The Thicket of Thorns

Inside the Portable Abode, his wife exhaled steam in steady, deep puffs, still fast asleep. Li Banfeng lay in bed, counting the holes on his body one by one. A Dwelling Cultivator had formidable recuperative powers, but wireworms were just as formidable at boring through flesh. Even after resting for an entire day, Li Banfeng had not fully recovered. Yet he had to go outside today. This was not just the innate instinct of a journey cultivator; it was also the fear of an unfamiliar environment. It sounded somewhat contradictory. Weren't journey cultivators supposed to roam through unfamiliar places? That depended on just how unfamiliar the place was. When Li Banfeng had first stepped off the train, he at least knew the place was called Yaowanggou. Now, he had no idea where he was. All he had seen before was a barren wasteland. Leaving the key in a place like this for too long did not sit well with him. Li Banfeng ate a bite of food, put on his fedora, and stepped out of the Portable Abode. The key still lay on the wasteland, about twenty meters away from the ceaselessly surging "Wireworm River." This wasteland was remarkably flat, devoid of mountains, trees, and grass. Not even a single stone was in sight. In an environment with virtually no landmarks, it was exceptionally easy to get lost. Even so, Li Banfeng knew how to find his way back. All he had to do was retrace his steps along the river. At his speed, it would not take long to return to familiar ground. Having barely walked for two days, Li Banfeng felt a stiffness in his joints. After running for nearly three li, he was gasping for breath, drenched in cold sweat. Li Banfeng rested his hands on his knees, wheezing for a long time. *Something's not right!* No matter how poor his condition was, a Tier 2 journey cultivator could not possibly fail to run a mere three li. Besides, his current cultivation was no longer just Tier 2. During this foray into the newland, Li Banfeng had consecutively encountered Feng Daiku and the wireworms, advancing his cultivation by well over half a year and bringing him very close to Tier 3. For him to struggle so hard after just three li made no sense at all. Li Banfeng uncapped his canteen, took a large swig of water, and watched the "perpetually flowing" Wireworm River as he walked slowly along the bank. After another two-odd li, Li Banfeng ground to a halt. He could walk no further. His legs felt as though they were dragging thousand-jin shackles, impossibly heavy. Moreover, he no longer knew which way to go. His plan had been clear enough: walking upstream along the Wireworm River would take him right back to where he started. What he had not anticipated was that the Wireworm River had tributaries. Ahead of him, three tributaries converged to form the Wireworm River before his eyes. Which tributary should Li Banfeng follow back? Judge by the width of the streams? All three branches looked virtually identical. The thing Li Banfeng dreaded most had finally come to pass: he was lost in the newland. Li Banfeng had heard Ma the Fifth speak of this before. Every survivor who had ever gotten lost in a newland offered only a single piece of advice—leave it to fate. In a newland, many rules of common sense simply did not apply. Determining direction relied entirely on memory and intuition. If one's intuition proved accurate, one could walk out; if it was wrong, nobody knew what would happen, because everyone whose intuition failed had died. What was he supposed to do in this situation? Li Banfeng calmed himself and weighed his options. Intuition was something Li Banfeng did not believe in. He decided to retrace his steps along the first tributary on the left. He had been unconscious inside the Portable Abode for twenty hours, which meant the key had traveled with the wireworms for twenty hours. Li Banfeng figured he was faster than the wireworms. If he walked back for twenty hours and found himself back on familiar ground, it would prove he had chosen the right path. If he had chosen wrong, he would turn back and start over, which would only take forty hours for the round trip. Or perhaps fifty. His current condition was somewhat abnormal, so he might not truly be faster than the worms. With three rivers, even if he guessed wrong twice, it would take at most around a hundred hours. The remaining tributary would certainly be the correct path. Given the current situation, taking the worst-case scenario into account, it would amount to walking for a little over a hundred and twenty hours. At sixteen hours a day, he could make it out in eight days. There was plenty of food in the Portable Abode, though drinking water was slightly tight. If he truly could walk no further, he would ask the gramophone for help. It was not that he distrusted the gramophone, but she