74: Chapter 74 The Road Home

Murong Xue walked over. Traces of battle still lingered on the Holy Light Knight's silver armor; the gouges from the Ink-scaled Python's scales looked like medals on the silver plate. Her brown eyes glanced at the poison mark on Zhao Linger's right arm, and her brows furrowed slightly.

Then, she did something she had never done to Zhao Linger before.

She reached out and, in a rare gesture, ruffled Zhao Linger's hair.

That hand carried the chill of the silver armor, but the movement was as if bestowed with tenderness by the gods of the wilderness. She gently tousled Zhao Linger's short hair, which was messy from the battle and the pain, as if petting an injured kitten.

"You did well."

The Holy Light Knight's voice was not as crisp as usual, but carried a hint of softness, much like a warm breeze hidden beneath the silver armor.

"Three seconds. You shielded us for three seconds; that was enough."

Zhao Linger blinked.

This was the first time Murong Xue had praised her so directly. In Zhao Linger's memory, Murong Xue had always just shaken her head, sighed, or called her "this girl." She had never, never ruffled her hair so gently, and never said "You did well" with such sincerity.

Her nose stung.

Tears, like the clearest spring water of the Lingxi River, welled up in her eyes, but she stubbornly held them back. She did not want to cry in front of Murong Xue; she did not want to be thought of as weak.

"Of course," she pouted, though her voice was choked, like a slightly trembling note amidst the most moving melody of a Spirit Sound Master. "I am a Spirit Sound Master, after all. Protecting my teammates is my duty."

Murong Xue's hand moved away from her hair. The Holy Light Knight's lips curved, like a faint ray of sunlight reflecting off the silver armor.

"Mm."

A single word, but Zhao Linger heard the weight behind it. It was recognition—the Holy Light Knight's recognition of a Spirit Sound Master, a Rank 3 Barbarian Warrior's recognition of a Rank 2 Spirit Sound Master. It was not pity; it was respect.

Liu Ruyan had finished applying the detoxification ointment. The emerald-green ointment formed a thin, green medicinal film over the poison mark on Zhao Linger's right arm. The spiritual power within the ointment was slowly battling the dark purple toxins.

The color of the poison mark faded from deep dark purple to a lighter shade. It was effective, but it would take time.

Liu Ruyan used spirit vine fibers to retrieve bandages from her pack and gently bandaged Zhao Linger's right arm. The white bandages wrapped around her fair arm, layer by layer, like silver thread winding around white jade.

"Hua Jieyu's ointment can suppress the spread of the toxin, but it cannot eliminate it completely." Liu Ruyan's voice was like a cold wind in the dark night.

Yet, the pressure of her fingers while bandaging was as gentle as a Phantom Assassin executing the most precise assassination, without a hair's breadth of error. "We need to go back and have Hua Jieyu treat her personally. The sooner, the better."

Wang Sheng stood up. His gaze swept across the battlefield. The massive body of the Ink-scaled Python lay across the center of the dense forest, like a black river severed by the gods of the wilderness. Its scales shimmered with a dark purple, eerie light in the dim woods.

However, the dark purple patterns in its vertical pupils had completely faded, like shadows purified by the Holy Light, returning to the original appearance of a Savage Beast.

"Liu Ruyan, check the carcass." His voice was like forged iron. "I need to confirm the traces of the Shadow Clan."

Liu Ruyan nodded. The Phantom Assassin's figure seemed to be swallowed by the shadows, disappearing silently beside the massive body of the Ink-scaled Python.

A moment later, Liu Ruyan retrieved a tiny, dark purple crystal core fragment from deep within the head of the Ink-scaled Python.

The fragment was only the size of a grain of rice, its surface rough, emitting a gloomy luster like the shadows themselves. In Liu Ruyan's palm, it was like a seed cursed by the gods of the wilderness, its dark purple glimmer pulsing slowly like a heartbeat.

"Found it." Liu Ruyan's voice was cold, like a chill wind cutting through the dark night. "This isn't the Savage Beast's own crystal core; it's external, implanted by the Shadow Clan. It was located at the Ink-scaled Python's spiritual meridian node, right at the key position for controlling spiritual power."

She looked up, her smoky, misty eyes reflecting the light of the dark purple fragment.

"The Shadow Clan is using Shadow Power crystal core fragments to control Savage Beasts. This isn't a temporary driving-off; this is a systematic plan. They have laid a net throughout the Savage Beast Forest. Every Savage Beast has had this kind of fragment implanted in its spiritual meridian nodes."

"The fragments continuously release Shadow Power, intensifying the Savage Beasts' aggression. At the same time, they form signposts for the Shadow Beast Path at key nodes, driving the Savage Beasts to move in specific directions."

Her voice was like an undercurrent beneath the ice.

"This is not something one tribe could achieve. The Shadow Clan's investment in the Savage Beast Forest far exceeds our imagination."

Wang Sheng clenched the dark purple fragment. Holy Light seeped from his fingertips, the golden radiance enveloping the fragment like a scorching sun. Under the burning of the Holy Light, the fragment was like snow meeting the sun. The dark purple, eerie light struggled for a few seconds,

then, like shadows dissolving before the light, it turned to ash and drifted away from between his fingers.

"Let's head back first." His voice was calm, resolute, and unquestionable. "Zhao Linger needs treatment. We'll investigate the Shadow Clan matter later."

He turned and walked toward Zhao Linger.

