Chapter 250

After a quick breakfast, the two added some firewood under the stove, then climbed back onto the heated kang, lying down head to head until they drifted off.

It wasn’t clear how long had passed when Lang Ze, half-asleep, felt his arms suddenly empty. He opened his eyes to see Qi Bai sitting at the edge of the bed.

Lang Ze sat up too, resting his chin on Qi Bai’s shoulder.
“Can’t sleep?”

Hearing the voice, Qi Bai turned his head slightly.
“Just sleeping a little uneasily. Did I wake you?”

“I was about to wake anyway.” Lang Ze shook his head, glancing down. “Why are you still looking at that?”

In Qi Bai’s hands were the two small bone knives made from xuanniao bones.

Qi Bai lifted them up, shaking them slightly side by side.
“At a glance, they look nearly identical. But when you put them together, you can see they’re not the same.”

The bone knife Lang Ze had found in Ji’s tent was more delicate, polished to a glossy sheen—it had clearly been carefully treasured.

As the two were discussing, a knock sounded at the door.

Qi Bai, already sitting at the bedside, quickly slipped on shoes and went into the outer room.

Outside stood Qiu Bai, breathing lightly as if he’d jogged over.
“Qi Bai, everything’s almost ready.”

Qi Bai nodded. “Alright, we’ll come right away.”

The sudden shaft of light spilling into the cave made Ji turn his head away, shrinking further back into the shadows.

Since being locked in here, he’d only been able to glimpse a thin crack of light through the bamboo door. To this day, he still didn’t even know exactly where he was being kept.

Now, Ji looked nothing like the pampered envoy from Sanghuo Tribe. Nor did he carry the arrogance he had when first brought to Heishan. He was little more than a shriveled old husk.

Of course, they hadn’t let Ji and Sang Xu die easily. He bore some wounds, but none fatal—and some even bore traces of applied medicine.

When his eyes fell on Lang Ze leading the way, Ji flinched almost imperceptibly. Lang Ze had never interrogated him directly, but Ji knew well enough: this cold-faced beastman was the most terrifying one among them.

Yet his gaze quickly shifted past Lang Ze.

Behind him, Qiu Bai set down a small vine basket.

Ji’s cracked lips quivered; his throat bobbed with a swallow. Meat. There was meat in that basket.

For more than a month, he had survived only on withered plants. Now, just smelling roasted flesh, the acid in his stomach churned violently.

Qi Bai came in last. He noticed Ji struggling to mask his hunger and gave him a faint look before squatting beside the basket. His tone carried a trace of regret.
“Envoy, you’ve been here ten-odd days now. In this time, we’ve given you food and water. We only ask you to share a little about the Sangmeng Tribe. Yet you’ve told us nothing—isn’t that a bit ungracious?”

Ji nearly choked on rage. One meal a day of dry weeds and half a bowl of cold water—this white-haired beastman dares to call that ‘well-fed and cared for’?

Qi Bai’s tone was calm.
“To be frank, if neither you nor Sang Xu speaks, we can’t really force you.”

He tapped the basket, sighing slightly.
“Still, winter is harsh. We don’t have endless food to waste keeping two silent mouths alive.”

Ji froze. Just when he thought they were going to kill him outright, Qi Bai continued:
“There’s enough meat here for five days—for you and Sang Xu. It’s the last food we’ll give you.”

“If after those five days you still say nothing, then you’ll simply have to figure things out yourselves. Of course, we won’t be letting you leave.”

Ji’s teeth ground. So they mean to starve us to death—but he has to dress it up in words first.

“But—” Qi Bai’s voice turned smooth again.
“If one of you is willing to tell us what happened in the Sanghuo Tribe, that one will become the most honored guest of Heishan.”

“To be honest, Sanghuo and Sangmeng are already gone. We’re only curious about what happened—we don’t have any dire need to know.”

“You, though—you can ally with anyone. Why throw away your life for nothing? Say it, and you’ll suffer far less.”

For a moment Ji’s expression wavered, but he clenched his jaw, snorting coldly.

Qi Bai showed no anger at his resistance. Instead, he pulled out one strip of dried meat from the basket, setting it in Ji’s hand.
“Think on it, envoy. I’ll take the rest to Sang Xu. I’ll come again tomorrow.”

