rather than surrender.

Su Wanwan's icy-gray eyes narrowed slightly. The icy fire that instantly ignited in Mo Ya's eyes, a fire that penetrated conspiracy, had clearly exceeded her expectations. The mockery in his eyes, like a tiny icy thorn, pierced her flawless, cold mask. The playful curve of her lips froze ever so slightly.

"It seems... Lord Mo Ya doesn't believe me." Her voice was still cold, but there seemed to be a subtle hint of offense.

"Believe you?" Mo Ya's voice was hoarse like a broken gong, and every word was filled with a strong smell of blood, but it penetrated the sound of rain with extraordinary clarity. "Believe in the ice silk in your sleeve... or believe in the... snow spider on your arm?" He deliberately emphasized the word "snow spider", and his eyes were like a poisoned dagger, stabbing fiercely at the place where the mark was under Su Wanwan's wide sleeves!

The moment Mo Ya uttered the word "Snow Spider," Su Wanwan's pupils suddenly contracted! Like a boulder suddenly dropped into a calm, frozen lake! A chilling, tangible murderous intent erupted from her without warning! The air within the dilapidated temple seemed to freeze instantly, even the flickering flames of the oil lamps froze for a moment! Her moon-white figure, under the dim light, seemed to have instantly transformed into a sculpture of ten-thousand-year-old black ice, emitting a biting chill!

"Looking for death!" Han Meng, standing by, was completely enraged by Mo Ya's blatant provocation! He was already impatient with this cat-and-mouse game, and with a sudden, burly step forward, his muddy boots stomping heavily on the damp temple floor with a dull thud! His ferocious, hawk-like eyes blazed with fury, and his left hand instinctively reached for his waist—where his poisoned spear hung!

"Give him the medicine!" Han Meng's voice was like the roar of a wounded beast, full of brutality and eager murderous intent. He stared at Su Wanwan, as if waiting for orders.

The murderous intent within the ruined temple instantly reached its peak! The flames of the oil lamps leaped wildly under the invisible pressure, and light and shadows twisted and danced on the mottled walls. Icy rain dripped through the cracks in the dilapidated roof, hitting Mo Ya's scorching forehead, bringing a faint sense of coolness.

Mo Ya's heart beat heavily in his numb chest, each beat carrying the excruciating pain of his severed arm and the erosion of the poison. He looked at Han Meng's hand on his penis, at the icy murderous intent in Su Wanwan's eyes that seemed to solidify. He couldn't wait! If they made a move, he would lose even the last chance of a struggle!

Just as Han Meng stepped forward, his murderous intent was at its peak and his attention was completely attracted by Mo Ya!

Mo Ya's remaining left arm, like a long-dormant venomous snake, suddenly erupted with all its remaining strength! His target was not the ferocious Han Meng who was so close at hand, nor was it the oilcloth package emitting a dark blue poisonous light!

But it was Su Wanwan who was standing next to the oil lamp, emitting a cold murderous intent and seemed the least likely to be attacked!

"Bang!"

Mo Ya's body shot up like an arrow, leveraging the reaction force of his left arm to propel him up from the cold, filthy ground. He completely ignored the deafening pain in his right shoulder and lunged at Su Wanwan with a fierce, resolute aura. His movements were so swift that only a blurry afterimage remained.

The angle of his attack was extremely tricky. He didn't go straight for the vitals, but instead used the momentum of his body to slam his remaining left arm into Su Wanwan's right wrist, which was holding the Ice Silk Scroll! At the same time, his body, like a rock that had lost its center of gravity, carried the weight of his entire body and slammed into Su Wanwan's waist and abdomen!

Besiege Wei to save Zhao! Attack them and they will rescue! Trade your life for your chance!

Mo Ya's completely unexpected, fearless attack caused a flash of astonishment in Su Wanwan's icy gray eyes! She had obviously not expected this seriously injured and dying man, riddled with poison, to dare to direct his final desperate attack at her! And the target wasn't a fatal spot, but her wrist that was holding the silk!

When masters fight each other, a moment of confusion can be a fatal flaw!

