I am invincible, that's why I lie down. You're using your entire clan to rebel?

When Qin Mu reached the cave entrance, he suddenly stopped.

He hadn't noticed it before, but as he turned around and walked out of the cave, his peripheral vision caught a glimpse of an unnatural shadow on the northwest corner of the cave wall.

The rock face there was different from the surrounding area. Instead of the uneven natural texture, it had a narrow, man-made crack, with edges that were neater than the other rocks. It looked as if someone had repeatedly entered and exited there, polishing the originally rough rock face into a smooth edge.

He didn't say anything, but stopped, turned his head, and looked at the gap.

The wolf was still lying beside its den, its cubs huddled beside it.

It looked up at Qin Mu, its gaze following his line of sight to the crack in the stone, before lowering its head again.

Qin Mu didn't rush to check, but first looked around the entire cave, as if he was re-confirming this space in his mind.

Then he stepped to the crevice in the stone, turned his body to the side, and walked in as if through an extremely narrow door.

The crevice was longer than he had imagined; after walking about seven or eight steps, the space in front of him finally opened up again.

He stood at the edge of that new space, his gaze falling on the smoothed rock surfaces on both sides of the cave wall—not naturally formed, but carved out by human hands, one stroke at a time.

"Is there something?" Jiang Zhaoyue's voice came from behind.

She didn't follow them in; she simply stood at the edge of the crevice, her gaze piercing through the narrow gap to look at Qin Mu.

Qin Mu didn't turn around; his voice came from ahead: "Come in and take a look."

The women passed through the crevice in the rock and entered the hidden cave.

The space is not large, about the size of two rooms, and the ceiling is slightly higher than the outside, allowing people to stand upright.

Several shallow grooves were carved out on each side of the cave wall, containing some things that had been dried for who knows how many years.

On the left, in the stone trough, lies a wooden box that has faded to a dark brown color, with the lid slightly warped.

A sword hangs on the stone wall to the right. The scabbard is dark gray and covered with a matte finish that has been polished by time.

Scattered underfoot were some old objects whose shapes were no longer discernible, such as a short flute made of bone, animal hides rolled into thin strips, and several flat stone pieces that had once been used as stepping stones.

When Yin Sutang walked in, her gaze first fell on the sword. After looking at it for a while, she spoke: "These things left behind by this senior have been here for at least several decades. A person who would hide things in a place like this wouldn't want to take them to their coffin."

Qin Mu didn't reply. He simply walked up to the wooden box, bent down, took it out of the stone trough, and placed it on the ground.

The wooden box was covered with a thin layer of dust, which he casually brushed away to reveal the wood grain underneath.

He gently lifted the already raised crack, moving very slowly, as if waiting for the suppressed energy to dissipate.

He didn't open it immediately, but simply placed it on his lap and gently ran his fingers along the edge of the lid.

Then he opened it.

The items inside were neatly stacked, as if the person who stored it had spent a long time confirming where each item should be placed.

At the top was a booklet wrapped in oilcloth, which was yellowed and brittle, with curled edges.

He unfolded the oilcloth, revealing the booklet inside. The cover was made of some kind of dark leather, and the edges were worn, but the writing was still clearly legible.

The cover has no title, only a line of engraved words, with deep strokes, as if carved with the tip of a knife on leather—"Travels in the North".

Qin Mu turned to the first page.

The handwriting inside was different from his own; the strokes were thicker and had an angular quality, as if worn down by wind and sand.

The first paragraph does not specify the year, but reads: "I have traveled in the north for twenty years without encountering a worthy adversary. However, the world is vast, and there are places beyond our reach. The wind and sand here are like knives, and the temperature difference between day and night is extreme, making it extremely difficult for ordinary people to live here for an extended period. Yet I have built a cave here to shelter from the wind and snow, and left this book for those who come after. If anyone can find this place, it is already a matter of fate."

The text on the following pages was sometimes dense and sometimes sparse, and occasionally there were a few rough topographical maps, showing the distribution of several rivers and the orientation of several mountains north of Fenglingdu.

One of the pages features a partial sketch of a sword, with a few lines of text next to it, resembling some kind of record of swordsmanship techniques.

Turning the page again, at the very end of that page, there was an arrow pointing to a line of text: "If you wish to find what I left behind, go behind the third pine-covered rock on the stone wall. I have no intention of taking it with me; I leave it to someone destined to find it."

Yin Sutang's gaze flickered slightly when she saw the words. She walked to the stone wall, placed her hand on the third protruding stone, and gently pushed it.

The stone was slightly loose, as if it had been taken out and put back many times.

She took it out; the space behind it wasn't large, just enough to fit a long, narrow old wooden box.

She took the wooden box out, placed it on the ground, and opened it.

Inside was a short knife, its scabbard wrapped in some kind of dark animal hide, with a string of small Northern Manchu characters engraved at the scabbard opening.

