The Overlord Flower's Guide to Intercepting a Woman's Wife's Death and the Male Lead&

A gravel slope lay ahead, with an incline of nearly 45 degrees, making it impossible for a low-chassis jeep to climb.

He Yaozu turned off the engine, removed the key, and got out of the car.

He took the map tube from the back seat, strapped it to his shoulder, tucked the pistol back into his waistband, and then pulled out a piece of oilcloth from under the car to wrap around the outer layer of the tube and tie it tightly.

Su Xingmian got off the car.

He Yaozu has already started climbing the ranks.

His shoes gripped the gravel, each step he took was steady and resonant, and his breathing was even.

Su Xingmian followed behind, climbing up using both hands and feet.

The cotton coat was incredibly heavy, and the wind rushed into the cuffs, making her fingers numb with cold.

But her demonic power was still circulating, and although her body temperature was low, the strength in her limbs was enough to sustain her.

He kept a distance of seven or eight steps from He Yaozu, neither too close nor too far.

The gravel on the slope is loose, and you will slide down if you step on it.

He Yaozu deliberately chose routes where the stones were firmly embedded, and Su Xingmian followed in his footprints, saving a lot of effort.

He Yaozu walked to the top of the slope and stopped.

He turned around.

The moonlight shone from behind him, casting half of his face in light and half in shadow.

Su Xingmian was climbing up with her head down, her fingers gripping a protruding rock.

"Your stamina is not like a girl's."

Her hand, which was gripping the stone, froze.

He Yaozu stood atop the slope, looking down from above.

"An average woman would need to rest at least three times to walk this route."

His tone was flat, almost like he was talking about the weather.

"You didn't stop even once."

The wind howled as it rushed up from the bottom of the ravine, blowing Su Xingmian's loose hair onto her face.

She lowered her head, her fingers clenched tightly on the stone, and her voice was squeezed out from her throat, trembling.

"I...I'm afraid to stop."

She took a breath.

"I'm afraid of being left here."

He Yaozu didn't move.

The moonlight stretched his shadow long, covering Su Xingmian.

Su Xingmian counted her heartbeats.

Her approach was correct; she was still useful to him, and he needed a woman who depended on him.

A hand reached out.

Dry, strong, with thin calluses on the knuckles.

Su Xingmian hesitated for a moment before extending her hand.

He pulled her up to the top of the hill.

"Let's go."

His tone was exactly the same as every time he had urged her before.

Su Xingmian steadied herself, patted the dirt off her knees, and followed with her head down.

The tension in my heart eased a little.

He accepted this explanation.

From that moment on, Su Xingmian deliberately slowed down.

Every two hundred steps, I would bend over, supporting myself on my knees, panting for breath. Occasionally, my foot would slip, and I would stumble a couple of steps before regaining my balance.

He Yaozu walked ahead without turning back to urge him on.

But his pace and rhythm changed.

Every seven or eight steps, I would slightly tilt my head and glance back out of the corner of my eye.

Su Xingmian had long since figured out this habit.

Every time he caught her, she was doing something different.

Squatting on the ground to rub one's ankles, or pulling up the collar of one's cotton coat and hunching one's neck.

What he saw was always a tired, cold-fearing country girl who barely managed to keep up.

What he won't see is...

Every time Su Xingmian squats down to rub her ankles, her bare feet touch the ground for half a second between the pebbles.

The demonic power seeped out from the soles of his feet, spreading outwards along the remaining root system underground.

The vegetation in this area is already sparse, but it hasn't completely disappeared.

Scattered camel thorns and sand sages are scattered on both sides of the ravine, their roots running deep, invisible on the surface but connected underground.

Each time she touched the ground, she pushed the nearest clump of plants three to five degrees south.

The consumption is three times greater than before.

With too few plants, the distance between each clump increased from fifty meters to two hundred meters or even more, requiring the demonic power to travel a much longer distance to reach the next marker.

But she can't stop.

If you stop, the old fox will lose track of you.

……

rear.

Zhou Bingheng's jeep followed the plant markers all the way to the dried-up riverbed.

The tire tracks disappeared in front of the scree slope.

He turned off the engine and got out of the car, the beam of his flashlight sweeping across the slope.

Two sets of footprints. One large and one small.