Su Wanwan's murderous intent, nearly crystallized, was abruptly interrupted by this sudden, unpredictable attack! She subconsciously tried to step back and dodge, instinctively retracting her right wrist inward, attempting to avoid Mo Ya's incoming arm and protect the icy silk scroll in her hand!

It's just this instinctive shrinkage!

Mo Ya's left arm, which was aimed at her wrist, didn't actually touch her skin! But in the split second when their bodies intertwined, Mo Ya's forehead, which was covered in sweat from the intense pain and high fever, happened to rub heavily against the back of Su Wanwan's slightly retracted, white, and cold right hand!

Skin touch!

An extremely weak, yet extremely clear, numbing sensation like an electric current instantly spread from the contact point!

Su Wanwan's body suddenly froze! As if struck by an invisible electric current! A surging wave of emotion instantly rippled through her icy gray eyes! Astonishment, disbelief, even... a tiny, forcibly suppressed panic! It was a violent reaction, born of instinct, transcending reason! It was as if this simple touch of skin had touched some taboo deep within her bones!

This stiffness lasted less than half a breath!

But for Mo Ya, it was enough! He rammed into Su Wanwan's waist and abdomen, but the flexible and cold force from Su Wanwan's body dissipated most of the force, causing no real damage. However, he used the reaction force of the collision to roll sideways like a weightless leaf!

The direction of the roll was exactly where Han Meng was standing!

"Asshole!" Han Meng was completely enraged by this sudden turn of events! Seeing that Mo Ya had dared to pounce on Su Wanwan, he roared wildly, unable to hold back any longer. The poisonous spear at his waist "swooshed" like a blue poisonous python emerging from its cave, with a shriek that tore through the air, and lashed out at the tumbling Mo Ya's head! The shadow of the spear was heavy, the poisonous light flashed, and he was determined to beat this reckless fellow to pieces!

However, just when □□ was about to hit Mo Ya's body——

The tumbling Mo Ya suddenly propped himself up against the ground with his only remaining left arm! His body, seemingly defying all logic, abruptly changed direction in mid-air, and with an extremely awkward yet surprisingly effective "Lazy Donkey Roll," he narrowly escaped from the venomous light shrouding him!

"boom!"

The poisoned spear hit the spot where Mo Ya had just rolled, creating a deep mud ditch on the wet ground, splashing mud and water everywhere!

Mo Ya rolled several steps, his back slamming heavily against the pedestal of a shattered clay statue in the dilapidated temple, sending dust cascading down. He gasped for breath, each breath carrying a tearing pain and the strong smell of blood. His vision went black, and he nearly fainted again. But he bit his tongue tightly, forcing himself to maintain a last shred of consciousness.

He succeeded! With this near-suicidal attack, he interrupted Su Wanwan's killing intent, created chaos, and avoided Han Meng's fatal blow! More importantly... he touched her hand! That momentary stiffness... the turbulent waves in the depths of those icy gray eyes... were no disguise!

Su Wanwan stood still, her moon-white sleeves fluttering slightly. She slowly raised her right hand, looking at the back of her hand, where Mo Ya's forehead had rubbed against it, leaving a faint stain of sweat and mud. Her fingertips trembled slightly, and her icy gray eyes lowered, their long lashes masking the complex, indescribable emotions swirling within them. That look was no longer simply cold and murderous; it seemed to be mingled with a hint of...the rage of having felt a touch of vulnerability, and...a subtle ripple that even she herself could not comprehend.

She didn't look at Mo Ya again, nor at the furious Han Meng. With an almost ritualistic movement, she slowly pulled out a white silk handkerchief and meticulously and vigorously wiped the back of her right hand where Mo Ya had touched it, as if to erase some extremely dirty, unclean mark.

"Enough." Su Wanwan's voice sounded, colder than before, with an unquestionable majesty, instantly suppressing Han Meng's second attack that was about to erupt.

Han Meng's movements abruptly stopped, his gun hanging in mid-air, the dark blue tip dripping with muddy water. He looked at Su Wanwan in astonishment, his eyes filled with confusion and pent-up anger: "Girl! He..."

