Wind howled and snow swirled as silhouettes shifted and clashed.
The young woman struck swiftly and altered her moves even faster. Advancing and retreating in turn, she refused to entangle herself with Xie Laosan, focusing solely on blocking his path up the mountain.
Lian Youming gave the military dagger in his grip a sharp flick, sending droplets of hot blood cascading silently into the snow.
Xie Laosan clamped a hand over the bloody puncture in his chest. Shock, fury, and bitter indignation twisted his face.
He had planned and waited painstakingly for so many years, weathering every tempest and storm, only to capsize in a gutter at the very end. To have everything undone by a teenager, to fall short when success was within arm's reach—how could he possibly accept it?
Feeling the throbbing agony in his chest, Xie Laosan paled. The flowing blood drained away the warmth inside his body.
*Wait... it stopped?*
Lian Youming's eyes flickered as he stared at the man's chest. A hole like that, stirred through by a military dagger, would have been a death sentence for anyone else. Yet after Xie Laosan merely exhaled a few breaths, the roaring torrent of blood visibly stemmed to a halt.
"Damn, you can still take it even like this?" Lian Youming spat a mouthful of bloody saliva into the frosted snow. Wiping the corner of his mouth, he arched an eyebrow. "I'm truly impressed."
His casual tone concealed a chilling malevolence.
Xie Laosan glared fiercely at Lian Youming, fixing his eyes on the boy's usual cheeky grin. His voice was dark and venomous. "Had I known, I would have butchered you earlier."
He had always fancied himself a peerless master, yet now a mere boy had spun him in circles. Not only had he lost the initiative, but he had also dragged down the others on the mountain, instantly throwing away an excellent situation.
Even though he had not truly lost or died, the upper hand in this battle was gone.
Furthermore, since the girl named Shuang'er had made it down the mountain, it meant the covert operative planted among the educated youths had already been dealt with.
With all chance of victory gone and a grave injury upon him, even if he fought to the death and killed these two, a fathomless old monster still awaited on the heights.
Lian Youming gripped his military dagger tightly and opened his mouth to fling a couple more taunts. But before he could speak, Xie Laosan spun on his heel without the slightest hesitation and dashed down the mountain, fleeing with frantic, bounding strides.
He was running away.
The young woman who had come to Lian Youming's aid raised her fists to pursue, but he stopped her.
"Never mind him. Let's head up first."
Her raised fists slowed, and she grasped his meaning.
Xie Laosan had lost his will to fight and suffered a severe wound; he was no longer a concern. The critical priority was the brutal struggle on the mountain.
Without another word, the two hurried up the slope.
Amidst the blinding curtain of white snow, Lian Youming bore the ache in his chest and kept pace beside the girl.
The mountain path was slick with thick frost and snow. But when the girl named Shuang'er turned ahead of him, Lian Youming drew a sharp breath, his pupils contracting. Her entire back was drenched in crimson blood; there was no telling what horrific battle she had just endured.
Though they crossed paths every day, they were hardly acquainted. Unlike the lads whose youthful hearts fluttered as they plotted ways to court female educated youths, Lian Youming only mingled among the boys. Moreover, he was accustomed to keeping to himself; apart from exchanging a few words with his bunkmates, others viewed him as quiet and taciturn.
Lian Youming could never understand it—everyone was worked half to death like dogs, so how did they still have the energy to dwell on romance?
"What on earth is buried on the mountain?"
Looking at the girl's petite back, Lian Youming could not help asking. He truly wanted to know what treasure could compel these people to stand guard for decades, squandering their prime and wasting their entire lives.
"I think I've earned the right to know. After all, I'm risking my life to help you. I can't just die in the dark, can I?"
The girl kept her head down, marching briskly in silence. After several seconds, she finally spoke. "Buried on the mountain... is a person."
"What?"
Lian Youming was taken aback, wondering if he had misheard.
What lay buried on the mountain was not some treasure, but a person?
He said hoarsely, "If you don't want to tell me, then don't. There's no need to make up lies to deceive me. Would so many people throw their lives away over a dead person? Do you take me for a three-year-old?"
The girl added, "Not a dead person."
Lian Youming was even more bewildered.
Not dead?
Could what was buried actually be alive?
As if reading his thoughts, the girl said in an even voice, "Many things in this world are far from as simple as what the eyes can see. You have only just stepped onto the martial path. Though you've received a bit of true transmission, you've merely glimpsed the tip of the iceberg."
Lian Youming frowned. "What are you trying to say?"
The girl whispered, "I'm saying you still have a chance to return to the world of ordinary people. But once you know what's buried up there, turning back won't be easy."
Lian Youming lowered his eyes and fell silent. He did not ponder her parting warning, but rather what could possibly be buried on the peak. If she was telling the truth and a living human being was indeed buried there, it was simply too fantastic to fathom.
The Old Man Who Guards the Mountain had been watching over the peak since the Republican era. That meant whoever was buried had to be at least a hundred years old.
And still alive.
At this thought, Lian Youming's throat went dry.
