The Long Night, Part 2

Even Su Qing wouldn’t get another chance to live.

The pain in her limbs, the panic of blood loss, her companions’ cries—they stirred deep regret and anguish in her heart.

She hated her indecision.

Hated her naive optimism.

Hated her weakness, her powerlessness—knowing something was wrong but being helpless to act.

This trembling fury forced her to keep her eyes open, despite the blur.

She had to see it with her own eyes.

Her heart pounded in her ears, a chill racing up her spine.

Instinct warned: something was approaching.

The night split into swirling vortices.

Moonlight spilled a sliver of glow from the clouds.

The silver Wolf King’s massive, mountain-like form emerged, the air tensing.

In the next second, it lunged forward, and Su Qing met its eyes from afar.

Murderous, beastly pupils.

It had caught the scent of the Ice Soul Divine Grass.

“Don’t come closer…”

She struggled desperately, wanting to scream but unable to.

At that moment, dozens of white sword qi slashed inward, weaving an invisible net.

The Wolf King was at its center.

The sword qi pursued relentlessly, blasting air that shattered nearby trees and leaves.

Hundreds of Nether Wolves surged through the night, guarding their king.

Caught in the crossfire, sword qi grazed Su Qing’s cheek and arm.

Silver blood burst like mercury, with whimpering wolves falling.

Protected by its pack, the wounded Wolf King moved faster, undeterred.

In a breath, it was steps closer.

Su Qing saw its bone-white fangs, its killing eyes.

Its claws tore through the air, lunging at them—

In extreme fear, her body truly couldn’t move…

Zhu Xing’er’s cries rang out: “No! Stay back!”

She clutched her spiritual hairpin, holding it up.

Without spiritual energy, how could it activate?

Su Qing, beyond thought, grabbed Zhu Xing’er’s trembling hand, raising the hairpin together—

In that moment, she felt nothing.

She only wanted to survive.

Survive!

A white light burst from the hairpin, forming a barrier that blocked the Wolf King’s claws.

But it shattered into specks almost instantly.

A second barrier formed; Su Qing’s arm felt leaden, barely lifting.

Xiu Fu gripped her hand, the three pushing forward—

The barrier broke, a third appearing, but it crumbled in half a second.

The hairpin’s three defenses were spent.

They’d only delayed death for a moment.

Despair washed over Su Qing.

Then, an unprecedented sword qi surged, unstoppable, piercing the wolves’ guard and the Wolf King’s chest.

Silver blood sprayed as it howled in pain.

A faint black shadow detached from its body—a young wolf, fur still soft, sniffing anxiously at its side.

Qi Liwei’s face lit up. “The young Wolf King finally showed.”

More precious than the Ice Soul Divine Grass, it could be raised into an ancient divine beast, “Nether.”

The Wolf King roared sternly, urging it to flee.

The young wolf, worried for its mother, circled, refusing to leave.

But dozens of swords flew, forming a cage, trapping it.

Seeing its young captured, the Wolf King whimpered, amber eyes fixed on the Qi Clan, especially the white-robed Daozi emerging from the ambush.

It bared its teeth threateningly, bloodied claws bracing the ground, body arched.

Daozi stepped forward calmly, his serene features godlike.

He formed a sword sign, and the blade nearest the young wolf hummed, responding.

A threat.

The Wolf King resisted, but the sword pressed closer, drawing a sharp bloodline on the young wolf’s neck.

Unafraid, the young wolf bristled, lunging forward.

The Wolf King called to it softly.

Close by, Su Qing saw the young wolf’s trembling hatred.

But the battle ended.

The Wolf King, near death, the young wolf captured—the Qi Clan triumphed.

Su Qing survived.

But something had changed.

The broken hairpin on the ground bore witness.

The Wolf King, too wounded to rise, a mythical beast god collapsed.

It lay near Su Qing, close enough she was almost buried in its silver fur, feeling its pained struggles and breaths.

Its head stubbornly turned one way, watching the Qi Clan take its young.

The pack whimpered nearby.

Killing the Wolf King might provoke a desperate counterattack, so the Qi Clan left it.