"I say, enough," Su Wanwan interrupted him, her voice low but piercing like an icicle. She finally raised her eyes, past Han Meng, to Mo Ya, who leaned against the statue's pedestal, his breath barely catching, yet his gaze remained icy. His gaze was incredibly complex. Deep within the icy cold, there seemed to be a faint, swift movement, like a fish skimming through the depths of a cold pond, too swift to be caught.

"His life... doesn't belong to you now." Su Wanwan's gaze drifted from Mo Ya's face, finally landing on the roughly bandaged, still slightly numb wound under his ribs. Her voice regained its ethereal coldness. "The 'Blue Spider Saliva' has penetrated the body. The power of the golden needle can only suppress it for twelve more hours. After twelve hours, without the Cold Pond Grass, his meridians will be severed and his internal organs will rot, and he will die."

She tilted her head slightly and glanced at the rain that was still falling outside the temple, as if confirming something.

"As for you," her gaze returned to Han Meng, with a hint of command in her tone, "take 'Zhen Yu Hong' and go to Linqing Ferry. The 'goods' will arrive at midnight tonight, and Master Cao... wants to inspect it personally." She deliberately emphasized the word "Master Cao" with a deep meaning.

When Han Meng heard the word "Master Cao", the rage and unwillingness on his face were instantly replaced by awe. He glared at Mo Ya fiercely, as if he wanted to carve his appearance into his bones, and then lowered his head respectfully: "Yes! I understand!" He no longer looked at Mo Ya, carefully put away the oilcloth package with a faint blue luster in his hand, turned around, and his burly figure, with suppressed anger, strode into the rain outside the temple and soon disappeared into the vast night.

In the dilapidated temple, only Su Wanwan and Mo Ya were left again.

The flame of the oil lamp still struggled and danced in the wind, its light and shadow flickering between the two of them. The smell of blood, herbs, the damp, cold air of rain, and the faint, cool fragrance of wisteria mixed into an eerie and oppressive atmosphere.

Su Wanwan stood quietly beside the oil lamp, her moon-white figure aloof and cold in the dim light. She didn't look at Mo Ya again, as if he were a lifeless stone. She lowered her head and carefully wiped her right hand again, her movements slow and focused. After a long moment, she put the handkerchief away.

Then, she did something that Mo Ya was completely surprised by.

She walked over to the worn wooden table, picked up the ebony needle bag containing the golden needles, and glanced at the spool of ice silk on the table, which shone with a jade-white sheen. She hesitated for a moment, then finally picked up the ebony needle bag. Without another glance at Mo Ya, or a single word, Yue Bai's figure blended silently into the night mist, drifting towards the crooked wooden door of the dilapidated temple.

Before she stepped out of the door and merged into the endless rain outside, her footsteps paused very slightly.

No looking back.

Only a very light, very faint whisper, as if blown away by the night wind, floated into Mo Ya's drowsy consciousness:

"...Cold Pond Grass...is located...thirty miles west of Yunmeng Lake...in Huilong Bay..."

Before he finished speaking, the moon-white figure had completely disappeared in the rain curtain outside the door, leaving behind only the swaying lights in the dilapidated temple, the pervasive smell of blood, the pungent smell of medicine, and the lingering whisper like an illusion, pointing to the depths of Yunmengze.

Mo Ya leaned against the cold pedestal of the statue, his remaining consciousness struggling to maintain itself amidst the intense pain and fever. He stared in the direction where Su Wanwan had disappeared, then glanced down at the wound beneath his ribs, where the numbness was slowly spreading. Twelve hours...

Cold Pond Grass… Yunmeng Lake… Huilong Bay…

Zan Yuhong... Master Cao... Linqing Ferry...

The fading hope of life and the cold shadow of death, like two venomous snakes, entwined him tightly. And was that woman's final whisper a hint of redemption? Or... another, deeper trap, one that led to destruction?

He closed his eyes, pressing his burning forehead against the cold clay base. His remaining left hand pressed firmly against the fatal wound beneath his ribs, using his last bit of strength to fight against the darkness and excruciating pain that continued to devour his consciousness. Outside the ruined temple, the wind and rain howled, like the cries of the dead.