Against the Current - Chapter 303
Chapter 303 - Ferocious (Part 3)
The northwest wind howled, and the forest was shrouded in gloom.
Lying on the snowy ground were two men who had just fought a battle to the death.
With a groan, Lin Jinlou slowly opened his eyes. Feeling a wetness at the corner of his lips and an even greater dryness in his throat, he instinctively stretched out his tongue to lick them. Moments later, someone lifted the back of his head and fed him clear water. He drank deeply for a stretch, but when he tried to struggle upward, a bone-deep agony wrung a sharp cry from him. This intense pain brought a measure of clarity back to his senses. Turning his head slightly to look, he saw Xianglan cradling his head in her arms, using the water from the hand-warmer to feed him.
He drank a few more sips, swallowing slowly, before asking, "Where... where is Lu Shaotang?"
Xianglan answered in a small voice, "He's dead..."
"You... why didn't you run for your life, instead of coming back here?"
"..."
"...Go search Lu Shaotang's clothes. As a man on a military campaign, he's bound to carry some healing medicine on him."
Xianglan bit her lip, carefully lowered Lin Jinlou, and went to search Lu Shaotang's corpse. Her hands were already frozen stiff and numb, incapable of stretching out properly, so she tucked them inside her garments and placed them under her armpits to warm them up a bit. Then she hurried back to search, and sure enough, she found a brocade pouch tied to his belt. Opening it, she discovered three porcelain phials and various scattered sundries inside, which she hurriedly brought over for Lin Jinlou to inspect.
Lin Jinlou instructed her to empty the contents of the porcelain phials for him to see: one phial contained pills, another contained a powder, and the third contained an ointment. Lin Jinlou sniffed the pills, took one, and tucked it beneath his tongue. He then had Xianglan unbutton his outer robe and apply the ointment to his wounds. The application immediately triggered a wave of excruciating pain; his face turned ashen white, but he clenched his teeth and managed to endure it without crying out. Cold sweat poured from him in sheets, leaving him looking as though he had just been fished out of water. Xianglan pulled out her handkerchief to wipe the sweat and blood from his face, untied the sash from Lu Shaotang's waist to bind Lin Jinlou's wounds, and then, overcoming her squeamishness, removed the headscarf from one of the fallen corpses to bandage Lin Jinlou's arm.
Lin Jinlou lay still for a moment longer before making a strenuous effort to struggle up. Supporting himself with one hand against a tree trunk and the other leaning on Xianglan, he tried to stand, but failed multiple times. Xianglan hastily urged him, "If you can't bear the strain, rest a little longer."
Panting heavily, Lin Jinlou shook his head and said, "We can't. The rebel army will likely be here before long, and staying here is a surefire way to die." He told Xianglan to hand him Lu Shaotang's crossbow and ordered her to bring over Lu Shaotang's horse. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself upright, scrambled awkwardly onto the horse's back, and reached down to pull Xianglan up.
A look of worry crossed Xianglan's face as she shook her head.
By this point, Lin Jinlou lacked the strength to argue. Slumped across the horse's back, he pointed toward the edge of the dense forest and said, "Head in that direction."
Before setting off, Xianglan unfastened a fur-lined glove from one of the archers to wear on her hand, tied the hand-warmer to her belt, and kept the blanket draped over Lin Jinlou. Then, grabbing the reins, she trudged forward step by difficult step through the snow.
Xianglan's entire body was already frozen numb; as the wind blew, her face felt as though it were being scraped by knives, and her eyes could barely remain open. After walking for a while, they finally emerged from the dense forest. Because the thick snow covered the ground, it was impossible to tell whether there was a path ahead. Wanting to ask Lin Jinlou, she saw him slumped motionless across the horse's back. In a panic, she hurried over to check and breathed a sigh of relief upon finding he was still breathing. Raising her head to look at the boundless path ahead, she had no choice but to brace herself and press forward blindly. Faint sounds of shouting and killing drifted from behind; too terrified to look back, Xianglan simply quickened her pace, dragging the horse along briskly.
