Leng Wushuang slowly sat up and leaned against the bed. This small movement made him catch his breath for a long time.
"How are you feeling?" Igor grabbed his hand, her eyes filled with worry. "I saw you spit out a lot of blood," she said, pulling open the outer hem of her clothes and pointing to the dark brown stains. "This is all from you."
Leng Wushuang's eyes dimmed.
He secretly tried to circulate his energy, but his dantian remained empty, and he couldn't muster any strength. His heart suddenly panicked.
"Wushuang, are you feeling unwell again?" Wushilang leaned closer and wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. "You've been sweating a lot."
Leng Wushuang did not answer her. She held her breath and struggled to circulate her energy again.
The dantian area remained empty.
He was stunned. His already pale face turned even more ashen, and his body went limp as he leaned down.
"Wushuang, what's wrong with you?" Seeing him gradually slump down and showing signs of exhaustion, Wushilang felt uneasy.
He's always been arrogant and aloof; he rarely shows such vulnerability. Something serious must have happened.
After a long silence, Leng Wushuang, leaning against the headboard, revealed an extremely cold smile for the first time ever, like a pure and cold snow lotus. The voice that came from his mouth was cold and icy, carrying deep despair and pain.
His eyes were dull and lifeless, and a self-deprecating smile played on his lips as he said, word by word, "I---have---lost---all---my- ...
He smiled, as if recounting something that had nothing to do with him, so indifferent, so dejected.
He just smiled like that, yet it evoked a deep sense of sorrow in everyone.
Isoro's heart immediately clenched, and he felt a sharp pain.
They had already stayed at the inn for three days.
With a worried expression, Wu Shilang looked over and saw Leng Wushuang sitting at the window, dressed in black robes. His hair, still adorned with a white jade hairpin, cascaded down his back, highlighting his pale face and giving him an icy demeanor.
This cold was a hundred times worse than usual.
He stared blankly out the window, neither speaking nor moving. On the small table by the window sat food that had gone cold. For three whole days, he stood there like a stone statue.
Not a drop of water was consumed.
"Wushuang, have something to eat." Wushilang pointed to the table.
The table was laden with all of Isoro's favorite foods: Suzhou-style pastries, small plum blossom cakes, and a plate of fried rice she had made herself.
With a hint of anticipation, Isoro approached.
Leng Wu's eyes remained motionless as he silently gazed out the window, as if a flower had bloomed there, captivating his attention and drawing him in.
"I know you're upset, but my heart is aching even more." Ishiro was filled with guilt, because his recklessness had led to this predicament.
Leng Wushuang had not eaten for three days, and she had also not eaten for three days.
“I know you’ve practiced martial arts since you were a child and became a great hero at a young age. You’re cold-hearted and love to put on airs, so you must have offended a lot of people in the martial arts world,” Wu Shilang said, counting on his fingers one by one, carefully speculating. “I think the first reason you’re in so much pain is that you’re afraid of people coming to seek revenge.”
Leng Wushuang's eyes remained unmoved.
“How about this,” Ishiro jumped over and suggested with a smile, “you can become a son-in-law and I’ll have my forty-nine brothers protect you.”
Leng Wushuang's lips twitched slightly, though only slightly, but her eyes were no longer lifeless.
"Then, I'll go out and work hard to earn money, and you can stay home and recover from your injuries. Slowly, slowly, your skills will return." The more Wulang thought about it, the happier he became. He hopped over, grabbed Leng Wushuang's hand, and solemnly promised, "I will treat you very well, very well, very well! Very well!"
She said "very good" four times in a row to express her determination. Each time she said it, she nodded vigorously and earnestly, as if she wanted to tear her heart out and show it to Leng Wushuang.
Leng Wushuang, whose hand she had grabbed, looked over with cold eyes. Although his eyes still held a hint of sadness, they were noticeably more lively. His lips moved, and he gently scolded, "Idiot."
With a sense of helplessness and a hint of sighing.
