"Black Wind Ridge is ahead. Another eight or nine days and you’ll be home."

  The mountain path ahead was swallowed by a thick, oppressive fog. The trees formed a solid wall of black, so silent that even the chirping of birds was absent.

  "Senior Brother, let’s find a place to rest for the night and cross tomorrow at first light."

  Chen Gensheng took a few steps forward and stopped before a large mountain stone.

  "Halt!"

  Seven or eight ragged men leaped from the forest, brandishing rusted blades and axes. Their faces were etched with cruelty, their eyes savage. The leader, a one-eyed man carrying a heavy ringed broadsword, let his gaze wander lecherously over Li Simin.

  "Ooh, a little girl."

  "And a pretty boy too. Soft skin, tender meat—perfect to take back as a plaything for the Madame."

  Instead of flinching, Li Simin took a step forward, her brow furrowed. "Big brothers, highway robbery is wrong. Go back to your homes; do not commit such sins anymore."

  The one-eyed leader let out a bark of laughter, joined by his cronies. "Little Immortal, are you lecturing us?"

  "In Black Wind Ridge, our word is the law!"

  A lackey lunged forward, blade raised, charging straight for Gensheng. "Butcher the pretty boy first!"

  Gensheng drew a yellow talisman from his sleeve, too tired for words. A dragon of flame erupted from thin air, instantly engulfing the lackey. The inferno didn't stop there, surging forward to swallow the rest of the bandits. Shrill screams flared for a split second before being drowned out by the roar of the explosion.

  In the blink of an eye, the seven or eight bandits, along with their rusted weapons, had become charred, human-shaped lumps of charcoal, emitting foul-smelling green smoke.

  Gensheng let out a sigh. "We rest here."

  He walked to the side and built a campfire. Li Simin snapped out of her daze, her face deathly pale.

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  Deep night fell.

  Exhausted, Li Simin finally succumbed to fatigue, clutching her bundle as she drifted into a deep sleep. She was eventually startled awake by a sudden chill.

  She opened her eyes blearily. The fire was still burning, but the space across from her was empty.

  "Senior Brother Chen?"

  No answer. Only a bone-chilling crunching sound drifted from the shadows not far away.

  She rubbed her eyes and stood up, looking toward the source of the noise. There, her Senior Brother was... eating something. The firelight cast his shadow against the ground, stretching it into the shape of a terrifying, distorted monster.

  Her scalp prickled. Li Simin didn't scream. There was fear, yes, but more than that, there was a sense of absurdity—a profound, surreal calmness.

  Gensheng slowly raised his head. Li Simin offered a bitter smile.

  "Senior Brother," she whispered. "Are you just hungry, or are you practicing some special cultivation method?"

  Gensheng’s throat moved as he swallowed. "Are you not afraid?"

  Li Simin shook her head. She walked to the fire and sat down, only a few paces from him. From her precious cloth bundle, she fumbled for a piece of hard, dry wheat cake. She broke it in half and held it out to him.

  "My father was in the army. He said that on the battlefield, to stay alive, men will eat anything."

  "Roots, bark, even clay."

  "Senior Brother... you are just hungry. Eat this instead."

  Gensheng stared at the half-piece of wheat cake. Why was this Junior Sister—someone who couldn't even grasp her own destiny—able to remain so composed after witnessing such a horrific sight?

  "My father said, if you can share a bite of food with someone, they are your comrade."

  Seeing that he didn't move, Li Simin gently placed the wheat cake on the ground in front of him. Gensheng slowly retracted his extra arms back into his body. Once finished, he walked over and sat beside her.

  "What kind of man was your father?"

  Li Simin watched the dancing flames. The light softened her plain features.

  "My father... he was actually a very useless man. He wasn't a cultivator, just a mortal. He wasn't strong, and he wasn't very bright. He spent ten years in the army as a lowly soldier in the cook’s battalion. He used to say he’d killed more chickens than enemies in his life."

  "But he was a truly good man."

  "During the marches and battles, people always got hurt or sick. He would secretly give his own rations to those who couldn't walk anymore. Because of that, his own stomach was always stuck to his back. His officers cursed him, calling him a soft-hearted fool who would die halfway down the road."

  "One winter, a blizzard hit and the supplies were cut off. The camp started eating the horses. When the horses were gone, some people..."

  "That night, my father clutched his iron pot—the one he’d used for over ten years—and stood at the entrance of the infirmary. He wouldn't let anyone in. He said there was the last bit of horse-bone soup in the pot, and the wounded needed it to have the strength to survive tomorrow. If anyone wanted to steal it, they’d have to step over him first."

  "Later, those starving soldiers broke one of his legs."

  Gensheng watched her shoulders tremble slightly. He said nothing.

  "Senior Brother... do you think he was stupid?"