14: Chapter 14 Some things must not be harmed.

On the main street of Kumu Village, three people stood in the shadow of the old locust tree, looking at each other in dismay.

Tu Ziguan recounted what he had just encountered.

He had taken the middle path and walked all the way to the end of the village, where he found a cellar.

There was no one in the cellar, but there was a faint smell of blood.

He walked around the cellar and found nothing, so he retraced his steps.

Halfway back, he heard footsteps behind him, glanced back, and saw nothing.

He quickened his pace to the village entrance, and then saw Xie Feng and Mo Tang.

"So you did not encounter anything?" Xie Feng asked.

"Nothing. What about you two?"

Xie Feng and Mo Tang exchanged glances.

Mo Tang recounted what had happened to her, and after listening, Tu Ziguan's usual smile vanished.

"The intelligence is wrong; there are two," he said. "There are at least two derivative entities in the village. One disguised as me, and one disguised as Xie Feng."

"Could there be a third one?" Mo Tang asked.

"Find the villagers first," Tu Ziguan said.

"Since the mission brief says there are still residual derivatives, it means someone in this village is still alive. People would not fail to report if there were survivors. Once we find the living, figure out the situation, and then decide on the next step."

Mo Tang nodded, the Puppet's four limbs dropping back to the ground as its eight arms folded in.

Xie Feng looked at his own shadow.

No eerie influence, and his head was still attached—how nice.

The three of them walked along the main street deeper into the village.

Kumu Village was larger than it looked from the entrance.

Starting from the northeast district, the three checked house by house.

Most of the houses were empty, doors ajar, interiors covered in dust, and stoves ice-cold.

On some tables, bowls and chopsticks were still laid out, as if the owners had dropped their chopsticks and left halfway through a meal.

When Xie Feng walked into the third empty house, he saw a bowl of porridge set on the table.

The porridge had dried into an off-white crust with a few fine cracks on the surface.

A pair of chopsticks lay beside the bowl, their tips resting on the rim.

The dust on the table told Xie Feng that this porridge had been sitting there for at least a few months.

He stepped out of the house and gently pulled the door shut.

Tu Ziguan walked out of the opposite house and shook his head.

Mo Tang's Puppet crawled out from the alley, the sound of its four limbs alternating on the ground slightly slower than before.

"Empty," Mo Tang's voice came from the Puppet, "completely empty."

"Continue," Tu Ziguan said.

When checking the southwest district, Xie Feng pushed open a half-closed wooden door and then stopped.

There was someone in the courtyard.

An old man sat on a low stool under the eaves, with a half-mended garment spread across his knees.

A needle was still stuck in the fabric, with the thread hanging down and swaying gently in the wind.

The old man lowered his head as if he had fallen asleep.

Xie Feng stood at the courtyard entrance, Qi gathering in his palm, and tentatively took a step forward—nothing happened.

He continued forward, and when he took the third step, Xie Feng saw the old man's face.

It wasn't a face.

It was the back of a face.

The old man's head was reversed; his chin pointed upward, his crown pointed downward, and his face was pressed against his chest.

"Tu Wu," Xie Feng called out in a low voice.

Tu Ziguan walked over quickly, glanced inside from the courtyard entrance, and then walked in.

He squatted in front of the old man, reached out to check his breathing, and his fingers stiffened for a fraction of a second.

"He's alive," Tu Ziguan withdrew his hand. "He is breathing, but he cannot be woken up."

Xie Feng looked at the head growing backward on the neck.

The old man's eyes were closed, his mouth slightly parted, and his breathing was slow and steady, as if he really had just fallen asleep.

Veins bulged on Xie Feng's temples.

"What did he do wrong?" Xie Feng gritted his teeth.

As a modern youth born under the red flag and raised in the spring breeze, such a scene only made his blood boil with anger.

"Let's go," Tu Ziguan stood up. "Find the next one."

They found three villagers in the southwest district.