How long she walked, she could not tell. The path beneath her feet gradually grew steeper, clearly indicating they were descending the mountain. Xianglan's deerskin boots were ill-suited for the mountain trail, and after slipping a few times and tumbling to the ground, she hastily got back up, massaging her bruises with one hand while clutching the reins with the other to press onward.
Roughly an hour—or perhaps half an hour—later, Xianglan felt utterly exhausted and drained of strength, barely able to take another step. Suddenly, she caught sight of a faint glimmer of firelight up ahead. Shocked, overjoyed, and fearful all at once, she pulled the horse forward a few paces. Then, a wave of battle cries reached her ears, and she hastily reined in her steps. The sounds of slaughter grew closer and closer, as if a group of people were besieging a caravan that was fleeing in panic straight toward her position.
Terrified, Xianglan looked left and right. The only cover nearby consisted of lush green pines, cypresses, and towering, craggy boulders, but the horse was too large to be hidden behind them in time. In a desperate rush, she tugged Lin Jinlou down from the saddle, letting him slide flat onto the ground, and quickly checked to ensure he had fallen face-up without pressing against the wounds on his chest. Relieved, she dragged and hauled him behind a large boulder with all her might. Gasping for breath, she turned to grab the horse, only to see that the animal had already spun around and galloped away with a clatter of hooves.
There was no time for second thoughts. Xianglan hurried back to check on Lin Jinlou and found him still unconscious. Crouching behind the rock, she peered out cautiously. The clamor and shouts were growing increasingly fierce. Terrified, high-pitched shrieks erupted from the caravan, sounding piercingly shrill and clearly belonging to female dependents. As the commotion drew closer, several horse carriages came hurtling into view, their bodies blazing with fire—they had evidently been struck by fire arrows. Old folks, women, and children scrambled off the carriages in a frantic rush, scattering in all directions. Lit by the flames, they could be seen wearing expensive, high-ranking garments of fur and damask. The pursuing attackers closed in swiftly, brandishing their blades, while men dressed in servant attire fought desperately to hold them off. Amidst a sudden cry of agony, a gorgeously dressed man wearing a fox-fur vest was decapitated, his head rolling away as it spun around to reveal the unmistakable face of Zhao Gang! Struck with terror, Xianglan snatched up the crossbow from Lin Jinlou's waist, her entire body trembling violently.
The sounds of slaughter gradually subsided. Hiding among the boulders and cypresses, Xianglan watched helplessly as the attackers hacked the remaining members of the caravan to death. Because the struggle had been extremely fierce, the pursuers had also suffered considerable casualties, leaving only four men alive in the end. One of them was heavily wounded, lying in a pool of blood and groaning. They dragged several heavy chests out of the burning carriages and pried them open under the firelight, gasping in delight as they revealed glittering gold, silver, ancient paintings, and precious artifacts.
Suddenly, someone dragged a woman out from not far away and let out an excited shout.
The remaining men immediately swarmed over.
The woman shrieked and struggled unceasingly, kicking and biting. Her captors subdued her, lifted her into the air, and carried her off while exchanging lewd winks and chuckling with malicious intent.
The woman thrashed her head wildly from side to side and shrieked at the top of her lungs, "Animals! Animals! Let me go! Let me go!" Her voice was shockingly familiar.
Xianglan instantly recognized her—the woman was none other than Zhao Yuechan!
Stunned, she involuntarily stood up. She saw the three men forcing Zhao Yuechan down onto the ground. Shrinking back into hiding, Xianglan closed her eyes, not daring to watch any longer, while Zhao Yuechan's weeping cries and the lewd laughter of the men echoed through the night.
Clamping her hands over her ears, Xianglan slumped against the boulder in a daze. Why was Zhao Yuechan here? Her older brother, Zhao Gang, had just been slain among those cut down, which meant these carriages were carrying members of the Zhao family.
