The woman on the horse laughed coldly. “Collecting debts from a vagrant like you? How could I not return and repay your kindness?” Zijing’s face didn’t waver, but his aura grew more intense. Even I, standing behind him, could feel the pressure emanating from him. The woman raised her hand, signaling for her soldiers to retreat. She looked down at Zijing one more time, her tone sharp as she said, “I’ll deal with you myself next time. Until then, live well.”
With that, she turned her horse and left.
I didn’t have time to react, but Zijing turned back to me. His calm eyes bore into mine as he gripped my arm tightly and commanded, “Let’s go.”
I nodded meekly, following him without hesitation.
By the time we reached safety, my heart was still racing. The adrenaline had left me breathless, my legs trembling as I collapsed onto the ground. The distant echo of the woman’s laughter still rang in my ears.
I couldn’t tell if Zijing’s silence was out of anger or concern, but he finally said softly, “Keep quiet. There’s no time for rest.”
I looked at him, exhausted but grateful. Somehow, even in the face of overwhelming odds, Zijing’s presence made me feel like everything might still turn out alright.
I opened my eyes slightly and whispered, “Master…” The words had barely left my mouth when the flying sword fell sharply from the sky, landing with a loud thud. Zijing collapsed onto the ground after a sharp intake of breath, unable to catch himself as the sword’s momentum faltered.
I rushed over to him, grabbing his arm to support him as he sank to his knees. Finally, he leaned fully against me. His entire body seemed to lose its strength, as though all the power he had just displayed had been drained in an instant. Under the harsh sunlight, his pale complexion looked even more striking as blood seeped from the corner of his lips.
I glanced down at his robe, noticing a dark, wet stain spreading near his shoulder. The area around the wound looked swollen and slightly inflamed, but no other obvious injuries were visible. It was clear, however, that he had suffered serious internal damage.
He must have been enduring immense pain, but he still insisted on holding on until now, as though trying to prove that he could make it on his own. I thought bitterly: if he had asked for help earlier, perhaps we wouldn’t have ended up in such a dire situation.
Zijing smiled faintly, though the expression barely reached his eyes. It was clear that it was more habit than genuine amusement. “This,” he said hoarsely, “this is just a small issue.”
We stopped by a stream. I tore off a strip of fabric from my sleeve to clean his wound. After dipping the fabric into the cool water, I carefully wiped away the blood. I hesitated for a moment before removing part of his robe to check the extent of his injuries. After some effort, I applied herbs to the wound as best I could, though I had little experience treating such injuries.
When we returned to the campsite, Zijing lay motionless on the ground. He blinked at me lazily, as though exhausted even by the effort of moving his eyes. The setting sun cast a soft light over the bundle of herbs in my hand.
“You’re not eating the herbs raw, are you?” I asked cautiously.
“Do you think I would do that?” he replied, his voice faint but tinged with annoyance. “Make a paste. And hurry up. This kind of thing happens all the time.”
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