Chapter Seven: Demonic Green

Outside the gap in the tattered straw mat at the entrance of the shelter, thick, gray-white mist from the mountain surged silently, like a vast, icy shroud, swallowing up the fleeting glimpse of the pale pink shadow. The cold sensation of being watched receded as quickly as the tide, leaving only a bone-chilling chill branded deep into Lin Mo’s spine, making his fingertips tremble.

It was her. Su Li.

Those indifferent eyes, like frozen lakes, seemed to pierce through the mist and the straw mat, seeing beyond his flesh to the cold stone lodged in his chest, to the exploded stain on the ground, and even… to the newly sprouted, strangely colored seedling!

How much had she seen? How much did she know?

A surge of terror, cold as a venomous snake, coiled tightly around Lin Mo’s heart, tightening ever more. The wound on his back, still unhealed, began to throb under the intense tension, warm blood seeping out and sticking to the coarse cloth. He froze in place, holding his breath, ears filled only with the wild drumbeat of his heart pounding in his chest—thump, thump, thump—so loud it nearly drowned out the wind wailing outside the shelter.

Time passed—so long that Lin Mo felt his heart might leap out from his throat—before the icy gaze finally vanished, as if it had never appeared. Yet he dared not relax, his nerves taut as a bowstring stretched to breaking.

He swiftly withdrew his hand, hovering in midair, almost touching the seedling, as if burned by invisible flames. The lingering cold on his fingertips entwined with the heavy, throbbing “stone” in his chest, making him shiver. He dared not look at the strangely colored seedling again; the vivid green seemed like an ominous mark, inviting even more terrifying scrutiny.

Curling his body, he wrapped himself tightly in the threadbare coat left by Zhou Xiaoxiao, burying his face deep into the dry straw that reeked of sweat and mold. The agony—his torn back, his right arm aching as if crushed, the cold, oppressive heaviness in his chest—now faded, leaving only the terror drilled into his bones by that chilling gaze.

The Xutian Sutra… this thing must never be discovered!

Time crawled by in the oppressive silence and fear. The shelter was dim, only the ashes under a cracked clay pot emitted the last glimmer of warmth. Lin Mo lay motionless, like a frozen corpse, the slight shivering from pain and cold the only sign he was still alive.

He didn’t know how long had passed before familiar footsteps sounded outside, approaching with deliberate heaviness.

The straw mat was lifted. Zhou Xiaoxiao’s round, mud-stained face popped in, clutching a wrinkled paper packet. He first scanned the shelter warily, his gaze flicking over Lin Mo’s curled form, pausing briefly on the stains covered by straw, and finally landing on the spot where the green seedling was—now mostly blocked by Lin Mo’s body and the straw.

“Here, nearly ran my legs off!” Zhou Xiaoxiao shook the paper packet, exaggerating his tone for effect, though a sharp, probing gleam hid deep in his eyes. He came in, tossing the packet onto the straw beside Lin Mo. “No more Jade Ointment—the warehouse boss guards it tighter than his own mother! Only managed some ‘Hemostatic Vine Powder.’ Better than nothing!” He squatted, naturally peeling back the ragged shirt covering Lin Mo’s back, exposing the blood-soaked bandages.

“Damn… bleeding again?” Zhou Xiaoxiao frowned, carefully unwrapping the dirty cloth stuck to flesh, revealing the torn, swollen, bruised wound beneath. Fresh blood, mixed with yellowish fluid, oozed slowly from the split flesh. He opened the packet, revealing coarse, dark-red powder with a pungent, spicy smell. “Brace yourself, this stuff packs a punch!” He grabbed a handful and prepared to press it on the wound.

Lin Mo’s body instinctively tensed, the muscles in his back rigid with pain and anxiety. He didn’t turn, only buried his face deeper in the straw, letting out a suppressed groan.

Zhou Xiaoxiao’s hand paused, his gaze lingering for a moment on Lin Mo’s tense back, his eyes flickering. He said nothing, only moved more gently, sprinkling the vine powder evenly over the savage wound.

“Hiss—!”

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The instant the powder touched raw flesh, it burned like a hot iron! An intense, fiery sting exploded, far more forceful and brutal than the coolness of Jade Ointment.

“Ugh—ah!” Lin Mo finally couldn’t hold back, arching sharply with a short, wrenching scream. His teeth bit deep into his lip, flooding his mouth with the taste of blood. His back felt as if devoured by endless venomous insects, the agony blinding him, cold sweat pouring from his forehead and temples, soaking the straw.

Zhou Xiaoxiao pinned him down, voice low and strangely calm: “Hold on! This stuff stops bleeding fast! Way better than that watered-down Jade Ointment!”

