Chapter 362: Be careful with flames when you wake up, let’s check even the extinguished ones again (5)

Qing soared through the air, tightly clutching the old woman.

It felt like she was flying to the point of nausea today.

That chilling, gut-dropping sensation of floating, that dizzying free-fall that obeyed gravity—after repeating them so many times, she now had room for idle thoughts.

Fortunately, the surface of the water shimmered below.

She had been worried that the carriage might shatter mid-flight, or worse, that its trajectory might fall short—or overshoot—and they’d crash onto the riverbank. That would’ve been a disaster. But thankfully, that didn’t happen.

In truth, Qing still believed she could survive, regardless.

Even if she got captured by the Imperial Guards, she was confident she could survive.

The only real danger was to Jayu and Yeon Pa.

Jayu would die if he got caught by the Imperial Guards.

But if the carriage’s straight-line charge down the mountain worked, then at least there was a path to survival.

Qing approached the water’s surface, and—twang—kicked off the air, twisting her body mid-fall.

And so, all three of them plunged feet-first into the water with a loud splash.

Splish!

Their heads bobbed to the surface.

Qing, floating on her back in a rough imitation of the backstroke, held the two of them in her arms and kicked at the water.

“Ugh, you two alright?”

“Kegh, you wretched thing, what reckless nonsense is this, carrying this precious body like—Your Highness, Your Highness!?”

“Wait, just check if he’s breathing, but don’t wake him up yet. I’m really injured, okay? If Jayu starts thrashing around, I can’t help either of you. In that case, we each fend for ourselves. I’ll leave him behind. The living must live.”

Those words snapped Yeon Pa wide awake.

It wasn’t fear of being abandoned—but the sheer absurdity of what she just heard stunned her into clarity.

If Qing was the type to abandon people, she wouldn’t have dragged the damn carriage all the way here in the first place.

Should she call her a hopelessly stupid bitch, or say she had some warped sense of loyalty?

“Stop spouting crap you don’t mean. Tsk, tsk. Hmph, His Highness probably fainted from sheer exhaustion after all.”

“Fainted, my ass. Okay, yes, technically fainted, but he’s just passed out.”

“A noble doesn’t pass out. That’s exactly why one must become noble.”

“Saying he technically fainted doesn’t change the fact that he almost drowned.”

Now, all that was left was to grab hold of one of the large chunks of wreckage and drift downstream...

But there weren’t any trees floating nearby.

Why aren’t there any? Where the hell did they all go?

It wasn’t like they smashed through the atmosphere and everything burned to ash, right? So where are they?

But no matter how much she looked around, there wasn’t a single floating log to cling to.

Qing’s expression wouldn’t relax for a second.

Clutching the other two with one arm, she flailed her free arm and both legs to swim.

Every time she kicked or moved, stabbing pain flared in her side, twisting her face into a perpetual scowl of fury.

Rosewood sinks.

It’s denser than mid-tier steel to begin with—of course it doesn’t float. It would be stranger if it did.

Qing, oblivious to that fact, just felt utterly betrayed.

Why can’t anything ever go smoothly for once!?

“Are you injured?” Yeon Pa’s voice was thick with concern.

“I told you I was injured from the start. My side was finally starting to knit back together, but clearly everything’s torn open again. The fracture’s probably worse too.”

“Hmph, what dramatics. You’re still speaking clearly, so you’re alive, aren’t you? You ever actually cracked a bone? You can’t even move. You so much as twitch, and you collapse screaming.”

“You gotta push through with grit. You’re just weak, that’s your problem, no grit.”

Qing’s swimming picked up speed.

Not because she was suddenly full of energy, or because adrenaline masked the lava-like agony burning through her side.

It was because the current was growing stronger.

They were roughly between the upper and middle reaches of the Musu River—a section where the water flowed fast and the gradient was steep. The stream curved around the eroded cliffs of Gyeokmok Mountain, veering west, and the current straightened, accelerating rapidly.

“Yeon Pa. At this point, it’s less swimming and more being swept away, y’know? Do you see a village or something?”

Following a river downstream is the best way to find people in a survival situation.

