Escaping the Mist Ninja starts with backstabbing your teacher.

Chapter 172 The Interesting Nameless One!

The stone steps weren't long, but for someone who had just woken up and whose body hadn't fully recovered, every step was an ordeal.

Wuming walked slowly, his bare feet stepping on the damp stone slabs, the icy touch spreading up from the soles of his feet.

She lowered her head, watching herself walk from the darkness toward the ever-brightening light.

Izumi walked in front without turning back to urge him on, while Yekura walked at the very back, her gaze fixed on the nameless woman's back, ready to reach out and help her at any moment.

Sea fog poured in from the cave entrance, and the grayish-white light cast long shadows of the three people.

Wuming stopped at the last step of the stone staircase, squinting as she gazed at the sky shrouded in sea mist. Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the mist, shattering into countless tiny particles that fell upon her face.

She instinctively raised her hand to cover her eyes and shrank back slightly.

Pupils that hadn't seen light for centuries were stung at this moment.

Ye Cang stepped forward and handed over a piece of black cloth: "Wear this on, and get used to it slowly."

Wuming took the strip of cloth and tied it over his eyes. Through the thin fabric, the light became softer.

She tentatively took the last step, her bare feet touching the mud on the island.

Soft, damp, with the slipperiness of moss and the softness of decaying leaves.

She crouched down and reached out to touch the ground. The soil squeezed out from between her fingers, cool and damp, with a living smell.

It wasn't the dry, deathly, endless silence of the stone coffin.

"This is... the new world?" Her voice was soft, with a cautious probing tone.

"For you—" Izumi's voice came from ahead, "it should be considered a new world."

He raised his hand and made a sweeping motion in front of him, and the rift in the Divine Might Space quietly opened.

An invisible force field pushed aside the surrounding mist, revealing a dark, twisted void.

The head of the skeletal dragon emerged from the crack, its bony skull appearing and disappearing in the sea mist, the eerie light deep within its eye sockets like two will-o'-the-wisps.

Wuming did not retreat; she merely tilted her head slightly, pulled down the strip of cloth a little, and looked at the giant dragon made of white bones.

"You raised it?"

"Um."

"It's pretty ugly."

Ye Cang turned her head away, and the corners of her mouth curved up again. This time she didn't cover her mouth, but simply hid her smile in the angle of her head tilt.

Quanchuan's lips twitched, but he didn't reply and was the first to step into the dragon's mouth.

Ye Cang gestured for Wuming to follow, then walked beside her. Wuming lifted the hem of her black robe and stepped inside.

Inside the dragon's belly room, Wuming sat by the window, wrapped in a black robe, gazing at the receding sea of ​​clouds outside.

His Sharingan was covered by a strip of cloth, and half of his face was hidden in the shadow of the hood, revealing only his sharp chin and pale lips.

The island of Narakashima receded further and further into the distance, eventually becoming a tiny gray dot between the sea and sky, disappearing at the horizon.

Izumi leaned against the bone wall, took out a pot of tea from the scroll, and poured three cups.

Yecang placed one of the cups next to Wuming. Wuming reached out, picked up the cup with both hands, and felt the warmth coming from his palms.

"It's sweet." She took a sip, her voice soft, carrying a sense of novelty at discovering something new.

"This is called milk tea," Ye Cang said.

Wuming shook his head: "Milk tea? The tea I used to drink didn't taste like this."

She didn't explain what it tasted like before, and Yekura didn't press her for an answer.

Inside the dragon's belly room, the dim light from the fireplace warmed the space and made it peaceful.

Wuming held the cup of milk tea, sipping it slowly, as if to confirm that the sweetness was not an illusion.

She drank very slowly, lingering each sip on the tip of her tongue for a moment before swallowing.

Izumi leaned against the bone wall, her eyes closed, seemingly dozing.

Wuming looked at the clouds outside and asked curiously, "Where are you planning to go now?"

"The Land of Hot Springs," Izumi said. "Go soak in the hot springs; you need to recuperate properly."

The nameless man frowned slightly: "A hot spring?"

"It's just hot water," Ye Cang added from the side, a hint of a smile in his voice. "Hot water that gushes from underground, it contains minerals, which are good for recovery."

"Moreover, the cuisine of the land of hot springs is also very famous, with fresh seafood, steaming hot pot dishes, and a variety of desserts."

Wuming remained silent for a moment, seemingly processing this information. She looked down at her withered fingers and then at the milk tea in her cup, which was already more than half full.

"I have no money," she said.

"It's my treat," Izumi said.

Wuming raised his eyes, but his expression was obscured by the cloth strips covering them.

But her lips twitched slightly, as if she wanted to say something but swallowed it back. After a few breaths, she uttered two words: "Fine!"

Ye Cang looked at her reluctant expression and the corners of his mouth curved up again.

She didn't expose the fact that this girl who crawled out of the stone coffin clearly didn't even know what a "hot spring" was, but said "okay," as if she was reluctantly accepting a gift she didn't really want.

The bone dragon adjusted its direction in the clouds and flew eastward.

The Land of Soup.

As dusk fell, the bone dragon landed in a forest, not too close to the hot spring inn.

He stored the bone dragon in his Divine Might Space, and the three of them walked along the road for about fifteen minutes before arriving at the hot spring inn.

