Chapter 61

Chapter 61

Bian Hong and Rong Feng, led by the wolf pack, finally discovered the old man who had fallen into the trap pit, and hurriedly cleared away the large rocks piled over the pit.

The process was slow, as they had to be careful with their movements to avoid causing debris to collapse and fall into the pit, potentially hitting the people and wolves below.

By the time the sky began to darken, they had finally cleared enough space for a person to pass through, but when they called down, there was no response.

Rong Feng decided to go down and bring the man up, but Bian Hong studied the situation carefully. The walls of the trap pit were extremely slippery, with no footholds at all. No regular person who fell in could climb out by themselves, let alone carry an unconscious old man up.

Moreover, although He Zhuo's grandfather was old, he was large and sturdy. Even lying unconscious at the bottom of the pit, it took several wolves just to keep him warm, which showed how tough he must have been when he was younger.

Bian Hong fretted, "How are we gonna get him up? My rope's not long enough."

He always made a point of packing everything he needed before heading out, but the pit was so deep the hemp rope didn't even come close to the bottom.

Rong Feng thought for a moment, then looked down at the Mandarin Duck Axes in his hand. He gripped them tight and jammed them into the wet mud and cracks in the rock beside him.

They were sharp and held solid. "Let me try these. We can't keep waiting."

So Rong Feng grabbed Bian Hong's rope, tied it to a nearby tree, and dropped it down into the pit. But the rope only went halfway, so Rong Feng just grabbed the wall and jumped in.

The wolves sprawled over the old man stayed on guard. They were wary of strangers, so they got up, bared their teeth, and planted themselves in front of him.

Rong Feng raised his Mandarin Duck Axes and inched toward the man and the wolves, holding out his hand first to show he meant no harm and was okay with them checking him out.

The fierce wolves cautiously leaned in, sniffing him with their wet noses.

This guy didn't just smell like another mountain—he also carried the lingering scent of He Zhuo and the old man on those axes.

The wolves visibly relaxed. Their tails gave a few unconscious wags, their ears drooped, and their eyes went soft and clear in an instant.

They paced anxiously around Rong Feng and the old man. Rong Feng checked the old man over first, feeling along his bones and muscles, worried something might be snapped—if he jostled a break while moving him, a bone fragment could easily puncture an organ.

Luckily, the old man was tough and had solid bones. Even after a fall from that height, his bones and muscles were still intact. He was probably out cold from breathing in too much miasma and bleeding too much from his wounds.

So Rong Feng didn't hesitate—he hoisted the old man onto his back and got ready to climb.

Bian Hong was a nervous wreck, lying at the edge of the pit, watching without blinking. If he'd been the one down there, he probably couldn't even get the guy onto his back.

But Rong Feng wasn't having it easy either—the pit floor was even slicker than the top. He couldn't climb one-handed, so he craned his neck and yelled up.

"Untie the rope and toss it down."

Bian Hong moved fast. The man at the bottom caught the rope, strapped the old man to his back, then gripped the Mandarin Duck Axes in both hands. His arm muscles bunched as he slammed the axes into the pit wall—the blades sank in more than halfway. Rong Feng gave them a tug to make sure they'd hold.

Bian Hong was still fretting that the guy might not make it out, and was already racking his brain for a plan. He scanned the area for a long branch to toss down, something that could be wedged diagonally into the pit floor to give Rong Feng a foothold.

But there was no decent deadwood around. They'd have to chop something fresh, and there was no time for that.

He was about to yell for Rong Feng to come back up and help him cut wood, but when he looked down, the guy—with the old man still on his back—was swinging those axes like a pair of ice picks, already halfway up the wall.

By the time Bian Hong reached down to grab him, Rong Feng had already dodged the falling debris and burst out of the pit with a thud.

Bian Hong quickly untied the rope from the old man and felt for his pulse. Then he dug a little jade bottle out of his pack, shook out a handful of nasty-smelling pills, and shoved them into the old man's mouth, washing them down with water from his flask.

The old man finally swallowed, but he didn't wake up. He just coughed weakly a few times, frowned, and went quiet again.

Meanwhile, Rong Feng had hopped back into the pit. He brought the wolves up with him too. They'd probably been stuck down there for days, with the rest of the pack dropping food in through the gaps. There was no way they were getting out on their own.

The wolves got hauled out, all confused, tucked under the guy's arms. Even after all four paws hit the ground, they were still dazed. They turned their heads, realizing they'd gone from the bottom of the pit to the outside in a flash.

In the end, they looked at each other, decided they were done with this, and limped back into the woods to their pack.

It wasn't that their legs were hurt—it was from lying on the old man so long.

Even wolves get pins and needles.

With the old man found, Rong Feng and Bian Hong didn't waste another word—they hurried back down the mountain to their place. This time, Rong Feng didn't hold back—he flat-out ran.

Bian Hong had to focus hard just to keep up with him.

When the old man opened his eyes again, he saw He Zhuo crouched beside him, looking up with a tear-streaked face, crying happy tears. While he'd been gone, the kid's face had gotten all grimy, like a little stray cat.

"Grandpa, you're finally awake! You scared me half to death!"

The old man tried to say something to comfort his little disciple, but his mouth tasted bitter and rank, and he nearly gagged.

He frowned and took a moment to get over it before recognizing the familiar flavor.

So he slowly lifted his hand, gave He Zhuo's head a pat, and croaked weakly toward the door.

"Rong Di, you little shit! Why didn't you wait till I was dead and burned for seven days before showing up?"