Ironically, ancient primitive Zhongyuan water infrastructure was surprisingly advanced.

But that technology was only deployed to make life more convenient for major cities—not to build settlements around water access.

In this era, technology was an exclusive privilege of the noble-born—the lowborn were simply meant to suffer.

They weren’t allowed to seek comfort through tools.

But with a river this wide and abundant, surely there’d be a village along the banks.

Qing drifted along for some time, carried by the current. The river split and curved north upon meeting a cliff, then twisted eastward again—right as the mountain slope dropped away, revealing farmlands spreading along the north and east banks.

“Over there, a village! A village!”

The sweetest words she’d heard all day.

Time to head for shore.

All three of them were wearing fur-lined coats, now drenched and heavy as lead.

And after floating in the river, the moment they stumbled onto dry land, their bodies—unaccustomed to solid ground—felt like they were being dragged down even more by gravity.

Lightning flashed inside Qing’s skull.

Her side—she wanted to rip it clean off.

It felt like cutting it off entirely might hurt less than keeping it attached.

Muttering apologies to her poor side, Qing slapped the frail brat awake.

Despite being perfectly fine, he was the only one sleeping like a baby—and she packed all that irritation into each smack, smack-smack!

“Jayu. Jayu?”

“Why you little, you dare strike the face of Your Highness—”

“Gasp... Hah... Huff... my friend, is that you? Yeon Pa, where’s Yeon Pa?”

“Your Highness! This lowborn is here! Are you conscious!? How do you feel?”

“Mm, there isn’t a single part of me that doesn’t ache... but hmm.”

Jayu gingerly rubbed his cheek.

“I thought I hit my head on the carriage, but it was my cheek? It stings like hell.”

Yeon Pa shot Qing a glare sharp as an axe blade.

Qing pretended to study the distant smoke rising from the mountainside.

And so, the less-injured bitch and the frail brat helped the badly injured old woman toward the village.

Hopefully, it really was a village.

If it was a clan compound, they were screwed.

Isolated clan villages in Zhongyuan were practically fortified strongholds for small-time warlords.

They never welcomed outsiders.

And sure enough, houses linked together by continuous barricades came into view—a textbook example of a fortified Zhongyuan village.

Still, seeing the main gate wide open was... encouraging, maybe?

At least they weren’t totally shut-ins.

Maybe they could ditch their soaked coats, warm up a bit, and rest.

But Qing had miscalculated.

The gate wasn’t open to welcome outsiders—the village was abandoned.

The mountain fire had driven everyone out.

Which, honestly, worked out better.

These fortified village types couldn’t be trusted—if they didn’t let you in, they were a roadblock; if they did, they often turned to banditry just as easily.

Yet several chimneys still puffed smoke.

Did they evacuate in such a hurry they left the fires burning?

If they were lucky, the wildfire might miss the place—but if not, the whole village would go up in flames.

Oh well.

They could rest here in exchange for watching the fires.

With that, Qing kicked open the door to a still-smoking house.

A startled gasp rang out.

“Wh-who’s there!?”

“Oh—there’s still someone here. Sorry...”

An old man, his back completely hunched.

Startled by the sudden break-in, but his eyes quickly fell on the water streaming from their coats, their pale lips.

Above all, the pitiful sight of Jayu, shaking as if struck by an earthquake, tugged at his heartstrings.

He quickly ceded his spot by the fire, wrapped them in blankets, and poured generous amounts of hot tea into bowls.

Hot water worked wonders for body temperature.

As the scalding tea slid down their throats, their cold, aching bodies seemed to melt into blissful relaxation.

“Phew... thank you.”

“Much obliged for your kindness.”

“A hunter? You got a blade, so maybe a martial artist? Eh, with all this wildfire, none of that really matters. Jumped in the water, didn’t ya?”

“Something like that.”

That’s the impression commoners had when they saw soldiers disguised as bandits.

Real bandits dressed like mountain vagrants—never in quality fur coats, fur hats, fur boots.

“Seems the villagers all fled. Why are you still here, elder?”

“I’ve always lived here—where else would I go? Besides, I buried my wife out back. Can’t just leave her behind. But maybe... maybe it’s about time to go meet her.”

