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

What to do? Fighting might cut off a line of enemy contact, but that would expose them and trigger a chain reaction of attacks. Liu San couldn't hold out much longer; he had no way out. He gritted his teeth, his gaze growing cold: "Never mind, make your move."

In the darkness, he suddenly hurled a pebble, which struck a dry branch in the distance. Immediately, a low shout came from the enemy: "Who?!"

Taking advantage of the moment when his attention was diverted, Qin Cang instantly closed in, like a night owl swooping down, slicing through the throat with a knife and covering the mouth with a hand, his killing swift and decisive, without the slightest hesitation. Blood filled the air, yet his expression remained indifferent, and he felt his heartbeat even calmer for that instant—killing had long been an instinct ingrained in his very bones.

After eliminating the last person, he caught his breath, already nearing his limit. But he couldn't stop; the depression ahead was his only way out. The night wind brushed his face, dispersing the stench of blood, and he once again slipped into the darkness.

Approaching step by step, he finally saw that familiar yet disheveled figure. The weasel was dragging the barely alive Liu San, carefully hiding him behind collapsed rocks. Seeing Qin Cang appear, the weasel seemed relieved, yet his face was filled with surprise and doubt: "How...how did you come back from over there?"

Qin Cang lowered his voice: "That's a dead end."

The weasel gasped, its lips twitching, but it didn't ask any more questions. It knew that every word Qin Cang spoke meant that corpses lay strewn across the road ahead.

Qin Cang crouched down, carefully observing Liu San's breathing, his brows furrowed: "Still alive, but won't last long."

"What do we do?" the weasel asked in a hoarse voice, its tone revealing undisguised exhaustion and fear. "Our situation..."

Qin Cang gave a cold laugh, his gaze as icy as frost: "You still have a way out, but... from now on, no one will be able to protect you."

Qin Cang slowly rose, silently wiping his hand across his trouser leg to remove a layer of blood from the dagger, though he could still faintly feel the lingering warmth. His muscles were tense, his shoulders and back aching from the long period of lurking, yet he dared not show the slightest sign of fatigue. He knew perfectly well that if he revealed any weakness now, the enemies lurking in the darkness would pounce like hyenas smelling carrion.

"Can you still hold on?" He asked in a very soft voice, as if afraid of disturbing the fragile and dangerous balance of the night.

The weasel gritted its teeth and nodded with difficulty: "I'm fine, but Liu San... can he still walk?"

Liu San's face was ashen, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, and his breath was barely a whisper. His vision was blurry, and he seemed to hear Qin Cang's voice. He forced a weak smile, "Brother Cang... it's alright, I'm not dead yet... I can still walk..."

Qin Cang's eyes darkened, but he knew in his heart that Liu San was only putting on a brave face. His wound was extremely deep, and although the bleeding had been temporarily stopped, running through the dark forest at night would undoubtedly cause the injury to worsen. The longer it dragged on, the closer death would come.

"Don't speak, save your breath," Qin Cang said coldly, his gaze already sweeping over the surrounding terrain.

The path ahead was blocked by muddy, undulating terrain. The dense jungle on either side, though difficult to traverse, was precisely what made it easier to conceal one's movements. He quickly sketched a way out in his mind, leaving no room for hesitation.

"Go around to the west," he ordered in a low voice, bending down to hoist Liu San onto his back. The sudden weight on his shoulders sent a sharp pain creeping silently up his shoulder blades and spine, like ants gnawing at his bones. But Qin Cang gritted his teeth and endured it, his face expressionless. He could clearly feel Liu San's thin body trembling slightly on his back, a tremor that concealed a will to survive, a silent trust between brothers.

The weasel remained silent, following closely behind. He knew that from this moment on, if Qin Cang were even half a step slower, if he himself were even a fraction of a second less timid, his life would be buried in this deathly silence.

The mud made it incredibly difficult to walk steadily, and with each step, Qin Cang felt as if a huge boulder was pressing down on his heart. Liu San, carrying him on his shoulder, was unbearably heavy, his back hunched even more, every muscle trembling silently, yet his expression remained cold and his eyes unwavering. He was forcing himself to endure, to survive. He was gritting his teeth, so that they could still get out of this hellish place.

The wind rustled intermittently in his ears, the leaves whispering as if manipulated by an unseen hand. With each step Qin Cang took, he listened intently, afraid of missing even the slightest trace of the enemy. In the darkness, his heartbeat grew even more steady, a calmness honed from countless life-or-death experiences pressing his weariness deep into his bones.

"Do you think... they'll still chase after us?" The weasel finally couldn't help but ask in a low voice, its tone revealing its barely concealed guilt and unease.

"Nonsense." Qin Cang replied coldly, his voice as deep as a cold snake under a rock in the night, "Those people won't disperse until they see bloodshed, they'll stick to us even if it kills them."

The weasel's face paled even more, but he dared not speak again. He was afraid that if he opened his mouth, the fear pressing on his throat would burst forth like a collapsing dam, impossible to contain. He secretly glanced at Qin Cang's back as he carried someone, and the more he looked, the heavier his heart became: Had Qin Cang reached his limit that night? Yet that guy stubbornly held on, not even faltering an inch.

Who is this? It's not a human, it's a wolf. A wolf that came out of the night.

"Tired?" Qin Cang suddenly asked without turning his head, his tone carrying a hint of sarcasm.

Huang Pizi was taken aback, then smiled wryly: "You're carrying a grown man on your back and asking me if I'm tired? Brother Cang, are you looking down on me?"

"As long as you can talk, it means you're not scared to death yet." Qin Cang curled the corners of his mouth, making it the most relaxed joke he'd made on the entire trip.

But deep down, he was coldly calculating how much longer his body could hold on. He could feel his legs trembling slightly; it wasn't just fatigue, but the result of blood flow being suppressed for too long, causing the underlying wounds to flare up. Although there were no obvious external injuries on his back, the days of fleeing and nights of hiding had already inflicted rheumatism and cold toxins deep into his bones. Now, he was only holding on with sheer grit, clinging to his last breath.

One step slower, and you'll be the one who dies.

He gritted his teeth and continued forward. The mud beneath his feet sank deeper and deeper, his legs felt like lead, each step as if dragging an entire mountain, yet his gaze remained sharp and unwavering. The darkness was oppressive, the cold wind biting, but his mind grew ever calmer and clearer. If the enemy wanted to pursue him, they would certainly not rashly step into this dense forest hollow; they too feared getting stuck in the mud and being trapped. But once dawn broke, they would surely swarm in and attack.

Therefore, the time to live is running out.

"Once we reach that puddle ahead, we'll turn east and exit through the mountain pass. Only then will we have a chance," Qin Cang repeatedly confirmed the location in his mind. He knew the map by heart; he remembered every inch of mud and every ditch clearly. This was his only trump card for survival.

Liu San suddenly coughed lightly, expelling some bloody foam. His body felt lighter, as if he might slip off Qin Cang's shoulder at any moment. He instinctively tightened his arms, carrying the two men more securely. In that instant, a thought that shouldn't have crossed his mind flashed through his mind—if he really abandoned these two, it would be easier for him to escape.