RNP Chapter 29 Died
Chapter 29 Died
Before the white smoke had even dissipated, the man had already gone mad.
From the crack in the piece of Tai Sui, grayish-white viscous fluid dripped down the stone table, its sweet, fishy odor growing stronger wherever it flowed. Zhao Ming was the first to pounce. His right wrist was broken, so he used his left hand to scoop up fragments of Tai Sui, finding a palm-sized piece of white flesh. Without even wiping away the viscous fluid, he stuffed it directly into his mouth. The moment his teeth bit into the flesh, he felt as if he'd been electrocuted; his whole body trembled, his eyes bulged, and his pupils shrank to pinpoints… Then he laughed. The laughter squeezed from deep within his throat, like a howl of extreme satisfaction amidst being choked, mingled with the sounds of chewing and the slick, grinding flesh between his teeth, echoing throughout the hall.
Yan Kuan followed closely behind. His right shoulder was blasted apart by the palm-shaped lightning, and his arm hung limply at his side. Yet, he grabbed a fragment of the Tai Sui with his left hand, swallowing it without even chewing, making a muffled "hoarse" sound in his throat. Master Liaoyuan's mask of compassion shattered completely... He shoved aside the monk Huijue beside him, his eagle-claw-like fingers plunging directly into a Tai Sui the size of a washbasin, scooping it up flesh and sap together, and began to devour it. His sandalwood prayer beads scattered all over the ground, crushed into dust under his feet. The one-eyed giant threw his ghost-headed broadsword on the ground, freeing his hands to snatch fragments of Tai Sui, stuffing each one into his mouth and chewing until his mouth was full of white foam. The old man with the flat shovel rushed forward with several tomb raiders, sweeping his shovel horizontally, knocking down a starving man who was stuffing Tai Sui into his mouth, then kneeling down to retrieve the scattered fragments of Tai Sui himself. The survivors wrestled together, not to kill each other, but simply to reach their hands a little further and get an inch closer to the piece of Tai Sui.
"Sanjin! Baldy! Protect the chick!" I roared, grabbing the chick by the scruff of his neck and dragging him deeper into the rock face. The smell of the Tai Sui was so strong that even the cloth covering my mouth and nose couldn't block it; the pungent, sweet odor assaulted my brain. I pinched my thumb and forefinger, gasping for breath in pain, barely managing to suppress the urge rising from my stomach to rush forward and snatch the Tai Sui from them.
The cripple didn't dodge. He slammed his cane into the ground, limped forward, and stood in front of us, his back to the frantic crowd grabbing at the chicks, shielding them between the stone wall and his body. The chicks huddled behind the cripple, clutching the half-clod of wet mud, their little faces pale. "Crippled man..." he reached out to grab the cripple's trouser leg, but the cripple shoved his hand back down.
"Don't move." The lame man's voice was low and steady, as if he were saying something perfectly ordinary. "Close your eyes. Don't look at anything, don't listen to anything."
Just then, Zhao Ming was knocked to the ground by Yuan Yi's claw, rolling to the lame man's feet. His face was covered in the slime and blood of the Tai Sui, and he was still chewing on pieces of white flesh he hadn't swallowed, but his eyes no longer resembled human eyes... The pupils were covered by a silver-gray membrane, exactly like the eyes of the scaled people he had seen in the River of Oblivion. He looked up and saw the lame man's leg blocking his way, then suddenly grinned. The smile seemed to recognize something, yet also seemed to not recognize anything at all, simply laughing at something blocking his path.
"Move...out..."
"Get out of the way!" he roared, sprang to his feet, drew the short knife from his waist with his left hand, and slashed at the cripple.
The cripple didn't dodge. Behind him were chicks. If he dodged, the blade would have struck the chicks' heads. He gripped his crutch with both hands, holding it horizontally in front of him, blocking the first blow. Zhao Ming's left hand was stronger than his right; the blade struck the jujube wood crutch with a crisp "crack," leaving a deep gash and sending wood chips flying. The cripple's wrist went numb, and he almost dropped the crutch, but he managed to hold on tight.
The second slash followed immediately. This slash wasn't from Zhao Ming… it was from the one-eyed giant beside him, who was blinded by greed for the Tai Sui. He had been forced back several steps by the old Taoist's whisk, stumbling towards the cripple, and swung his sword in a daze. The back of the ghost-headed broadsword slammed into the cripple's shoulder, shattering his shoulder blade. The cripple groaned and staggered half a step to the side, but he still used one hand to support himself with his crutch in front of Zhao Ming, while his other hand reached back, firmly pressing the chick into the corner of the stone wall.
Then came the third slash. This one came from behind. The old man with the flat shovel, his tall, thin tomb raider, clutching a sharpened crowbar, lunged from the side, the tip of the crowbar aimed not at the cripple… but at the chicks behind him. The cripple saw it. His limping leg wouldn't normally allow him to turn around, but he used his uninjured foot to forcefully push off the ground, managing to spin half a circle, exposing his back to the crowbar, and shielding the chicks entirely in front of him.
The crowbar tip pierced his back, through his ribs, and down his right lung. The cripple arched violently, spitting out a mouthful of blood that splattered onto the stone wall and trickled down the cracks. But he didn't fall. With his last strength, he braced himself against his crutch, clamping the chick tightly between the stone wall and his body, his knees on the ground, his back arched into a semi-circle… like a bridge. A bridge built of old bones, one that no one was allowed to cross.
The one-eyed giant had just pulled his knife from the cripple's shoulder when Zhao Ming stabbed him in the neck from the side. The cripple's eye rolled back, and he slid down the stone wall. Before Zhao Ming could even withdraw his knife, Master Liaoyuan's eagle claws reached out from behind, his five fingers digging into the back of Zhao Ming's neck, blood splattering on the edge of the stone platform. Just as Liaoyuan was about to turn around to grab the remaining Tai Sui, Baldy Liao's iron shovel pierced through. The shovel went in under his ribs, slicing upwards through his lung. Liaoyuan's eyes widened, his cloudy eyeballs filled with disbelief. He uttered half a Buddhist chant before collapsing. The old man with the flat shovel, along with the last tomb raider, rushed towards Baldy Liao. Sanjin grabbed the cripple's cane and forcefully caught two cleavers. I rushed forward too, stabbing the tomb raider with my dagger. Before I could even pull the dagger out, Zhao Ming, the last desperate man still clinging to life on the ground, lunged at me. Sanjin shoveled at him from the side, sending him flying and splitting the back of his head open with the blade.
In the span of just a few dozen breaths, from before the white smoke dissipated to after, more than a dozen lives were lost in this hall. The bluestone slabs were littered with corpses, and blood flowed from the grooves in the ground towards the center, forming thin, dark red lines that seeped along the dragon patterns towards the stone platform.
The lame man was still kneeling there.
I rushed over and pressed my hand against the wound on his back. His back had been pierced by a crowbar and slashed several times with a knife; his cotton-padded coat was so tattered that its original color was unrecognizable, and it was covered in blood. As soon as I pressed my hand against it, blood gushed out from between my fingers, burning hot. The lame man didn't move. He lowered his head, his chin resting on the chick's head, his hands still tightly wrapped around the child. His ten fingers, clasped tightly behind the chick's back, were glaringly white from the force of his grip.