infodatos Chapter 29: Evacuation and Reception
Chapter 29: Evacuation and Reception
The sight outside the cave entrance made Lin Yan's pupils shrink to pinpoints.
What was once a relatively flat valley has now become an upside-down hell. On the scorched earth, ravines, wide enough to fit a cow, are ploughed by the claws of a demonic tiger. The soil along the edges of these ravines is burned to a purplish-blue, shimmering eerily in the sunlight. Large patches of frost, formed from the wolf king's demonic energy, are white and cover the scorched grass and broken rocks, even freezing the wolf carcasses. Frost clings to the charred fur like sprinkled salt, a horrifying sight. A gust of wind blows the frost away, revealing the blackened flesh beneath, and the stench rises—a mixture of sweet, burnt, and damp smells from melting frost, assaulting the nostrils.
Corpses were everywhere.
None of the demon wolves' corpses were intact. Some were bitten in half at the waist, their internal organs dragging on the ground, frozen into dark red lumps of ice, still covered with bits of grass; some were charred black, their claws still in a pouncing posture, like hardened charcoal, black ash falling in the wind; many more were smashed, bone fragments mixed with minced flesh, smeared on the ground like mud, attracting several vultures, their dark shadows landing on the pile of corpses, their beaks pecking down, making a "crack" sound as they bit into bone, a sound that made one's teeth ache.
In the center of the valley, the two enormous figures stood facing each other, seemingly frozen in place.
The Fiery Tiger lay sprawled on the ground, its left hind leg twisted at an unnatural angle, like a broken tree branch, unable to support itself any longer. The flames on its body, once a blazing crimson that could melt stone, were now reduced to a thin, pale red halo, as thin as a cicada's wing, swaying in the wind, barely enveloping its body. Most horrifying was the wound on its abdomen—torn from its ribs to the root of its hind leg, the flesh torn open, revealing the red flesh and white bone clearly. Blood wasn't flowing, but gushing out with a "glug-glug" sound, accumulating in a puddle beneath it, clinging to grass clippings, slowly freezing into a thick paste. It was still panting; with each breath, its massive body heaved violently, widening the wound on its chest. Its snorts, carrying sparks and blood, landed on the ground with a "sizzle," scorching a small patch of grass black. Those crimson-gold eyes, which used to shine like red-hot copper, were now clouded as if covered by a layer of fog. The red light had dissipated, leaving only a dying darkness, yet they still stared intently at the person opposite them, making a "hoarse" sound from their throat, like a broken bellows being pulled.
The Bloodfang Wolf King looked slightly better, but it was already exhausted and on its last legs. It still stood, its four paws digging deep into the frozen earth, the tips embedded in the cracks of the rocks, using this to support its teetering body. Its silvery-gray fur, which used to shine like it was sprinkled with silver powder, was now covered with blood and scorch marks, clinging to its body in strands. A chunk of its left shoulder blade was sunken, clearly the bone was broken, and blood dripped down with every movement. The most fatal wound was on the side of its neck—torn by the fangs of the demon tiger, almost biting open half of its neck, exposing its trachea. Each breath was accompanied by a hissing sound of leaking air, and blood flowed down its neck, soaking the fur on its chest into a dark brown, dripping onto the ground and freezing into small beads of blood.
It didn't roar, but just stared at the demon tiger. The ferocity in its amber eyes was still there, but it was shrouded in a heavy weariness and a touch of mocking coldness—as if to say, "If I die, you won't live either." This distance of ten zhang, which it could usually cover in a single pounce, now felt like an insurmountable chasm. With each movement, its wounds opened wider, and the blood gushed out more rapidly. It could only stand there, frozen, locked in a battle of wills with its eyes.
Lin Yan's gaze swept quickly, his mind racing—the demon tiger's fire had lost its warmth, and the wolf king's frost had almost dissipated. What was truly dangerous was their dying frenzy. If they discovered the raid on their lair now, and these two pounced with their last breath, even the two of them, with three heads and six arms, couldn't stop them. They had to leave; there was no time to lose.
He squeezed Su Qingyao's wrist, the pressure light but meaningful. Su Qingyao immediately lowered her head, and the two of them crouched down, like two shadows close to the ground, using the rocks at the cave entrance and the potholes in the ground for cover as they swiftly made their way out.
The sensations underfoot were chaotic—stepping on frost produced a sharp "crack," startling her; sinking into scorched mud left her feet sticky and crunchy when pulled out, covering her boots; occasionally kicking a wolf bone brought a dull thud as the bone shattered, the fragments pricking her feet painfully. The smells were even more unbearable, an overwhelming stench of blood mixed with the burnt smell of charred flesh, the stench of entrails, and the metallic odor of dissipated demonic energy, assaulting her nostrils and making Su Qingyao's eyes redden, yet she bit her lower lip tightly, refusing to utter a sound—she knew that even a heavy breath at this moment could be fatal. Lin Yan held her hand tightly, his palms sweaty but steady, each step carefully placed in the most concealed spots, avoiding the conspicuous corpses, bypassing the central confrontation zone, and following the shadows of the mountain wall downhill.
