Chapter 219
By the time they broke camp, left the mountains, got into the car, and returned to the hotel, Cao Yanhua still hadn’t fully processed the sudden “change.”
They were really… quitting?
That was the thing—he’d been the loudest, the most dramatic, the one yelling the hardest about quitting. He’d expected arguments, reprimands, maybe even raised voices and shoving. Instead, none of that happened. Luo Ren didn’t even frown. He just agreed calmly: “We’re on the same page—then we quit.”
It didn’t feel right.
Inside the room, Luo Ren tossed his bag aside and sprawled casually onto the sofa, remote in hand, flipping channels without much interest.
Variety shows, dramas, news—one channel after another. When he noticed everyone still standing, he said, “We’ve got plenty of time now. Do whatever you want. No need to just stand there.”
Mu Dai went to take a shower. Yan Hongsha was washing clothes. Cao Yanhua grabbed Wan San.
“Brother San, don’t you think Brother Luo’s been shaken up? Just like that, we’re… done?”
Wan San shot him a sideways glance. “Isn’t that exactly what you wanted? Weren’t you the one crying and shouting that you wanted to quit?”
Cao Yanhua stammered. “B-but… it can’t end this abruptly. There should at least be some kind of formal conclusion.”
“Quitting is the conclusion.”
Wan San couldn’t be bothered with him anymore. He truly did whatever he wanted—scrolling on his phone, searching for hangover remedies for Cao Jiefang, scribbling notes on scraps of paper, planning to test them one by one.
Cao Yanhua peeked at the list:
- Shred washed napa cabbage root, add vinegar and sugar, and marinate for ten minutes.
- Juice celery or an Asian pear.
- Japanese imported hangover medicine—available on Taobao…
At a loss, Cao Yanhua drifted over to Mu Dai, who had just finished showering and was blow-drying her hair. The soft hum of the dryer filled the room as he hovered anxiously.
“Master Mu… Brother Luo’s just saying that out of anger, right? This is too big to just quit like that.”
Mu Dai turned off the dryer and smoothed her hair with her hand. “Do you want to die?”
“No, no, no. Definitely not.”
He shook his head like a rattle drum.
“Then quitting is the only option. Go do whatever you want. If you’re really bored, I’ll teach you some kung fu tonight.”
Left with no choice, Cao Yanhua went to Yan Hongsha.
She was standing by the sink, scrubbing her clothes fiercely—she’d spent the whole night clinging to a tree, and she wasn’t sure whether it was sap or something else stuck to her clothes, but it was stubbornly sticky.
She said irritably, “Cao Fatty, you’re such a contradiction. Quitting means quitting—why not enjoy it? Isn’t a good life what you want?”
But it didn’t feel good. They’d been chasing the fierce slips for over half a year. Having it suddenly cut off without a proper ending left Cao Yanhua feeling strangely hollow.
Angry words were supposed to be for venting—said to feel good, not to be taken seriously.
After pacing the living room a few times, he cautiously suggested, “How about… we call Mr. Shen?”
The shaman was still in Fog Town.
Not because the Four-Archway Building had been fully studied, but because, in his words, “You don’t know how good it is unless you’ve lived here—quiet, atmospheric, no one bothering you. Neighbors are close enough to hear each other’s chickens, but never interact. At night, it’s creepy, like there are ghosts everywhere. Absolutely thrilling.”
Since Luo Ren hadn’t summoned him back yet, he was happy to stay as long as possible.
The man was… a little abnormal.
But after all this time, they were used to him. No matter how bizarre the conversation became, they could always keep talking.
Mu Dai asked him, “Do you have a home? If not, you could stay in Fog Town long-term. I don’t go there much anyway. No rent—just clean up, watch the place, do your research, write your books. Lock up when you go out. No one will interfere.”
The shaman was deeply moved. “Really? Little Pocket, you promise?”
He was practically beside himself with joy. “I have a house now? And it’s huge! Bigger than Little Mao’s inn! There’s even a fish pond! Such a big courtyard—I can grow vegetables…”
Cao Yanhua had to interrupt him. “Mr. Shen, slow down. We actually have a situation here.”
He explained everything in detail. When he finished, he looked up at the massive golden sunset outside the window and felt an ache in his chest—another day was ending.
The shaman wasn’t surprised. “Honestly, I guessed this from the beginning.”
“Ancient times and modern times are different. There’s an old saying: ‘Of all rites, none is more important than sacrifice.’ To seek blessings from the gods, valuable offerings were necessary.”
Cao Yanhua couldn’t hold back. “So people had to die? Why?”
“You’re thinking this way because of your era and education,” the shaman said calmly. “Back then, people might have believed it was an honor to be sacrificed for the Phoenix Luan Clasp—giving one life to save thousands. Some probably competed to become that martyr. Even if it wasn’t voluntary, once authority spoke, obedience followed.”
That… was possible.
Ancient China was, to a large extent, a Confucian society. Critics once described classical Confucianism as valuing the collective over the individual, authority over freedom, and duty over rights. Individual identity was blurred—submerged under clan, family, state, ruler, ritual, loyalty.
Death wasn’t feared—what mattered was whether it was meaningful. Dying for one’s country, ruler, or chastity was praised.
The emphasis on individuality and the sanctity of life was largely a product of modern civilization.
“So why did it have to be human lives?” Cao Yanhua asked.
“Because life is the most precious thing a person has. Offering it proves sincerity. Still, quitting is quitting. I agree—forcing people to die is too much. But we need a response.”
Quitting meant the seventy-seven-day limit would expire. The already subdued fierce slips would scatter again. The five of them would go from hunters to prey.
The memory of the leopard’s attack still haunted them. The future promised nothing but wave after wave of danger—how long they could survive was anyone’s guess.
Wan San muttered, “Damn it, there’s not even hope left. Countdown my ass—it’s endless.”
Lucien On ABRWF Chapter 66.1