The long stride provides stability, with even spacing. The sole pattern is that of a rubber-soled liberation shoe, with wear concentrated on the forefoot, a wear pattern typical of long-term military personnel.

The small stride is relatively short, the spacing is uniform in the first half, and becomes irregular in the second half.

Zhou Bingheng squatted down.

The flashlight beam shone between the third and fourth small footprints.

The first three footprints were about 42 centimeters apart, with consistent tread depth and even weight distribution.

Starting from the fourth one, the spacing was shortened to 35 centimeters, and the left foot was almost 1 centimeter lighter than the right foot.

The center of gravity shifted.

She was starting to feel the strain.

Zhou Bingheng's finger paused for two seconds at that point of change.

He stood up and turned off the flashlight.

The moonlight is enough.

He marched up the slope at twice the speed of a normal march.

The familiar changes in vegetation suggest she is still leaving him a way out.

……

Two hours later.

He Yaozu led Su Xingmian to the edge of the no-man's land in the south.

The terrain ahead has changed.

Rolling hills and ravines stretch out, the ground barren, with gravel and sand mixed together, the gray-white wasteland extending all the way to the horizon.

He Yaozu stopped, unscrewed the kettle, took a sip, and handed it to Su Xingmian.

She took it, tilted her head back and gulped down two mouthfuls. Water dripped from the corner of her mouth, which she wiped with her sleeve.

He Yaozu glanced at his watch and then looked up at the sky.

"After crossing that ditch, it'll be another half a day's walk to reach the rendezvous point."

The tone was very casual.

He touched the gun handle at his waist with his right hand, his thumb brushed against it, and then let go.

He glanced back at the path he had come from, his boot soles grinding against the gravel to smooth out a footprint that had been too deep.

Su Xingmian returned the kettle to him.

From the moment she set foot in this area, she began to use her demonic power to probe outwards.

The camel thorn is gone.

The sand sage is gone.

Even the most drought-resistant reeds are reduced to just a few scattered clumps, spaced more than 500 meters apart, with fewer and fewer further ahead.

Further ahead lies the true no-man's land.

There were no plants, no roots, nothing she could rely on.

Her mark is about to break.

He Yaozu had already started walking forward.

Su Xingmian followed.

I stepped over a clump of short, almost touching-the-ground reeds.

The last clump.

She touched the ground with her toes the instant she stepped over it.

Demonic power poured out from the soles of his feet.

She poured all the demonic power she could muster into the roots of this clump of grass.

The flower bud trembled deep within her soul, and the feeling of her roots being drained from the ends of her meridians made her vision go black.

But she didn't stop.

This clump of reeds will grow wildly over the next twelve hours.

It grew from the height of a palm to the height of a knee, and the leaves changed from withered yellow to emerald green.

On a gray and white wasteland, this is a green marker that no one can ignore.

The marker ends here; there is no vegetation ahead, and the final direction is due north.

The moment her demonic power was depleted, her face turned pale.

Her legs gave way and she stumbled forward half a step, her hand landing on the gravel, leaving a red mark on her palm.

He Yaozu turned around.

"Can't walk anymore?"

Su Xingmian propped herself up on her knees and shook her head.

"I can walk."

His voice was weak, and his breath stopped midway.

He Yaozu looked at her for two seconds, said nothing, and turned to continue walking.

Su Xingmian gritted her teeth and followed.

My limbs felt weak, my head was throbbing, and I had to desperately maintain my balance with every step.

She didn't know if the old fox could arrive before the grass withered.

Twelve hours.

He Yaozu said that it would take another half a day to reach the rendezvous point.

The time limit is dead.

She has no choice but to gamble.

I'm betting the old fox can catch up to this place before the grass withers.

He Yaozu walked ahead, the map tube on his back swaying slightly with each step. The tube's opening faced right, and the straps were slung diagonally from his left shoulder to his right waist, tightened very tightly.

Su Xingmian touched the needle pouch in the inner pocket of her cotton coat.

He Yaozu took the seventh step and turned his head slightly.

She removed her hand from the needle pouch and raised it to smooth her hair.

He looked away and continued walking.

The wasteland ahead was a gray expanse, with not a single blade of grass in sight.

Behind her, the clump of reeds, infused with all her demonic power, was silently sprouting in the cracks between the rubble.

The tips of the leaves are turning green.