A piercing screech of brakes shattered the long night. This text is hosted at novel~fire~net
Qin Sang hesitated. It wasn't that he lacked the courage to risk it all, but he had family—parents, brothers…
The intense pain coursing through his body yanked him back to reality. The only sensation he could feel was pain; his limbs were unresponsive. His body seemed deformed, crushed into a narrow corner. The iron frame around him, jagged like teeth, looked menacing.
The car spun violently, and the lights blurred into the roadside neon. It was as if he was looking through a kaleidoscope. A red string came into view, at the end of which hung a dull yellow Jade Buddha, tracing a short arc before smashing into his nose.
Amid the interplay of light and shadow, a fountain of blood erupted, drowning the Jade Buddha. It must have been from a ruptured artery in his neck.
Regret consumed Qin Sang. They struck first; he shouldn't have hesitated!
Death rendered everything meaningless—the things he had fought for, cared about—all shattered like an illusion.
Qin Sang's eyes widened.
The inertia from the impact wasn't finished yet; the car continued to spin. The Jade Buddha before him swayed back and forth, as if it was swinging right into his soul.
A dark vortex swallowed him.
The sun was shining bright and hot.
The stone mountains were steep, with jagged rocks and scarce greenery. Distant, sporadic bird chirps added to the oppressive heat.
On a rugged mountain road, a convoy of prison carts moved slowly. On either side of the convoy, a few fierce-looking men on horseback whipped their horses and cursed loudly.
These burly horsemen didn't dress like officials; their behavior was more akin to bandits.
The prison cages on the carts were crude, clearly newly made, with fresh wood showing.
Every cage was packed with prisoners.
Qin Sang, his hands and feet bound, was curled up in a corner of one of the cages, his gaze regaining a trace of clarity.
Ever since he regained consciousness, he had been in a daze, with occasional moments of lucidity. Only today did he fully digest the memories of this body. Ꞧ
This body also bore the surname Qin and came from a village called Wang Village. His parents were farmers, and he had two older brothers, making him the third son in the family. The villagers called him Sanwa[1], as he had not yet reached adulthood and didn't have a formal name.
The Qin family was hardworking and had plenty of laborers, so they lived relatively well. But how much wealth could they dig out from the earth?
Qin's parents had other plans. They not only sent Qin Sanwa to study, but when he turned fifteen, they took him to seek employment from Manager Wang, hoping to secure a livelihood for him.
Manager Wang was an old acquaintance of Qin Sanwa's father and a fellow villager from Wang Village. He had opened a shop in a nearby town during his youth and was far more prosperous than the village farmers, making him a man of status.
Seeing that Qin Sanwa was a good person, Manager Wang was willing to take him in as an assistant. Qin's parents were naturally grateful and readily agreed.
This was Qin Sanwa's first time leaving home. In his fear, he meticulously followed his parents' teachings, diligently performing his duties, which earned Manager Wang's favor. The manager even took him along on purchasing trips.
However, the world was in chaos. Not long after they set out, the manager and his assistant encountered a group of mountain bandits on the road. Manager Wang was beheaded, and Qin Sanwa was thrown into a prison cart, his life temporarily spared.
Poor Qin Sanwa had never experienced such a disaster and soon died of fright, leaving Qin Sang to take over his body.
Now occupying the body, Qin Sang felt a clear sense of detachment and unfamiliarity. The memories in his mind indicated that this was a world vastly different from his previous life, but Qin Sang had no time to ponder over it.
The sun grew increasingly scorching. His body was exhausted, and the pain from his wounds was unbearable. Qin Sang forced himself to stay alert, blinking his sore eyes. His gaze suddenly fell on the last cart of the convoy, and he vividly recalled a scene from three days ago when he regained consciousness. Even under the hot sun at noon, he still felt a chill down his spine.
Looking around, he realized there were only a few prison carts left.
There was no time; he had to find a way to escape!
The convoy had been heading north for over ten days, far from Wang Village. The memories of Qin Sanwa offered no help, and Qin Sang had no idea where they were now.
