Hot flashes

Before the ink was even dry on the news of victory at Fukou Pass, undercurrents were already surging in from the northwest frontier.

A secret military supply depot suddenly disappeared without a trace, raising many suspicions. Xiao Jue made a decisive decision to personally investigate with a small entourage.

The entourage consisted of only five people: Chen Zhen, the captain of the personal guard; Han Lie and Shi Yong, scouts skilled in tracking; Mr. Du, the staff member; and Zhou Heng, the clerk who was assigned to record the scenery and unusual occurrences along the way.

When he received the order, Zhou Heng was facing a table full of documents and had a headache. Upon hearing the order, his heart skipped a beat.

The job sounded ominous. He silently stuffed two more hard flatbreads that could be used as weapons, a small packet of salt, and a clean old cloth into his bag—who knows what he might need them for.

The group disguised themselves as fur traders and silently disappeared into the desolate mountains and wilderness of Northwest China.

Zhou Heng's face was fuller than when he first arrived, and he looked exceptionally fair and fresh among the soldiers who were exposed to the wind and sun all year round.

During a rest stop to water their horses, Han Lie gulped down a mouthful of water, wiped his mouth, and glanced at him: "Brother Zhou, your skin can't withstand this ordeal. You'll probably be skinned alive when you get back."

Zhou Heng gave a dry laugh, but didn't respond. He just looked down and checked if the saddle was secure.

The further northwest we went, the more desolate the scenery became, and the more unsettling the atmosphere became. The usual secret markers were sometimes missing, sometimes not, the rendezvous points were deserted, and even birds were scarce.

On the third day, several fresh tire tracks were found on a gravel beach, crookedly pointing to a long-abandoned mine tunnel.

"Go in and take a look." Xiao Jue's voice was calm, but it carried an undeniable coldness.

The mine entrance was deep and dimly lit. Just as the first half of the group entered the shadows, something unexpected happened!

Shi Yong, who had been silently following in the middle of the group, suddenly sprang up without warning, a short crossbow with a whistling spring in its hand, and a dark bolt shot straight at Xiao Jue's back! At the same time, he let out a sharp, piercing whistle!

"Shi Yong!" Chen Zhen roared, drawing his sword to stop him, but the distance was already too close!

As if he had eyes in the back of his head, Xiao Jue lunged forward in a flash, the crossbow bolt grazing his shoulder blade, leaving a trail of blood and shards of armor.

Almost at the same moment, a large number of dark figures surged into the high places on both sides and behind the mine tunnel, and the bowstrings rang out like a sudden storm!

"There's an ambush! Get out of here!" Chen Zhen's eyes were bloodshot, his blade flashing like snow, as he desperately protected Xiao Jue.

The narrow mine tunnels instantly turned into a killing field.

Zhou Heng screamed "Mommy!" and scrambled behind a protruding rock. All he could hear outside were roars, screams, and the sounds of clashing weapons, with a strong stench of blood filling his nostrils.

He secretly glimpsed Han Lie pouncing on Shi Yong like a mad leopard, the two wrestling and drawing blood with every blow; he also saw a guard riddled with arrows, turning him into a pincushion.

"Retreat deeper into the mine! Find a fork in the road!" Xiao Jue's voice carried suppressed pain, but it was still clear. The wound on his shoulder was quickly soaked with dark color.

Chen Zhen helped Han Lie, who was bloodthirsty and whose waist was covered in blood, and Mr. Du followed closely behind. Zhou Heng stumbled and crawled out of the hiding place, his legs so weak that he could barely stand. He stumbled and followed along.

The pursuers were hot on their heels. They were forced to flee for their lives through a labyrinthine network of abandoned mine tunnels, where darkness and side paths became temporary barriers.

After spinning around for an unknown amount of time, the shouts of battle behind them seemed to be temporarily blocked by the complex terrain, but the group was still scattered and broken up.

Zhou Heng was panting like a broken bellows. He slid down against the cold, slippery cave wall, his heart pounding so hard it felt like it was going to stop working.

