Chapter 43 043 "You're lying to me."
Tiny clouds, wisps of fading sunlight, their light flickering and lingering, difficult to dispel.
As the twilight mist dissipated, a slender figure appeared in the distance, taking hesitant steps as it drew closer.
Jiang Ling'er returned like a water ghost, barely clinging to her last breath.
At the low wall behind the farmhouse.
Because it was too dark, she was barely visible from a distance. When Jiang Ling'er dragged her stiff steps to him, Yang Dalang was completely terrified. He stared blankly at her thin, blood-soaked clothes hanging haphazardly on her slender body, fluttering in the evening wind. She... she looked like a demon who had crawled out of a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood from the underworld, her body covered in dark red lividity. The moment her unfocused eyes met Yang Dalang's, he was so frightened that he knelt down.
He was so frightened that he knelt down, his back sliding down the low wall. He was so terrified that he forgot to speak and couldn't make a sound.
The moment Jiang Ling'er saw Yang Dalang—or rather, sensed the presence of the bamboo flute on his body—she instinctively stopped walking. Right in front of him, she closed her eyes, tilted her head back, and her chest rose and fell slightly, as if absorbing something. Yang Dalang, in his shock, overlooked the faint trembling of the bamboo flute at his waist, and couldn't see the wisps of ghostly fire surging wildly into Jiang Ling'er's seven orifices from the flute. He could only see her pale skin visibly returning to normal, the dark red lividity covering her body receding like a receding tide, including the bluish-purple or already congealed wounds…
Jiang Ling'er suddenly opened her eyes, not knowing how much time had passed, or perhaps only a fleeting moment. She saw the bright moon hanging high in the sky and a cool breeze blowing.
In a short while, it was no longer in the form of an Asura, but had recovered to its normal state, at least looking like a human again.
Yang Dalang stared blankly at Jiang Ling'er in front of him, her lips trembling and her tongue unable to flow smoothly.
"Big...Sister-in-law..."
He couldn't utter a complete sentence for a long time, and Jiang Ling'er was even more surprised to see him. As if in a dream, she approached him step by step and asked:
"What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be..."
Jiang Ling'er paused, seemingly understanding something, and stopped. Just then, the clouds and mist obscured the moonlight, dimming it, and Jiang Ling'er's pretty, fair face seemed to hide behind the clouds along with the moon, making it difficult to see clearly.
Yang Dalang could clearly sense that she was angry, and very angry.
Although he had only spent a few days with Jiang Ling'er, his experience as a seasoned江湖 (jianghu, a term referring to the martial arts world) man honed his ability to read people's expressions. Even without this skill, Jiang Ling'er was a rare, straightforward person; she didn't hide anything, and her emotions were written all over her face, making her easy to understand and even easier to appease than most people. Of course, she also had a much worse temper, a true江湖儿女 (jianghu heroine/woman of the martial arts world), and could start a fight at the slightest disagreement. While Yang Dalang felt a chill run down his spine, he also breathed a sigh of relief. Jiang Ling'er's appearance just now had truly terrified him; how was she any different from the ghosts and monsters in Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio?
So what if they're fierce now? At least they're people he knows, living, breathing people.
As Yang Dalang breathed a sigh of relief, a chill suddenly ran down his spine, and he began to feel a wave of fear. From his observations over the past few days, the strange couple, Little Poison and Jiang Ling'er, were both far more dangerous than anyone else. Knowing he was in the wrong, Yang Dalang avoided Jiang Ling'er's gaze, darting around and changing the subject:
"...Sister-in-law, Master's wife, where have you been all this time? You're covered in injuries, I was so worried about you..."
Jiang Ling'er interrupted him, her tone cold, like the calm before a storm:
"I'm asking you why you're here?"
