24 The Twenty-Fourth Pig

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After finishing her words, she turned and walked to Heng Yu’s side. Just moments ago, she had slain so many, sustained only by adrenaline. Now, as she relaxed even slightly, her wrist felt weak, almost unable to hold the blade. She half-crouched before Heng Yu and gently patted his cheek.

Heng Yu remained unresponsive.

Li Zhenzhen pondered for a moment, then suddenly said, “First, I’m not called Wei, I’m Ning Songluo. Second…”

Like a nightmare’s malicious whisper piercing the ears, Heng Yu forcefully pulled himself back from the dizziness caused by his concussion.

“All right…” he weakly covered Li Zhenzhen’s mouth and whispered, “Enough, my lady.”

“Miss Weng.”

A refined male voice suddenly came from behind the curtain, interrupting Heng Yu’s action. Li Zhenzhen turned her head.

She was not surprised that Shen Que already knew the original owner’s name. After all, as the island master, even a current investigation would have uncovered it.

“Miss, your agility is extraordinary, your talent exceptional. Would you be willing to serve at the Miaoji Palace?” Shen Que slightly altered his tone, staring at Heng Yu’s hand until he saw the intrusive fingers slide off Li Zhenzhen’s cheek, then continued, “I would receive you with the courtesy befitting a gentleman, holding a seat open for you.”

Li Zhenzhen did need a job to support herself. But recalling how, when she killed the ghost-faced death guards, she had searched their clothes for anything valuable—and found their pockets emptier than their faces—she realized the island master’s offer likely came with poor compensation.

Better to be a butcher; at least that was piecework pay.

She politely declined, “I currently have no such intention.”

“No matter,” Shen Que was not impatient. After all, they were on his island; there was no escape with wings. He could afford to wait.

Through the falling gauze curtain, he looked at Li Zhenzhen’s face and smiled slightly. “I only hope you remember my words today. Should you change your mind in the future, Miaoji Palace will always welcome you.”

—

Heng Yu staggered as he walked, and Li Zhenzhen had no choice but to half-drag, half-carry him out of the palace.

She walked steadily, showing no sign of exhaustion.

It was only when they were two kilometers from Miaoji Palace that she finally released him.

She collapsed forward, lying prone on the soft sand.

Protected by Li Zhenzhen, Heng Yu had escaped with minor injury aside from a bump on the back of his head.

Seeing her utterly drained, he approached and began massaging her aching arm. “Lady, why did you ask me to wait back then?”

“Because they couldn’t be saved.” Li Zhenzhen closed her eyes to rest. “The first group of forty-nine, when I arrived, the sacrificial killer had already struck.”

“With the current medical level here, wounds made by a bronze sword have nearly zero chance of survival.”

“There was still time before the explosion. If we had rushed in impulsively, Shen Que would have noticed assassins among the dancers, paused the ritual, and launched a full-scale investigation and capture effort. Then we would have failed to save the remaining people.”

Heng Yu asked, “Even you couldn’t save them?”

“I’m human, not a god,” Li Zhenzhen replied. “Just as you can’t earn money beyond your knowledge, you can’t save those beyond your ability. Forcing it only causes more deaths.”

All she could do was fight for as much as possible.

Then move forward, never look back.

After she finished speaking, she suddenly opened her eyes and met his gaze.

Only then did Heng Yu realize her eyes were clear and calm, without a trace of drowsiness.

“Are you blaming me for asking?”

“...I’m only blaming myself for being too weak to help you.”

Heng Yu’s muscle massage was truly professional—perhaps from often helping elders at home. Li Zhenzhen thought he could open a massage parlor with such skill.

Her jacket had been discarded earlier during the fight; now she wore only an undershirt.

The undershirt was shredded by the golden net, and her back was smeared with fresh blood, only her shoulders remaining intact.

Yet she seemed indifferent.

They were butchers in the slaughterhouse—legs crushed, yet still forced to work. This wound was nothing; it wouldn’t stop her from giving a massage.

Heng Yu’s heart ached slightly as his fingers, through the thin fabric, slowly pressed on her wound.

He felt a warmth travel along his fingers straight to his heart.

He watched Li Zhenzhen’s long hair damp with sweat from battle, the faint redness at the corners of her weary eyes.

And the long lashes that fluttered slightly each time he applied pressure...

Heng Yu’s Adam’s apple bobbed involuntarily.

She was not a god.

He thought, yet he revered her as one.

—

Li Zhenzhen rested her chin on the back of her hand, enjoying the massage while pulling up the mission panel in her mind.