One was the old man with his head reversed, one was a little girl curled up under the bed with wide-open eyes refusing to speak, and one was a middle-aged man leaning against the wall holding a rusted sickle, maintaining a defensive posture but likewise unable to be woken up.

All three were alive, with breathing and heartbeats, but showed no response to any external stimuli.

More veins bulged on Xie Feng's temples.

Tu Ziguan tried pushing the middle-aged man's shoulder.

The man's body swayed, his arms hung down, and the sickle dropped to the ground with a crisp sound.

Tu Ziguan straightened his waist, his face devoid of any expression.

"There's still the northwest district," he said.

Xie Feng's expression was taut.

Beneath his solemn face, a fire of anger scorched his skin.

The northwest district was the smallest area in Kumu Village, consisting of only five or six houses right next to the wasteland at the end of the village.

Hoping to resolve things before dark, the three decided to check separately and agreed to meet again at the alley entrance in the time it takes for a stick of incense to burn.

Xie Feng walked into a narrow alley where the earthen walls on both sides were pitted and scarred by rainwater.

He pushed open doors one by one—all were empty.

When he pushed the fifth door, it was bolted from the inside.

He channeled spiritual power into his palm, shattered the bolt with a single strike, and pushed the door open.

A woman stood in the courtyard, her back to him, hanging out laundry.

You certainly have plenty of leisure, beast.

Xie Feng gazed at her back.

Several off-white coarse cloth garments hung on a bamboo pole, swaying gently in the wind.

The woman reached into a wooden basin, picked up a wet piece of clothing, shook it out, and draped it over the pole.

Her movements were so skillfully practiced that nothing felt amiss—just an ordinary farmwoman doing something she did every day.

Xie Feng stood at the courtyard entrance, not moving.

"Hello."

The woman's action of hanging clothes stopped.

She slowly turned around, and Xie Feng saw her face.

It was Mo Tang's face.

Mo Tang's face grew on this strange woman's neck, smiling at him.

"Xie Feng," she said, her voice also Mo Tang's, "what are you doing here?"

"You're not wearing your exoskeleton armor."

Xie Feng channeled spiritual power into his palm.

The smile on "Mo Tang" did not change.

She put down the wet clothing in her hand and took a step toward Xie Feng.

Xie Feng suddenly felt a gaze land on his face—not from the direction of "Mo Tang," but from behind him.

He spun around abruptly.

Tu Ziguan was standing at the alley entrance, walking toward him with that just-right smile on his face.

"Brother Feng," Tu Ziguan said, "how is it over on your side?"

Xie Feng stood in the alley, with Tu Ziguan in front of him and Mo Tang behind him.

Both people were walking toward him, their steps neither fast nor slow, with identical smiles on their faces.

His palms were covered in cold sweat.

He channeled his spiritual power, preparing to strike.

Then he heard the sound of a bell—three short rings coming from the alley entrance.

"Brother Feng!" Tu Ziguan's voice came from the alley entrance, carrying obvious panting, "The one next to you is not me!"

Xie Feng looked down at his waist; the bronze bell was also ringing, three short rings.

He raised his head and looked at the Tu Ziguan in front of him.

The smile on Tu Ziguan's face finally vanished.

It looked down at the bronze bell ringing on its own at its waist, and its mouth split open.

It began to melt and exploded with a bang.

"Cloned sheep don't live long."

The "Mo Tang" behind him was also gone.

The courtyard gate was empty, with only a few garments hanging on the clothesline swaying gently in the wind.

Tu Ziguan ran over from the alley entrance, stopped in front of him, and doubled over to catch his breath heavily.

"Mo Tang's bronze bell... can sense whether there are anomalies near the Puppet," he panted.

"Just now, my bell rang three times, which meant there was something near me, but there was also something near you. Both of us had something near us."

Xie Feng looked at him.

"Imperial jade liquid wine."

"One hundred and eighty a cup, don't ask, it's me. Hurry up, something happened on Mo Tang's side."