“Oh...”

“Yeah... wildfire got outta hand. What can you do.”

Jayu and Yeon Pa turned to Qing.

Isolated stronghold villagers often had incomprehensible dialects, completely alien from standard regional accents.

Their mutated language was practically a foreign tongue.

But Qing understood every word perfectly.

Oddly, despite speaking clearly herself, the old man understood her too—but Qing didn’t dwell on that.

Humans naturally assume that if they understand someone, the other party understands them too.

“The government troops set the mountain on fire.”

“Eh? Say what now? At my age?”

Suddenly, the old man sprang into action, frantically packing his things.

Qing blinked in confusion.

“I thought you said you couldn’t leave your wife behind?”

“If the damn officials started that fire, that ain’t no regular wildfire. Damn bastard officials! Curse those rotten sons of bitches! They oughta be stewed in fish sauce and fed to their own mothers to end their cursed bloodline! I’ll die before I burn in some official’s flames!”

Wildfires might kill—but not ones started by the government.

Profanity, it seems, was universal.

Government dogs, stewing in fish sauce, damn their parents and their entire line—the old man’s opinion of the authorities couldn’t be clearer.

Yeon Pa shivered in horror at his blasphemous words.

“Th-this old fool—”

“Enough.”

Jayu’s face darkened, cutting her off.

The old man packed up and vanished, leaving only them behind in the now-ownerless house.

“Well, this worked out. Jayu, rest a bit. Drink more hot tea, get your body warmed up. Strip off the wet clothes, wrap up in those blankets. I’ll go scavenge for dry clothes and food. Yeon Pa, can you help?”

“Oh, I can’t move.”

“What? You called me dramatic, but now look at you, Miss Fourth Realm.”

“What’s this? Hmph, the young bitch’s eyes gleam like a hungry wolf, trying to work an old woman to death. My stitches are torn, I’m bleeding everywhere, and you’d still wring me dry.”

“You could’ve just said so, you know. Fine, you rest too. Strip, dry off. I’ll patch you up once I find clean cloth. Ugh...”

Qing groaned as she rose to her feet.

Her body felt like lead, muscles screaming, molten spikes driving through her ribs with every breath.

But if Jayu wandered off, he’d freeze or die of fever. Yeon Pa’s stitches were torn open too—what else could she do?

****

The truth was, Yeon Pa thought Qing was exaggerating.

Torn muscles, fractured bones? Please.

If someone was actually hurt that bad, even breathing was agony—they couldn’t even sleep.

But this idiot had dragged a carriage, swum half an hour, clung to two people—and still claimed she was “injured”?

So Qing bustled about non-stop.

Gathering supplies, mending Yeon Pa’s torn wounds, disinfecting, bandaging, boiling every scrap of food into gruel.

She barely had time to sit.

Only after the meal did Qing finally check her own side.

As she unwound the blood-soaked bandages, low groans escaped her lips.

Yeon Pa’s eyes went wide in horror.

“You—you, girl, your body—”

The right side of Qing’s waist had caved in like a smashed gourd.

The left side was grotesquely swollen, like a pregnant woman carrying low in her side.

The faded black bruises had burst again, new deep purple blotches rising over the old marks.

The swollen, lumpy bruises looked monstrous.

“Dear heavens... how can anyone look so wretched...”

Only now did Yeon Pa realize—Qing wasn’t faking it.

Her ribs were cracked through, her muscles ruptured, literally shredded inside out.

“You—how... how are you even walking around like this!? You—you stupid girl, heavens above—what do we do...”

Yeon Pa hovered, reaching out, pulling back, unable to even touch the wounds.

“If it hurts this bad, you should’ve said something. I—I didn’t even know—blind old woman that I am...”

Unable to hide her guilt, Yeon Pa wrung her hands, pacing helplessly.

Qing managed a crooked smile, only to flinch as pain twisted her face.

“It hurts so much, you kinda get used to it. Besides... I can’t exactly lie around just because I’m hurting. And, well, once a fight breaks out, you get stabbed, sliced—doesn’t even register, y’know?”