Despite reluctance, they didn’t discard Su Qing’s group—they had to keep moving with them.

They washed at the river, scrubbing blood, dirt, and tears.

Su Qing stared at the dark water, breathing deeply, steadying herself.

She clutched Xiu Fu and Zhu Xing’er’s hands, confirming their presence.

They’d escaped death—they were safe now.

Realizing this, Zhu Xing’er suddenly wept.

Not loud, attention-seeking cries, but quiet, aggrieved, resentful tears.

If not for tears splashing Su Qing’s hand, she wouldn’t have noticed.

Xiu Fu tried to comfort her but couldn’t hold back her own tears, choking on unspoken words.

They wept silently, Zhu Xing’er’s panicked eyes meeting Su Qing’s.

Tears streamed as guilt, regret, and apology gnawed at her.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…

A silent apology.

It’s okay.

Su Qing held her hand, her eyes dry, tearless.

We’ll survive.

Qi Lifeng appeared by the river, excitement lingering on his face, though he masked it with aloofness.

Su Qing didn’t think it was guilt or concern.

To them, her group wasn’t human.

Qi Lifeng, steadier and more detail-oriented than Qi Libei, was harder to handle, though just as arrogant.

“What do you want?”

Unlike Qi Libei, he didn’t snap back, saying with interest, “Strange—a mortal without qi initiation activated a spiritual artifact?”

He reached out. “Return the Ice Soul Divine Grass.”

Su Qing’s heart tightened, but her mouth stayed sharp. “Almost forgot. Good thing you remembered.”

She pulled the crumpled grass from her chest, handing it over.

Qi Lifeng frowned. “It’s ruined.”

Su Qing retorted, “My life was on the line—who cares about a plant?”

He sneered, “That’s your cowardice. That beast was no match.”

His gaze fell on the grass, noticing something. “A leaf’s missing.”

“As I thought,” he said firmly. “The commotion was the grass’s spiritual energy activating the artifact. A new angle.”

Su Qing stayed silent.

If he believed that, all the better.

Qi Libei, sword in hand, called from afar, “Let’s go check the young wolf. Qi Liwei says it’s resisting—the beast contract isn’t working.”

That night, Su Qing barely slept.

The young wolf’s ceaseless wails defied threats.

And Zhu Xing’er burned with fever all night.

Lips sealed, she only shed tears, her rosy face graying fast.

Su Qing and Xiu Fu took turns cooling her with water, wiping her face, hands, and armpits, forcing her to drink medicinal juice and salted sugar water.

It didn’t help; her fever persisted.

The next day, they pressed on despite her illness.

Su Qing hoped she’d hold out a few more days.

Two days more, and they’d reach Tianxia Sword Mountain’s main peak.

Morning came, and Su Qing and Xiu Fu cooked—one on dishes, one on rice.

Her wrist and ankle wounds had stopped bleeding.

Aside from pallor, she seemed normal.

Su Qing also handled the young wolf’s food.

Perhaps out of fear or awe of the clan’s might, the Qi Clan noticed the meals grew more refined.

From boiling, they moved to grilling and frying, with richer seasonings.

That evening, the Qi Clan brought fresh fish.

Su Qing built a fire, scaling and gutting them, stuffing them with wild onions and fruits, skewering them to roast.

The Qi Clan had tried roasting fish, scales on, resulting in charred, fishy messes.

Su Qing’s were crispy outside, juicy inside.

She marinated pheasant, wrapped it in lotus leaves and mud, and baked it in the fire—beggar’s chicken.

She’d never made it but had seen food bloggers do it.

It wasn’t hard.

In this setting, food was food—no room for pickiness.

She hadn’t high hopes, but it worked.

The chicken was tender, juicy, bursting with flavor.

The tangy-salty seasoning paired with its natural sweetness was appetizing.

As usual, they ate first.

Su Qing, silent, devoured half a chicken mechanically, no appetite, just fueling up.

Eat more, gain strength.

She fed Zhu Xing’er food and medicine.