The hotel was small, a wooden building with a roof covered in bluish-gray tiles, and several paper lanterns hanging under the eaves, their orange-red light appearing especially warm in the twilight.

There was a small stone lantern at the entrance, and next to it, a bamboo water pipe poured out water with a "plop," startling a sparrow that was perched on the fence.

The owner was an elderly woman with gray hair, wearing a dark blue apron, with deep wrinkles on her face, but bright eyes.

"There is a separate hot spring pool in the backyard, separated for men and women. The innermost room is a mixed-gender family bath. You can decide for yourselves."

The old woman placed the key on the counter, her gaze lingering on the nameless man for a moment.

The old woman saw her pale face and the cloth covering her eyes, but didn't ask any more questions, only saying one more thing.

"The water in the pool is changed every day, and it's already been filled tonight. Dinner will be a seafood hot pot and grilled fish, local specialties, and it will be delivered at 7:30."

"Thank you." Ye Cang took the key.

The backyard was quieter than the front yard. Low bamboos were planted on both sides of the stone path, and the bamboo leaves swayed gently in the evening breeze, making a soft rustling sound.

The innermost private hot spring room is surrounded by a bamboo fence, and a paper lantern hangs at the entrance, casting a soft, hazy glow on the stone steps in front of it.

Pushing open the door, you first enter a small changing room, complete with bamboo baskets, white bath towels, and wooden clogs.

Pushing open the door on the other side of the changing room, a wave of heat hits you.

The hot spring pool was not large, about two zhang square, with pebbles paving the bottom. The spring water was a pale milky white, with a thin layer of steam floating on the surface.

The edge of the pond was made of stones, with a wooden plank on top, on which a wooden basin and a wooden spoon were placed.

The hot spring faces a small bamboo grove, the bamboo tips faintly visible in the twilight, and further away are the layered tree canopies in the valley and the last dark red sunset on the horizon.

Wuming stood by the pool, his fingers resting on the sash of his yukata, not moving for a long time.

Her body was as stiff as a stone, and her eyes, covered by a strip of cloth, revealed no expression, but her tightly pursed lips betrayed her tension.

Yekura walked past her, draped a towel over a rock by the pool, and said in a casual tone, as if doing something mundane: "The water's ready, go in."

"Get out," Wuming said.

Ye Cang glanced at her, said nothing more, turned and walked out of the bathhouse, closing the door behind him.

The sound of wooden clogs stepping on stone slabs came from outside the door and gradually faded away.

The nameless man stood there for a moment, then slowly untied the sash of his yukata.

Her yukata slipped to the ground, and she stood naked by the steaming pool, looking down at her body.

Thin, pale, with ribs protruding like bare tree branches in winter.

There were no marks on her skin; the sealing technique had not left any visible traces on her body.

But the body seemed to have been hollowed out by something, leaving only a thin layer of skin.

She lifted her foot and tentatively dipped it into the pool. The hot water reached her ankles, and she jerked back as if she had been scalded.

After pausing for a few moments, she slowly inserted it again, this time without pulling it back.

She bit her lip and submerged her entire foot in the water, then her calf, knee, and thigh.

Hot water enveloped her body, spreading from her feet to her waist, chest, and shoulders.

She slowly sank into the pool, leaving only her head above water. Leaning against the pool wall, she tilted her head back and looked up at the sky above, which was fragmented by bamboo leaves, with the eye not covered by the cloth strip.

Dusk had completely fallen, and a few bright stars twinkled through the gaps in the bamboo leaves.

The rising steam, the rustling of bamboo leaves, and the babbling of the distant stream blended together like an unknown lullaby.

Wuming closed her eyes and rested the back of her head on the stone at the edge of the pool. The water rippled gently, lapping against the skin on the side of her neck.

This was the first time in hundreds of years that she had felt "warmth".

That warmth was not the dry, artificial warmth found inside the stone coffin.

That wasn't the constant temperature created by the sealing technique to maintain the state of suspended animation, but a real heat that seeped into your bones, making you want to curl up into a ball.

She didn't know how long she had been soaking in the pool.

The door was pushed open a crack, and Ye Cang's voice came from outside: "Soaking for too long will make you dizzy. It's time to get out. Dinner is here."

Wuming opened her eyes, stood up from the pool, and water slid off her body, leaving two shallow footprints on the stone slab.

She picked up a bath towel, wrapped herself in it, dried herself off, and changed into the new clothes that Yekura had prepared for her.

A plain cotton kimono, with a dark blue background and tiny white petals printed on it. The fabric is soft and clings to the skin, unlike the rough linen battle robes of the Warring States period.

She opened the door, stepping barefoot onto the wooden porch. Her hair was still wet, with a few strands clinging to her cheeks, and water droplets dripping from the ends of her hair onto the wooden planks, spreading into a small dark patch.

Dinner has already been set out on the low table on the outer porch.

A clay pot is bubbling with seafood: shrimp, crab, shellfish, tofu, and mushrooms. The broth is miso, and the aroma rises with the steam.

Several small dishes were placed on the side: pickled radish, small fish cooked in soy sauce, and cold spinach salad.

There was also a grilled fish, its skin crispy, its eyes bulging, and the sea salt granules on its body glistening in the lantern light.

The rice was served in a black lacquered bowl, each grain distinct, with a faint sheen on the surface.

Wuming knelt before the low table, looking at the steaming food, his Adam's apple bobbing.