She pulled the knife out halfway; the blade was still sharp, gleaming with a fine, even sheen in the dim light.

Qin Mu closed the booklet and put it into his sleeve.

He stood up, walked to the sword hanging on the cave wall, and took it down.

The sword was heavier than he had expected, and the scabbard had a layer of marks indicating that it had been wiped repeatedly.

He gripped the sword hilt, holding it horizontally in front of him, examining it for a moment in the light filtering through the cracks in the rocks. Then he turned his head slightly, his gaze falling on the black wolf still lying beside its shallow den: "You've lived here all this time, you must have seen everything in this cave, right? I accept this gift."

The wolf didn't get up; it just looked up at him once, then lowered its head again.

Qin Mu held the sword horizontally in front of his knees, his fingers slowly tracing the mark on the surface of the scabbard that had been repeatedly wiped.

He didn't turn around, his voice neither loud nor soft, as if stating something he had already confirmed: "You know everything about the things in this cave. You stayed here not just for this cave."

The wolf made no sound.

It remained lying beside the shallow nest, like a black stone monument edged with the warm morning light. Its ears twitched slightly, as if to confirm whether he was talking to it, but it did not raise its head.

Jiang Zhaoyue stood at the edge of the crevice, her gaze shifting from the sword in Qin Mu's hand to the wolf, then back again: "Young Master, are you saying that this wolf... is related to the person who left these things?"

"It's not related." Qin Mu held the sword upright, the bottom of the scabbard making a very soft thud as it touched the ground. "It must have been raised by that person. Or rather, it used to be with that person. That person left, and it stayed behind."

Lin Xiaolu crouched a few steps away from the shallow den, her gaze shifting from the huddled wolf cubs to the black wolf, then to the rolled-up "Travels in the North": "So it's been guarding this place... waiting for that person to return?"

No one answered her.

The wolf remained lying in the same spot.

It neither nodded nor shook its head, yet there was no trace of denial in its posture.

Yin Sutang stood in front of that stone wall, holding the short knife in her hand.

Her gaze did not fall on the blade, but on the Northern Mang characters engraved on the scabbard.

Qin Mu noticed her silence: "You recognize these words?"

Yin Sutang was silent for a while, as if she were piecing together fragments she had seen many times before, and then she spoke: "This string of words is a name—or rather, a title."

She lightly touched the tiny characters on the scabbard with her fingertip, "Long ago, in this area of ​​the Northern Mang border, there was a man whose real name no one knew, only that he called himself 'Northern Mountain Guest.' He did not belong to any tribe, nor did he fight for anyone; he simply wandered alone at the border between Northern Mang and the Northern Territory. Some people have seen him take action, more than once. It is said that he once single-handedly held off a small cavalry unit south of Fengling Ferry. No one knows how he did it; all they know is that the unit did not advance any further."

She paused for a moment: "Some say he wasn't from the Northern Barbarians, nor from the Northern Border. Some say he came from the Central Plains. But he never spoke of his origins, and no one dared to ask. He stayed in this place for over twenty years, never marrying, never taking on any disciples. No one knows where he went afterward; he vanished like a gust of wind. Some say he died, some say he crossed the snow-capped mountains further north of the Northern Barbarians and went to a place no one had ever been. But no one has ever found his remains, nor his belongings."

Her gaze fell on the scroll of "Travels in the North," "If he really left these things behind, then he is that Northern Mountain Traveler."

Chen Wanqing stood at the edge of the crowd, her gaze also falling on the rolled-up booklet: "So this wolf...is his? It's been waiting for him to come back?"

Yin Sutang neither nodded nor shook her head: "I've never seen him, I've only heard his legends. But if this wolf has really been guarding this place for so many years, then what it's waiting for must be someone who will never return."

Zhao Alan squatted at the edge of the hole and said softly, "It must have been waiting a long time, right?"

Qin Mu sat by the fire without saying a word.

The wolf was still lying beside its shallow den.

Its children were curled up beside it, their gray fur edged with warmth by the firelight.

Qin Mu put the booklet and the dagger back in their original places: "These things are not for any specific person. They are only for the person who can find this place."

He stood up and dusted off his robes: "Since it's willing to come with us, let's take it with us."

He didn't look back at the wolf, but took two steps towards the cave entrance: "Let's go."

The black wolf remained lying in the same spot, without moving.

Then it stood up.

Its movements were slow, yet they carried a composure like that of a tree that had been bent by the wind for too long and finally decided to readjust its posture—unhurried, unperturbed, it simply stood up and stood there for a moment, as if confirming something one last time.

Then it took a few steps toward the cave entrance, gently touched the head of one of the wolf cubs as if urging them to follow, and then walked toward the cave entrance without ever looking back.

