Chapter 40
The icy water, mingled with the pungent stench of blood, swirled in Mo Ya's mouth and nose. Every cough ripped apart his lungs, nearly collapsing. He collapsed on the slippery, cold rocks, his body like a rag doll torn apart. The wounds from his right shoulder, scratched and scraped by the cold and the violent tumbling, erupted with soul-rending pain. The wound beneath his ribs, eroded by the "blue spider saliva," felt numb like a reawakened poison ivy. After the brief suppression of the cold pond grass wore off, it intensified, spreading upward through his blood vessels. Every heartbeat was accompanied by a heavy stagnation and the piercing numbness of icy needles.
He forced open his blood-stained eyes, his vision a crimson blur. Huge stalactite fragments lay scattered in the murky, swirling blood. The dark green monster's remains had long since sunk into the bottomless darkness. And yet, atop the towering reef, a moon-white figure still stood silently, like an age-old, unmelted ice.
Su Wanwan's gaze pierced through the thick mist and blood, landing on Mo Ya's right hand, tightly clutching the cold pond grass. That look was no longer merely cold scrutiny; it seemed to hold a hint of extremely complex, indescribable inquiry. She slowly raised her hand, her wide sleeves fluttering slightly in the dim light.
Mo Ya's heart sank! Ice Silk! She was going to strike again! This woman was so fickle, maybe she saved him just to end it herself!
His remaining left arm convulsed as he tried to reach for the dagger at his waist, but his body felt like it was filled with lead, making even moving a finger incredibly difficult. Despair, like a pool of icy water, once again drowned him.
However, the expected life-threatening thread did not appear.
Su Wanwan raised her hand, but instead of reaching into her sleeve, she naturally brushed her temples, ruffled by the breeze from the pond. Then, she moved. Yuebai's figure, like weightless mist, drifted down from the reef. With a few light, silent rises and falls, she landed on the cold rock several feet in front of Mo Ya. The faint, cool fragrance of the wisteria, mingled with the fishy odor of the pond water, instantly became distinct.
She did not approach, but kept her distance. Her ice-gray eyes were like two bottomless cold pools, clearly reflecting the tragic state of the dying black crow.
"Give it to me." She spoke, her voice still cold, but with an unquestionable commanding tone, her eyes fixed on Mo Ya's right hand, which was tightly holding the Hantan Grass.
Mo Ya's throat rasped, his bloodshot eyes fixed on Su Wanwan. There was no pleading in his eyes, only a cold wariness and mockery tempered by pain and poison. He didn't believe her! This herb was his only chance of survival, bought with his life! Handing it over meant handing his life over to this woman!
"Your life," Su Wanwan said, as if she could see through his thoughts. Her voice was emotionless, like an icy needle. "It hangs on the grass, and it also dangles from my fingertips. Believe it or not, it's not up to you." She leaned slightly, her gaze sweeping across the depths of the cold pond, still bubbling with blood. A faint fear of the dark green monster seemed to flicker in her eyes, but it also seemed like a warning. "Although the 'Frost Chi' is wounded, it's not dead. It bears a grudge."
A chill instantly crept up Mo Ya's spine and into his head! That monster... was still alive?! It was lurking at the bottom of this icy pond, poised to launch another deadly attack at any moment! In his current state, there was no way he could escape again!
The instinct for survival overwhelmed his doubts about Su Wanwan. The cold wariness and mockery in Mo Ya's eyes were finally replaced by a hint of desperate struggle. His right hand, tightly gripping the cold pond grass, trembled slightly from the exertion, and his knuckles turned white. Finally, his clenched fingers, extremely slowly and with a stiff, unwilling grip, loosened a tiny gap.
The glint of inquiry in Su Wanwan's icy-gray eyes seemed to deepen. She said nothing more, but stepped forward, extending her nearly transparent white hand. With exquisite precision, she snatched the icy-blue Hantan grass from Mo Ya's loosened fingers.
Her fingertips were cold, with a jade-like touch. When they touched Mo Ya's scorching skin, Mo Ya's body stiffened uncontrollably for a moment, as if feeling the strange numbness again. But Su Wanwan's movements were as fast as lightning. After taking the grass, she quickly withdrew her hand.
