Translator: Transn Editor: Transn
Under He Mingchi’s feet, was the array eye of the God-stunning Array. That meant he was standing on the core of the God-stunning Array which made him believe he could embrace the whole world if he opened his arms.
However, it took him only a short time to recover from this feeling.
He should have been killed by the Talisman inscriptions on the wall when he went through the dark tunnel because no one could enter here except the Emperor with the Great Seal and the owner of the array eye pestle.
He Mingchi had his secret way to enter here.
He once told the prince, Li Huiyuan, that only if he could use powerful weapons at the right time, could he beat his enemy. Now, he was standing on the most powerful God-stunning Array. He could not help thinking that the powerful weapon could only be significant if it belonged to the right owner.
The unique True God in this world was Haotian. The big tactical array in Chang’an was called God-stunning Array, which was a blasphemy. He Mingchi believed the array should be destroyed.
It was mid-spring and the Far North of the Wilderness became warmer and warmer. Trees and grass had turned green, but they could only be exuberant in the summer.
Ning Que and Sangsang had been living in the Desolate Man’s tribe for a long time. During these days, besides looking after Sangsang, he mainly focused on practicing with talismans, the Great Spirit, and his podao skills.
While they were in the depths of the Desolate Man’s tribe, tens of thousands of Desolate soldiers were fighting in the south. Even the experts of Buddhism and Taoism could not get here to threaten them.
However, Ning Que knew they could not win the battle. Moreover, he was not used to putting his life in the hands of others, so he had to work harder.
The withered branch was drawn on the mud and left a deep mark which looked the same as a brush pen writing on a paper. That was a “二” character.
Ning Que quietly looked at the character for a moment and began to rewrite another one. In a very short time, he wrote at least 30 similar characters. They all looked different with their own meanings.
His writing became more and more scrawled until the two last horizontal lines were going to be connected, but he was still unsatisfied. He felt that the connection between the two horizontal lines was wrong, but he could not tell why.
He silently looked at those strokes on the ground, frowning slightly and looking very serious.
“Time for lunch.”
A Desolate woman wearing a hat and fur-cotton clothes said behind him.
Ning Que recovered and returned to the tent with her.
Coincidentally, the Desolate woman who was sent by the senior statesman to serve him and Sangsang was the one they met when they entered the Wilderness. Her son had become a soldier and was no longer in the tribe.
The Desolate Man was afraid of Yama but at the same time they worshiped him. Therefore they were in awe of Sangsang, but 90% of the awe was from fear, including the Desolate woman.
The dark cloud and the crows in the sky coming with Sangsang frightened the people quite badly. They often kowtowed to the sky and the crows on the tents. In the beginning, the Desolate woman didn’t dare to go back to their tent until she got used to it.
Today’s lunch was broth and pancakes. Ning Que and Sangsang had more meat in the broth than any other in the tribe and the pancakes was a special treatment for them.
The mutton soup was cooked to milk-white with natural fragrance. Ning Que took a bowl of the soup as well as two pancakes. Then he told the woman to take the rest. He went into the tent, helped Sangsang sit up and fed her with the soaked pancakes.
Sangsang’s face was less pale than when they were traveling and recovered her original color. However, she became worse instead of getting better. She had no appetite, so she shook her head and said, “I’m full.”
“Take a little more.”
Ning Que put the bowl to her mouth and carefully fed her.
Sangsang suddenly coughed. She had suffered a lot from coughing these days.
The sounds echoed in the tent for a long time and she looked in pain. The soup she spat out was all over Ning Que’s clothes and turned black after mixing with her blood.
Ning Que held her in his arms and stroked her back. He kissed on her forehead and whispered like singing a song until Sangsang calmed down and fell to sleep.
A Fire Fu was lit in the clay pot, warming the tent. Then it was suddenly pressed down by a cold air and became dim and cold like the pits of hell.
Looking at the frost on the pot, Ning Que took his fingers back and fell silent for a long time. Then he stretched his hands under the woollen blanket to hold Sangsang’s cold feet, continuously rubbing them.
Until her little feet were warmed up, he changed his dirty clothes and wet underwear, and then went out of the tent.
He looked up at the dark clouds. Facing the sunshine, the frost on his eyelashes gradually melted into water.
Sangsang had become weaker and weaker. No matter the Haotian Divine Light or the Buddism Breath, they could no longer suppress or calm the frosty aura down.
More and more cold seeped throughout her thin body. Neither the hot wine nor talisman fire could warm her up. Her bed and clothes were all cold like ice, and the tent was like an icehouse.
The lady had moved to another tent days ago. Although the grass had become green, the ground under their tent was still frozen like in another world.
At this moment, the most worrisome, the most scary, the most disconsolate and the most helpless thing for him was Sangsang’s disease.
If Sangsang could not be cured, even if the Desolate could beat the coalition of the West-Hill Divine Palace, even if he was invincible in the world, all would be meaningless.
It was one reason why he worked so hard to become stronger. More importantly, he wanted to find Sangsang a cure by reading Buddha’s notes. Since the Desolate Man had the tradition of worshipping Yama, he did a lot of research.
At the sacrificial ceremony, the Desolate Men called Yama as Lord Guang Ming. It sounded so familiar for him that he must had read about it on some Buddha’s note or Classics of Haotian Taoism. However, he had turned the note over and over again, and still could not find the reference.
As time passed by, summer was approaching. Sangsang’s illness and Ning Que’s emotions all went to the chill winter and were covered with ice and snow.