Washing dishes, she checked the Qi Clan’s bowls—today’s meal hit the mark again.

Nearly everyone took seconds, including Daozi.

Only the young wolf ate nothing.

Starving for a day and night, it curled in the sword array, unmoving, ignoring the fragrant chicken, eyes fixed afar, longing for its mother.

After a day’s travel, Su Qing glimpsed the main peak.

Two more days at most.

Zhu Xing’er’s fever lingered; Xiu Fu showed signs of one.

She pushed through, silent.

Su Qing wasn’t much better—her wounds, sweat-soaked, showed signs of infection.

Their pace slowed, despite pushing hard.

Su Qing sensed the Qi Clan’s impatience.

She wished they’d abandon them.

But—

“No idea where Miss Tianning’s team is or if they got their tokens. We shouldn’t have split up…”

“No worries. At the main peak, we’ll take these mortals’ tokens.”

That evening, feeling ill, Su Qing struggled to cook a pot of soup, then collapsed, exhausted.

She shakily drank a bowl, tossed it aside, and passed out.

“I feel awful. Handle it yourselves today.”

The Qi Clan, though annoyed, had picked up some cooking skills.

They boiled fish, roasted chicken, piling in wild fruits for flavor.

Qi Libei said, “More seasoning—it’s too gamey otherwise.”

Their cooking was poor—dry chicken, but edible with enough flavor.

They ate it clean, tired and hungry.

Today’s soup, with a herbal fragrance, was refreshing.

After eating, they camped, taking turns on watch.

But tonight, they were unusually drowsy—perhaps from last night’s battle.

With the Wolf King defeated and the grass and young wolf secured, there seemed little to fear.

The selection would end at the main peak.

Midnight, Su Qing stirred, sensing something.

The camp was silent, no human sounds.

The fire burned low, nearly out, yet no one added wood.

Her heart steadied.

The moonlit grass in the soup worked fast—her days of dosing them with fire-cherry fruit paid off.

Every meal—soup seasoning, meat dip, cooling juice—contained fire-cherry fruit since she resolved to escape.

The final moonlit grass soup sealed it.

The bowl she drank in front of them? Free of the herb.

Yes, they saw mortals as ants.

But to her, they were no different from monkeys.

She found Qi Lifeng, slumped against a tree, sword propped, immobile but conscious, unable to speak.

Meeting his wary, confused gaze, she exhaled.

“Looks like you ate plenty.”

Qi Lifeng couldn’t grasp what happened, his eyes darkening.

Something was wrong with his body—tied to this mortal.

Su Qing didn’t bother talking.

Under his disbelieving stare, she kicked his sword aside, tore open his clothes, and took the Ice Soul Divine Grass.

Wait—the sword was useful.

She picked it up, smacking him with the hilt for good measure.

Seeing Qi Libei’s furious, contorted face, she felt oddly calm.

Her heart pounded, squeezing energy from her weakened body.

She was alive.

Without lingering, she approached the young wolf, hacking its shackles with the sword.

The blade was fine—especially in her hands, giving her a thrill of invincibility.

The young wolf glared, growling, back arched, fur bristling.

Su Qing pulled out a tuft of the Wolf King’s fur.

“I made a deal with your mother. I’ll call her now.”

It didn’t trust her, baring teeth.

She tossed the fur forward, stepping back. “We don’t have time. Hurry.”

As she retreated, the young wolf sniffed the fur, catching its mother’s scent.

After a moment’s thought, it howled skyward.

Its young cries echoed through the valley.

At first, only its voice rang, but soon, howls answered from all directions, stirring the quiet valley.

A majestic, lingering howl silenced them.

The Wolf King responded.

Xiu Fu approached softly. “The Qi Clan’s down. Daozi’s quiet too—likely affected. When do we go?”

Su Qing’s gaze blanked for two seconds, snapping back. “Now, but one more thing.”

She’d briefly considered cutting them down…

Her own recklessness startled her—she couldn’t bear the consequences.

Quickly, she said, “We destroy their tokens.”

“Break their jade tokens. Even if they recover, they’ll hunt for new ones, not us.”