Chapter 20: No More Nightmares
When Du Yuejiao awoke, she found herself in a small, enclosed space.
Her hands and feet were bound, and her body swayed with the rumbling of wheels.
She was being transported.
She didn’t know where she was being taken, but she no longer cared.
She stared into the empty darkness with empty eyes.
Her body still ached, but the pain was gradually numbed by the coldness in her heart.
She felt like she was adrift at sea, carried by a thin sheet of ice that could melt at any moment.
Surrounded by raging waves, escape was meaningless, hope was meaningless.
The scars covering her body and the shameful marks carved on her thighs were all that remained.
She was even afraid of the light, which would expose everything, revealing her shame to the world.
Noisy shouts, running footsteps, the haggling of merchants, soldiers yelling and driving away refugees – these sounds swirled around her.
But she simply stared into the darkness, her body swaying with the movement of the small space.
For a while, the sounds subsided.
But the rumbling of the wheels continued.
Gradually, the sounds returned, louder now, more wheels rumbling, some old and creaking.
Suddenly, the swaying stopped.
“Open it up!” a voice barked.
“Officer!” another voice pleaded, “My little sister died from illness. We don’t have money for a proper burial, so we’re just taking her to the mountains to bury her.”
“I said open it!” the soldier’s voice was laced with irritation, “How do we know what you’re carrying in there?”
“You’re right, officer, you’re right,” the voice replied.
Suddenly, chaos erupted. The girl’s body was jostled violently, bumping against the walls of the small space.
“Stop them! Stop them!” someone shouted, the voice quickly fading into the distance.
The cart sped up, bumping along the mountain roads. Sometimes the girl’s body would jolt as the cart passed over rocks and stones; sometimes she would be thrown from side to side.
Unconsciously, tears mixed with blood streamed from her eyes, staining the darkness.
She could have screamed for help at the market or at the city gates, attracting attention.
But she had given up on all hope.
The creaking sounds grew louder, and then, with a snap, the wood broke, and she tumbled within the small space.
“This cart is useless!” someone said. “I wonder what’s inside?”
“Who cares? As long as we get paid!” another voice replied, “Luckily, we’re almost there. Let’s just carry it the rest of the way.”
Her body was lifted and carried, the movement gentler than the previous jolting.
Then, the movement stopped. One of the men said, “We’ve brought it, sir.”
“Take it inside!” A cold voice, like a sharpened blade against a whetstone, commanded.
She was carried inside and placed somewhere.
The two men went outside, followed by the clinking of coins and their receding footsteps.
Suddenly, the cold voice barked, “Who’s there?”
A series of loud, rapid clanging sounds followed, along with the roar of flames, the sound of a sword cutting through wood, and the whoosh of wind.
The cold voice shouted angrily, “Who are you?”
Another voice, cold and arrogant, replied, “Demonic villain, you deserve to die!”
A resounding boom echoed, as if the earth itself trembled, followed by a muffled groan.
The sounds of shattering stone, falling trees, and a whistling sword indicated that the hooked-nosed villain was fighting a mysterious assailant.
The fight raged on, the sounds growing more intense, reaching a climax.
The roar of flames gradually subsided, replaced by the increasingly loud and continuous whistling of a sword.
A gust of wind swept through the air, snapping branches and leaves.
Then, the sound of a sword being sheathed, “You’re quite fast.”
Steady footsteps approached and stopped beside her.
A hand lifted the wooden lid, and with a bang, light flooded in.
The girl’s eyes remained blank and unfocused, listless, as if she had become a living corpse.
However, the surprised voice that followed startled her, “Miss Du?”
Realizing she had been recognized, her pupils slowly focused, her gaze landing on the man’s face.
It was a young man with a gentle and handsome face… It was the young master of Small Han Mountain City, the one she had ridiculed and belittled just days ago.
The girl screamed, curling up inside the wooden coffin, her hysterical cries sharp and piercing, laced with helpless sobs.
Her abused, scarred body, the marks carved on her legs, were all exposed to his gaze.
She had thought darkness was the deepest pain, but now she realized there was a deeper hell beneath it.
Just a few days ago, she had stood before him, sword in hand, mocking him as “cowardly unorthodox scum.”
Now, she was exposed to him like this. She wished she were dead.
She screamed and cried. The young man quickly took off his outer robe and covered her, lifting her from the coffin, his voice soft, “Miss Du, it’s alright now. I’ll get you out of here.” He turned and quickly sped away.
“Leave me alone!” the girl sobbed weakly in his arms, “Just leave me alone.”
Trees blurred past them, light and shadow flickering across their bodies.
The mountain wind rustled through the leaves, carrying away her fading sobs—
Shi Hao carried Du Yuejiao to a cave deep in the forest. In his arms, she weakly struggled, then continued crying silently.
He had already undone the Evil Shadow Disguise Technique.
He knew that true “disguise” wasn’t just about changing one’s appearance, but about becoming a different person entirely. That way, it was less likely to be detected.
He put his other persona aside and tried to see things from her perspective.
He found himself sympathizing with her. The person who had harmed and tortured her was truly despicable.
“Miss Du, your meridians are sealed. I’ll try my best to circulate your blood and energy and unblock your acupoints,” Shi Hao said gently.
He helped her sit up and sat behind her, his expression serious.
He draped his outer robe over her and channeled his true energy into her back, clearing her meridians.
This was something only orthodox Daoist internal energy cultivation could achieve.