When the team set off again, the morning light had fully spread out.

The wilderness north of Fenglingdu is more open than to the south, with almost no obstruction in sight, except for a few poplar trees that are bent by the wind casting long, thin shadows on the gray-brown ground.

The dirt road was no longer as bumpy and uneven as before. It seemed that the further north you went, the more frequently the road was used, and the smoother it became from the wheels and hooves of horses.

The carriage led the way, its curtain half-rolled up, revealing several figures inside who were talking in hushed tones.

Qin Mu sat near the door, with the copy of "Travels in the North" on his lap. He turned to the page with the leaf bookmark and was looking at a topographical map drawn on the edge of the page.

Jiang Zhaoyue sat next to him, without a map in her hand. Her gaze was fixed on the slowly unfolding scenery outside the window, as if she were matching those landmarks with the locations in her memory.

Han Xin'er sat on the other side of the carriage, having already woven a new grasshopper from the grass stem in her hand. It was smaller than the previous ones, and she had repeatedly adjusted the curvature of its wings.

She placed the grasshopper on the windowsill, letting it face the morning light, and looked at it for a while, as if to confirm that she was finally satisfied with her weaving this time.

She looked up at the window and then at the black wolf walking in front of the carriage.

It walked steadily and calmly, taking small steps, but always maintaining a fixed distance from the carriage, neither falling behind nor rushing ahead.

Its offspring followed behind it in a loose line. Occasionally, if one of them fell a few steps behind, it would stop and wait for it to catch up before continuing on its way.

Lin Xiaolu peered out the car window for a while, then finally couldn't help but ask, "Can they even walk? Won't it hurt when their tiny paws step on the gravel?"

Yin Sutang was leaning against the other side of the car wall, looking down at the inscription on the hilt of the short knife. Hearing this, she looked up: "These wolf cubs can run with their mothers within half a month of birth. They can even walk on more difficult roads than this."

Lin Xiaolu glanced at her, then looked at the wolf pups, as if trying to confirm which specific kind of wolf she was referring to.

Yunluan rode her horse behind the carriage for a long time, her eyes scanning the road ahead and the terrain on both sides.

Her gaze lingered on the back of the black wolf for a moment, as if confirming its presence in her own way, before moving away.

The wind blew across the open fields, carrying a dry yet gentle scent.

Yunluan gently pulled on the reins, keeping the distance between the horse and the carriage within what she considered a suitable range.

After the carriage had traveled a while, Chen Wanqing took out a small celadon bottle from her bundle, uncorked it, poured out a little ointment, melted it in her palm, and applied it to her wrists and neck—it was a moisturizing ointment she was used to apply in dry weather, made with beeswax and a few herbs.

Zhao Alan watched her do these things, her gaze lingering on the bottle for a moment, but she didn't say anything.

Mingyue sat by the window, holding a thin book in her hand, quietly turning the pages.

The scroll was brought out of the cave and contained notes about herbs and minerals.

She read slowly, occasionally pausing to lightly touch the edge of a word with her finger, as if to confirm that she had recognized the words correctly.

Su Wan sat next to her, repackaging the remaining dry food from today. She counted carefully, wrapped each portion in oil paper, folded it neatly, and put it into a cloth bag.

She tied the bag tightly, placed it in the corner of the carriage, and then reached out to flatten the opening of the bag.

After she finished, she looked up and her gaze fell on Zhao Alan. Her eyes lingered on Zhao Alan's face for a moment, as if to confirm that her complexion was better than yesterday.

The conversation inside the carriage gradually subsided, as if people had naturally transitioned from talking to quiet rest after a long journey.

The sound of wheels rolling over the occasional pebbles on the road became clearer in the silence.

At noon, the convoy stopped beside a dry riverbed.

Yunluan was the first to rein in her horse, dismount, and tie the chestnut horse to a crooked old poplar tree. Then she walked to the carriage and lifted the curtain: "The road ahead is not easy to travel. We probably won't reach a place to rest until evening. Let's rest here for a while."

Qin Mu alighted from the carriage.

He walked to the poplar tree and stood still. The night wind slightly lifted a corner of the hem of his gray cloth robe before letting it fall back down.

He didn't sit down immediately, but just stood there, as if waiting for something.

The black wolf and its cubs also lay down at the edge of the shade, like a black line that had been incorporated into the procession.

The group of people then disembarked from the carriage one after another.

Some people took out dry food and water bags from the car, while others walked to the riverbed, squatted down, scooped up a handful of water, and washed the dust off their faces.

Some people sat down against the poplar trees, took out a blade of grass from their sleeves and continued to wrap it around the fabric they were weaving, while others were using a knife to whittle a branch.

As the fire was relit, Qin Mu's voice rang out, neither loud nor soft, carrying the naturalness of someone who had made many decisions before: "We'll camp around here tonight."