Upon closer inspection, his heart sank even further—Xiao Jue was leaning against the opposite cave wall, his face pale in the dim light of the firelight, and the wound on his shoulder was shocking to behold.

Han Lie lay unconscious to the side, his breath faint; Chen Zhen had been stabbed in the arm and was tearing at strips of cloth with his teeth in an attempt to bandage it.

"My lord, the arrow poison is unusual and must be dealt with as soon as possible." Chen Zhen's voice was hoarse, and the light from the tinderbox reflected the cold sweat on his forehead.

His gaze swept over the unconscious Han Lie, then he looked warily back towards the way they had come, where he could vaguely hear footsteps and see flickering flames.

The pursuers are searching for them, and this temporary hiding place on the side road is not safe.

Chen Zhen's eyes sharpened, and he abruptly knelt on one knee: "My lord, Han Lie won't last much longer. We must find a place to treat him immediately! The pursuers will soon find us here. I will take Han Lie to the fork in the road to the east to make a commotion and draw them away! Please, my lord, and Clerk Zhou, hide here or find another way out!"

This was the only possible way to survive in this desperate situation. Xiao Jue looked at Chen Zhen, then at Han Lie, paused for a moment, and nodded very slightly: "Be careful."

"Your subordinate obeys!" Without further hesitation, Chen Zhen carried Han Lie on his back, and whispered to Zhou Heng, "Be smart!" He then turned and disappeared into a narrower, darker side passage on the east side. Soon, the sound of deliberately kicking gravel and faint shouts could be heard from afar.

The darkness deep within the mine tunnels was as thick as ink, with only a sliver of light filtering through from a distant fork in the road, casting a bleak gray shadow on the damp rock walls.

The air was filled with the pungent smells of saltpeter, rust, and some kind of musty, stale odor, and inhaling it brought a chill like ice crystals.

Xiao Jue leaned against the rock wall, his black outer robe blending into the darkness, except for the wound on his shoulder, which appeared ominous in the dim light.

His eyes were closed, and his breathing was so low it was almost inaudible, but cold sweat trickled down his forehead and down his stern profile, silently seeping into his collar.

Zhou Heng squatted a few steps away, his hands and feet icy cold.

He stared intently at the wound on Xiao Jue's shoulder.

He cannot die. Xiao Jue cannot die here.

The thought was like a cold needle, piercing his mind, which had been frozen by fear.

He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing dryly, and groped to untie the water pouch and a relatively clean lining cloth from his waist. The movements were light, but still clumsy and abrupt in the deathly silence.

He moved closer, his voice almost a whisper: "My lord, the wound..."

Xiao Jue opened his eyes. His gaze was still sharp and clear in the dim light, but a layer of suppressed pain shrouded his eyes. He didn't speak, but simply turned his body slightly to the side.

With tacit approval, Zhou Heng moved even closer.

The stench of blood mixed with a strange, sweet-smelling, putrid odor assaulted his nostrils, causing his stomach to clench. He unscrewed the water pouch and carefully poured out clean water to rinse himself.

As the water touched the rolled-up flesh, Xiao Jue's body tensed almost imperceptibly for a moment, then he forced himself to relax, only his hands resting on his knees, his knuckles clenched white.

Zhou Heng could only use a damp cloth to wipe away the surrounding bloodstains as much as possible. The cloth was rough, so he dared not move too hard, but his fingertips trembled uncontrollably.

Bandaging was even more difficult; it was impossible to tie a knot with one hand, and when I tried to bite one end of the strip of cloth with my teeth, I was so clumsy that I almost tore the cloth off.

"That's enough," Xiao Jue interrupted his futile efforts in a low, hoarse voice.

Zhou Heng awkwardly stopped and stepped back half a foot, only then realizing that his back was soaked with cold sweat. He wiped the sweat from his forehead haphazardly and glanced around uneasily.

This recessed rock face could provide some shelter, but it was certainly not a place to linger.

Just then, from behind a pile of collapsed ore less than three feet away from Xiao Jue, came an extremely faint, teeth-grinding scraping sound.