The hourglass hovered overhead, easily obscuring vision, so it would hide itself once the mission progress reached 85% to avoid interfering in crucial moments.

The lines had been spoken, the ritual botched, hatred points maxed out. By all rights, the mission should be complete.

Yet for some reason, Li Zhenzhen felt something was missing.

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Out of caution, she checked the mission progress bar again.

The blood-red characters slowly appeared.

92%.

…Why only 92%?!

Li Zhenzhen, near death, suddenly sat upright, flipping to her feet.

Heng Yu was caught off guard and clumsily covered himself with a sleeve.

Young men don’t handle teasing well and can easily lose composure.

His face was pale, ears flushed, unable to calm down for a long time, afraid even to stand: “...What’s wrong, my lady?”

His voice was tense.

But Li Zhenzhen paid no mind to such details.

She paced back and forth, rapidly trying to recall what she had overlooked.

“…Our performance today isn’t over yet.” After a long moment, she finally remembered, pressing her forehead. “You still have to go back.”

Heng Yu asked, “Go back where?”

“Back to Miaoji Palace, to surrender,” Li Zhenzhen said sympathetically, “And try to convince them to let you stay in the dungeon for free for a few days.”

Heng Yu, just barely escaping death, was speechless.

—

At this moment, the Crane Guard and a portion of the Death Guards sent to welcome the new island master’s wife still had no knowledge of the massacre at the ghost master’s ritual.

They failed to find anyone at Phoenix Rising Mountain and, following the island master’s orders, went to Weng Zhenzhen’s parents’ house for the wedding.

Unexpectedly, Weng Zhenzhen was still nowhere to be found.

After inquiry, they returned to Phoenix Rising Mountain.

The Crane Guards were speechless.

Weng Zhenzhen’s parents, stunned by this sudden joy, anxiously sent off the normally revered Crane Guards.

Weng’s father’s voice was tinged with excitement.

He had previously owed a large gambling debt, constantly on the run, contemplating selling his youngest daughter for money.

Now that the eldest daughter was well married, as her father, he was the sky over Weng Zhenzhen’s head. She would support him even if it meant selling her blood or body. How could she not help pay off his debts?

But aside from the father’s relatively pure happiness, the rest of the family’s feelings were complicated.

Weng’s mother resented this climbing the social ladder, wishing it had been her son instead—believing Weng Zhenzhen stole her son’s luck.

The younger sister was unwilling, feeling the eldest should have been tormented by Ge Liu all her life and questioning why she suddenly married so well.

The eldest brother, dragging his broken arm, felt mixed emotions.

He was glad that under the island master’s command, there were many capable people; any chosen cultivator could restore his arm and resume his cultivation path.

Yet he also felt bitter.

He even resented Weng Zhenzhen for not marrying Ge Liu.

He was the prophesied prodigy cultivator, and if she had obediently married Ge Liu, he could have gathered enough money to travel to the second largest sect in the cultivation world, Cide Mansion.

He would have continued to be cherished by his parents and respected by the village, held as a dragon among men.

Now Weng Zhenzhen’s climb to the island master overshadowed him.

His sister had become selfish and unreasonable.

Could she not yield a step for the family?

Why must she always overshadow him without any consideration?

—

At the same time.

The artist among the ghost-faced death guards finally painted the true likeness of the assassin who had slain thirty-nine of their brothers.

Unexpectedly, the assassin was neither burly nor fierce—it was a man who appeared neither male nor female.

The remaining ghost-faced death guards soon pinpointed this ambiguous assassin’s current residence.

This time, they would not fail their mission again, even if it meant risking their lives to capture this assassin and deliver him to Master Qiyan for the ninety-nine-and-eighty-first refining furnace. Only then could their hatred be alleviated.

Thus, two teams from Miaoji Palace departed simultaneously from different places, sweeping toward Phoenix Rising Mountain.

—

Li Zhenzhen, utterly exhausted, could not use spatial contraction and had to walk home to Phoenix Rising Mountain.

She arrived late at night.

The mountains were silent.

Deng Xizhi slowly opened her eyes.

Li Zhenzhen pushed open the door, stained with blood.

Looking up, she saw the male lead sitting in the dim, cluttered snowy cabin, as flawless as a white peony, as untarnished as jade.

His black hair was loose, cold and noble.

Even exhausted, Li Zhenzhen felt a sudden brightness, as if the humble hut was suddenly illuminated.

The male lead, despite his madness, was truly beautiful.

