Longevity Martial Arts: Obtain Golden Affixes at the Start

Hong Lang turned around, his eyes fixed on the cave ceiling, not looking to the side.

Mo Qiushui handed him her outer garment, while she herself wore only her thin undergarment, and laid the severed leg flat on the ground as much as possible.

Hong Lang took the coat and draped it over her shoulders, then helped her put it into the sleeves.

His fingers inevitably touched her skin, and with each touch, he could feel her tremble slightly.

Hong Lang moved quickly and properly, helping her put on her coat in a few moments, deliberately avoiding looking at her body contours the whole time.

"Alright." Hong Lang took two steps back. "How are you feeling? Besides your leg, are there any other injuries?"

Mo Qiushui moved her wrists and shoulders, then shook her head: "It's just a superficial injury, nothing serious."

"That's good." Hong Lang breathed a sigh of relief, then suddenly grinned. "I thought you weren't going to wake up."

Mo Qiushui opened her mouth as if she wanted to say something, but in the end she only uttered two words: "Thank you."

"What are you thanking me for?" Hong Lang waved his hand. "You fell because of me. Those two were coming for me anyway. If you hadn't protected me, you wouldn't have..."

The cave fell silent, save for the whistling sound of the wind seeping in through the cracks in the rocks.

The canyon was much deeper than Hong Lang had anticipated.

The mountain walls on both sides are as if they were cut by a knife and axe, and the gray-white rock surfaces are covered with snow.

The snow covered everything in the valley, making it impossible to distinguish between the road and the ravine.

Hong Lang walked with uneven steps, testing the ground with his toes before each step, afraid of stepping into a crevice buried in snow.

Mo Qiushui lay on his back, her arms wrapped around his neck, without uttering a sound.

Her injured leg couldn't bend, and her center of gravity was off-center. Every time Hong Lang took a step, she would slide a little to the left, and he would have to bounce her up from time to time to straighten her out.

His left shoulder injury hadn't healed yet, and the jolting he was in so much pain that he broke out in a cold sweat.

"Put me down," Mo Qiushui suddenly said.

"Why put it down?"

"Go on your own, find a place with people, go back and report, and then bring people to pick me up." Her voice was very calm.

Hong Lang didn't even turn his head: "And then what? You're going to wait here? For how long? A day? Two days? Can your leg injury take that long?"

"It's better than both of us dying together."

"Who said I'm going to die?" Hong Lang laughed. "I, Hong Lang, am very tough. I won't die. And stop thinking about dying all the time. It's bad luck."

Mo Qiushui did not speak again.

Hong Lang walked for a while, then suddenly stopped, turned his head to look at both sides, and then looked up at the sky.

"What's wrong?" Mo Qiushui asked.

"I'm looking for a way." Hong Lang frowned. "This canyon has no end in either direction, and I don't know which way is the right way... Let's take a gamble and go left."

"Why is it left?"

"Because I'm left-handed," Hong Lang said seriously.

Mo Qiushui was silent for a moment: "...Are you serious?"

"Of course not," Hong Lang laughed, "because the right side of the mountain looks steeper, while the left side is a little gentler, and there might be a gentle slope ahead that we can climb up."

Mo Qiushui rolled her eyes at him speechlessly.

Hong Lang carried her for about half an hour, his steps growing heavier and his breathing becoming more labored.

His lips were dry, and his throat felt like it was on fire.

He hasn't eaten or drunk anything since yesterday.

Mo Qiushui was in no better shape; she could feel her strength draining away little by little.

Hong Lang suddenly stopped.

Mo Qiushui nearly bumped into the back of his head: "What is it now?"

"Shh!" Hong Lang listened intently, then slowly squatted down and gently placed Mo Qiushui against a rock. "Wait here and don't make a sound."

"What are you going to do?"

Hong Lang didn't answer, and had already crouched down and started to feel his way forward.

A dozen or so feet ahead, a clump of withered grass peeked out from the snow. Beside the withered grass, a grayish-brown thing was squatting on the ground, its three-lobed mouth moving as it chewed something.

It was a wild rabbit.

Hong Lang's eyes lit up.

He hadn't seen anything so alive and looking so delicious in a long time.

The hare was very alert, its ears constantly twitching as it caught sounds from its surroundings.

Hong Lang held his breath and moved forward step by step, his movements as slow as a snail's pace, trying to minimize the crunching sound of his feet on the snow.

Three zhang (approximately 10 meters).

Two zhang (approximately 6.6 meters).

One zhang (approximately 3.3 meters).

The hare suddenly stopped chewing and its ears snapped toward the raging torrent.

Hong Lang knew he had been exposed.

He lunged forward.

The hare was faster; it pushed off with its hind legs and shot off with a "whoosh."

Hong Lang's fingertips barely grazed its tail before he missed, falling flat on his face in the snow, sending snowflakes flying everywhere.

Damn it!

He got up, cursed, and took off after them.

The hare darted left and right across the snow, as agile as a gray lightning bolt.

Honglang chased after it, tumbling and crawling, and several times he was about to catch it when the rabbit suddenly turned and ran away again.

Mo Qiushui sat on a rock, watching Hong Lang chase a rabbit in the snow like a clumsy bear, and the corners of her mouth unconsciously curved into a smile.

She had never seen such a flood.

When he first arrived in Hengjiang County, he was a lowly county lieutenant, bowing and scraping, always smiling and greeting people, exuding the slickness of a commoner.

In that cave, he helped her take off her clothes to keep warm, speaking frankly and without a trace of lewdness.

He was chasing a rabbit in the snow, looking as pathetic as a dog, falling down and getting up, only to fall down again, all the while cursing under his breath.

Which one of these people is the real one?

"Ah! Got him!" Hong Lang's shout interrupted her thoughts.

Hong Lang lay on the snow, clutching the struggling wild rabbit in both hands.

He sat up, held the rabbit up to his eyes, looked at it, and nodded in satisfaction.

"It's fat enough."

He walked back carrying the rabbit and waved it in front of Mo Qiushui: "Look, we'll have meat for dinner tonight."

Mo Qiushui looked at the rabbit, its three-lobed mouth still moving incessantly, as if it were cursing.

Hong Lang looked around, picked up a few stones, and built a simple stove under the sheltered mountain wall.

Then he broke off some dry branches, took out a tinderbox from his pocket, and lit the dry grass.

The moment the flames shot up, Hong Lang let out a long breath.

"There's fire!" He grinned. "Where there's fire, there's life."

He carried the rabbit to the side, skinned it, gutted it, and removed its internal organs in one swift motion.

Mo Qiushui watched his retreating figure, a hint of inquiry in her eyes.

Honglang washed the rabbit clean with snow water, found a twig, threaded it through the middle of the rabbit's body, and roasted it over the fire.

The flames sizzled as they roasted the rabbit meat, and the aroma quickly filled the air, mingling with the burnt smell, and drifting through the canyon.

Mo Qiushui's stomach let out a disapproving growl.

She turned her head away, pretending to look at the scenery in the distance.