Chapter 92: Time Turns

The closer she drew to the glow, the thicker the surrounding mist grew, drifting like a fine, hazy rain. Gu Xianwang narrowed her eyes. Her Eye Technique was practically useless here, but the thick cloud of fog provided excellent cover. The group that had been hounding her earlier had fallen silent.

She eyed the grassy path underfoot with utmost caution, dreading another trap at the last second. After proceeding dozens of steps with care, the ground suddenly dipped. She planted her feet steadily, but the cowhide soles offered little traction. Her left heel clipped a palm-sized stone, sending her foot skidding. She didn’t fall, but the sudden shift in weight dislodged the rock. It tumbled down the gentle slope with a rumble before vanishing into the white haze.

Gu Xianwang instinctively glanced aside to check for trouble. Seeing none, she let out a breath of relief—only for the lights ahead to snuff out in an instant, as if someone had flipped a master switch. Darkness swallowed everything once more, and the moisture clinging to her skin turned clammy and oppressive, weighing her down. She drew in a sharp breath at the suffocating pressure.

Calm. She had to stay calm…

She exhaled slowly, gathered her wits, and took a few more steps. In that moment, it was like parting a veil of gauze. The mist fell away behind her, and the instant she passed through the Mist Barrier, the fluorescence blanketing the undulating valley flared back to life all at once.

The black fog loomed like a wall, framing the light within. It was as if the rainbow on the horizon had shattered into glittering powder, a translucent sheen bathing the mountains in clear, radiant glow. Gu Xianwang stood transfixed, staring at the luminous plants that resembled clusters of wheat ears or lavender stalks.

Strange—could Fluorescent Candle Fire have meant not fireflies, but plants that glowed like them?

Then again, was she simply ignorant? She’d never heard of any bioluminescent flora.

She edged closer. Wherever the glowing plants sprouted in the valley, the mist held back, granting her a rare clear view. Her nerves could finally unwind. Up close, the stems were shorter than those of ordinary flowers and grasses, showing blooms but no leaves. Flowering season must have been in full swing; the plump buds were either unfurling or fully open. A closer look revealed the true source of the glow: a dewdrop-like transparent membrane coating their surfaces. It must shine to lure pollinating insects.

Gu Xianwang’s heart steadied. A memory surfaced—a poster from when the movie Avatar first hit theaters. The hype was everywhere, and one promo image showed exactly this: fluorescent plants blooming in profusion across an alien valley.

So romantic, she’d thought.

She’d meant to see it several times in her downtime, only to back out at the door each time, putting it off until the film was gone.

She was a master at talking herself out of things, but busyness was never the real excuse. Truth was, she was afraid. Crowds were like wildfire, quick to scorch away her cocoon clothing and lay bare the emptiness in her chest. All the world’s splendor turned to icy gusts whistling through that hollow in her heart.

She could never stomach that slow, syrupy ache.

The nylon bag in Gu Xianwang’s hand hung open, caught by a stray breeze. Snapping back to the present, she stared into it blankly, her hand drifting unconsciously to her chest. When had it begun?

When had that dull throb quietly ebbed away?

Her heartbeat thrummed steadily, ticking off the seconds. Surrounded by enemies on all sides, she faced this beauty without the urge to flee.