She finally began to understand why men and women in District One liked to keep pretty canaries at home.

Though unfair to the canaries, it was a feast for her eyes.

“How did you get covered in blood? Did you go and destroy Wuhuan Island?”

Seeing her drenched as if pulled from a pool of blood, the beautiful man slowly rose, his floor-length robe brushing the snow drifting through the window gap.

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Deng Xizhi approached, about to lift Li Zhenzhen’s chin to inspect her wounds, but caught the unfamiliar scent of a strange man on her.

—Not just from casual contact or fighting.

It was a scent left only after a long embrace.

Deng Xizhi looked at her indifferently for a while, then suddenly released her, voice cold: “Useless thing. A small island nation, easily wiped out. Why suffer so many injuries?”

Li Zhenzhen: “…” The feeling of illumination vanished.

Now she was left only with the helplessness of being unable to communicate with this former big shot.

Moreover, she didn’t know why, but after this return, the male lead seemed far less aloof toward her.

Previously, no matter how plain his meals, he carried an air of unattainable nobility.

But today, he even touched her face with his own hand.

Was this any different from the director of the Time Management Bureau personally coming to shake her hand?

Just then, a sound of footsteps, like a sudden downpour, dense and urgent, approached in unison.

Li Zhenzhen capped the bamboo tube, put it back in her arms, and listened carefully.

Then realized the sound she heard was the ringing in her ears caused by excessive blood loss.

“...” Li Zhenzhen patted her ears. “Can you tell how many groups there are?”

“Two groups,” Deng Xizhi sat back by the fire, taking down the faintly boiling copper kettle. “One ascending on the left mountain, one hundred thirty-five; the other on the right, two hundred eighteen.”

“Of these, nine lack sufficient inner strength, short of breath; twelve are severely wounded, their steps unsteady.”

Li Zhenzhen: “…”

A former big shot indeed.

Is this what a born immortal body is?

Even without cultivation ability, her senses far surpass ordinary people, even cultivators.

The footsteps grew louder, as if deliberately intimidating, each step like a drumbeat on the earth, deafening.

So late, who could still be coming?

Li Zhenzhen drew her butcher’s blade and moved to the door.

Suddenly recalling something, she turned and asked, “Are they your enemies or mine? Should you avoid them?”

“No need.”

Because the tea cup had already been crushed by him, Deng Xizhi’s slender fingers rested on the chipped tea bowl.

Under the clear snowlight, in the earthen steps and thatched hut, his fingertips glowed faintly.

“My opponent is already dead,” he said.

Implying that he had no rivals left in the world.

Li Zhenzhen nodded, comforted to find herself numb.

Countless lights flickered like night fireflies, flowing toward the only wooden house in the mountains.

The horses’ steps ceased. Li Zhenzhen opened the door and was immediately confronted by a gleaming cold sword pointed at the entrance.

Before her stood a hundred men, all clad in black, wearing ghost masks—none other than death guards.

The leader sat atop a tall horse, holding a black long sword, looking at Li Zhenzhen as if she were a corpse.

“Weng Zhenzhen, you killed thirty-nine of my guards. Blood debts must be repaid with blood. Today, I will capture you and deliver you to Master Qiyan’s furnace. If you surrender peacefully, you will suffer less.”

Li Zhenzhen was about to speak when the sound of another team’s approaching horses rang out thunderously.

Even in the pitch-dark mountains, the other guards could be seen from afar, all dressed in blazing red wedding attire.

Before they neared, the leader in red shouted loudly:

“I am a Crane Guard, sent to escort the bride. The Ghost Master personally decreed: Weng Zhenzhen of Phoenix Rising Town, East Island, is virtuous, gentle, respectful, honorable, graceful, fit to be the island master’s wife. We are here to escort Miss Weng to take residence at Miaoji Palace—?”

Before his words finished, he saw the black-clad men before Li Zhenzhen.

The red team and the black team met at Li Zhenzhen’s courtyard, face to face.

Both sides exchanged bewildered glances.

Each found the situation incomprehensible.

The red team baffled: “We come by the island master’s order to welcome the island master’s wife… What are you here for?”

The black team more baffled: “We also come by the island master’s order to capture a furnace… What are you doing here?”

Li Zhenzhen: “…”

Deng Xizhi: “…”

Red team: “…”

Black team: “…”

Silence. Dead silence.

The mountain wind blew.

Awkwardness spread and threatened to explode in the stillness.

Some may be alive, but they were already dead.

For a moment, only the sound of falling dry leaves disturbed the quiet before the courtyard.