20: healing

The fluorescent stones flickered on the stone wall, and shadows swayed with them, as if countless hidden creatures were silently observing.

The crackling of burning wood was the only sound in the silence, occasionally interspersed with the long roars of beasts from deep within the Monster Mountain Range, distant and blurred, making the simple hut, carved into the mountainside, seem like an isolated island in the vast ocean.

The air was filled with a strong medicinal scent, the lingering aroma of dissolved Care Vessel Pill and bone-setting pills, firmly suppressing a faint, almost imperceptible, smell of blood.

Mo Yuhan set down the rough pottery bowl in his hand; a bit of warm medicinal liquid still remained at the bottom.

He was only eight years old, with a slender build, but his dark eyes, under the dim, flickering light, were calm in a way that belied his age.

He gazed at the figure on the stone bed.

Bibi Dong, had regained consciousness.

Her purple eyes, which had once caused almost the entire Spirit Hall to hold its breath and were as deep as if they contained a galaxy, were now half-open, staring blankly at the low ceiling of the stone room.

Her long eyelashes drooped weakly, each faint tremor seemingly exhausting her strength.

Her body was currently covered by several of Mo Yuhan's old outer robes, which were clearly ill-fitting and excessively large, yet they failed to completely conceal the scene beneath.

The lapels of the outer robe had been slightly torn open during the previous chaos, revealing a large expanse of pale skin below her neck. It was a fragile and almost morbid pallor, now imbued with a warm hue by the flickering fluorescence, which instead highlighted a breathtaking vulnerability.

However, upon this flawless canvas, several glaring red marks had been violently torn open.

The scars, like ugly, twisted vipers, snaked out from the edge of the slightly open lapel, extending downwards and disappearing into the deeper shadows of the robe.

One of them was particularly gruesome, diagonally cutting across her collarbone, which was as exquisite as carved white jade; the flesh was torn open, and though it no longer bled, the deep red wound remained horrifyingly vivid in the candlelight.

Mo Yuhan's small hands re-entered the warm clear water, wringing out a clean, soft cloth.

Water droplets fell back into the wooden basin, making a soft echo, as he quietly approached the stone bed, his movements carrying a caution and steadiness unsuited to his age.

He reached out, carefully using the warm, damp cloth to avoid the edges of the wound on her collarbone, gently wiping away the surrounding dust and congealed blood scabs.

His movements were extremely light, his fingertips touching through the fabric with a focused circumspection, as if he were cleaning a priceless yet fragileGlassware.

As the warm, damp cloth brushed against her skin, Bibi Dong's body tensed imperceptibly for a moment, her long eyelashes trembled violently a few times, then settled back into stillness.

Her breathing remained weak and erratic, each inhale a suppressed gasp, her chest rising and falling faintly beneath the ill-fitting, large old robe, briefly outlining a glimpse of a full contour, then immediately concealed by the rough fabric.

The rising and falling curve was like the sea briefly calm after a storm, yet beneath it lay unknown turmoil and pain.

Mo Yuhan's gaze was intently fixed on her waist.

The robe there, soaked in blood, clung to her skin, then was re-dampened by the medicinal liquid, wrinkled and pressed against her.

He needed to clean the edges of this wound, which were caked with blood and medicine stains.

He extended his small hand, held his breath, and very lightly pinched the edge of the blood-stained fabric with his fingertips.

He tried to use the gentlest force to lift it slightly, creating a gap to wipe the skin underneath.

However, the fabric, weakened by the medicine and blood scabs, was already fragile.

“Rip—!”

An extremely faint sound of fabric tearing echoed in the silent stone room, light as a sigh, yet as jarring as thunder.

That small piece of fabric, sticky at the edge of the wound, was completely pulled away from its original position by the subtle movement of his fingertips, sliding softly downwards.

With this slide, a small section of her lower abdomen, previously completely covered, was instantly and fully exposed under the flickering candlelight!

The firelight seemed to find a new focus instantly, greedily licking at it.

The exposed skin was even paler than that of her neck, as delicate as fine cold jade, radiating a breathtaking soft glow in the warm yellow light.

