"Beaten to death might not happen, but it's certainly enough to beat someone till they shit themselves."
Bingbing left me her flashlight. Bathed in moonlight, she moved slowly, stepping carefully, as she left. I slung my backpack over my shoulders, half-supporting, half-carrying Mu Jige, and followed behind her.
"What kind of crop is this, so tall?" Mu Jige asked.
"Corn, native to the Americas," I explained. In Mu Jige's era, although corn had been introduced to Yanxia, it likely wasn't cultivated on a large scale yet. Especially in the northeast, people hadn't yet realized the value of the black soil and generally lived by hunting and fishing.
Mu Jige casually picked an ear of corn, felt its weight, and tossed it aside. Then she patted my neck, "Good stuff!"
Startled, I thought she was going to bite my neck!
"It's not as good as rice or wheat," I said. "Nowadays, Yanxia people mainly eat white rice and flour. Corn is mostly fed to animals." I was giving her a history lesson; times had changed.
"Heh, that's not what I meant."
"Oh?"
"Let's hurry, you might understand later."
Did she fancy the shape and size of the corn?
Impossible, it was too thick.
Emerging from the cornfield, Zheng Bingbing had already waded across the small river and climbed over a wall into a residential compound.
Mu Jige wasn't wearing shoes. I worried about sharp objects on the riverbed hurting her, so I scooped her up by the waist and carried her across. When we reached the wall, I then grabbed her by the buttocks and helped her over the top.
With more physical contact, I found her body seemed constructed differently from an ordinary person's. Incredibly soft, yet super resilient, like a silicone doll with steel rods inside. It must have been from years of martial arts practice.
Since the popularization of firearms, especially after the founding of the nation, relying solely on physical strength to kill people had no market. Ancient martial arts gradually fell into disuse. But on the battlefields of the Ming and Qing dynasties, four hundred years ago, firearms were merely supplementary. Both sides still equipped themselves with a large number of cold weapons. The outcome of a battle ultimately came down to close-quarters combat. In this regard, the Manchu Eight Banners soldiers were undoubtedly stronger. And Mu Jige, as an elite among the elite of the Eight Banners, the Bayara, her combat prowess, setting aside magic, must have been among the very best of that era.
Perhaps when her strength recovered, I might have the honor of witnessing it.
Passing through the compound, the stalker in disguise was surprisingly still in the pavilion. When I saw him, he saw me too, looking extremely surprised, likely wondering why I would walk right into a trap.
"Stop!" The disguised man stood up and ran towards us, reaching for his belt.
With one hand supporting Mu Jige, I reached for my own waist, preparing to draw my weapon.
I expected him to pull out a club or something similar. To my surprise, it was a pistol!
I immediately withdrew my hand and raised it high.
"What is he holding?" Mu Jige asked in a low voice.
"A… firelance," I said. She should understand that.
Mu Jige let out an "Oh." As the disguised man, holding his gun, cautiously approached within five meters, I felt Mu Jige's shoulder shift slightly (she had actually just lifted her foot). With a "Dang!" sound, the disguised man's hand was flung upwards, and the gun flew out of it. Before it could hit the ground, another "Dang!" echoed, and the gun was knocked into the air again, flying towards the pavilion and landing on top of it. It didn't fall down.
This time I saw clearly: it was Mu Jige kicking a small stone on the ground. What a kick!
The disguised man turned pale with shock. He scrambled towards the pavilion to retrieve his gun, but it was too high for him to reach. I took the opportunity to help Mu Jige walk towards the compound entrance. The disguised man didn't dare pursue, abandoning his gun, and pulled out his phone to call colleagues for backup.
I ignored him. We were running anyway, and wouldn't be foolish enough to stand still and wait for his reinforcements.
Mu Jige and I exited the compound, and Zheng Bingbing happened to drive up. With an abrupt brake, the Mitsubishi Pajero dipped its nose sharply, like a citizen of its country of origin bowing.
"Did anyone get hurt?" I asked Bingbing.
"No, the car was in its spot. They probably didn't notice."
"That's good." I placed Mu Jige in the back seat and got into the passenger seat. Driving fast was Bingbing's forte; my skills weren't up to par.
We drove along the main road of the town center, heading southeast. By this time, I dared to open my phone. There were 5 missed calls, but I couldn't be bothered to check them. I turned on the navigation. The next town was about fifteen kilometers away, called Taoyuan Town.
Dew dark, smoke thick, grass fresh and new,
A turn of the water fills the stream with spring.
Pitiful the fisherman, returning to revisit,
He sees only peach blossoms, not a soul.
Nice name.
"Can we outrun those demons?" Zheng Bingbing asked as she drove. "My Pajero is good for off-roading, but not very fast!"
Before I could answer, Mu Jige, from the back seat, leaned out the window and said, "No, we can't. Lao Ba is less than five li from here."
"Then what are we waiting for? You two… hurry up!" Zheng Bingbing urged.
Right, we were so focused on escaping that we almost forgot the main task.
I looked back at Mu Jige. She nodded lightly and patted the seat, signaling me to come over.
I pursed my lips and crawled from the passenger seat to the back seat…