was still sound asleep, and there was no telling when she would wake. She had consumed special ingredients; forcibly waking her might bring unknown consequences. If the water ran dry by the time she woke up, it would be too late for anything. Besides, the gramophone had remained inside the Portable Abode the whole time and knew nothing of the outside environment, so she would hardly have many solutions to offer. Even if his wife could come up with a way, discussing the route would easily expose something: Li Banfeng possessed speed far beyond ordinary men. If his wife mapped out a five-hundred-li route and Li Banfeng covered it in three hours, that would pose a serious problem, and his wife would deduce that he was a journey cultivator. He could, of course, tell his wife that he had been on the road the entire time, but she was not so easily deceived. A single slip could cost Li Banfeng his life. Yet if pushed to the absolute brink—say, if several more tributaries appeared ahead—Li Banfeng would have no choice but to turn to his wife for help, even considering carrying the gramophone outside. Of course, his wife might not be willing to come out, and they would have to negotiate carefully when the time came. Li Banfeng began walking along the first tributary on the left. Gritting his teeth, he trudged for a dozen-odd li until he could no longer lift his legs. Pulling out his pocket watch, he saw that those dozen-odd li had taken him three whole hours! It seemed his physical condition was truly lacking. Li Banfeng sat by the roadside to rest for a moment. Oddly enough, as long as he stopped walking, his physical strength recovered very quickly. This was likely the effect of being a Dwelling Cultivator; returning to the dwelling would probably restore him even faster. Li Banfeng returned to the Portable Abode, where his wife was still sound asleep. Li Banfeng slept for over half an hour, gathered enough strength to forge ahead, and walked another dozen-odd li before his stamina once again hit rock bottom. Whenever he ran out of energy, he returned to the Portable Abode to rest, taking a breather and eating a bite before continuing. Repeating this cycle, he covered several dozen li, only for his path to be blocked by a thicket of thorns. The brambles lined both banks in extraordinary density. Li Banfeng now had two choices: push through the thicket of thorns, or enter the Wireworm River once more and dash across the water's surface. He refused to step into the Wireworm River again, come what may. Yet this thicket of thorns did not look any easier to traverse. There was no telling how many years each brier had grown here. The upper halves were verdant green, while the lower halves were charred black, looking like charcoal. Li Banfeng felt the thorns on the brambles and snapped one off; it was sharp enough to serve as a phonograph needle for his wife. Li Banfeng did not possess bronze skin and iron bones, so how was he supposed to get through? Left with no alternative, he drew the Tang dao. The Tang dao looked upon the thorns before it and asked in astonishment, "My lord, surely you do not expect me to clear the path? For this sort of work, a sickle would be far more suitable." "How big is that sickle?" A sickle scarcely a dozen centimeters long was obviously not a fit weapon for cutting a path through a thicket of this scale. "My lord, I can only strike three blows. What comes of it will be left entirely to fate." Having said that, the Tang dao prepared to strike, but Li Banfeng shouted, "Wait! Let me figure out which direction to cut first." Which other direction could there be? Wouldn't cutting directly upstream along the river be the right choice? Li Banfeng felt that was wrong. Looking in the direction straight upstream, goosebumps broke out all over his body. There was danger there. What kind of danger, Li Banfeng did not yet know. Using his skill of seeking good fortune and avoiding calamity to sense the surroundings for a good while, Li Banfeng settled on a spot slightly to the left and had the Tang dao deliver a full-power strike. A large swath of thorns collapsed, but behind them lay still more thorns. The path cleared was barely two meters deep, leaving Li Banfeng somewhat disappointed. There seemed to be no danger here, yet this direction offered no pleasant surprises either. Li Banfeng continued to probe with his skill of seeking good fortune and avoiding calamity; the most favorable direction remained the spot slightly to the left. What was so special about this spot? Li Banfeng had the Tang dao strike a second blow. This time, it cut over three meters deep, and the thorns seemed to have grown somewhat softer. Testing once more with his skill of seeking good fortune and avoiding calamity, the direction remained unchanged. Li Banfeng decisively struck