“Jiang Que? Wake up, I never said I wouldn’t take you with me.”
Shen Tazhi shook Jiang Que again, and upon realizing that he had fallen unconscious, he looked up at the seemingly endless rope ladder.
Gritting his teeth, he lifted Jiang Que onto his back and began walking towards the rope ladder.
Even though Jiang Que was quite slender and fragile, standing at least 1.7 meters tall, resembling a teenage physique, Shen Tazhi wasn’t sure if he could carry Jiang Que on his back.
But at this moment, rather than pondering whether he could or not, he decided to seize the time and quickly get Jiang Que out first.
He had already prepared himself to be trapped by the array with Jiang Que, but unexpectedly, perhaps due to his correct array drawing, the path was clear without hindrance.
Shen Tazhi reached the rope ladder, using one hand to hold onto Jiang Que and the other to tug at the ladder. After confirming that the ladder was secure, he shook Jiang Que, who was lying on his back:
“Jiang Que? Can you hear me?”
The weakly moving tentacles on the ground seemed to respond to Shen Tazhi’s words.
He said, “Do you have the strength to hold onto me? I’m afraid you might fall while climbing up. I’ll take you out now.”
It wasn’t until Shen Tazhi mentioned “going out” that Jiang Que reacted.
With great effort, he lifted his tentacles and wrapped the remaining six tentacles around Shen Tazhi like an octopus, holding onto Shen Tazhi’s neck tightly with his arms.
Without further delay, Shen Tazhi assured Jiang Que wouldn’t fall, then anxiously instructed, “Hold on tight,” before starting to climb up.
Jiang Que clung to his back, curling up tightly during the ascent, holding onto him like a shelter-seeking little bird, firmly grasping him.
In a daze, he still managed to say, “Shen Tazhi…”
“Uh, I’m here,” Shen Tazhi responded as he climbed.
Jiang Que’s voice seemed slightly tearful, “Shen Tazhi, it hurts…”
Shen Tazhi didn’t know what to do. Clumsily, he comforted, “It’s okay, once we’re out, it won’t hurt anymore.”
But clearly, Jiang Que wasn’t really listening to his words. He kept repeating on his back, calling him Shen Tazhi, calling him gege, saying he was in pain, saying he wanted to go.
He kept repeating until finally, Jiang Que was completely out of strength, just lying on Shen Tazhi’s back, moving his lips slightly but unable to make a sound.
Shen Tazhi didn’t dare to take a moment’s rest. Jiang Que, growing weaker on his back, felt like a ticking time bomb, urging him to climb almost mechanically.
He couldn’t understand what the Taoists had done. Jiang Que had been a bit listless before, so why did he suddenly change after the array lit up underground?
The situation was too urgent for Shen Tazhi to dwell on. As he desperately climbed upwards, he had one thought in mind: If those Taoists were truly on the cliff, he would definitely give them a beating once he got there.
Who does that? Taking a little monster who knows nothing to save the world?
His palms were scraped, his arms starting to go numb.
Shen Tazhi didn’t dare to look down, occasionally pausing to use one hand to lift Jiang Que up before taking a breather and continuing to climb.
By now, he was sure he wasn’t human anymore. No normal human could climb a cliff for so long without food while carrying a not-so-light person.
But this wasn’t the time to question what he was. Shen Tazhi stopped again, lifting the quiet Jiang Que and gently shaking him:
“Jiang Que? Are you still awake?”
Jiang Que moved his tentacles wrapped around Shen Tazhi’s waist to respond.
Shen Tazhi breathed a sigh of relief.
“Don’t fall asleep. I’ve been climbing with you on my back, we’re almost out now.”
After a pause, he added, “Once we’re out, I can take you to the current human settlement. Although it’s not as good as before the apocalypse, there are soft beds, food you like, novels… maybe a bit scarce, but we can find some…”
It sounded like he was talking to Jiang Que, but also convincing himself, “You won’t die. You haven’t been out of the abyss yet. I want to show you the outside.”
“It’s snowing outside now, all white. It’s a bit cold, but very beautiful. You’ll like it…”
As he continued climbing, this time Jiang Que didn’t respond.