She took a step back, clutching the stalk of cold pond grass, which exuded a refreshing, icy fragrance. Her icy-gray eyes lowered as she scrutinized the blades in her hand. With exquisite dexterity, her fingertips plucked off a few ice-blue leaves with finely serrated edges, then used her fingernails to snip off a small section of a root with a faint blue sheen. Then, she casually tossed the remaining stems and leaves of the cold pond grass onto a nearby rock.
Mo Ya's heart suddenly sank! She only took the key part! The rest...she was going to destroy it?!
However, Su Wanwan didn't destroy the remaining grass stems. She didn't even look at the remaining parts, as if they were useless garbage. She placed the removed leaves and roots in her palm, and with her other hand, she pulled out the flat ebony needle bag from the wide sleeve of her moon-white robe.
“Swish!”
She actually tore off a corner of the lining of her moon-white dress! The fabric was thin, soft, and pure white like snow. With this cloth, she quickly and effortlessly wrapped the leaves and roots of the cold pond grass in her palm. Then, she looked at Mo Ya again, her gaze fixed on the wound under his ribs, which was covered by a soaked strip of cloth and the dark blue poison mark became increasingly obvious.
"Lie down." Her voice was still cold, but it carried a hint of unquestionable execution.
Mo Ya watched her movements, the cloth bag and needle bag in her hands, and an absurd thought flashed through his mind. She was actually trying to save him? Using this cold pond grass? But why? She could have just watched him get torn to pieces by the cold dragon!
There was no time to think. The numbness beneath his ribs spread to his left chest, each breath becoming labored and strained, and a thick darkness began to form at the edges of his vision. He had no choice. Gritting his teeth, he endured the excruciating pain and very slowly lowered himself onto the cold rock, his body shaking uncontrollably from the cold and weakness.
Su Wanwan crouched, her moon-white skirt brushing against the slippery, cold rocks. She was so close, the cool fragrance of the wisteria, mingled with the crisp scent of the cold pond grass, clearly penetrated Mo Ya's nostrils. She extended her left hand, her icy fingers pressing with exquisite precision on several acupuncture points near the wound in Mo Ya's ribs.
"Ugh!" Mo Ya groaned. The cold finger seemed to carry an electric current. The moment it pressed down, a strong numbness and a sharp, piercing pain instantly erupted from deep within the wound! It was as if countless dormant venomous insects were awakened in an instant! His body suddenly arched, and the veins on his forehead bulged!
"Don't move!" Su Wanwan's voice was tinged with cold severity. Her fingers were like iron hoops, firmly pinning down Mo Ya's struggling body. At the same time, her right hand shot out like lightning!
The ebony needle bag opened, revealing several golden needles of varying lengths, gleaming with cold light, already between her fingers! Without even looking, her wrist danced like a phantom!
“Puff! Puff! Puff!”
With a subtle sound, the golden needles pierced the several large blood vessels surrounding the wounds under Mo Ya's ribs with incredible precision! Fast, accurate, and ruthless! Each needle placement brought a new and strange sensation, a mixture of excruciating pain, burning heat, and piercing cold! It was as if boiling magma and eternal ice were simultaneously rushing through his blood!
A suppressed roar erupted from Mo Ya's throat, his body twitching and struggling violently like a fish out of water! But he was pinned down by Su Wanwan's cold yet steady left hand, like a living creature nailed to a chopping block, and could only passively endure this inhuman torture!
Su Wanwan's icy-gray eyes fixed on the spot where the needle had penetrated, her gaze bordering on cold concentration. Her right fingers twirled the needle's tail with unwavering stability, lifting and thrusting. Each movement precisely triggered the violent conflict of ice and fire within Mo Ya's body. As she twisted, a thick, pungent, and blue-tinged blood began to seep slowly from the tiny hole created by the needle at the edge of the wound.
"Ho…ho…" Mo Ya's screams turned into broken gasps, his body gradually losing strength under the intense pain and icy oppression. He felt the numbness under his ribs, like a maggot in his tarsal bone, being forcibly peeled away and driven away bit by bit by an extremely overbearing cold force mixed with the refreshing scent of cold pond grass as the dirty blood seeped out!