As the clouds drifted by, the light spilled out again, illuminating Jiang Ling'er's pale face. On it were the marks left from the earlier struggle and the faint lividity that had not completely faded. Coupled with anger in her heart and Yang Dalang's guilty conscience, her once beautiful and spirited features now appeared cold and menacing. She still looked... three parts human and seven parts ghost.
Knowing Jiang Ling'er's anger had reached its breaking point, and seeing her staring intently into his slightly reddened almond-shaped eyes, Yang Dalang felt a chill run down his spine. He involuntarily swallowed, terrified. He pointed frantically and helplessly at the farmhouse behind him.
"Look...look! There are snakes and poison gas inside! Even the snakes have been poisoned to death! Not to mention that old hag Huo Wu! Master, Big Brother, he's definitely not going to make it either. Sister-in-law...Master's wife, don't go, it'll only be a death sentence..."
Before the word "death" could be uttered, Yang Dalang's pupils suddenly contracted. Jiang Ling'er, unable to bear it any longer, threw a punch at him. Yang Dalang cried out and instinctively closed his eyes—
"Don't call us sister-in-law or teacher's wife. We're just strangers who met by chance. We only helped each other because Aunt Yang was kind to us."
Yang Dalang was startled. The pain he had imagined did not come. He hesitated and slowly opened his eyes. He saw Jiang Ling'er standing beside him, holding a bamboo flute in her hand. It turned out that she had only taken the bamboo flute from his waist.
Jiang Ling'er didn't even glance at him, only coldly saying:
“We are not related, I’m the one who’s making things difficult for you. I’ll hold Huo Wu off, you and Aunt Yang should run away quickly.”
The moment the words left his mouth, Yang Dalang's face turned deathly pale and he froze on the spot. Jiang Ling'er did not hesitate any longer. She tore off a piece of her clothes and covered her mouth and nose with it. Then she kicked open the wooden door and rushed into the poisonous fog!
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"Little poison...little poison! Cough cough..."
The concentration of poisonous fog inside the small farmhouse was so high it seemed almost tangible, creating an eerie stillness. The fog also emitted a strange, sweet fragrance, which Jiang Ling'er found so enticing that she felt suffocated. Fortunately, she felt no other discomfort. Unfortunately, the night was dark, and she coughed lightly as she followed the faint moonlight to search for the small poisonous creature.
Finally, I spotted the little poisonous creature slumped in the corner under the window frame!
Jiang Ling'er's eyes lit up, and she was about to go over when suddenly her ears twitched. She struck out with a "Thunderclap" palm, and then leaped three steps away with a light tap of her toes. Several silver needles fell to the ground with a very soft "clang".
Unfortunately, the "thunder" missed its target.
"Your lightness skill is good, but your palm technique is lacking."
An old man's low laughter echoed from within the poisonous fog, quickly disappearing into the night.
It's Fire Dance!
Jiang Ling'er was startled. Looking back, she saw that the whole room was shrouded in darkness, and she couldn't tell where Huo Wu was. It was as if countless eyes were staring at her in the darkness, which was no less than the pressure that Di Qing had given her, and even more so.
Jiang Ling'er was even more alarmed. The room was dimly lit, with only a small patch of light shining through the window. She coughed again, choked by the sweet, poisonous mist filling the room. Not daring to delay any longer, she leaped to the windowsill and shoved the bamboo flute into the little poisonous creature's hand.
"Let's go!"
However, there was no sound behind her. Jiang Ling'er was startled and had no choice but to turn around. She saw the little poisonous creature sitting motionless and silent in the corner, like a stone statue. She hurried to his side and gritted her teeth, saying:
Let's go!
The little poisoner remained unmoved, his long hair cascading over his shoulders, obscuring his expression. Suddenly, he was heard mutter softly:
"You're lying to me."
Jiang Ling'er paused, stunned.
The little poisoner's voice was soft and ethereal, with a youthful, slightly hoarse quality. At that moment, his head drooped, and his already thin body curled up in the corner, making him look just like an abandoned puppy...