Although her voice was low, it made Wushilang burst into tears of joy. She grasped Wushuang's hand, tears streaming down her face. "Wushuang, let's stop looking for an antidote. Let's go back to the manor. There will be a way eventually. The First Madam and the others must know how to deal with it."
Leng Wushuang remained as wooden as ever, staring intently at her with her hand being held, her eyes dark and deep.
"Wushuang, I will not give up, so you should not give up either."
Isoro clenched his fist and solemnly continued to swear, "We will not abandon or give up."
Leng Wushuang rolled her eyes at Wu Shilang, abruptly pulled her hand away, turned around and looked towards the window. After a long while, she replied coldly and icily, "Not good."
"Huh?" Igarashi poked his head out and asked in confusion, "What's wrong?"
“Continue searching for medicine,” Leng Wushuang seemed to regain her original calm and composure in an instant. She turned around, glanced at Wu Shilang, and said indifferently, “With me here, I will not let you suffer from the poison.”
His tone was indifferent, as if he were discussing how nice the weather was or how delicious the meal was with Isoro.
Wu Shilang was stunned, a sweet feeling welling up inside him. He was worried about him; the aloof and peerless young master was worried about his poison.
Isoro looked over sweetly, their eyes locked, gazing intently at each other.
Her eyes were full of tenderness, her chest was burning, and she gazed at Leng Wushuang's cold and handsome face. She elegantly picked up a plate of fried rice with her delicate fingers and handed it to him, saying, "If you want to take me to the antidote, you must eat!"
Leng Wushuang frowned, looking at the fried rice in her hand, and refused, "I won't eat it."
"Why?"
He's clearly come to terms with things, so why is he still insisting on a hunger strike?
Wu Shilang looked at Leng Wushuang with resentment. Her stomach was growling, and she couldn't sleep because she was hungry every night. However, she was tormented by a strong sense of guilt, which prevented her from eating anything.
You know how terrible hunger is!
“I order food from the waiter every evening,” Leng Wushuang replied coldly, “your food is neither visually appealing nor delicious, I really can’t eat it!”
Huh? He actually ate alone after I went to sleep!!!
Then, during the day, he stands there, petrified and melancholy at the window?!
I even went so far as to wholeheartedly accompany him on his hunger strike!
Ishiro burst into tears, grabbed Leng Wushuang's hand, and slammed the fried rice in his other hand directly onto Leng Wushuang's head.
Then, cupping her face, she roared angrily, "I hate you so much!!!"
She grabbed all her favorite snacks from the table and ran off.
He slammed the door open, sending it slamming against Leng Wushuang's door with a loud bang.
She didn't know that behind her, Leng Wushuang let out a long sigh, then slowly shook the rice grains off her head and leisurely strolled to the window to gaze into the distance.
How can I possibly eat anything?
Wu Shilang was right. He had been more talented than others since childhood. When practicing martial arts, he was always more strict and demanding of himself than others. Countless sleepless nights made him the peerless young master in the martial arts world. He was always proud and arrogant, and he rarely paid attention to others.
They are indifferent to everything.
Suddenly, overnight, everything was turned upside down.
First, his martial arts skills, which he was so proud of, disappeared without a trace, making him feel helpless for the first time in 20 years.
Secondly, there's another troublemaker around who needs his protection. She's like a child who's still quite immature, often getting into trouble without even realizing it.
With such a lively character on the road, the road to detoxification ahead is uncertain, and they don't know how many hardships await them.
He was actually completely unsure.
However, he had to face it, because Isoro's poison only lasted for a year, and there was always the possibility of it taking effect.
All of this made him anxious and inexplicably melancholy, and he stood facing the window, lost in thought for three whole days.
Although deep in thought, he was aware of Goro's every move. This foolish woman was clearly starving, yet she foolishly joined him in a hunger strike. He was a martial artist who could often go without food for days, but she had absolutely no martial arts skills whatsoever.
He can go hungry, but Ishiro cannot.