She even felt a greedy impulse to gather flowers of every hue and bring them back for someone special.

~~~

Roughly a few hundred blooms had opened across the valley at once—a breathtaking sight at first glance. But composure brought scrutiny: the flowers carried no fragrance. Worse, they gave off a faint, bitter tang, like bile from some beast. The soil here differed from outside too—unnaturally rich and black, with coarse grains, yet utterly barren of weeds or even exposed stones.

And to this point, the glow on those flowers hadn’t flickered once. So what had caused that collective dimming earlier?

Gu Xianwang thought it over and decided to make this quick. She leaped down the slope in two strides. The flowers were divided into colorful factions, each hue claiming its own block, with stretches of natural paths left between them. Speed was essential, she knew, but she could at least grab a few varieties from nearby, bunch them into a bouquet. It would look nicer when Long Li cleared the mist, wouldn’t it?

But the moment her foot hit the coarse soil in the middle, something felt off. The ground wasn’t soft—it was hard and uneven, packed with what felt like stones. Gu Xianwang crouched slightly and brushed away the topsoil with her palm, scraping back two or three finger widths deep. There it was: the thing jabbing at her sole, a black cow horn connected lower down to a yellowish, massive skull that hadn’t fully rotted away.

Gu Xianwang pressed her lips together as the hairs on the back of her neck prickled. This had no business being here, buried so shallow. No one could picture a beast that size getting digested and broken down amid the bloom to feed the fresh earth.

She shuffled her heel back and reached for the nearest flower cluster. To hell with it—no being picky. Any branch she could snag!

The stems snapped crisply, but the sensation felt wrong. In the instant her wrist hesitated, the vast fluorescent sea in her peripheral vision winked out, leaving only the small ring around her feet… Then black soil welled up along the edge of her shoe sole, like something clawing its way free. She focused and saw it wasn’t soil at all—swarms of fly-sized black flying insects, with tiny heads, slender waists, and short mouthparts. They were Little Bites, enlarged two or three times over.

No—these were big bites! As the thick black mist of them surged into the air, Gu Xianwang finally realized who had snuffed out the light behind the fog.

A trickle of cold sweat slid down her temple. If memory served, these things… sucked blood.

~~~

Ten seconds ticked by.

Long Li flicked her toe and hooked a blade up from the ground, swinging it through the air to test its weight.

“I’m going to check it out.”

Ye Chan blinked in confusion. “Uh… didn’t you say to wait a bit longer?”

Long Li eyed the black mist cloaking the woods and murmured, “Mm. Time’s up.”

Yang Baibai was crouched nearby, dusting medicine over a fresh split in his belly. He sucked his teeth. “One after another charging in like this, and soon enough no one comes back. It’s barely been five minutes—why the rush?”

Long Li ignored him and strode forward without a backward glance. “If anything weird happens, get back to the log cabin and hole up. You hear me, Ye Chan?”

Ye Chan nodded vigorously, not daring to miss a word. She opened her mouth to reply when a rustle came from the woods. “Hey, I think I heard—”

Before she could finish, a whoosh cut the air as a black shadow exploded from the grass. The figure had her hands crossed in front, fending off whatever pursued her. A dark blue nylon bag hooded her head, draping all the way to her shoulders, while the red cord once tied at her waist now looped her wrist.

Ye Chan’s eyes went wide. “Whoa, Sister Gu, you run like the wind… Uh, what the hell are those?”

Neither Ye Chan nor Yang Baibai had reacted when she first burst into view. Only after she streaked past like a leopard did they spot the churning insect fog hot on her heels.

Ye Chan’s shout snapped Gu Xianwang back to herself—she’d already made it back. She yanked the bag off her head, baring her eyes, and yelled, “Run! These are Little Bites—they suck blood!”

The other two were right there; Gu Xianwang scanned frantically but didn’t spot Long Li. Her right hand flew to the red cord, voice pitching up. “Long—where’s Baibai?”

She tugged, and the cord snapped taut in response. Whirling, she saw Long Li’s icy expression, the woman shooting her a sharp glance before wordlessly shielding her rear and breaking into a run. “Into the log cabin—all of you!”

Gu Xianwang had no time for anything else. She slapped at the bugs clinging to her as she accelerated wildly. The log cabin loomed close; she waved Ye Chan and Yang Baibai inside first, gripping the door and spinning back just in time to see Long Li halt on the gravel patch out front. The seething insect tide was nearly upon her. Gu Xianwang’s eyes bulged, her breath catching in a near-heart-stopping hitch. Fury boiled up even as chill sank into her bones, leaving her a storm of ice and fire.

Long Li fished a stainless steel flask from some pocket and flung its contents in a wide arc. Her right arm whipped upward, and a blaze of light-flame erupted along the fiery curve—an instant fireworks burst, outshining even the valley’s fluorescent sea from before.