He was griping that Rong Di had taken too long. In the old man's mind, if things had really gone south, Rong Di could've hopped on his junior brother's Roc Eagle and crossed mountains and seas to Gui Mountain in no time. That was part of why he'd dared to go in alone.

When the old man had scoped out the situation in the mountains, he knew he'd need to call on the Mountain Guard of Mie Meng Mountain for help. That's why he hung the Mandarin Duck Axes on the deer antlers and sent them to He Zhuo.

With the Mandarin Duck Axes, outsiders could enter the mountain.

Knowing his little disciple the way he did, He Zhuo would definitely go begging for help at Mie Meng Mountain. But right after that, he got jumped by wild beasts, and with all that miasma poison built up in his system, a herd of wild boars shoved him into the pit.

But the real reason was simple: he was old.

He was a hundred and three years old.

He'd been guarding the mountain for a hundred years, and his strength was slowly giving out. Back in his prime, even if he'd breathed in some miasma or lost an arm or a leg, he could still make it out of the mountains in one piece.

But now, even with the wolves watching his back, he still ended up in the pit, blacked out, and didn't come to until they pulled him out.

The two folks outside—busy feeding the horses, fixing food, and grinding up herbs for the old man—dropped everything and rushed over to the heated brick bed inside.

But when the old man saw who'd walked in, he froze for a second. No Rong Di, no sneaky junior brother—just two young guys he didn't recognize.

Rong Feng met his gaze and spoke up. "Old man, Rong Di was my master. He got an imperial summons and left years ago. Mie Meng Mountain's been passed down to me—I'm the thirty-sixth generation."

The old man went quiet for a long spell after hearing that. Then he gave Rong Feng a long, hard look with those old eyes of his, and glanced at Bian Hong behind him.

Rong Feng was quick to explain. "Oh, this is my... my other half."

Bian Hong, standing behind him, shot him a look but kept his mouth shut, like he was quietly going along with it.

The old man let out a long sigh. "Time sure flies."

He remembered the first time he'd met Rong Di—the kid barely came up to his waist, squatting by the river with his junior brother, skipping stones. But in the blink of an eye, the kid's disciple was all grown up, and that little boy from back then was long gone from the mountains—called away by imperial order.

Mountain Guards rarely stuck their noses into the mortal world. When the founding Grand State Preceptor set up the Mountain Guards, separate from all the officials, it was so they could protect the spiritual energy hidden in the mountains and rivers that fed all living things—something that shouldn't change no matter which dynasty was in power.

So you can see how unpredictable life is.

Rong Feng saw that the old man was in decent condition. After taking the antidote and drinking a bowl of rice porridge, and with Bian Hong having heated the brick bed, the old man's pulse had already stabilized considerably. His physique was truly excellent—full of vigor and vitality, not at all like a man over a hundred years old.

Rong Feng had only known a few Mountain Guards in his life, and his own master was the oldest among them. But his master had always been a whirlwind of activity, charging into battle with spear and horse, so he wasn't a good reference point.

Now, looking at the old man before him, he began to ponder: it seemed Mountain Guards generally lived long lives.

This gave Rong Feng a spark of hope. Perhaps his master, over his long life, might still return to the mountains to see him someday.

But for now, Rong Feng was more concerned with the matter at hand.

"Old sir, what exactly happened to Gui Mountain?"

The old man coughed a few times, looked at the young couple before him, hesitated for a moment, then spoke.

His expression was heavy. "The Mountain Lord of Gui Mountain—the Deer King—has passed away."

Rong Feng was completely shocked. As for Mountain Lords, each mountain had its own account—whether tiger or leopard, deer or eagle, they were all born from the mountain's spiritual energy. Regardless of the form, when its life ended, another spiritual creature would be born to take its place and grow into the Mountain Lord.

If the mountain's spiritual energy was strong and abundant, multiple spiritual creatures would be born together, awaiting their time to serve.

The Mountain Lord kept the mountain's spiritual energy from fading. As long as that energy persisted, all living things would flourish, and new mountain spirits would be born.

This was the cycle of the mountain forest world and all its living beings.

But now, on Gui Mountain, after the old Mountain Lord had died, no new mountain spirit had emerged. Whether this caused the mountain's declining spiritual energy or was caused by it was unclear.

And the restless, aggressive animals in the mountains could be traced to two sources—first, the Deer King's death, and second, inhaling the miasma.

The very purpose of establishing the Mountain Guards was to step in at times like this.

To guard the mountains, to guard the people, to guard this complete cycle.

Bian Hong looked at the two Mountain Guards, one old and one young, both looking grim. But Bian Hong didn't fully understand the deeper meaning behind it all. To him, the Mountain Lord seemed more like a highly intelligent creature, holding an important place in the natural food chain.

"Excuse me, would artificial breeding be possible?"

"?" Though the old man was weak, his presence was still imposing. He expressed utter bewilderment at this strange idea from the wife of Rong Di's disciple.

But Rong Feng turned to look at Bian Hong, and it suddenly clicked. He lowered his head in thought.

Then, regardless of how shocked the old man on the brick bed was, Rong Feng shared his thought.

"The Mountain Lord of Mie Mountain—I think he has a few cubs."

Bian Hong couldn't help but look at Rong Feng when he heard this. He had misunderstood his meaning, but perhaps this was a better fit for this world.

Everything follows the natural order.

But the Mountain Guards are part of that nature too.

This method would later be called "borrowing spirit."

For now, though, all Bian Hong could think of were four big, bright red characters.

The South-to-North Water Diversion Project...