Just as the golden needles were drawing out the poison, the power of ice and fire was raging in his body, and his consciousness was on the verge of complete destruction—
Su Wanwan's left hand, which was holding down Mo Ya's body tightly, subconsciously turned her wrist slightly inward in order to more accurately control his muscles that were cramping due to severe pain!
It’s this subtle movement!
On the inside of her left wrist, near the edge of the cuff, a small and extremely private piece of skin was briefly exposed to Mo Ya's blurry vision because of this flipping action!
The black crow's pupils, which were bloodshot and dilated due to severe pain, suddenly shrank into needle points the moment they touched that piece of skin!
On that piece of skin that was so white that it was almost transparent, there was a very tiny, very light-colored, strange mark that looked like the natural condensation of ice and snow!
It wasn't a snow spider! The mark's shape... was actually that of a highly abstract, yet aloof... bird! Its beak was sharp, its wings spread wide, as if it were about to take flight! While its lines were equally intricate and detailed, they were completely different from the ferocious snow spider totem. Instead, it exuded a familiar yet distant... sadness and indomitable spirit!
This mark... this silhouette of a flying bird...
The remaining consciousness of Mo Ya was like being struck by a lightning bolt that tore through the night sky!
Countless broken and blurred images, tinged with blood and fire, instantly broke through the blockade of severe pain and poison, and poured into his mind that was on the verge of collapse!
Raging flames devoured the carved beams and painted buildings, thick smoke billowed. Pitiful cries, desperate wails, the piercing sound of clashing weapons, the roar of collapsing buildings… intertwined into the music of hell.
He (still a teenager at the time) carried a heavy bag, following the equally blood-stained young master (Gu Linzhi, also still a child), trudging through knee-deep snow. Behind them, the pursuers whistled like hungry wolves, the light of torches approaching. The icy wind scraped against his face like a knife, taking away the last vestiges of warmth.
A poisoned crossbow arrow tore through the snow, piercing the air with a deathly shriek as it shot towards the back of the young Gu Linzhi! Without a second thought, he (the young Mo Ya) threw the young master to the ground in the snow! The crossbow arrow grazed the outside of his left arm, the sharp tip tearing through the flesh, sending up a shower of scalding blood! The excruciating pain made his vision go black!
A chill wind blew in through the broken window, rustling the tattered curtains. The young man, Gu Linzhi, tore off his shirt and, with clumsy yet resolute movements, bandaged the deep wound on his left arm, revealing the bone. Blood stained the cloth and Gu Linzhi's pale fingers. The firelight illuminated the young master's face, still childish, yet filled with a coldness and determination belying his age.
As the young man, Gu Linzhi, lowered his head to focus on bandaging the wound, Mo Ya's gaze stumbled across the inside of the young master's slightly opened collar. Just below the collarbone, a thumb-sized, pale bird mark was branded! Its beak was sharp, its wings spread wide, and it wailed with an unyielding grief. The lines of that mark... its spirit... were surprisingly similar to the bird mark now exposed on the inside of Su Wanwan's wrist! It was... the secret mark of the Gu family's secret guards!
"Gu... Gu..." Mo Ya's lips moved silently, a crackling sound of air emanating from his throat, audible only to him. The immense shock, like a scalding icy water poured over his head, instantly overwhelmed the excruciating pain in his heart! Gu's Flying Bird Seal! How could it appear on this Purple Owl from the Snow Spider Pavilion?! Coincidence? Or...
At the moment when his consciousness was almost shattered by the huge mystery—
Su Wanwan seemed to sense the strangeness in Mo Ya's gaze and the instant stiffness of her body! Her icy-gray eyes shot up, their sharp, knife-like gaze piercing into Mo Ya's dazed pupils! When she realized the mark on the inside of her wrist might be exposed, a rare flash of panic, like the crackling of ice, flashed across her eyes!
She suddenly pulled back her left hand from holding down Mo Ya's body, and her wide cuffs slid down like flowing clouds, tightly covering her wrist! Her movements were so fast that they brought up a breeze! At the same time, the movement of her right hand twisting the golden needle suddenly stopped!
“Ugh—!”
The sudden cessation of the golden needles' stimulation was like removing the last building block that held the balance! The clashing forces of ice and fire within Mo Ya's body, forcibly activated, instantly lost control! A violent countercurrent, a mixture of deadly poison and the icy medicinal power of the Cold Pond Grass, rushed towards his already fragile heart like a wild horse out of control!