Connecting Xie Laosan's faction with the old man's actions, a terrifying, absurd hypothesis rose in his mind.
The two sides were probably not fighting over any treasure at all—the sacrifices they had made were simply too enormous.
If that was the case...
The person on the mountain was likely trapped.
And the Old Man Who Guards the Mountain existed solely to keep watch over them.
So Xie Laosan and the others were here to rescue someone? To rescue a living person who had survived for over a century, confined inside a coffin and buried deep beneath the earth?
As these thoughts pieced together, Lian Youming's expression became bizarre to the extreme, his breathing unsteady.
He glanced at the girl ahead of him as though he had seen a ghost.
"That person..."
Just as Lian Youming began to ask, the girl stopped.
Without realizing it, they had already reached the heights.
Frost sliced like daggers and snow fell like swords as the north wind lashed their faces.
To Lian Youming's shock, the girl walking ahead of him suddenly collapsed without a sound.
Lian Youming froze, dumbfounded.
"What happened?"
Snapping back to his senses, he hurried to her side and checked her breathing.
Fortunately, she had merely passed out.
Just then, the girl murmured deliriously, "Don't mind me... go... go help..."
Lian Youming's brow furrowed. After a brief hesitation, he found a shed used for storing odds and ends, ran back to the dormitory to fetch his own cotton quilt, and wrapped her securely from head to toe. Only then did he plunge back into the white world.
There was no time to second-guess himself. Lian Youming darted past thick tree stumps, trod through heavy snowdrifts, and finally spotted the Old Man Who Guards the Mountain in the clearing behind the canteen, facing four other figures.
Crouching behind a tree stump, Lian Youming peered ahead. The four were a middle-aged peasant woman dressed like a villager, a goatherd in a sheepskin coat with a goatee, a man in a Sun Yat-sen suit, and a short, yellow-haired dwarf.
Amidst the blinding blizzard, Lian Youming squinted with great effort, not daring to take a loud breath as he carefully observed the standoff.
Whether they had already traded blows was impossible to tell, but they were locked in a stalemate, as if waiting for Xie Laosan to arrive and tip the scales.
Yet Xie Laosan had turned tail and run for his life.
The Old Man Who Guards the Mountain suddenly spread his feet slightly and clenched his fists. Like a golden toad gazing at the moon, he tilted his neck and inhaled deeply.
Lian Youming's eyes widened. That single breath tore a patch out of the snowy veil like a great whale swallowing the sea, channeling a gust of wind and snow into his throat and mouth as if parting waters.
Swallowing the breath straight into his belly, the sallow pallor of the old man's face rapidly flushed with ruddy color. His aura shifted completely, glowing with vigor and ferocious vitality as though reborn.
Seeing this transformation, the four opponents paled in horror.
The dwarf's eyes bulged, and he spat a furious curse. "Xie Tianhong, you cowardly bastard, fuck your mother!"
Lian Youming's eyes shifted. *Xie Tianhong? Is that Xie Laosan's real name?*
"Careful, the old bastard is staking his life! Fifth Sister, go dig up the coffin first," the man in the Sun Yat-sen suit, who looked like a teacher, said in a deep voice. "The rest of us will hold him off."
*A coffin?*
Connecting this to his earlier guess, Lian Youming's mind shook violently, and he quickly looked closer.
The coarse-limbed peasant woman answered with a grunt and darted toward a low earth house.
Right at that moment, through the snowy expanse, a fist punched through the blizzard, hurtling straight toward the peasant woman's upper back.
The Old Man Who Guards the Mountain struck first.
Unexpectedly, the middle-aged woman seemed to have anticipated the move. Her footwork shifted abruptly, craftiness flickering in her bead-like eyes. Twisting around, she swept and gathered with her rough, heavy hands, drawing a circle in midair. As her stance took shape, the swirling snow within the arc whipped into a vortex, ensnaring the old man's fist and neutralizing its momentum with her deflections.
"Chen-style boxing?"
The old man's brow twitched. Breath roared in his chest as his diverted right fist suddenly bulged with sinew and swollen veins, swelling visibly as though transforming into a bronze sledgehammer. With fingers lightly hooked, he wrenched free of her grip and withdrew.
Without rushing, riding the momentum of his withdrawal, the old man swung his right fist backward with crushing force.
Behind him, a short figure had been darting lightly across the snow, poised to launch an ambush. The dwarf's eyelids twitched as a fist rushed toward his chest. Where the punch's force surged, frost melted and snow scattered under an overwhelming wave of killing intent.
"Ah!"
The dwarf's pupils shrank. He managed only a single shriek before the fist slammed into his chest.
He did not fly backward, nor did he vomit blood. Instead, the clothes across his back exploded with a loud bang, revealing a patch of flesh that rapidly bruised into a dark purple.
Knowing he was doomed, the dwarf locked his limbs tight around the old man's right arm. His face twisted like a vengeful specter, blood gushing wildly from all seven orifices as he shrieked, "Old bastard, die with me!"