Although there were countless martial arts styles, most sects couldn’t cultivate this kind of healing energy.
This was one of the unique aspects of Daoist internal elixir cultivation, and also one of the main reasons for the Daoist sects’ prominence in the martial world.
After a while, Shi Hao withdrew his hand and gently helped Du Yuejiao lie down. He whispered, “Miss Du, that villain is a demonic cultivator. His methods of burning meridians and sealing acupoints are quite brutal. I can only help you recover slowly.”
He asked, “Shall I take you back to Ming Kun Monastery?”
Du Yuejiao, huddled under the robe, shook her head and whispered, “No… don’t.”
She didn’t want anyone to see her like this.
If she had a choice, she wished this man had never appeared.
Having cultivated the Chongxian Sect’s secret techniques, Du Yuejiao knew how formidable the villain’s methods were.
This young master had indeed helped her recover some of her internal energy, giving her a glimmer of hope.
As if understanding her feelings, the young master of Small Han Mountain City spoke softly, “Then rest here. Don’t worry, I’ll keep watch outside.”
The girl watched him leave the cave.
She curled up, pulling the robe tightly around her, covering her legs.
She saw his figure standing outside, his back to her, motionless.
Tears silently streamed down her face, her emotions a tangled mess.
This feeling of being protected brought her a sense of comfort and also a deep sense of guilt.
She slept soundly. She hadn’t slept so well in days.
For the past few nights, she had been forced into a restless sleep by the villain’s acupoint sealing technique, leaving her exhausted.
Later, she had a nightmare. The villain’s hooked nose, like a giant mountain, loomed over her.
She woke up in a cold sweat, trembling, the robe slipping from her shoulders.
Looking outside, it was dark, and the flickering light of a fire could be seen.
Wiping away the sweat, she crawled towards the cave entrance, fear and anxiety gripping her heart.
She clutched the robe to her chest, one hand subconsciously holding the edge of the robe, tightly covering the marks on her legs.
Peeking outside, she saw a pot on a bonfire, the aroma of meat wafting through the air.
The young man sat beside the fire, his back to her, his face gentle and bathed in the last rays of the setting sun.
She silently lay back down, curling up, watching the firelight at the cave entrance.
As darkness fell, the flames flickered and danced.
She could still see the gentle glow, reminding her that she had finally escaped the villain’s clutches.
Tears silently streamed down her face, her thoughts, along with the hope that had been frozen, slowly thawing.
After a while, the young master of Small Han Mountain City brought a burning torch into the cave, illuminating the space.
He carefully entered, carrying a bowl of broth.
He gently helped her sit up, not saying a word, not asking any questions.
He simply fed her, spoonful by spoonful. After she finished the broth, he channeled his true energy into her body, helping her recover her strength and internal energy.
Then, he helped her lie down again.
“I’ll keep watch outside,” he said, and left.
The gentle, warm glow, even after the sun had set, seemed to linger.
It covered the cave entrance, enveloping her sleep.
At least tonight, there would be no more nightmares…
She slept soundly that night, so deeply that even when daylight began to filter into the cave the next morning, she lingered in the sweet embrace of sleep, reluctant to wake up.
Perhaps, like someone who had been starving for a long time, even a coarse wowotou (steamed corn bun) tasted delicious.
At this moment, Du Yuejiao felt incredibly content just to be able to sleep peacefully in this cave.
Even though her bed was just a pile of dry grass the young man had gathered.
Even though her only covering was a simple robe.
After drinking another bowl of broth in the morning, she wrapped the robe around herself and, with Shi Hao’s help, slowly emerged from the cave into the sunlight.
The sky was clear and bright.
The warm sunlight bathed her body, lifting her spirits.
The robe he had given her was a simple, straight, wrap-around garment.
However, since Small Han Mountain City produced its own silk, the fabric was of high quality, soft against her skin.
Although it looked strange for a young woman to wear such a loose-fitting man’s robe, there was a certain beauty to it.
With Shi Hao’s help, she had recovered much of her strength and internal energy.
He accompanied her on a walk through the forest, helping her clear her mind.
They found a waterfall. In the evening, she bathed under the cascading water while Shi Hao kept watch outside.
After a long while, the sound of crying came from the direction of the waterfall.
Shi Hao, unsure of what had happened, quickly rushed over. He saw the girl sitting on the ground by the water, half-covered by the robe, crying as she scratched at her thigh with a sharp stone.
The area where the marks had been carved was now a bloody mess, the blood flowing into the stream.
She was hitting the wound with the sharp stone.
Shi Hao rushed over, pulled her into his arms, and whispered, “It’s alright… it’s alright… It’s really alright now.”
The girl dropped the stone, turned, and clung to him, sobbing uncontrollably.
Her cries were loud and heart-wrenching, as if she was releasing all the pain and humiliation she had endured.
Shi Hao held her tightly, like a protective eagle shielding its young, a pillar of strength, offering her comfort.
That night, the girl fell ill, her forehead burning with fever.
Even a ninth-rank Daoist cultivator, with their nascent internal elixir and having consumed a ninth-rank external elixir, rarely fell ill, let alone someone with an eighth-rank foundation like her.
However, that made her illness all the more troublesome.
It was likely because she had been holding everything in until her outburst that evening. Now, with her body and mind finally relaxed, she had succumbed to illness.
Shi Hao stayed by her side all night, caring for her, using his true energy to ease her suffering, never leaving her side.
Occasionally, she would wake up in her delirium and clutch his robe, like a child, refusing to let go.
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