Chapter 245: The Abandoned Ning Rongrong

Chapter 245: Chapter 245: The Abandoned Ning Rongrong

On the main road, two figures stumbled out of the woods.

Tang San walked in the lead, looking utterly disheveled. His clothes were torn in several places by thorns; his face was smeared with dirt and bits of grass, and his hair hung in wild disarray—he bore not the slightest resemblance to the genius he once was.

His complexion remained pale, his injuries not yet fully healed; with every step he took, a dull ache throbbed in his chest.

Ning Rongrong followed close behind him, her condition no better than his.

Her exquisite long gown was snagged and torn in several spots by tree branches; her hair bun had come undone, and tear tracks still streaked her face.

Every now and then, she would glance back into the depths of the woods, her eyes filled with terror.

"Tang San... do you think they’ll catch up to us?"

Her voice trembled.

Tang San offered no reply. He stood in the middle of the road, scanning left and right, his gaze searching the empty thoroughfare for something specific.

In the distance, a carriage was approaching.

It was an ordinary carriage with a modest cabin; seated on the driver’s bench was a middle-aged coachman, leisurely guiding the horse along.

The curtains of the cabin were half-drawn, offering a faint glimpse of a stout, middle-aged man dozing inside, leaning against the back of the carriage.

A flicker of hesitation crossed Tang San’s eyes.

But just as quickly, that hesitation vanished.

He took a deep breath and slowly raised his right hand.

The firing mechanism of his Silent Sleeve Arrows locked onto the approaching carriage.

As the carriage drew within ten paces, a glint of ruthlessness flashed in Tang San’s eyes.

Whoosh!

A faint, dark streak shot forth, vanishing in an instant.

The projectile moved with astonishing speed—far too fast for the naked eye to track. It sliced ​​through the air and struck the coachman precisely in the neck.

The coachman’s body went rigid in an instant. His eyes widened in shock, and his mouth gaped open as if to scream, yet no sound escaped his lips.

Then, his body slowly tilted sideways before crashing to the ground with a heavy thud.

Startled by the sudden commotion, the horse reared up on its hind legs, letting out a piercing neigh.

"Ah—!"

Ning Rongrong let out a startled cry, covering her mouth with both hands, her face filled with terror.

She stared at the coachman lying on the ground, at the steel needle embedded in his neck, and her mind went completely blank.

Tang San... had killed someone?

She turned her head to look at Tang San.

The young man she had known for so long stood motionless where he was, his face devoid of expression, as if he had just performed some utterly trivial task.

The carriage slowly came to a halt.

The curtains of the carriage compartment were abruptly flung open, and a corpulent middle-aged man poked his head out, his face contorted with rage.

"Hey! I’m talking to you, Old Huang—how are you driving this thing?"

He shouted toward the driver’s seat, only to see it sitting empty.

A flicker of confusion crossed his face, instantly giving way to even greater fury: "Where is he?!"

Muttering curses, he clambered out of the carriage, his corpulent frame wobbling precariously atop the shafts. He looked around frantically until, finally, he spotted the coachman lying on the ground.

His expression changed instantly.

"Who?! Who did this?!"

Tang San slowly stepped forward.

Upon seeing Tang San, the rage on the middle-aged man’s face instantly dissolved into terror.

He instinctively took a step back, his voice trembling: "You... Who are you? What do you want?"

Tang San remained silent.

He raised his right hand.

"Whoosh!"

Another fleeting shadow.

A steel needle pierced the middle-aged man’s glabella—his forehead’s exact center—with a precision so absolute it seemed as if it had been measured with a ruler.

The corpulent body swayed unsteadily before crashing heavily to the ground, striking the road surface and kicking up a cloud of dust.

Ning Rongrong stood rooted to the spot, her legs turning to jelly; she could barely remain standing.

She gazed at Tang San, her eyes filled with a profound sense of unfamiliarity.

Was this truly the Tang San she knew?

The Tang San who would stop at nothing for Xiao Wu? The Tang San who would train himself to the brink of death for the sake of his teacher?

The Tang San who, though taciturn, at least possessed a moral bottom line?

Tang San did not look at her.

He walked over to the two corpses, grabbed one in each hand, dragged them to the roadside, and tossed them into the tall grass.

His movements were swift and decisive—the actions of a man who had done this countless times before. Then, he turned around and looked at Ning Rongrong.

"Hurry up and get on."

His voice was calm, devoid of any discernible emotion.

Ning Rongrong snapped back to reality; her lips quivered as she tried to speak, yet she could not utter a single word.

She clambered onto the carriage, crawled inside the cabin, and curled up in a corner, clutching her knees with both hands—her entire body trembling uncontrollably.

Tang San cast a glance at the cabin, his brows furrowing slightly.

But he said nothing. He hopped onto the driver’s seat, seized the reins, and cracked his whip.

The horses neighed in response, broke into a gallop, and sped furiously toward the road ahead.

...

Three figures appeared by the roadside where the carriage had just departed.

Jiang Bai gazed at the bloodstains on the ground, then turned his eyes toward the two corpses lying amidst the tall grass; a flicker of complex emotion crossed his eyes.

Bi Ji looked at the stout middle-aged man—the one with an arrow embedded in his forehead—and her expression shifted slightly.

She raised her head and looked at Jiang Bai. "Was this... their doing?"

Jiang Bai stared at the steel needle buried deep in the man’s forehead and nodded.

"A steel needle from a Silent Sleeve Arrow. Aside from Tang San, I can’t think of anyone else."