Then he left with Lang Ze.

The vine basket was crude and poorly made—rare to see in Heishan. Through its gaps, Ji could clearly see how little meat it actually held.

By the measure of one strip per person per day, it was indeed only five days’ worth.

After Qi Bai and Lang Ze left, the only one remaining in the cave was Qiu Bai, the slave marked on the face.

Ji watched him glance nervously toward the door before shuffling over and fumbling with the ropes binding Ji’s hands.

Because Ji was a Jiao-shou-ren, his limbs were tied nearly all the time, except during meals, to prevent him from transforming. Normally, the guard would untie him, wait for him to finish, then bind him again.

But this slave was especially clumsy. Just untying took ages. Ji deliberately dragged out his chewing, and by the time the slave started re-tying the ropes, an impatient shout came from outside.
“What’s taking so long? Get out here and work!”

The slave flinched, sweating, fumbling more frantically.
“I—I haven’t—”

“Don’t slack off in there! Get out, now!” the guard outside barked.

Panic-stricken, the slave tied a few messy knots and scurried away.

Only when the scolding footsteps faded did Ji cautiously flex his fingers.

The dried beef Qi Bai had left was salted and spiced—irresistible even to ordinary beastmen, let alone Ji, starved so long.

That single palm-sized strip did nothing to fill him. It only sharpened the hunger tearing at his belly. His eyes burned as he stared at the basket.

That white-haired sub-beastman had been too confident, leaving the rest here.

Ji listened to the silence outside, then set to work with trembling fingers. If we’re going to die anyway, why leave food for Sang Xu? Better I eat it all.

But even with the sloppy knots, freeing his hands and feet took him over two hours.

Using a stool for support, he finally managed to stand.

He wasn’t worried about being caught. If they noticed, he’d blame the slave. What did it matter?

But just then—footsteps outside. They stopped right near the cave. Ji stiffened, dragging his legs toward the door.

He pressed an eye to the crack—then froze, blood rushing to his eyes.

Sang Xu.

Following right behind the smiling Qi Bai, walking down the stone steps.

He knew that sloped left shoulder anywhere—injured long ago. That was Sang Xu.

The next instant, a shadow loomed. Before Ji could react, Lang Ze kicked open the bamboo door. The impact knocked Ji sprawling.

Lang Ze strode in, voice harsh:
“Who was supposed to guard him? What happened here?”

“—Sang Xu! Sang Xu!” Ji roared.

But the hooded female beastman only tilted her head slightly, then continued walking with Qi Bai.

Lang Ze shoved a strip of hide into Ji’s mouth, gagging him.

Qiu Bai scrambled back in, dropping to his knees and babbling apologies. Lang Ze kicked him aside with a snarl:
“Re-tie him. Properly!”

“Y-yes! Right away!”

The slave fumbled fast now, tying knots tight and quick.

Pinned to the stool, Ji could only watch as Sang Xu walked down to the stone yard below.

Between two strange buildings stood two bare trees. Beneath their branches were piles of steaming food, rich aromas wafting upward.

Qi Bai was introducing Sang Xu to a circle of elders. Ji didn’t recognize them, but he could tell—they were important.

“Mmmphh! Mmmphhh!” Ji’s veins bulged as he thrashed violently.

At last, satisfied he’d been pushed to the brink, Lang Ze signaled the slave, who finished the knots in a flash.

Releasing his grip, Lang Ze strode to the door. Before leaving, he yanked out the gag.

Ji bellowed, hoarse:
“Why release Sang Xu! Why!”

If they had both suffered equally, he could endure. But to see Sang Xu freed—welcomed, honored—while he rotted? Impossible.

Especially after Qi Bai’s earlier words about becoming honored guests—Sang Xu must have agreed.

Lang Ze’s cold eyes flickered. His voice made Ji shiver.
“Sang Xu has already come to terms with the High Priest. Wait for her judgment.”

“Impossible!” Ji screamed.

Lang Ze turned, unconcerned, and began closing the door.

Panic finally broke Ji.

Sang Xu betrayed me. She’ll silence me—kill me!

“Don’t trust her! She’s been gone from the temple too long—she knows less than I do! Don’t believe her! I can tell you more!”