the third blow. This time, he saw a path. It was not a path he had carved out himself, but a pre-existing path within the brambles, extending to the left and right. Li Banfeng stepped into the thicket and looked left and right. The path was not wide, capable of accommodating two or three people walking abreast. Thorns flanked both sides, yet none grew into the path itself, standing dense and compact along the edges like hedgerows. This path should lead through the thicket, but which way should he go? To the left, or to the right? Li Banfeng brought out the Thread-Hook Earring and instructed, "You've gorged yourself on plenty of grease and oil; it's time you put in some work." Could the Thread-Hook Earring tell directions? She could not. However, she could hear changes in sound. Only two sounds could be heard within the thicket: one was the howling of the wind, and the other was the "squirming" of the nearby Wireworm River. Li Banfeng followed the path to the right. This path was closer to the Wireworm River; once he made it out of the thicket, he should still be on the riverbank. After walking rightward for a short while, the path curved to the left. Past the bend, a fork appeared ahead. Li Banfeng continued along the branch closer to the Wireworm River. He walked through the thicket of thorns for five hours, encountering a dozen or so forks along the way. Li Banfeng adhered to only one criterion when choosing a path: it had to stay close to the Wireworm River. The journey was utterly exhausting. For every li he walked, Li Banfeng felt as though he had spent an entire day sprinting at full tilt. After walking a little over three li, Li Banfeng sat down by the roadside to rest for a moment. Through the Thread-Hook Earring, he could still hear the squirming of the river, proving he had not strayed off course. He closely observed the thorns on both sides, unable to understand why they did not grow into the path. Were they kept in check by some power, or did someone come to prune them on a regular basis? *How could anyone be pruning them?* Li Banfeng chuckled wryly at his own thought. Just as he stood to resume his trek, he caught another sound through the Thread-Hook Earring. *Whoosh—* A gust of wind came sweeping past. It was shrill and loud, signaling that the wind was fierce and advancing with great speed. Li Banfeng twitched his nose, catching a faint scent in the air. It was the smell of smoke. It was exceedingly faint, but Li Banfeng's Hundred Flavors Exquisite skill identified it at once. The smell of smoke was closing in, and the howling wind was closing in as well. *Not good! A fire might have broken out.* Li Banfeng whipped out the key, unlocked the Portable Abode, tossed the key into the brambles, and immediately shut the door. After more than half an hour, Li Banfeng cautiously cracked the door open. There was no danger outside, so he hurried out and picked up the key. The path was completely empty, save for a few remnants of ash. Burnt smoke drifted from the base of the thorns on both sides, and sparks lingered in several spots. The key felt somewhat hot to the touch; it too had been roasted by the fire just moments ago. A fire had started in the thicket? And now it had gone out? This thicket of thorns was extremely dangerous! Casting aside his fatigue, Li Banfeng sprinted down the path. More than seven hours later, Li Banfeng smelled smoke once again and scrambled back into the Portable Abode to take cover. This time, he was a bit slower getting through the door. At the corner at the end of the path, he saw a human head roughly three meters in diameter. Hairless, but possessing a full set of facial features, its eyes were open, pupils rolling back and forth. Spewing blazing flames from its mouth, it was slowly ambling down the road. How was it walking? Why could a legless human head walk? Beneath its neck, there appeared to be feet. Li Banfeng did not dare look any closer. Every living thing that appeared on the path—including the crawling worms on the ground, the flying insects in the air, and the occasional thorns that had grown out of bounds—was burned to ash by the flames spewing from the head's mouth. Someone truly was pruning these thorns; this human head patrolled the various paths back and forth, never resting. Li Banfeng hastily flung the key into the brambles. At that exact moment, the head opened its eyes wide and looked straight at Li Banfeng. It had been a long time since it last saw a living human, and the head seemed very intrigued by Li Banfeng. Under the head's gaze, Li Banfeng felt as though his entire body were about to burst into flames. He truly was on the verge of catching fire; smoke was already rising from his body. Not daring to linger for a fraction of a second, he slammed the door shut and retreated into the Portable Abode.