Without the destruction of Soul Power, this area of skin was incredibly smooth, the light outlining a flowing, full, and astonishing curve upon it, like the most perfect jade carving, rising abruptly from above her slender waist and then slowly tapering, disappearing into the deeper, darker folds of her robe.

The fleeting arc was full and rounded, carrying the most primal and fragile beauty of life, emitting a silent allure in the dim light, yet it was made incomparably desolate by the surrounding grotesque wounds and the pallor of sickness.

Mo Yuhan's movements instantly froze.

He seemed to be scalded by the sudden exposed snowy curve and striking beauty in the candlelight; his small body trembled violently, and the wet cloth in his hand nearly dropped.

An indescribable heat rushed to his cheeks; he instinctively lowered his eyelids quickly, his thick eyelashes fluttering in a panic, not daring to look again.

The air in the stone room seemed to solidify, leaving only the crackling of burning wood and the drum-like pounding of his own suddenly accelerated heartbeat in his ears.

He practically held his breath, frantically yet feigning composure, grabbing the fallen piece of fabric, trying to pull it back, clumsily attempting to cover that astonishing snowy white area that had been exposed by accident.

His small fingers trembled slightly from nervousness; the fabric failed to accurately cover that patch of skin several times. The momentarily exposed scene was imprinted in his mind like a brand—the jade-like delicate curve in the candlelight, the extreme contrast with the surrounding gruesome whip marks, and the fragile beauty that almost seared his eyes.

He forced himself to avert his gaze, his eyes falling on Bibi Dong's paper-pale profile.

Her eyes still stared blankly at the rough stone ceiling above, completely unresponsive to the accidental slipping of the fabric and the exposure of her skin just now.

It was as if her soul had detached from this scarred body, leaving only an exquisite, slowly shattering empty shell; that deathly indifference was more suffocating than any tears or anger.

Mo Yuhan took a deep breath, suppressing the tremor and panic in his heart, and refocused on wiping.

He moved to the other side of the stone bed, avoiding that area, carefully cleaning the bloodstains near her arms and shoulders; the bitter taste of the medicine mixed with the smell of blood lingered in his nostrils.

As the warm, damp cloth gently wiped Bibi Dong's smooth back, his small fingertips, carrying the moisture and warmth of the wet cloth, lightly brushed over that deeply hidden scar—

Bibi Dong, who had been unresponsive like an ice-bound statue, suddenly erupted into an uncontrollable, violent tremor.

This tremor came so abruptly, completely exceeding the limits that her severely weakened body could bear; her entire being arched upwards as if struck hard by an invisible giant hammer, and the large old robe was completely thrown open by this violent movement, half of her shoulder along with a large expanse of pale, delicate back instantly exposed to the cold air.

“Ugh—!”

A broken, extremely suppressed groan of pain squeezed out from between her tightly clenched lips, as brief as the wail of a dying beast.

Immediately after, something in the depths of her purple eyes, which had been blank and bewildered for so long, seemed to be forcibly torn and ignited by this touch.

A monstrous hatred mixed with bone-deep pain, like hell's lava, erupted with a roar, instantly incinerating the desolate void in her eyes.

However, this tempestuous reaction lasted only for a brief moment.

It was as if her remaining will had exhausted its last ounce of strength to resist this profound pain from the depths of her soul; her arched body fell back powerlessly onto the cold stone bed, making a dull thud.

The flames in her eyes quickly extinguished, leaving only deeper, colder ashes and emptiness.

The moment her body slammed back onto the stone bed, a scalding liquid dropped down without warning, heavily.

“Plop.”

It landed squarely, precisely in the center of Mo Yuhan's instinctively outstretched palm, which was still stained with medicine and damp.

That tear was as scalding as molten lead, as heavy as if it carried a thousand pounds of force. It fell onto the thin layer of medicine stains on his palm, spreading a small, dark wet mark, and the searing temperature instantly penetrated his skin, spreading upwards along the bones of his arm, fiercely burning Mo Yuhan's heart.