One person: Starting with the Rumble-Rumble Fruit, his grandmaster uncle emerges from seclusion.

"Girl..."

"Wait until I'm better."

"I will protect you for the rest of my life."

The thought had barely crossed my mind when...

The true qi within Zhang Tianyi's body began to circulate on its own.

His senses were completely shut down, and his heartbeat slowed to an extreme.

He closed his eyes and, in an unprecedented sense of peace, fell into a long, restorative slumber.

Watching the young man on the bed fall asleep again, his breathing became steady and long.

Abao obediently placed the bowl on the bedside table.

She reached out her small, white hand and tucked the corner of the coarse cloth quilt around him.

Then, resting his chin on his hands, he quietly stood by and watched.

……

As night deepened, the rain finally stopped.

The fog in the mountains and forests seemed even thicker.

In that muddy, desolate forest, more than ten miles away from the village.

All that remained was the sound of wind rustling through the leaves and the unpleasant low cries of a few carrion birds perched on the branches.

On the ground, the corpses of those Onmyoji lay scattered in the mud.

"Tap, tap, tap."

Several figures dressed in black night clothes and wearing various hideous ghost masks.

Like a flock of bats gliding through the night, they silently spread out around the grove.

Their movements were well-trained and they made no unnecessary noise.

The leader of the men in black walked to the old banyan tree.

He crouched down and looked at Shinsuke Kamo's body in the mud, his neck completely broken.

The gloved fingers rubbed against the charred wounds on the corpse.

I held it to my nose and sniffed it.

A suppressed snort came from beneath the mask.

He stood up, his gaze sweeping over the chaotic battlefield around him.

Finally, my gaze settled on a series of footprints that stretched from the base of a tree into the depths of the forest.

The footprints were one big and one small.

Although it had been washed by the rain, faint traces were still left on the soft soil.

Chapter 428 The Danger in the Morning Mist, the Clever Bao'er

In late autumn in Sichuan, it always gets light later than outside.

The first hint of dawn appeared in the east.

In the small courtyard at the end of the village.

A few wisps of pale blue smoke were already rising from the roof of the kitchen.

The mother deftly gathered several freshly steamed cornbread buns into a bamboo basket.

He then used a gourd ladle to scoop some clean water from the water vat and wiped the stove clean.

"Baby, keep the water warm in the pot. If the young man wakes up later, feed him some."

The old woman walked to the door of the inner room and whispered her instructions.

She carried a slightly worn bamboo basket on her shoulder, and had wrapped a clean headscarf around her head again, looking very neat and tidy.

Beside the bed, Abao was sitting on a small stool.

Hearing her mother's voice, the little girl turned her head.

Her big eyes curved into two beautiful crescent moons.

She smiled and nodded her chin, her voice crisp and clear:

"I know, Mom. Are you going to the market in town so early?"

"Yes."

The old woman sighed, her gaze falling on the young man on the bed, whose breathing was steady but whose face was still pale:

“This young man’s injury is quite strange. The herbs we use in the mountains probably won’t be enough.”

I'm going to town to buy some medicine, and I'll also buy two pounds of pork on the way.

"He's weak and needs to eat some meat to nourish himself."

Grandma went over and lovingly rubbed Abao's head twice with her rough, warm hands:

"You stay home and behave yourself. When your mother comes back, she'll bring you sesame candy and osmanthus cake."

Upon hearing that there were sugar figurines and osmanthus cakes, a joyful light instantly flashed in Abao's eyes.

She nodded repeatedly, like a jubilant little deer, and didn't forget to sweetly remind herself:

"Okay, okay! Mom, please walk slowly down the mountain. It rained last night, and the road is very slippery."

"Okay, my darling is the most considerate."

The old woman smiled and responded, then turned around and closed the door to the inner room.

Carrying a bamboo basket on his back, he stepped out of the courtyard onto the wet stone slabs.

Silence returned to the surroundings.

Only a few clear bird calls occasionally drifted through the morning mist.

……

On a high slope, only two miles away from this small village.

Seven or eight figures dressed in black, wearing various ferocious ghost masks, were silently lurking in the dense jungle.

These people were breathing deeply, and the moisture on their bodies almost blended into the surrounding environment.

They were clearly all highly trained martial arts masters.

"Uncle Three."

A lean man dressed in black, wearing a mask resembling a ghost, slid down from the tree in front of him like a nimble gecko.

He leaned close to a middle-aged man and reported in a low voice:

“We’ve found out everything. It’s just a small village with a dozen or so households. There’s not a single skilled person there; they’re all just peasants who rely on the weather for their livelihood.”

"That guy surnamed Zhang was taken back to the village last night by a mother and daughter from the other side of the village."

"I listened closely against the wall, and the person was still unconscious, with very weak breathing, and even the protective qi had dissipated."

Upon hearing this, the middle-aged man, referred to as Third Uncle, let out a hoarse and cold laugh from beneath his terrifying ghostly face.

He reached out and brushed a withered leaf off his shoulder.

"This is truly a stroke of luck!"

"That bastard ruined the big deal our family made with the Japanese, causing our family to suffer heavy losses."

"Now, his retribution has finally come!"

The man stood up, drew a short, dark blade from his waist, and lightly scraped the edge.

"As long as we kill him, we'll have done a great service to the person above us when we get back."

"Third Uncle, what should we do with the villagers?"

"Is that even a question?"

The man glanced at him, his tone as calm as if he were discussing roadside weeds:

"If we're going to do it cleanly, then we should nip it in the bud."

“In these deep mountains and forests, if someone finds out in ten days or half a month, they will assume it’s a bandit attack.”

The others nodded silently.

Without further ado, the man made a hand gesture.

The group, like wandering ghosts drifting in the morning mist, stealthily made their way towards the small village below.

……

Village entrance.

A muddy dirt road stretches towards the terraced fields in the distance.

Old Wang and his brothers were carrying hoes, with sacks draped over their shoulders to wipe their sweat.

I'm going to take advantage of the cool morning air to clear the ditches in the fields that have been clogged by rainwater.

"The thunder last night was really loud; I thought the mountain god was angry."

As Old Wang walked, he chatted with the man beside him.

"That's right, the rain is pouring down..."

Before the brother could finish speaking, his voice abruptly stopped.

Old Wang turned his head with some confusion.

Then they saw a dark figure wearing a demon mask, who had somehow appeared behind their brother.

A cold, short knife cleanly sliced ​​open his brother's throat.

Blood splattered instantly onto the dirt road.