Quietly lying on his back, it seemed like he had truly fallen asleep.
Shen Tazhi didn’t dare to dwell on it, just kept climbing, almost solely relying on sheer determination.
After what felt like an eternity, he finally saw the horizon above.
Shen Tazhi stopped, feeling exhausted and unable to speak.
He lifted Jiang Que up one last time, climbed up in one go, then swiftly pulled out the bronze dagger he had hurriedly tucked into his waist, aiming it at any potential enemies that might appear on the upper platform.
The next moment, Shen Tazhi took two startled steps back, almost falling back into the bottomless abyss.
There were no people as he had imagined above; instead, there was a pile of white bones.
These bones were stacked in a circular shape, and not far from his feet, two bodies lay apart from the bone pile, which he almost stepped on just now.
“So many dead people?” Shen Tazhi breathed out in confusion.
But dead people were better than living ones. He was only momentarily shocked before quickly carrying Jiang Que away from the bones, heading to the other side of the cliff.
He walked further with Jiang Que, trying to distance himself from the cliff before sitting down on the ground.
He was tired, incredibly tired.
Shen Tazhi didn’t know how he had managed to climb up, feeling sore all over, so exhausted that he felt like he could fall asleep any second.
He shook Jiang Que again, but there was no sign of him waking up.
Maybe he should rest for a while first, figure out what to do later…
With that thought, Shen Tazhi used his last strength to lay Jiang Que down properly, then leaned against the stone wall and fell asleep.
Several hours later.
As Shen Tazhi peacefully sank into a deep sleep, Jiang Que’s eyelashes trembled, and he opened his eyes dazedly.
The next moment, he recoiled in pain once again.
What… happened?
In agony, Jiang Que tried to recall what had happened before.
He remembered suddenly fainting, then being in a daze, only recalling a tumultuous journey in the darkness, and someone continuously calling his name.
He even called him… “Que Que”.
Jiang Que lifted his head and glanced at the sleeping Shen Tazhi, thinking, who allowed him to call him “Que Que”, this human without boundaries.
Oh well, “Que Que” is fine, “Que Que” doesn’t mind.
Perhaps after getting used to the pervasive pain throughout his body, Jiang Que slowly propped himself up.
He surveyed his surroundings and when he saw the deep abyss in the middle, he was stunned for seven or eight seconds before reacting:
He had come up from the abyss.
Shen Tazhi had brought him up.
Jiang Que slowly stood up, dragging his tentacles as he walked to the edge of the abyss, looking down, then turning back to glance at the sleeping Shen Tazhi.
With his black short hair, not particularly robust among humans, just an evenly built physique, vulnerable and unsuspecting while asleep, a simple exertion could easily choke him to death.
A very ordinary, fragile human.
Yet, this fragile human had managed to carry him out of the abyss.
Unidentified emotions surged within Jiang Que, unsure of what to call this feeling. He quickly averted his gaze from Shen Tazhi, who was lying beneath him.
Why did he carry him out… he was about to die anyway.
Jiang Que thought so.
The thought made him a bit sad.
Not because of his own impending death; living had never held much meaning for him. It was more about the sadness of Shen Tazhi eventually forgetting him.
He didn’t want Shen Tazhi to forget him.
But he had no right to demand that Shen Tazhi must remember him.
Shen Tazhi had his own things to do, falling into the abyss was just an accident, and he was an unexpected twist of fate within that accident.
If there was anything that might make Shen Tazhi remember him, it was probably the fact that he had almost killed Shen Tazhi several times.
Jiang Que smiled bitterly, aimlessly walking along the edge of the abyss.
Anyway, Shen Tazhi still hasn’t woken up, so Jiang Que decided to take a look around and see what the situation was.
After walking for about five or six minutes, Jiang Que arrived at the spot where Shen Tazhi had initially climbed up, startled by the ground full of bones.
“What is this?”
Perplexed, Jiang Que took a few more steps forward.
The pile of bones before him was as white as jade, looking like some sort of art piece stacked there.
Jiang Que wasn’t afraid of these things; in fact, he always found bones somewhat familiar.