Zhao Linger's right arm had already been bandaged, the white bandages wrapping from her wrist to her shoulder—silver thread winding around white jade. However, the effects of the toxin left her whole body weak. She tried to stand up, but her legs felt as if the bones had been removed, leaving her limp. Her petite frame swayed.

Wang Sheng said nothing and crouched down.

His one-meter-eighty-five frame was like a golden wall before her, his broad back like the most stable mountain.

"Get on."

Two words, without extra embellishment—calm, gentle, and impossible to refuse.

Zhao Linger was stunned for a moment, her large, round eyes blinking. Then, her small face flushed slightly, like a drop of morning sunlight accidentally splashed onto a moon-white canvas.

She reached out her left hand, placed it on his shoulder, and then gently climbed on.

Her petite body lay against his broad back, like a weary kitten finding the warmest nest. Her left arm looped around his neck, her slender fingers resting unconsciously on his collarbone.

The fair fingers and the golden armor were like moonlight falling on the edge of sunlight.

Her face pressed against the back of his neck, her warm breath like a spring stream flowing over his skin—one beat, then another, just like the gentlest rhythm of a Spirit Sound Master.

Her chest pressed against his back, her breathing rising and falling slightly with the rhythm of his walk. The soft sensation came through the thin combat suit, like two warm clouds.

Her legs were crossed around his waist. The pant legs of her spirit vine combat suit had been torn in several places during the battle, revealing skin that was like congealed fat—fair and delicate, almost transparent. It gleamed with a warm luster in the dappled, dark light of the dense forest, like white jade forgotten in a corner by the gods of the wilderness.

"Wang Sheng,"

her voice was very soft. It was no longer the sugary sweetness of acting spoiled, nor the sharp, blade-like seriousness of battle, but a sincerity she had never shown before, carrying a slight tremor—much like the deepest note of a Spirit Sound Master, flowing out from the softest place in her heart.

"Thank you for coming to save me."

Wang Sheng did not speak,

but his steps became steadier.

Like a mountain, he carried the girl on his back, step by step, walking out of the dark, dense forest toward the direction of Guangming Village.

Murong Xue and Xiao Yuqing stood guard at the rear. The White Deer scouted ahead. Liu Ruyan's shadows moved silently among the tree canopies. The Elf Archer maintained a vigilant position at the rear, bowstring half-drawn.

The expedition team, carrying the spoils of war, the wounded, and the secrets of the Shadow Clan, began their journey home.

On the road home,

Zhao Linger lay on Wang Sheng's back.

Her Spirit Sound Master perception was still working unconsciously. Even in her weak, semi-conscious state, the hearing of a Spirit Sound Master was like a river that never ceased, flowing through the silence of the wilderness.

She could hear Wang Sheng's heartbeat—steady and powerful, like the most stable drumbeat on the Savage Continent.

"Thump, thump, thump." Each beat echoed in her perception like the ringing of a golden bell.

She could hear Murong Xue's footsteps twenty meters behind—heavy and rhythmic. The Holy Light Knight's silver armor emitted a slight metallic clatter as she walked, like silver wind chimes whispering in the wilderness.

She could hear the White Deer's hoofbeats fifty meters ahead—light and nimble, like a spirit deer leaping through the forest. The sound of its animal ears twitching slightly in the wind was like two antennas bestowed by the gods of the wilderness, receiving signals from the wind.

She could hear the Lingxi River flowing in the distance, like the oldest lullaby of the Savage Continent.

Then,

suddenly,

she heard something.

From very, very far away, from the depths of the Savage Beast Forest, from a darkness even deeper than the territory of the Ink-scaled Python, came a low hum, as if from deep underground.

That hum,

not the sound of a Savage Beast. The howls of Savage Beasts were chaotic, instinctive, and irregular. But this hum,

had a pattern,

had a structure,

had meaning.

It was not the sound of a Savage Beast;

it was language.

Zhao Linger's Spirit Sound Master instinct was like an alarm bell struck by the gods of the wilderness. In that hum, she caught a word—a word wrapped in the low buzzing, as if written by the brush of shadows:

"...Guangming..."

Then everything returned to silence,

as if the oldest abyss of the Savage Continent had closed its mouth beside her ear. The hum seemed as if it had never occurred, leaving only the sound of the Lingxi River flowing in the distance, like the oldest silence of the Savage Continent.

Zhao Linger's large, round eyes opened wide in the darkness.

Her Spirit Sound Master instinct told her that it was not an illusion; it was real. The Shadow Clan was using some kind of low-frequency sound wave to transmit information deep within the Savage Beast Forest, and that information contained the word "Guangming."

The Shadow Clan was talking about "Guangming."

They were focused on Guangming Village.

She opened her mouth, wanting to tell Wang Sheng, but the words died on her lips, and she swallowed them back.

Now was not the time. Wang Sheng was carrying her on the road home, and the team had just gone through a fierce battle. She did not want to add more burden to him at this moment.

She buried her face deeper into Wang Sheng's back.

That warm back was her only safe haven in this wilderness at the moment.

She closed her eyes. Her Spirit Sound Master hearing, in her semi-conscious state, was still like a river that never ceased, but she chose, for now, not to listen.

At this moment, she only wanted to hear one person's heartbeat.

"Thump, thump, thump."

Steady, powerful, like the most stable drumbeat on the Savage Continent.

That heartbeat made her feel more at ease than the hum of the Shadow Clan, the howls of the Savage Beasts, or any other sound on the Savage Continent.

Her fingers tightened unconsciously on his collarbone, like a Spirit Sound Master holding her most precious instrument.

Then,

on his back, she drifted into a deep sleep.