Jiang Ling'er immediately realized that he must have thought that I had abandoned him and tricked him into giving me the bamboo flute to escape alone!
But with the enemy lurking in the shadows and danger lurking everywhere, there was no time to explain. Jiang Ling'er gritted her teeth and had no choice but to resort to force. She grabbed his hand and tried to drag him out of the house, but was suddenly pushed away by the little poisonous creature. Jiang Ling'er was knocked to the ground, and her arm was scraped by the ground, leaving a long bloody mark. The bamboo flute also fell to the ground and rolled twice before stopping.
The silvery moonlight was blocked by her raven-feather-like long hair. The little venomous creature suddenly erupted in rage, its beautiful eyes filled with blood-red spiderwebs, reflecting Jiang Ling'er's astonished, pale face:
"You clearly said you would come back to me, you said it!"
Jiang Ling'er looked up at the little poisonous creature's eyes, which were fixed on her with an unprecedented rage, and stood there stunned.
He...hates her.
The hatred in his eyes was genuine; he resented and hated her.
"I...I'm here now..."
Jiang Ling'er paused in her hurried explanation, suddenly realizing something.
It seems like he's looking at someone through her.
Even if Little Poison is young, she's still eighteen, the age of dancing elephants, not eight. Besides, no one knows better than her what Little Poison is like when she's enraged—it's nothing more than sarcastic remarks or outright violence, not like this now—her hands clenched tightly, her eyes bloodshot, her chest heaving with anger, her thin lips bitten into a straight line, as if…
Like an eight-year-old child whose candy and toy have been taken away.
Just as Jiang Ling'er was speechless with astonishment at her own conjecture, a cool breeze suddenly brushed against the back of her neck, accompanied by an old man's murmur:
"Tsk, you smell of that bastard Di Qing's blood on you."
Jiang Ling'er was startled and swept her leg out to kick the person behind her in the lower body, but instead of kicking her, she felt as if she had kicked two pillars. The pain made her grit her teeth and let out a soft cry. Turning around, she saw that Huo Wu, who had stopped appearing and disappearing unpredictably, finally emerged from the darkness, and was actually half a head taller than her. Huo Wu looked Jiang Ling'er up and down with a kind yet slightly venomous gaze, her eyes brightening slightly as she said with interest:
"Did you, little girl, break through Di Qing's Vajra Shield? How did you do that? Tell this old woman!"
The old woman in front of me must be Huo Wu, one of the eight great assassins of the Demonic Cult.
Jiang Ling'er's leg was still throbbing, and it was undoubtedly bruised. She glanced at Huo Wu's body, which was made entirely of mechanical wood from the neck down… A chill ran down her spine, and she couldn't help but swallow hard, but her face remained calm as she turned to angrily berate Huo Wu:
"I'd like to ask you what you did to that little poisonous creature!"
Even if you lose the fight, you can't lose your spirit!
"Who is this little poisoner? All I know is a baby named Zichu who is crying and calling for his mother."
Seeing Jiang Ling'er's bewildered expression, Huo Wuqu pointed in the direction of the little poisonous creature and smiled faintly:
"You don't even know his name, yet you expect him to trust you and go with you... What kind of logic is that?"
Jiang Ling'er looked in the direction Huo Wu was pointing—
The little poisonous creature hugged its knees tightly, completely hiding itself in a dark corner, looking like a timid and extremely uneasy child, its head rhythmically banging against the wall again and again...
Jiang Ling'er paused, subconsciously murmuring the unfamiliar name in her mouth:
"Zi...chu?"
The little poisoner's real name is... Zichu?
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The author writes: ① Tiny clouds, wisps of fading sunlight, their presence and absence lingering. (From He Shuangqing's "Remembering the Flute on Phoenix Terrace - Tiny Clouds")
Thank you to all the little angels who voted for me or watered my plants with nutrient solution between 2023-10-29 22:57:17 and 2023-11-10 01:35:33!
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