Mo Ya's body arched upwards as if struck by an invisible hammer! A thick, dark red blood gushed out of his mouth like a fountain! His vision was instantly engulfed by boundless darkness! The last thing he saw was Su Wanwan's icy gray eyes, a hint of panic that hadn't been fully concealed, and a deeper, indescribably complex light.
The darkness was like a tide, instantly drowning all senses.
---
Ice cold...bitterly cold...
As if sinking to the bottom of a thousand-year-old ice...
Consciousness floats in the endless darkness, like broken ice...
I don't know how long it took. A faint warmth, like a spark on a cold night, quietly lit up deep within Mo Ya's cold, stiff chest. That warmth was so faint, yet it carried a strange vitality, stubbornly resisting the pervasive cold and numbness.
Mo Ya opened his heavy eyelids with great difficulty.
My vision was blurry, as if covered by a thick layer of frosted glass. The first thing that caught my eye was the low, cracked pedestal of the clay statue, and its face, blurred in the dim light but radiating compassion. The air was thick with the odor of dust, stale incense ash, and inferior herbs, and... a faint, almost masked, cool scent of wisteria.
It was the Earth Temple! He actually returned to this dilapidated Earth Temple!
He struggled to turn his head, but his neck rattled like a rusted door hinge, straining under the weight. The fatal wound beneath his ribs sent waves of heavy, dull pain and a numbness deep into his bones, yet compared to the searing pain and uncontrolled conflict of ice and fire at the edge of the cold pond, it seemed much less intense! A faint, yet unusually clear, chill flowed slowly through the wound like a tiny stream, suppressing the surging blue poison mark.
Cold Pond Grass! Did she really use that grass to save him?!
Mo Ya's heart was shaken! He moved his eyes with difficulty, searching the dim and dilapidated temple.
There was no sign of Yuebai.
There was only a dilapidated shrine, a fallen altar, beams covered with cobwebs... and a layer of relatively clean, yet still musty-smelling hay beneath him.
She left.
An indescribable wave of mixed emotions welled up in Mo Ya's heart. Relief for survival? Humiliation from being repeatedly teased? Or... confusion about the woman hiding a huge secret beneath the ice?
His gaze finally fell on his left rib.
The wound had been rebandaged. The rough cloth had been replaced with a relatively clean, plain white cotton (the color...remarkably like the texture of Su Wanwan's dress). The bandage was applied with exceptionally neat and professional skill, tightly constricting the wound and slowing the spread of the poison. And on the outer layer of the bandage, near the center of the wound, a small object wrapped in plain white cloth was surprisingly pressed!
Mo Ya used up all the remaining strength in his body, slowly raised his left hand which was still able to move, and reached out to the mass of things with trembling hands.
His fingertips touched the white cloth bag, which was cold to the touch, with the unique and refreshing scent of cold pond grass. He carefully picked it up and peeled off the layers one by one.
Inside were several ice-blue leaves with finely serrated edges, and a small section of roots with a faint blue sheen—the very part Su Wanwan had taken from the cold pond grass! She hadn't used it all, but instead, left the life-saving herb core for him!
Under the herbs was a folded piece of paper, also plain white.
Mo Ya's heart beat heavily in his numb chest. With trembling fingers, he unfolded the piece of paper.
There was no writing on it. Only a very crude charcoal sketch:
A steep mountain peak, the outline of a temple faintly visible at its summit. A winding mountain road winds its way up. Near the mountainside, an ancient pine tree with a strange posture is painted beside the road. And at the base of the pine tree, a striking cross has been carefully drawn!
Mo Ya's eyes were fixed on the cross! Though the painting was crude, he recognized the outline of the mountain and the silhouette of the temple! It was the Imperial Huguo Temple outside Shengjing City, a place of great worship! The iconic welcoming pine tree on the mountainside was even more famous!
Huguo Temple...fork...
The setting in the detailed outline of "the secret meeting place between Cao Wushang and the Northern Di envoy: the Royal Huguo Temple Sutra Library" instantly ignited my imagination!
A chill instantly gripped Mo Ya's heart! This wasn't a life-saving tip at all! These were coordinates pointing to a death trap! Was this Su Wanwan's final killing move?
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