Chapter 59

Chapter 59

Rong Feng found himself cut off halfway up the mountain by Bian Hong on horseback, his mind deeply conflicted.

This time, he didn't want Bian Hong tagging along. To be honest, he had no idea what had happened at Gui Mountain, nor could he predict how dangerous the journey might be.

He was traveling by night because he was a Mountain Guard—it was his duty, and he was supposed to be fearless in the face of danger. But Bian Hong was different; he shouldn't have to take on that kind of risk.

"This time, I'm going alone."

But although Rong Feng's words were firm, the man on the horse just ignored him, only steering his tall horse to block the narrow mountain path.

To get past the man and his horse, he'd have to climb the sheer cliff beside the trail. Bian Hong glanced sideways—the rock face was steep, jagged with craggy rocks.

Unless this Mountain Guard before him sprouted wings and flew over, he'd have no choice but to admit defeat.

Bian Hong said nothing, just sat on his horse, chin raised, silently watching Rong Feng.

When Rong Feng moved left, he tugged the reins of Silver Frost and stepped left. When Rong Feng moved right, he did the same to the right.

Silver Frost was clever—after just two tries, it understood its master's intent. From then on, whenever Rong Feng took a step, Silver Frost would nimbly block him without needing Bian Hong's guidance.

It even shook its head as it did so, finding the whole thing rather amusing.

When Rong Feng tried to push forward again, the horse's head shoved him back. He had no choice but to stand still, looking up at Bian Hong on horseback, letting out a sigh.

He knew it—this stubborn, silent mule in front of him was at it again.

Though their time together hadn't been long, Rong Feng already knew Bian Hong's temperament well.

If he didn't give in today, he wouldn't get past this mountain road.

And looking up at the steep rock face beside him, he really didn't have wings.

In the end, Bian Hong got what he wanted, following behind Rong Feng down the mountain. Rong Feng was a bit annoyed, so he took the lead. But after just two steps, he turned back, walked alongside Silver Frost, and started rattling off warnings to Bian Hong—he listed every possible danger he could think of, until even Silver Frost was pinning its ears back and shaking its head.

Bian Hong, unlike Silver Frost, didn't think he was being long-winded. Instead, he lowered his head, his dark eyes focused and serious, and said just one thing to the man beside him.

"Don't worry, I can handle it."

Rong Feng was the one left speechless by those words. He opened his mouth, but in the end, nothing came out.

Yet his heart suddenly felt warm, filled with a feeling he couldn't put into words.

After they walked in silence for a while, Rong Feng reached out and took the reins from Bian Hong's hand.

"I'll lead him."

So on the narrow mountain path, all you could see was a tall, sturdy man leading a big horse with snow-white hooves, carrying a young man on its back, heading downhill.

They walked from sunset deep into the night.

Rong Feng moved quickly. Once they reached flat ground at the foot of the mountain, Silver Frost was almost at a full gallop. The red deer with the broken antler that had delivered the distress message ran ahead, appearing and disappearing. When the deer grew too tired, it would stop by a stream to drink and nibble on fresh spring grass.

At such times, Silver Frost would graze and rest, while Rong Feng built a fire to warm up, then pulled two steamed buns from the oiled paper in his pack—one for each of them.

He'd left in such a hurry that he hadn't had time to prepare food that would keep, so he'd taken half a steamer of the buns Bian Hong had just made, leaving the other half for Yuan Ding and Guan Bao.

Those leftover buns had been packed up by Bian Hong and sent to the family shrine along with rice, flour, oil, and ten taels of silver.

Yuan Ding and Guan Bao were no strangers to this by now. The family shrine seemed to have become their second home, and the two young brothers had settled in well.

At night, the sisters and aunties all fought over who got to put them to bed. Even though Guan Bao often wet the bed, the clever self-combed women had figured out the pattern—whenever Guan Bao frowned in his sleep and kicked his legs like he was taking slow steps, they'd scoop him up and hold him over the chamber pot. Nine times out of ten, they hit the mark.

The bear cub, however, was new to the shrine. It wasn't small anymore, but it had a gentle temperament and was well-behaved. Anyone could pet it, and all it did all day was eat.

The self-combed women worried the bear would eat through a lot of grain. Though they had money to buy more, these women who had survived famine still hated to waste anything. Fortunately, the bear ate anything, so every day Yuan Ding and Guan Bao would take it to the woods behind the shrine to forage for wild vegetables.

The women were busy too, preparing to clear more land behind the shrine. Besides wheat, they planned to plant plenty of potatoes, sweet potatoes, vegetables, and fruits—self-sufficiency was their foundation for living independently.

When they grew tired, they'd pause to rest, looking up at the woods ahead where the two young brothers and a bear cub played and ate at the same time.

New life always brought comfort and hope, and their arrival had brought a lot of laughter to the shrine.

Though sometimes, it was a headache.

Especially since the bear ate everything—besides grass, it also caught wild rabbits, birds, frogs, grasshoppers, and bug cocoons in the forest...

And when the self-combed women saw the two kids and the bear cub sitting around a crackling fire, roasting pupae from the cocoons to eat, they rushed over, put out the fire, and dragged the kids and the bear back to the front courtyard, grimacing the whole way.

Even during the famine when they'd eaten husks and wild greens, they'd never thought of eating insect cocoons—that was just too disgusting.

Indeed, men really had no idea how to raise kids!

Bian Hong, completely unaware of all this, continued rushing toward Gui Mountain with Rong Feng, having no idea that his little brother's bug-eating ways had shocked the women.

But to be fair, on their long journey fleeing famine, they'd eaten anything that could be stuffed into their mouths—whatever it was, they just swallowed it down.