Bi Ji gazed down at the bodies of the two innocent victims on the ground, her beautiful face etched with bewilderment.

She had lived for hundreds of thousands of years and witnessed countless cycles of life and death, yet the way humans slaughtered one another remained, at times, truly incomprehensible to her.

Could one really take the lives of innocent people so casually, simply to save one’s own skin?

She pondered this silently in her heart.

Jiang Bai raised his head and looked toward the carriage speeding away in the distance.

"They haven’t gone far yet."

He reached out his hand, enveloping both Bi Ji and Jiang Li’er in a shroud of Soul Power.

Light and shadow shifted and swirled.

...

Along the official road, the carriage raced onward.

Tang San sat on the driver’s seat, his whip lashing ceaselessly against the horses’ flanks.

Stung by the pain, the horses ran faster and faster, causing Ning Rongrong—huddled inside the cabin—to be tossed violently from side to side by the jarring motion.

His expression was grim, his eyes filled with anxiety.

Surely... he must have shaken them off by now?

He cast a glance back over his shoulder.

In the distance, three figures materialized out of thin air, gliding through the air with unhurried ease. Their speed was neither fast nor slow—moving at a pace that kept them perfectly abreast of the carriage. Jiang Bai maintained his usual leisurely demeanor, looking as if he were merely out for a picnic.

Upon seeing Tang San turn his head to look their way, Jiang Li’er smiled faintly and gave him a wave.

"Pull over!"

Her voice was crisp and clear, carrying a hint of playful mockery.

Tang San’s face instantly turned ashen with rage.

He whipped his head around and lashed out with his whip once more, striking the horse.

"Giddy-up!"

The horse neighed in protest and galloped even faster.

Jiang Li’er watched the accelerating carriage, her eyes narrowing into slits.

"Oh? Quite the arrogant one, isn’t he?"

She turned to look at Jiang Bai.

"Jiang Bai, go get him!"

Jiang Bai: "..."

He said nothing, simply continuing to follow at his own unhurried pace.

Bi Ji gazed at the carriage, a fleeting look of pity flickering in her eyes. Yet, she remained silent.

Inside the carriage, Ning Rongrong was being tossed about by the bumps, feeling dizzy and disoriented. Clinging to the carriage wall to steady herself, she lifted the curtain and poked her head out.

"Tang San, what’s going on?"

Tang San glanced at the trio—Jiang Bai and his companions—who were floating along at a leisurely pace, and steeled his resolve.

He knew they were deliberately toying with him.

It was like a game of cat and mouse: tease the prey until it was thoroughly exhausted, then devour it whole.

Hearing Ning Rongrong’s question, a sudden idea flashed through his mind.

"It’s nothing."

He strove to keep his voice as calm as possible.

"Rongrong, come out and help me check our bearings; I’ve lost my sense of direction."

Ning Rongrong was taken aback by his words.

Lost his sense of direction?

Although she felt puzzled, she slowly clambered out of the carriage.

Standing on the carriage shafts and steadying herself against the side of the vehicle, she looked around, attempting to get her bearings.

Then, she saw them.

Not far away, three figures hovered in mid-air.

A young man in white robes with jet-black hair; a woman with golden hair and crimson eyes; and a gentle, fairy-like maiden clad in emerald green.

All three had their gazes fixed upon the carriage.

Ning Rongrong’s face instantly went deathly pale.

"Ah—!"

She cried out in alarm, her voice trembling: "Tang San, they... they’ve caught up to us!"

Tang San silently reached out and placed his hand on her shoulder.

Ning Rongrong’s body went rigid instantly.

She lowered her head to look at the hand resting on her shoulder, then raised her eyes to meet Tang San’s gaze.

His face was devoid of expression.

There was only a cold, chilling resolve.

"Tang San, what are you doing?"

Her voice quivered.

Tang San did not speak.

He gave a forceful shove.

"Ah—!"

Ning Rongrong’s body went flying from the speeding carriage.

She hit the ground and tumbled several times, kicking up a cloud of dust. Her head struck a stone by the roadside with a dull, heavy thud.

When she finally came to a stop, she lay there motionless.

Blood began to trickle slowly from her temple.

Tang San did not look back.

He cracked his whip against the horses once more, and the carriage continued to gallop forward.

...

Jiang Bai came to a halt.

He gazed down at Ning Rongrong, lying motionless on the ground, and remained silent for a moment.

Then, he walked over to her.

Ning Rongrong lay there with her eyes tightly shut, the blood from her temple staining half her face crimson. Her breathing was faint, but she was not yet dead.

Jiang Bai looked down at her.

That young face was now covered in wounds and grime.

She had once been the little princess of the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Clan—raised in the lap of luxury, pampered and cherished—and had never known such suffering.

Yet now, she had been cast aside on the roadside like a discarded rag.

Jiang Bai fell silent for a moment.

Then, he raised his right hand.

He gave a gentle flick of his fingers.

A wisp of golden-red flame shot forth from his fingertips.

The flame was minuscule—no larger than a fingernail—yet it radiated an terrifyingly intense heat.

It drifted down gently, landing upon Ning Rongrong.

"Whoosh—!"

The flame erupted instantly.

A blazing inferno of golden-red fire engulfed Ning Rongrong completely. Bi Ji gazed at the burning flames, a flicker of complex emotion passing through her eyes.

"What are you...?"

"Cremation," Jiang Bai stated calmly. "To keep the beasts from eating the remains."

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