The "hoho" sound behind them grew fainter and fainter, but the oppressive aura still followed like a shadow, chilling their spines. Only when they rounded a mountain ridge, leaving that hellish place behind, and saw a thorny hillside in front of them, did the two dare to slow down, leaning against a half-charred old pine tree, panting heavily.
Cold sweat finally broke out, soaking her inner shirt and clinging to her back, sending a shiver down her spine. Lin Yan released Su Qingyao's hand, only to find his palms drenched in sweat, his fingertips trembling slightly—not out of fear, but from the sudden release of a taut string. Su Qingyao slid to the ground, leaning against the rough bark of a tree. The texture of the bark ached her back, yet it gave her a sense of security. She closed her eyes, letting out a long, trembling breath. When she opened them again, her eyes were red, not from crying, but from lingering fear. "So many...so many wolves...and that demonic tiger..." her voice was barely audible, "...just like that...gone?"
"The law of the jungle prevails; that's the law of the demon realm." Lin Yan's voice was hoarse. He raised his hand to wipe his face, brushing off a handful of ash and bloodstains—he didn't know if it was from the demons or from his own hand. He looked at Su Qingyao, his eyes as deep as a mountain stream. "Today it's them. If we lose, tomorrow the people of Blackstone Town will be exposed in these mountains, just like these wolf corpses." He paused, his gaze falling on the cloth bag on her chest. "Don't forget, everything inside is stained with human blood."
Su Qingyao's body stiffened. She lowered her head, her fingers gripping the cloth bundle's straps tightly, the straps digging into her palms, the pain bringing her back to her senses. Yes, those commoners refined into blood crystals, those families torn apart by demons—their lives were a hundred times more precious than these demons. She leaned against a tree trunk to stand up, brushing the dust off her skirt. Her eyes were still red, but her gaze hardened again: "What's next?"
Lin Yan looked up at the sky. The gray-white of the east was already tinged with the pale light of dawn. The morning star had faded, and a thin mist rose from the mountains and forests, like torn cotton wool, drifting among the branches. "Send a signal to Uncle Zhang," he said, pulling a bamboo tube from his pocket—a crudely made tube by Uncle Zhang himself, its surface covered with crooked runes drawn in cinnabar. Inside were sulfur, saltpeter, and fluorescent powder, their agreed-upon signal, which, when lit, would shoot into the sky and explode in a burst of green light.
He found an open space, pulled out the stopper at the bottom of the bamboo tube, revealing the fuse, which smelled slightly of sulfur. He took out a flint, and with a "click," a spark landed on the fuse, which hissed and ignited, tiny sparks climbing up the fuse. Lin Yan quickly turned the bamboo tube towards the direction of Black Stone Town and took two steps back.
"Whoosh—Bang!"
The sharp sound, like a whistle, pierced the stillness of dawn. A plume of white smoke shot straight up, growing thinner and thinner, before exploding violently dozens of feet above the ground! There was no loud bang, only a muffled "thud," followed by a burst of shimmering green light, like a firefly in the night, but much brighter, about the size of a bowl, hanging in the sky, clearly visible against the gradually brightening heavens.
The green light burned for three breaths before slowly dissipating in the wind, like shattered jade.
The two looked up, a weight finally lifted from their hearts. Uncle Zhang, Shi Hu, and the people waiting in Black Stone Town would finally see this. This green light meant the plan had succeeded; the Wolf King and the Demon Tiger were both severely injured, and the town was temporarily safe. It also meant the time for a counterattack had arrived.
"Back to town." Lin Yan put away the remnants of the bamboo tube and looked down the mountain. The outline of Black Stone Town was faintly visible in the thin mist, like a lurking beast. Some of the people in the town were crying, some were afraid, and some were waiting. He knew that Uncle Zhang would see the signal and immediately contact people; Shi Hu would guard the entrance to the town to prevent the remnants of the demons; and those righteous people hiding in the shadows should also come out.
"Go back and find Uncle Zhang and Shi Hu," Su Qingyao straightened her cloth bag, her voice regaining its usual calmness, though her fingertips still trembled slightly. "Chen Fuhai and Zhao Mang must have believed that false news that 'the sacrifices are ready,' and they're dreaming of getting rich right now. We'll smash this evidence in their faces when they're at their most smug, crushing them along with them."
The morning light finally broke through the mountain ridge, countless golden rays piercing the thin mist and sprinkling warmth upon the Canglang Mountain, coating the scorched earth with a layer of warmth. But this warmth could not penetrate the corpses in the valley, nor dispel the dark clouds above Black Stone Town. Lin Yan glanced back one last time at the depths of Canglang Mountain, where the "hoarse" sounds had ceased, leaving only a deathly silence—the era of demons in these mountains was coming to an end; and the debts owed by Chen Fuhai and the others should be settled.
The two fell silent and turned to walk down the mountain. Lin Yan's steps were steady, and Su Qingyao followed behind him, the cloth bag pressed firmly against her chest, feeling heavy and reassuring. What they were bringing back was not evidence, but a spark, the hope of the people of Blackstone Town, to be thrown into that pile of dry firewood that had been suppressed for too long, to burn out a new sky.