Bugs the size of Little Bites couldn’t withstand fire. The moment they touched a spark, they charred on the spot. As orange light flared, countless blackened husks rained down in a rustle. But the swarm was simply too vast; one bottle of liquor couldn’t burn them all. Gu Xianwang hurriedly doubled back, seized Long Li’s wrist, and bolted with her. All along the way came nothing but their labored breathing until—bang—the cabin door slammed shut. Only then did that swollen, scorching sensation begin to ease.

Ye Chan was sharp. While the two were still making their way back, she’d crammed every gap in the broken wooden door with scraps of paper, sealing it airtight. Now the log cabin was completely sealed off, reeking only of garbage and sour rot. The four of them crammed inside felt utterly confined.

Yang Baibai wasn’t afraid of the dark. He shot Gu Xianwang a glance. “Tch, what’d you run into? You’re more banged up than me.”

Was she? Gu Xianwang frowned faintly and gave herself a once-over. Well then—shoulder, arm, leg, and who knew what else was hidden—several gashes already marred her skin. Some from dodging ambushes earlier when she couldn’t evade in time, others from branches whipping her during the escape. They weren’t serious, just bloody.

“It’s fine,” she said without much conviction, her voice soft and low. “Not as bad as it looks.”

Yang Baibai had no idea her words seemed directed at him but were really for someone else’s ears. He just thought, when did this girl get such a… gentle tone?

He coughed awkwardly and said gruffly, “I’ve got some wound powder here. Old Yang Family recipe. Sprinkle it on first.”

Gu Xianwang: ??

…Why had this kid suddenly turned so nice?

Both were still puzzling over it when a click sounded nearby. A flashlight snapped on, its beam striking the rafters and scattering light everywhere. Long Li pulled a jar of medicine from her pack, drew Gu Xianwang to the small patch of empty space beside her, and said flatly, “Rat-Walkers’ medicine works better on women. No scarring.”

“Oh.” Yang Baibai didn’t dwell on it. He glanced at the shadows outside the window, now starting to disperse, and muttered, “You Rat-Walkers really go all out.”

They even made a scar-free version of wound salve. Real business savvy. Old Yang Family just couldn’t compete—too stuck in their old ways.

Long Li worked in silence. Under the harsh white light, her hands moved with steady precision. She soaked medical cotton in alcohol and wiped along the wounds: pressing firmly on the edges, brushing lightly at the center. One moment it stung, the next it itched. Once disinfected, the breeze turned it cool. At first, Gu Xianwang’s gaze fixed straight on Long Li’s hands; now it had drifted down to her own hemline.

Long Li carried the thick scent of liquor on her—like potent grain alcohol, fermented to aggressive strength. At first whiff, it burned the nose with its siege-like assault. But soon it slid down the throat like a sip, warming her belly and rising to her head until her own throat grew hot. She swallowed involuntarily, her tongue flicking out to wet her lower lip.

“Does it hurt?” Long Li murmured close to her ear.

Gu Xianwang hadn’t braced for the sudden husky whisper brushing past her ear. She went rigid and replied like a robot: “No, it doesn’t. You—you can press harder.”

Her deepest gash ran along her shoulder, right over the bone. All the motion there had flipped the flesh into something even more gruesome. Long Li took great pains disinfecting it. Fortunately, they’d stocked up on a suture kit this time. With a few sharp clicks, the jagged tear pulled tight and sealed.

Ye Chan watched the wound and grimaced, rubbing her arms as if her own bones itched. “What the hell happened? How’d you get torn up like that?”

Gu Xianwang shook her head, at a loss for how to describe the horrors of the Mist Forest. Right then, the buzzing outside the cabin—which had only just quieted—erupted again, fiercer than before. The tiny bugs massed into a horde that battered the door with resounding bangs.

“Fuck,” Yang Baibai spat. He lurched to his feet and started violently rummaging through the trash.

Ye Chan whipped around. “What are you doing?”

“Damn, you blind? The window’s busted!”