This had given the kids some weird food preferences. After tasting the pupae from the cocoons, they found them genuinely delicious. So even now that they lacked nothing, they still craved them, which was why they'd been caught red-handed in the woods.

Bian Hong couldn't argue—because he ate them too...

Dawn was approaching. After this forced march, who knew how far they'd traveled, the red deer finally grew exhausted again, lying down under a rock, panting heavily.

Several days of travel had gotten them used to each other, so Rong Feng built a fire beside the deer to warm it.

Meanwhile, Bian Hong emerged from the dry underbrush nearby, covered in dead leaves and grass. The buns were gone, and he'd thought to take advantage of Rong Feng's fire to forage for some spring mushrooms in the woods and boil up a pot of soup.

But as luck would have it, he found no mushrooms—instead, he'd gathered a pocketful of insect cocoons.

So Rong Feng saw the man pop out from the branches, stride over to him in a few steps, and show him a heap of cocoons held in the hem of his shirt.

"Roast these, with a sprinkle of salt and pepper."

Rong Feng looked at the pile of plump cocoons, then at Bian Hong's earnest face.

"I... didn't bring salt."

Bian Hong was straightforward. He found a clean rock, wiped it down, sat, and began peeling the cocoons.

"Don't worry, I brought some. Just wait, you'll eat."

In the end, Rong Feng had one shoved into his mouth. After chewing mechanically for a moment, he reached for another himself. It really was quite tasty—crispy and fragrant.

So Bian Hong saw the man by the fire suddenly stand up. He thought there might be danger, but Rong Feng just said,

"You don't know where the good spots are. I'll go find them."

Sure enough—birds of a feather flock together.

But the respite was brief. After eight straight days of hard riding, they looked up through the dense forest and underbrush and finally saw the lush, verdant mountains in the distance.

A mountain in sight can run a horse to death.

They pushed on until they reached the mountain's base, where even Silver Frost was starting to flag. Bian Hong dismounted and walked on foot like Rong Feng, one hand on his curved blade, ready for anything. The closer they got to the mountain, the more cautious he became.

The vibe here was nothing like Miemeng Mountain.

In the old days, Bian Hong would've thought, what difference could one mountain make? They were all just godforsaken wilderness. But after wandering Miemeng Mountain with Rong Feng over and over, he could now clearly feel the difference.

And Rong Feng had grown up in these mountains—of course he felt it too.

Rong Feng tipped his head back and sniffed the air, then stared into the dark, deep woods, brow furrowed.

The mountain's qi was dead and decaying.

Every mountain, every river, has its own qi, also called "lan" (mountain mist), strongest at dawn and dusk, when the breath of heaven and earth mingle—this is what gives life to all things.

If it's wood-aligned, the qi runs green, and the mountain's sure to be thick with greenery, maybe even rare trees;

If it's fire-aligned, the qi runs red—expect volcanic craters or hot springs;

If it's metal-aligned, the qi runs white—dig in and you'll strike all kinds of ore;

If it's water-aligned, the qi runs black, and the mountain's water veins feed into great rivers that never run dry.

The list goes on—it's a deep and subtle art.

One of the Mountain Guard's core lessons was learning to "read a mountain's qi."

And as Rong Feng looked at the great mountain before him, dead and heavy, its qi in chaos and decay, it was easy to see why he'd gotten a "call for aid"—something even his own master had never dealt with.

"Be careful, stay close to me."

Bian Hong nodded. In these woods, he trusted no one more than Rong Feng.

The red deer was long gone. If not for the written cloth still in Rong Feng's hand, the whole thing might've seemed like a weird dream.

The deeper they went into the mountain, the more animals they encountered. But this wasn't Miemeng Mountain, and Rong Feng had no connection with the creatures here, so they had to be even more vigilant.

Their caution was well-founded—before long, they had already been attacked several times, though fortunately only by small animals like birds and wildcats.

But something was wrong with them. The wildlife here was twitchy, almost crazed. Even Silver Frost sensed it, pawing the ground, more and more agitated.

Rong Feng held up a hand to stop Bian Hong. "Let's head back out. Without a destination, we can't wander blindly here."

So Rong Feng switched from leading to covering the rear, while Bian Hong held his curved blade horizontally, deftly leading Silver Frost as they turned and retreated the way they came.

But just then, a rustling sound came from the shadowy woods, and suddenly a herd of wild boars burst forth from the deep forest. They were larger than any Rong Feng had hunted in Miemeng Mountain, with terrifying tusks several inches long. Charging in such numbers, even large predators would yield.

Behind the boar herd lurked several leopards, their eyes gleaming in the dark woods, poised to strike after the boars passed. They were the more cunning hunters.

Rong Feng drew the large blade from his waist, gripping it with both hands, ready for battle. Bian Hong, with dark, deep eyes, pressed close behind Rong Feng, guarding his back against a leopard ambush.

Though Silver Frost was frightened, it had once been a warhorse—and warhorses never retreat. It pressed close to Bian Hong, signaling him to mount, as they had done in the Tiger Guard, ready to carve a path through the enemy.

At that critical moment, a long, clear, and continuous metallic resonance came ringing through the depths of the forest—"zheng zheng weng weng."

The layered sound waves seemed to echo right in their ears. Bian Hong felt it was a resonance of peculiar frequency.

The agitated, aggressive boars and leopards, upon hearing the sound, showed signs of discomfort, and as the low-frequency vibrations grew more urgent, they finally retreated, scattering into the woods.

Bian Hong was about to investigate when he saw a deer leap down from the tangled slopes of the dark forest—a large, agile creature.

And on the deer's back sat a young boy, who, seeing Rong Feng and Bian Hong from afar, called out in a loud voice.

"Who dares trespass on this mountain? Leave at once!"