He bent down and tentatively touched the closest bone.
The next moment, a white light flashed, and the pile of bones emitted a faint white glow.
Jiang Que’s eyelids grew heavy, and before he could react, he collapsed right where he stood.
In a dim and drifting consciousness, he felt like a wanderer adrift on a boat, moving forward until he finally saw a bright light.
Jiang Que saw his younger self.
He was only about two or three years old, a little chubby, with baby fat on his face.
He was being held by a woman in Taoist robes. In front of the woman, several men and women were heatedly arguing:
“This is the child I found!! I should be the one to name him!”
“I even fed him milk!! Why am I not considered a godmother!!! Let me name him, Qishan Yue sounds so nice!”
“He doesn’t drink milk powder! He wants affection! I’m the most loving!! Listen to me, call him Xiao Ai!!”
“He’s a boy!! You can’t just randomly name him!!! Listen to me! Call him Hao Ran!”
Hearing these names, little Jiang Que started to panic. He patted the woman holding him on the shoulder and mumbled:
“…No, don’t!”
A silence fell over the group.
The woman holding him smiled and said:
“Alright, didn’t the Elder read a fortune for this child? He said that although the child is half-human, half-demon, he has great potential in the future. Why don’t we ask the Elder what he should be named?”
Are these… the Qishan Taoists?
Jiang Que looked at the words embroidered on their clothes, blinking in disbelief.
He had no recollection of this period of his life at all.
The memories continued to flow forward, not giving him a chance to pause.
Jiang Que saw the Elder performing divination, seeking the will of heaven, and ultimately giving him the name “江雀” (Jiang Que).
“Jiang” represented the great flow of water, symbolizing great aspirations and grandeur; “Que” represented the small bird, agile and free-spirited, symbolizing tranquility and joy of the soul.
The Elder put away the astrological chart, furrowed his brow, and patted Jiang Que’s head while feeling puzzled:
“Strange, why does his future have so many different outcomes?”
One of the people accompanying him to see the Elder became anxious: “Elder, didn’t you say his future was bright?”
“That’s right.” The Elder nodded, then shook his head.
Finally, he sighed, “Forget it, such is fate.”
Everything happened quickly afterward.
Jiang Que saw himself learning to write with the Qishan Taoists. They intentionally kept him away from the esoteric aspects of divination, so Jiang Que only learned how to draw and paint.
He wasn’t human to begin with, but he was inhumanely intelligent. By the age of four or five, he had a good understanding of things. Every day, he would write and read with his eighteen beautiful little tentacles, then engage in mischief with “godmother number one, number two, number three”, “godfather number one, number two, number three”, along with other series of “relatives”, before being called to dinner.
Carefree and unrestrained, he lived a remarkably carefree childhood.
Then, later on, when he was five years old, everything changed on the day the Elder who had named him suddenly spat blood and fell unconscious.
The remaining Elders gathered together, seeming to discover something, holding a serious meeting that lasted until late at night.
The atmosphere within the sect was particularly tense those days, to the extent that even Jiang Que didn’t dare to playfully pester the young Taoists. Instead, he obediently stayed in the book depository, reading his books.
A week later, the Elder woke up and sought him out.
The Elder detailed the incident of the uncontrollable resentment to him. Five-year-old Jiang Que listened quietly, displaying a maturity far beyond his age.
“And then?” Jiang Que asked after hearing the story.
“Are you going to resolve this matter?”
The Elder nodded.
Jiang Que was puzzled, “Why? Is this something you should handle?”
Although everyone intentionally kept him away from sect matters, Jiang Que keenly sensed that this was a reclusive sect, hardly in contact with modern society.
After a moment of thought, Jiang Que added, “Moreover, the resentment isn’t your fault, it was caused by humans outside.”
The Elder sighed softly, “How can we differentiate like this? Aren’t we all human beings, both within and outside?”
Jiang Que didn’t understand, so the Elder patted his head again:
“Even if we don’t take action, someone must, so why not let us do it? Since we have the ability to understand fate, we should work for the welfare of all beings and fulfill our aspirations.”