At first, they traveled along the main road. These mountain bandits were ruthless, capturing many people.
Once they had gathered enough captives, they deliberately veered into the desolate wilderness, carefully avoiding any chance encounters with others.
In this remote, wild terrain, there was no hope of rescue.
To survive, they could only rely on themselves!
The narrow prison cart was crammed with five people, and Qin Sang's bones ached from being squeezed. He tried to push himself backward.
The prisoners in the cart were all young men, just like Qin Sanwa—innocent people who had been unjustly captured.
Qin Sang pushed a few times but heard no curses, only weak groans, which filled him with despair.
Including himself, the prisoners were all famished and extremely weak. The mountain bandits, on the other hand, were robust and well-armed, with horses under them. How could they possibly escape?
Just then, a light breeze brought a rare hint of coolness, and he noticed a jade belt in the distance. Behind the mountains, there was a river—neither too large nor too small—its surface wide and calm, glimmering with light, not turbulent at all.
There were ancient trees along the riverbank, and waist-high yellow grass covered the entire shore, rustling in the wind—a perfect place to bury bodies.
The leader of the mountain bandits, a burly man with a bristling beard, led the group to the riverbank. He then turned his horse around and headed for the last cart.
Unlike the other prison carts, this one was covered with a black cloth, concealing whoever was inside. The person had never emerged.
As he approached the cart, the leader dismounted, his ferocious expression softening. He walked lightly to the side of the cart, knelt on both knees, and respectfully reported, "Reporting to Immortal Master, this is the Chenshui River, which connects to the Wuling River. We are now within the borders of the Great Sui Kingdom."
The cart remained silent, with no response. The leader lay prostrate on the ground, not daring to rise.
After a while, a hoarse and grating voice came from within the cart, "Build a raft and cross the river. Continue northward."
The bearded leader hurriedly acknowledged the order and was about to rise when a violent coughing fit suddenly erupted from the cart. "Q-Quickly send two sacrifices—cough, cough…"
Qin Sang was struck with horror, and the other prisoners began to stir.
Whenever the immortal master requested sacrifices, two prisoners would be sent into the black-cloth cart. An hour later, their corpses would be brought out.
Three days ago, Qin Sang had inadvertently seen one of the corpses. A living person had gone in, but what came out was a desiccated husk, completely drained of blood and flesh, with only skin stretched over the bones.
Those sunken eye sockets were still vividly imprinted in his mind, as if they were silently conveying an endless terror, shattering his understanding of the world.
If not for the sharpness of his senses, Qin Sang might have thought he was in the eighteenth level of hell[2], though he couldn’t recall any specific torture that involved draining the flesh dry.
The leader ordered his men to cut down trees and build a raft, while he personally dragged two people from the nearby cart.
Qin Sang secretly breathed a sigh of relief, but his despair didn't lessen in the slightest. If he couldn’t escape, he would only live a few days longer than those two—what was there to celebrate?
Qin Sang's eyes were locked on the bandits constructing the raft. Their efficiency was terrifying, and the raft was nearly finished in no time. Qin Sang could only pray that they had skimped on the work, causing the raft to capsize in the river.
Compared to being drained dry, he would rather drown in the river, as if this life had been nothing more than a final dream before death.
The leader strode quickly toward the cart, dragging the two unfortunate souls, who used their last bit of strength to cry out, while the bandits along the riverbank laughed heartily.
The sound of water, the wind, the clashing of weapons, footsteps, screams, groans, and sinister laughter…
All these noises assaulted Qin Sang's ears, and the world suddenly became unbearably loud. His mind was in turmoil, and he felt as if he were about to faint. Suddenly, a thunderous shout rang out.
"Demon! Let’s see where you run this time!"
Qin Sang jerked his head up, just in time to see a dazzling white light flash at the mountaintop, cutting through the air, brighter than the sun.
The white light flickered. It looks like a sword!
1. Sanwa translates to "the third child" in Chinese ☜
2. In Chinese culture, there are 18 levels of hell, with each level being worse than the previous. ☜