Bright Sword: Conquer the monk at the beginning and take down Zhou Weiguo

“It wasn’t us looking for him, it was him waiting for us to come,” Qin Cang said in a low voice, as if his throat was blocked by rusty iron. “The whole bureau was basically just waiting for me to walk in.”

"You mean, Little Tiger... is trying to hook you?"

"I don't know." Qin Cang's eyes were extremely cold, as cold as a stone soaked in water on an autumn night. "But I know now that, regardless of whether it is him or not, since he has made me suspicious, he must confess."

The mountain path grew steeper and the forest denser, with rain pouring down between the branches and leaves, as if the heavens and earth themselves were hindering their progress. Yet Qin Cang's steps grew increasingly steady, each step feeling like stepping on the chest of an enemy, so heavy it almost crushed him.

"There's a reason he chose to make his move here," Qin Cang said. "The Lao Tuo Ling area has a natural drop in elevation, which is good for hiding people, setting up ambushes, and cutting off retreat routes. I've said before that it's a place that's only suitable for ambushes, not for counterattacks."

"You've used that place too."

“I’ve used it three times. Each time it was a one-hit kill.” Qin Cang paused, “Now it’s my turn to go in.”

"You still want to go?"

Qin Cang slowly raised his head, his gaze showing no sign of backing down: "Of course I'll go. If it really is a trap he set, I have to go in. Even if it's a trap, I have to go in and see for myself who is attacking me."

"But what if he changes?"

Qin Cang was silent for a moment, then suddenly turned back to look at Liu San, his eyes as deep as a well in a stormy night: "Then I will bury him myself."

The entrance to Old Camel Ridge is hidden among a pile of moss-covered rocks, easily missed by passersby. Only those very familiar with the terrain know that the blue stone is hollow underneath. Qin Cang brushed aside the thick layer of fallen leaves and withered branches, revealing the rust-covered blue stone. On the edge of the stone, there was still a mark he had carved years ago—a horizontal line, indicating that it was feasible.

He calmly pushed aside the bluestone, revealing a narrow slope with several boulders blocking the opening, seemingly piled up by human hands, yet appearing extremely natural.

"Go inside," he said to Liu San.

"how about you?"

“I’ll bring up the rear.” Qin Cang drew his short sword, his tone cold and hard. “After you go in, keep to the right. There’s an old clump of bushes there, hiding an old drain. Go through that drain to avoid the frontal rays.”

"You mean...they're inside?"

"If I'm not mistaken, today, it's not just us who's here to find Xiaohu. There are others who want us to die at Xiaohu's hands, or... to make us accidentally kill Xiaohu."

"Accidental killing?"

Qin Cang said no more. He didn't want to voice that possibility. He was afraid.

He was afraid that his trust in Xiaohu was misplaced, and that because of that trust, he might have severed the last thread of affection between them.

A damp, earthy smell filled the air from the narrow passage. The muddy, slippery ground caused Liu San to nearly slip several times, while Qin Cang followed behind him, step by step, like a silent night watchman.

Suddenly, a very faint sound of wind came from ahead.

He reached out and stopped Liu San, his eyes darkening: "Don't move."

Pressing his ear against the rock face, Qin Cang held his breath, trying to discern the extremely subtle direction of the wind. It wasn't a natural breeze, but rather the result of human movement—a sway of clothing, or a light step. He had heard this sound countless times before; it was the sound of an expert moving, their steps extremely steady and light.

"Little Tiger," he murmured to himself, his eyes secretly glancing toward the drain.

A few seconds later, he gestured for Liu San to go around him. He himself moved forward along the wall, blade in hand, thumb already hooked into the blood groove at the end of the hilt, ready to kill with a single blow.

Suddenly, a light appeared ahead; it was the exit.

But the light was not sunlight from outside; it was a torch.

"They're here." A deep voice suddenly rang out, and Qin Cang felt as if he had been struck by lightning.

He recognized the voice—it was Xiao Hu's.

He moved stealthily and finally saw the exit clearly. There stood three people, with Xiao Hu in the middle, holding a short, tube-like torch in his hand. His face was illuminated by the faint firelight, and his expression was calm, but his gaze was so calm that it was unlike the silly, smiling boy he used to be.

"Little Tiger," he called softly, his voice carrying through the stone wall like a bolt of lightning, splitting the heavy air.

At that moment, Xiaohu's eyes changed.

Qin Cang's fingertips moved slowly along the hilt of his knife, each inch accompanied by the compression of his breath. He didn't move, nor could he; he wanted to see more. He didn't recognize the two unfamiliar men beside Xiao Hu, but their posture and the way they held their guns clearly indicated they had received specialized training. They weren't stragglers, nor were they locals. If Xiao Hu was truly with them, then this whole affair wasn't just about Liu San, but was aimed at him, Qin Cang.

Qin Cang suppressed all his judgments deep in his heart, hiding them perfectly as always.

He quietly retreated, emerging from the cave through the drain, and circled the mountainside. The rain had stopped, but the mist hadn't dissipated, and the mountain air was heavy with dampness, like a hidden thread laid out between heaven and earth. Following the forest path downhill, he decided not to confront Xiao Hu directly—at least not when there was more truth to be found.

Three miles away, there was an old village with seven households, all relying on mountain springs and stone-paved fields for survival. He knew that place well; he and Xiaohu had borrowed water and exchanged rice there before. If anyone had seen Xiaohu or those two strangers go into the mountains, the villagers would surely have noticed.

He took a detour of 45 minutes to reach the village entrance. The village was quiet, with a few chickens scratching at the ground and dried herbs and wild taro hanging under the eaves. Sunlight couldn't penetrate the mountain mist, and the whole village seemed to be shrouded in an old sheepskin, glowing with a layer of dusty yellow light.

Qin Cang knocked on the door of the old man surnamed Ma at the entrance of the village. Old Ma was over sixty years old, hard of hearing, but with sharp eyes. A musty smell of stale cooking wafted from the house, and wisps of smoke rose from the hearth.

"Old Ma, it's me."

"Hey, isn't this Qin... that kid from the Qin family? What are you doing here so early?"

"Inquire about someone," Qin Cang said in a low voice, "Have any strangers entered the mountains in the last two days?"

Old Ma rubbed his eyes: "My hearing isn't what it used to be, I can't even hear the wind very well. But the night before last, I thought I heard the sound of horses' hooves. It stopped quickly, and the sound wasn't from the old mules in our village, they were running too smoothly."

"What time is it?"

"Around... midnight, almost the first watch."

How many?

"There should only be one. But I'm not sure, the sound is quite far away."

Qin Cang narrowed his eyes, quickly sorting out his thoughts. If Xiao Hu had entered Old Camel Ridge to ambush him beforehand, he would have had to detour around the mountainside, making it difficult to save time on foot, while riding a horse would be perfect. That horse was most likely a backup plan prepared specifically for him.

He then asked, "Has anyone in the village asked me about this recently?"

Old Ma shook his head: "You're a very low-key person, nobody knows you come here often."

"Have you seen... Xiaohu come by in the last two days?"