Blood seeped from the old Taoist's wounds, dripping down the rope, a silent countdown to death in the desolate cave. The water rats continued their relentless pursuit, darting like ghosts along the rock walls, searching for their next opportunity to attack. They drew closer to the pit's entrance, the light growing increasingly blinding—a glimmer of hope. The old Taoist's vision blurred. He gritted his teeth, his mind flashing back to Li Liangcai and his brothers who had fought so desperately. "I can't let them down!" he roared inwardly.
The Uyghur man climbed out first, then quickly turned and reached out to pull the old Taoist priest out. With his last ounce of strength, the old priest grabbed his hand. Just then, several water rats pounced and bit the old priest's arm. The old priest, enduring the pain, swung them away, and with the Uyghur man's help, finally managed to climb out of the pit. The cold wind outside was biting, cutting like knives onto the old priest's bloodied body. But now, they were out of that terrifying abyss and temporarily safe.
Inside the cave, Yun Liu sat quietly meditating. He was immersed in his own state of mind, but the subtle movement seemed like a bolt of lightning, instantly piercing his heartstrings. Hearing the noise, Yun Liu's usually composed figure shot forward like an arrow, his heart filled with urgency and doubt. When he arrived and saw the familiar figure, he was so excited he could hardly contain himself, his voice trembling as he cried out, "Master, you're back!" He then hurriedly asked, "Where is Junior Brother?" A trace of sorrow flashed in the old Taoist's eyes as he slowly said, "Those two have met with misfortune, they've perished. The rest of them also couldn't escape, all forever remaining in that abyss below." After saying these words, the old Taoist seemed to have all his strength drained away, collapsing to the ground in despair, his forlorn expression evoking a deep sadness in all who beheld him.
The old Taoist priest had lost a great deal of blood due to the fierce battle, and his body became extremely weak in an instant. He could not withstand the enormous drain on his strength, and his vision went black as he fainted. His appearance was as if all the pain in the world had gathered in his body at that moment, which aroused pity in people.
Witnessing this scene, Yun Liu felt as if he had been struck by a heavy hammer, his heart instantly filled with anxiety and worry. Without a word, he quickly stepped forward and carefully carried his master on his broad back. Although his master's weight was not light, in Yun Liu's eyes it felt like a thousand-pound burden, but he did not hesitate at all, and strode resolutely towards the tent not far away.
Upon entering the tent, Yun Liu didn't dare to rest for a moment and immediately began to busy himself. He skillfully started a fire to boil medicine, and at the same time, he carefully cooked rice porridge, every action filled with his deep affection and concern for his master. He stayed by his master's side, his eyes always fixed on his master's face, afraid of missing any subtle changes. Time passed by, and finally, two days later, the old Taoist slowly woke up. He slowly opened his eyes, his gaze revealing a hint of confusion, but when he saw Yun Liu by his side, a trace of relief flashed in his eyes. He moved his lips slightly and slowly said to Yun Liu, "Sixth Brother, I was seriously injured this time. The poison from that water rat has invaded my spleen and lungs, and now I am weak all over, even walking has become a luxury."
Upon hearing this, Yun Liu was overcome with grief, tears welling in his eyes. He forced back his sorrow and choked out, "Master, you are blessed with good fortune and will surely be alright. Don't worry, I will carry you safely back so you can rest and recover." His words were filled with his promise and determination to his master. The door creaked open, and a figure swept in like a whirlwind—it was Bakam, the Uyghur man. He was robust, his bronze face glowing healthily in the sunlight. He strode up to the old Taoist priest, placed his right hand on his left chest, bowed slightly, and said in a loud voice, "Greetings, Taoist Master! Our camel caravan is about to depart. Steward Maimaiti was concerned about you and sent me to inquire if you need any assistance."
The old Taoist priest smiled and waved his hand. He looked at the man and said slowly, "We're traveling with the company's cooks. Your camel caravan goes ahead. We're driving a car; it's much faster than yours." With that, the old priest sat up and shook hands with the Uyghur man. The two smiled at each other, their eyes filled with trust and blessings, and then parted ways.
The old Taoist's face instantly turned ashen, his once vigorous eyes now dull and lifeless, like a candle flickering in the wind. His lips trembled slightly, and he said hoarsely to Yun Liu, "Sixth Brother, this time... I'm afraid I can't escape this calamity. The injuries are too severe, and this godforsaken place in the Western Desert has no medicinal herbs whatsoever. I know in my heart that my life is over. It's all fate. Don't grieve for me."
Yun Liu was already in tears, his lips trembling as if he wanted to say something, but the old Taoist priest stopped him with a raised hand. "When you go back, you and your fellow disciples should guard the Taoist temple well; that's our root." The old Taoist priest waved his hand and said weakly, "You can go out now; I want to be alone for a while." Yun Liu, filled with sorrow, slowly got up and left, turning back to look at himself with every step.
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