*Squelch!*
Suddenly, an ancient sword drove through the dwarf's back, burst out through his chest, and continued forward without losing momentum, piercing straight into the old man's body.
The one wielding the sword was the man in the Sun Yat-sen suit. Despite his scholarly demeanor, his strike was the most vicious and underhanded of all, cutting through his own ally without hesitation.
Impaled by the blade, the dwarf stared at the wounded old man, his face a mix of venom and grotesque glee. "Kill him... kill him! Kill him for me!"
Listening to the dwarf's fading wails, the Old Man Who Guards the Mountain remained impassive. He flicked his left finger against the blade at his chest, snapping the long sword cleanly. Then, pressing down with his palm, he drove the broken half of the sword completely through his own body, sending it flying out through his back with undiminished force.
Seeing the old man turn to strike the dwarf, the peasant woman had thought her chance had arrived. Channeling her palm force, she lunged forward.
Yet halfway through her strike, just as she was about to land it, the broken blade shot out from the old man's back.
With a sharp thud, the snapped sword buried itself in the wooden door of the earth house.
The smile on the woman's face froze instantly, but she gritted her teeth and thrust her palm forward regardless. Then, with a wet pop, a plume of blood mist erupted from the right side of her neck, staining the drifting snow and white frost in brilliant crimson.
As if unable to fathom that she would die this way, she clutched the horrific sword wound, stumbled backward, and slumped to the ground against the dirt wall, the light rapidly fading from her eyes.
Yet at that exact instant, right as the old man shattered the sword, a silhouette flipped through the air, bounding off walls and leaping down from the roof of the earth house with a thunderous palm strike.
It was the little old goatherd with the goatee.
Not only that, but directly before the Old Man Who Guards the Mountain, the scholarly man planted his feet and dropped his shoulders and elbows. His slightly slender frame seemed to swell taller and sturdier in an instant. Sinews and bones stretched taut as a roar like a tiger's tore from his throat. Raising both elbows, he rammed forward like a mountain collapsing into view.
*Hmph!*
Everything unfolded in the blink of an eye—no preamble, no drawn-out exchange of blows. In a flash of lightning and flint, there were only lethal strikes and a clash of deadly wits.
Life and death hung on a single breath.
A trickle of blood leaked from the corner of the old man's mouth. His right arm was pinned tight by the dwarf's corpse, leaving only his left hand free. Yet the hunchbacked goatherd had chosen this exact moment to strike, chopping with a blade-like palm aimed squarely at the old man's left shoulder.
Was this a fatal trap?
No, it was not.
At this breathless, hairbreadth juncture between life and death,
behind a tree stump in the boundless white blizzard, a youth caked in frost and snow squinted bloodshot eyes. He held a slingshot, its hollow rubber bands pulled taut, aiming dead at the eyes of the goatherd bounding through midair.
Two mud pellets shot out without a sound.
The shift came without warning.
The hunchbacked old man had worn a look of triumph, already envisioning the guardian's death. Yet a split second before victory, two pellets abruptly flew into his sight.
Lian Youming lay pressed against the stump, his Adam's apple bobbing, unable to swallow any saliva. The freezing wind rushed down his throat like slicing blades.
He had no attention to spare for anything else, staring fixedly at the battlefield.
Snow roiled and frost whipped past. The old man shook his right arm, and the dwarf's body flew through the air like a rag doll amidst a flurry of cracking bones. At the same time, his left fist struck down like a hammer, slamming with ferocious, tyrannical force onto the scholarly man's crown.
One after another, the old man freed his right fist in a posture beyond ordinary imagination. As though having no bones, his entire right arm swept skyward, smashing into the goatherd's right foot.
In that instant, time seemed to freeze.
Three silhouettes crossed and parted.
Blinded and struck like lightning, the goatherd crashed to the ground with a cascade of fracturing bones, his face drained of blood. "Cough... cough... haha! Worthy of Yang Luchan's grand-disciple... what a tyrannical Taiji hammer!"
Only two figures remained standing on the snowy ground.
Lian Youming's brief surge of relief vanished as the scholarly man slowly toppled over while still holding his elbow-ram stance, already dead. Lian Youming's heart seized again: on the old man's chest, aside from the sword wound piercing his heart and lungs, more than half of the ribcage had caved in.
Even so, the old man could still breathe, could still move.
Looking at the goatherd sprawled on the ground, the old man said calmly, "To think even the Baguamen produced a traitor."
Lying on the snow and gazing up at the drifting flakes, the goateed old man did not argue, offering only a hoarse reply. "Thank you."
The old man's eyes glinted, his tone flat. "Don't mention it."
With that, he kicked out, sending the man on his way.
Only when the dust settled did the Old Man Who Guards the Mountain turn toward the youth who had collapsed in the snow.
In a daze, Lian Youming heard a gentle voice beside his ear.
"Lad, go live your ordinary life in peace. Do not reveal what I taught you lightly. If you do, leave no one alive... We shall not meet again..."
Chapter 14