Chapter 85: Precious First Experience 2

They were so fast, they passed the wooden bridge in a blur, making it impossible to observe anything in detail with just a fleeting glance. Almost no one noticed that He Lingchuan, crouched at the bottom of the boat, perfectly curled himself into the shadow of the wooden bridge!

Hiding under the bridge, he dared not even breathe, for fear that a single bubble might attract unwanted attention. After a short while, he quietly surfaced, looked left and right, then forcefully thrust his long spear into the canal bank. Using the leverage, he leaped onto the ground.

The cavalry had already ridden far away; only a few receding figures remained. However, two five- or six-year-old children by the canal were curiously watching him, but their mother, looking wary, pulled them back. The residents here were quite unfriendly.

He Lingchuan wiped the water from his face and quickly hid behind two large haystacks. Ahead were warehouses, followed by houses of varying heights. Fortunately, there were few people around. He Lingchuan looked down at his soaking wet clothes, knowing that his attire and fabric would immediately identify him as an outsider to the locals. The only thing to do now was to change his clothes.

He looked around, and finally, a hint of a smile appeared on his face: Not far away, clothes were drying on the open ground in front of a farmhouse. He quietly sneaked over, without disturbing the woman cooking in the kitchen, and only took a few pieces of men's clothing. Afterwards, he went to a shady spot to change.

Although it was quiet all around, he still carefully checked his surroundings before taking off his soaking wet old clothes. No one was there. He quickly stripped off his wet trousers and put on the new ones. While he was tying his trousers, a whistle suddenly sounded from the side. Startled, He Lingchuan looked up and saw a white blur flash by, like light, like lightning, too fast for the human eye to catch. It was also impossible to dodge.

With a soft whoosh, an arrow hit him directly in the throat, passing straight through. The arrowhead even pierced the wooden board behind him.

What did it feel like to be struck in the throat by an arrow? He Lingchuan wanted to curse but couldn't speak, only feeling a piercing pain. All he could see was the white fletching of the arrow wobbling in front of him. His gaze then followed forward, and something seemed to move near the haystack. He tried to see clearly, but his vision had already blurred.

***

He Lingchuan cried out and sat up, clutching his neck. As far as his eyes could see, the window frame, low table, and vase were all familiar furnishings from his room. A lark was perched on the branch outside his window. Startled by his cry, it flapped its wings and flew away, dropping a feather with a soft rustle. He Lingchuan stared intently at the feather, remembering the white fletching of the arrow that had pierced his throat.

He touched his throat; it was perfectly fine, not even a scratch. But he was drenched in sweat all over, as if he had just climbed out of the canal. “That scared me to death!” He was alive; it was just a nightmare.

A figure flashed outside, and Uncle Hao slipped in. “What’s wrong, young master?”

“Nothing,” He Lingchuan said, rubbing his face weakly. “Just a nightmare.”

“Still Calabash Mountain?”

“How could it be?” After the great adventure in Panlong City, the original body's memory of being attacked in Calabash Mountain was so vague it felt like something from a past life; he had almost forgotten all about it.

He Lingchuan dismissed Uncle Hao, climbed out of bed, and poured himself a cup of iced tea. It wasn’t dark yet; he had slept for barely an hour at most. Since returning from the desert, his sleep quality had been as good as a baby's. What was going on today?

Glancing at the headboard, his gaze naturally fell upon the broken blade. “Could it be you causing trouble?” This was the only variable; it was hard not to notice.

He Lingchuan took the blade down and slowly drew it from its sheath. The ambient temperature dropped by at least two degrees, but He Lingchuan did not feel cold; instead, holding it felt even more natural.

He thought about the nightmare. Aside from the locals who treated outsiders like enemies, the Chipa Highlands were actually wonderful, a scene of a fertile water country and a pastoral idyll. There were crisscrossing waterways, diverse terrain, and it seemed there were also mines further away. No wonder Panlong City could hold out for many years surrounded by powerful enemies; the objective conditions were also one of the decisive factors.

The last time he entered the Great Fanghu Secret Realm, he had merely entered Panlong City and nearly lost his life. Naturally, he had no chance to step out of the formidable pass and see the Chipa Highlands of that era. The dream he just had compensated for this regret. He subconsciously believed that the Chipa Highlands he saw in his dream were a highly accurate reconstruction of history.

The answers of those guards indicated that the time point he entered was after the appearance of General Hong, which was the desperate latter half of Panlong City's existence. The Xiluo Kingdom had briefly re-established contact with Panlong City, but unfortunately, it was too weak, succumbed to the pressure of the allied forces, and soon abandoned Panlong City again. Zhong Shengguang was also human. After twelve years of loyal service, encountering such betrayal, he nearly collapsed at one point, which led him to turn to the embrace of the Sky-Covering God. From then on, General Hong appeared.

Panlong City during this period was the most mysterious. Sun Fuping had read through historical records from many countries but found no complete account, as if a mysterious force had forcefully erased it from history. He Lingchuan was also curious, but remembering the strange, swift, and ruthless nature of that arrow, goosebumps rose all over his body again.

Including this time, he had died twice. Although this experience was unique and valuable, anyone would resist it. Both arrow attacks should have been by the same person. Where was that archer hiding? He Lingchuan had managed to evade the wolf-like Da Feng army, so why was this person able to follow him like a shadow?

He remembered that sharp, clear whistle, remembered his untied trousers, and remembered the Black Dragon specifically mentioning before its disappearance that this broken blade was given to him. It carried a sense of entrustment. The blade's previous owner was Zhong Shengguang. What kind of connection did he hope this blade would forge with He Lingchuan?

The youth silently stroked the blade, a new worry arising: In the future, should he still hang it at his bedside?

He shook his head, discovering that the nightmare hadn't given him a splitting headache. Instead, he felt refreshed and light-bodied, unlike the drained feeling he had in the dream. Honestly, the adventure in the dream, aside from the sudden death at the end, was quite interesting. Most importantly, he could wake up. If there was no loss, why would he be afraid?

He Lingchuan pressed on the blade and said, “Let’s make a deal. If you don't give me nightmares every day, I can still hang you at my bedside, how about that?”

The blade remained silent; naturally, there was no response. So He Lingchuan hung it back in its original place.

***

It wasn't dark yet, but Xiangsi Tower was already lively. This restaurant had been open for three years and was thriving in Heishui City, a rare feat for both locals and travelers to like it. It was said that its behind-the-scenes boss was a retired official from the mainland, and his hometown dishes had achieved great success when brought to this border region.

Xiangsi Tower was famous for its duck dishes. Yes, ducks—simply the ducks that swim in the water. The chefs, specially invited from Longhua City, specialized in cooking duck. Whether preserved, roasted, braised, baked, stewed, pan-fried, cured, or grilled—there was nothing they couldn't do. Moreover, they selected ducks based on their fat content, age, and suitability for the cooking method, truly exercising discernment.