As Zhao Yuechan wept, shouted, and struggled, Xianglan felt her heart being wrung by an inexplicable ache. Back then, Zhao Yuechan's malice in trying to harm her had been venomous to the extreme, and she had once harbored a bone-deep hatred for her. Later, as time passed, that initial hatred slowly faded into mere disgust. Now that this person was suffering such retribution, she ought to have felt a surge of vindication. Yet, listening to Zhao Yuechan's tragic wails, she abruptly realized that her heart felt no joy whatsoever. Instead, a nameless sorrow welled up within her, mingling with sympathy, pity, and terror. At this moment, she only found Zhao Yuechan deeply pitiable.
After an indeterminate length of time, the noises gradually died down. Emboldened once more, Xianglan peered out cautiously. The three men were standing around the chests with torches, lifting them one by one to load them onto the sole carriage that had escaped the fire. Just as the loading was halfway done, the heavily wounded man on the ground groaned and shouted a few words. A tall, lean man gestured and spoke at length, seemingly urging the others to hoist the wounded man onto the carriage as well. However, the carriage was too small; loading him would leave no room for the chests, causing the other three men to shake their heads in refusal.
Clearly dissatisfied, the tall, lean man raised his voice in angry protest, and a fierce argument broke out among them. Because they were some distance away, Xianglan could not catch their exact words. Suddenly, one of the men shot a meaningful glance at another, who nodded slightly, whipped out a blade from his waist, and drove it with a sharp shink straight into the chest of the wounded man! The victim kicked his legs once, tilted his head, and breathed his last.
Loudly crying out in grief, the tall, lean man brandished the knife in his hand and swung it back at the attacker's wrist, severing the man's hand with a single stroke. Amidst a scream of agony, the two men instantly locked into a vicious brawl while the third man stood by with folded arms, watching indifferently. Demonstrating a fair amount of martial skill, the tall, lean man cut down his opponent within a few exchanges. He then turned around to fix a cold stare on the remaining man.
That man actually smiled and muttered a few remarks. The tall, lean man fell silent for a long moment, evidently persuaded, and joined forces with him to load the remaining two chests onto the carriage. But just as the man bent down to drag Zhao Yuechan away, the tall, lean man suddenly threw his arms around the fellow's head and savagely drove a dagger into his chest time and time again. With a groan, the man collapsed to the ground, and the tall, lean man stabbed him a few more times until he stopped moving entirely.
Panting heavily, the tall, lean man slumped exhausted to the ground. Xianglan felt her heart leap into her throat. In the span of a few moments, he had eliminated all his companions, leaving this tall, lean man to claim all the plundered wealth and treasures for himself.
Right at that moment, Lin Jinlou suddenly burst into a fit of coughing, hacking so violently that blood sprayed from his nose and mouth! This sudden outbreak shattered the stillness like a thunderclap, breaking out in a cold sweat that drenched Xianglan. Even as she used her sleeve to wipe away the blood he coughed up, she whispered urgently into his ear, "Master, please keep your voice down, there are scoundrels out there..."
Half-closing his eyes, Lin Jinlou continued coughing uncontrollably. He scooped up a handful of snow mixed with dirt and mud and shoved it into his mouth to muffle the sound, curling his left leg inward. Seized with frantic panic, Xianglan grabbed the crossbow, gripping it tightly in her hands.
Having clearly heard the commotion, the tall, lean man followed the sound of the disturbance, tracing the traces of footprints in the snow as he drew closer and closer, gripping his single saber tightly.
Hiding behind the boulder, Xianglan felt her heart pounding like a battle drum. Her finger pressed against the trigger of the crossbow, but her hands were frozen completely devoid of sensation. At that instant, a figure flashed into view. In a desperate panic, Xianglan tried to pull the crossbow trigger, but because her fingers had long since lost all feeling from the frost, she found herself completely unable to squeeze it.
Startled, the tall, lean man stared at the blood-drenched Lin Jinlou before shifting his gaze to Xianglan. Suddenly, a burst of laughter broke from his lips, and looking down at them from his superior height, he jeered, "Who would have thought it? I never imagined I'd pick up such a bargain today." With those words, he lunged forward to grab Xianglan.