Thinking of this, he picked up a grain of rice that remained in his hair, his eyes darkened slightly, his red lips pressed tightly together, and then he let out another long sigh.
What a nemesis!
What a hassle!
What a lively and interesting character!
On the fourth day, Isoro and his companions finally set off.
Because Leng Wushuang's body had not fully recovered, they hired a small car, one whose wheels looked like they could fly off at any moment. It was drafty, with ventilation in the front and back, and the old man driving it was hunched over and coughing incessantly.
A desolate scene.
"Hey, Uncle, do you have any curtains or something to block the wind?" Wu Shilang peeked out, looking quite annoyed. The autumn wind whistled past his ears, slightly biting. Leng Wushuang remained the same, sitting silently in the back of the carriage, gazing coldly outwards without uttering a word.
The old man, with a stern face and a hunched back, almost burst into tears upon hearing Wu Shilang's request. He complained bitterly, "Where would I get such a good thing? We poor people can't even get enough to eat. If it weren't for this livestock transport vehicle, my whole family would starve..."
He rambled on and on, his spittle flying as he poured out his grievances…
Wu Shilang turned his head and stared at Leng Wushuang in disbelief. Leng Wushuang's eyes were still cold, but the vein on her forehead throbbed!
A vehicle for transporting livestock?!
"I'm telling you, our family hasn't had a decent meal this month... Every meal has been just plain steamed buns... Not even a single dried radish!" The old man's urge to ramble was suddenly unleashed, drool flying everywhere. A gust of wind blew, smearing saliva onto Wushilang's face, carrying the stench of old age and utterly disgusting. "Finally, after praying to the God of Wealth, we got some business. The day before yesterday we transported three cows, the day before that two pigs, and yesterday eight lambs..."
Getting carried away with his words, he turned his head and smiled smugly, raising his whip and turning back with a fawning grin: "I've got some damn good luck today, I actually managed to transport two people!"
Two heads... two heads... two heads!
Isoro's silent silence revealed that it really was a cart used for transporting livestock.
Leng Wushuang's eyes sparkled with fire as she stared straight at him, her pupils glowing red as if they were about to burst into flames.
It turned out to be a livestock transport vehicle; no wonder it was filthy and smelly.
To think that he, the young master of the prestigious Unloading Sword Manor, would have to ride in such a filthy animal transport cart—if word got out in the martial world, how could he possibly maintain his aloof and arrogant image?!
I'm done for!
When Wulang saw Leng Wushuang glaring at him, he felt even more guilty and forced a dry laugh: "Adversity makes one stronger!" Seeing that Leng Wushuang was still staring at him coldly, Wulang raised his arm with utmost sincerity: "Look, Wushuang, this is the experience of life!"
Leng Wushuang wanted nothing more than to kick her off the stage, but after much deliberation, he held back. After all, it was better for everyone to suffer together than for one person to suffer alone. So, he gritted his teeth and cursed viciously, "Idiot!"
Isoro returned his smile with a bright, mischievous look.
Actually, she wasn't stupid. Young Master Leng gave her two taels of silver, and Wu Shilang made a profit of one tael. Right now, she was lying in Wu Shilang's pocket. One tael of silver was a bargain for such a long journey, even if it was just for transporting livestock.
A good woman knows how to save money on the side. This is something Ishiro learned from his aunt.
"Black Wind Stronghold is just ahead," the old man said, drool dripping from his missing front teeth and soaking his entire white beard. "I heard the stronghold's leader is a woman..."
He kept talking and talking without stopping for a moment. On the train, Isoro couldn't help but bang his head against the train, deeply regretting mentioning the curtain earlier.
"She really enjoys snatching up handsome young men to be her gigolos..."
"What a thoughtful and capable woman..." The old man driving the cart sighed with emotion, cracking his whip and lamenting, "If I had been born a few decades earlier, I would have stood there every day at the foot of the village and let her snatch me back... and drive her animal cart."