The burning pain lasted for several breaths before subsiding into a deep, numb ache. Lin Mo lay limp in the straw, gasping, each breath trembling from the depths of his chest. His back still burned, but the bleeding seemed forcibly halted by the powerful powder.

Zhou Xiaoxiao quickly wrapped him with a relatively clean rag, deftly binding the wound. As he worked, his fingertips seemed to brush Lin Mo’s uninjured skin, rough and warm, causing Lin Mo to shudder and tense.

“All right, you’ll live.” Zhou Xiaoxiao clapped his hands, stood up, and swept his gaze around the shelter, finally settling on the straw pile blocking the seedling, as if casually asking: “Nothing happened just now, right? I thought I heard something outside?”

Lin Mo’s heart sank! He forced himself to endure the pain and turmoil, answering in a hoarse, weak voice: “No… just hurts… hurts a lot…” He mumbled, burying his face deeper in the straw’s shadow, unwilling to let Zhou Xiaoxiao see the lingering fear in his eyes.

Zhou Xiaoxiao stared at his curled form for a few seconds, the smile on his round face fading, the probing gleam in his eyes sharpening. But he didn’t press further, only grunted, slipping back into his usual slick tone: “It should hurt! Serves you right for messing around! Stay put. I’ll check the herb garden—don’t want the beasts to ruin it all.” He turned, lifted the straw mat, and left.

The mat fell, shutting out the damp, cold air and light. The shelter sank back into darkness and silence. Lin Mo lay on the straw, the pain from the powder vivid, but Zhou Xiaoxiao’s seemingly casual question and look disturbed him even more.

Had he… sensed something too?

Lin Mo painfully shifted, peering past his elbow at the patch of mud inside the threshold.

The fresh green seedling of Red Sun Grass still stood stubbornly. Two tiny, translucent oval leaves glowed eerily green in the dim light, a color that starkly contrasted with the dark brown mud and yellowed straw—vivid, unnatural, almost sickly vitality.

It was growing… too fast!

In less than half a day, it had sprouted from the size of a fingernail to nearly half an inch tall! Its leaves spread wider, veins clearly visible, the green now richer—glowing, almost poisonous, like jade steeped in venom. In the dim shelter, this strange green was like an eye watching from the darkness.

Lin Mo felt his heart squeezed ever tighter by an icy hand. Fear surged again, cold as the tide. This thing was sinister! Its existence was proof of the uncontrolled power—an explosive danger lurking by his side!

No! It must be destroyed!

The thought grew like a poisonous vine. He forced himself up, ignoring the pain in his back and right arm, reaching out with trembling fingers toward the unnatural green.

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Just as his fingertips were about to touch the tender leaves—

The cold “stone” in his chest sank sharply! A strong, sluggish sensation rose to his throat, choking his breath. At the same time, a faint warning pulse emanated from deep within the “stone,” as if stopping him.

Lin Mo froze, his fingers suspended just above the strange leaves. He could see the fine hairs, the veins pulsing with richer sap than ordinary plants.

Destroy it? Or… keep it? Was this bizarre seedling the only trace left by that wild power, the sole clue he could sense in the darkness?

As he wavered, torn between conflicting thoughts, his trembling fingers hovered over the green—

The straw mat was lifted again. Zhou Xiaoxiao stood in the doorway, light casting a long shadow that fell over Lin Mo and the seedling.

Lin Mo recoiled as if shocked, dropping back, heart pounding.

“Damn, what bad luck!” Zhou Xiaoxiao cursed, brushing off grass and mud, seemingly unaware of Lin Mo’s recent actions. He walked to the corner, picked up the broken clay pot, glanced at it, then tossed it aside, his gaze accidentally passing over the patch of mud inside the threshold.

Lin Mo’s heart leapt to his throat, holding his breath.

Zhou Xiaoxiao’s gaze lingered for a moment on the mud mostly blocked by Lin Mo’s body and the straw. There, aside from damp brown earth and a few bits of straw, nothing seemed amiss—the strange seedling was perfectly hidden under Lin Mo’s leg and the piled straw.

Zhou Xiaoxiao withdrew his gaze, his usual irreverent smile returning, his tone teasing: “Hey, Mo, guess what I heard in the front yard just now?”

Lin Mo didn’t reply, only buried his face deeper in the straw, but his ears perked up.

“The Celestial Harmony Sect’s fairies are leaving for their sect tomorrow!” Zhou Xiaoxiao flopped onto the straw beside him, grabbing a cold, hard bun and taking a bite. “Tsk, too bad, Mo, your luck’s out! But maybe it’s for the best—at least you won’t be mooning around all day, losing your strength for work!”

As he chewed, Zhou Xiaoxiao’s eyes, quick and subtle, again swept over the edge of the mud hidden beneath Lin Mo, a doubt darker than the mountain mist passing through his gaze.

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