Chapter 00085: A Precious First Experience (Part 2)
# A Precious First Experience (Part 2)
Chapter 85
Novel: After the Immortals Disappeared
Chapter 85: A Precious First Experience (Part 2)
They moved swiftly, passing the wooden bridge like a fleeting shadow, barely giving it a glance.
No one noticed He Lingchuan crouching and shrinking beneath the boat, tucking himself into the shadow of the bridge.
Hiding under the bridge, he dared not even breathe too loudly, fearing that a single bubble might draw unnecessary attention.
After a dozen breaths, he cautiously peeked out of the water, glanced around, and then thrust his spear into the bank of the canal.
Using the leverage, he leaped onto the ground.
The cavalry had already ridden off, leaving only a few distant figures.
Nearby, two children, about five or six years old, stared at him curiously, but their mother, wary, quickly pulled them back.
The locals here were far from friendly.
He Lingchuan wiped the water from his face and quickly ducked behind two large haystacks.
Ahead lay a warehouse and a cluster of houses of varying heights.
Fortunately, there weren’t many people around.
Glancing down at his soaked clothes, he realized his attire and fabric would immediately mark him as an outsider.
The only solution was to change his clothes.
He scanned the area and finally spotted a faint smile-worthy sight: clothes drying on a line in front of a nearby farmhouse.
He crept over, careful not to disturb the woman cooking in the kitchen, and snatched a few pieces of men’s clothing.
Then, he retreated to a shaded spot to change.
Though the area was quiet, he still cautiously checked his surroundings before stripping off his wet clothes.
No one was around.
He quickly shed his soaked pants and put on the dry ones.
Just as he was tying the waistband, a sharp whistle sounded from the side.
He Lingchuan’s head snapped up, and he caught a glimpse of a white flash—fast as light, swift as lightning—too quick for the eye to follow.
And too quick to dodge.
With a soft *whoosh*, an arrow pierced his throat, entering from the front and exiting through the back, the arrowhead embedding itself into a wooden plank.
What did it feel like to have your throat sealed by an arrow?
He Lingchuan wanted to curse, but no words came out.
All he felt was searing pain.
His vision blurred as he stared at the white fletching of the arrow trembling before him.
His gaze followed the arrow’s path, and he thought he saw something move behind the haystack.
He tried to focus, but his vision was already fading.
￥￥￥￥￥
He Lingchuan let out a loud cry, clutching his throat as he sat up abruptly.
The familiar sight of his room greeted him—the window lattice, the low table, the vase—all his own belongings.
A lark perched on a branch outside the window was startled by his shout and flew off, leaving a feather fluttering down.
He stared at the feather, reminded of the white fletching that had sealed his throat in the dream.
He touched his neck—it was perfectly fine, not even a scratch.
But his entire body was drenched in sweat, as if he had just crawled out of the canal.
“Scared me to death!” He was alive.
It had just been a nightmare.
A figure appeared at the door, and Uncle Hao stepped in. “Young master, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” He Lingchuan replied weakly, rubbing his face. “Just a nightmare.”
“Still about Gourd Mountain?”
“How could it be?” After the adventure in Panlong City, the memories of being attacked at Gourd Mountain felt like a lifetime ago.
He had almost forgotten them entirely.
He Lingchuan dismissed Uncle Hao, got up, and poured himself a cup of cold tea.
It wasn’t even dark yet; he had slept for less than two hours.
Since returning from the desert, his sleep had been as sound as a baby’s.
What had happened today?
His gaze naturally fell on the broken sword by his bedside.
“Was it you causing trouble?” It was the only variable he could think of, hard to ignore.
He picked up the sword and slowly drew it from its sheath.
The temperature around him seemed to drop by at least two degrees, but He Lingchuan didn’t feel cold.
Instead, the sword felt even more comfortable in his hand.
He thought about the nightmare.
Aside from the locals who treated outsiders like enemies, the Chipa Plateau was actually quite beautiful—a lush, water-rich land with pastoral scenery.
The area was crisscrossed with waterways and had varied geography.
Further out, there were even mines.
No wonder Panlong City had managed to hold out for so many years despite being surrounded by powerful enemies.
The natural conditions must have played a decisive role.
During his last visit to the Dafanghu Secret Realm, he had only ventured into Panlong City and nearly lost his life.
He hadn’t had the chance to explore beyond the city gates and see the Chipa Plateau of that era.
The dream had filled that gap.
Deep down, he believed that what he had seen in the dream was a highly accurate representation of the historical Chipa Plateau.
The responses from the soldiers indicated that he had entered the timeline after the appearance of Red General, during the latter, more desperate phase of Panlong City’s history.
The Western Luo Kingdom had briefly reestablished contact with Panlong City, but it was too weak to withstand the pressure from the allied forces and soon abandoned the city again.
Zhong Shengguang was human, too.
After twelve years of loyal service, such betrayal had nearly broken him, driving him to turn to the embrace of the Heavenly God.
From then on, Red General appeared.
This period of Panlong City’s history was the most mysterious.
Sun Fuping had scoured the historical records of multiple nations but found no complete account.
It was as if some mysterious force had forcefully erased it from history.
He Lingchuan was curious, but the memory of that arrow—its eerie, light, and ruthless nature—sent chills down his spine.
Counting this time, he had now died twice.
Though the experience was unique and precious, no one would willingly go through it.
The two arrow attacks must have come from the same person.
Where was that archer hiding? Even the fierce and vigilant Wind Army had failed to detect He Lingchuan, so how had this person managed to follow him like a shadow?
He recalled the sharp, piercing whistle, his untied pants, and the Black Dragon’s last words before disappearing—that this broken sword was now his.
It felt like a kind of entrustment.
The sword’s previous owner was Zhong Shengguang.
What kind of connection did he hope to establish between the sword and He Lingchuan?
The young man stroked the sword silently, a new worry forming in his mind:
Should he still hang it by his bedside?
He shook his head, realizing that the nightmare hadn’t left him with a splitting headache.
Instead, he felt refreshed and full of energy, not at all like someone who had suffered a draining dream.
Honestly, aside from the sudden death at the end, the adventure in the dream had been quite interesting.
Most importantly, he had woken up.
If there was no real harm, what was there to fear?
He Lingchuan pressed the blade and said, “Let’s make a deal. Stop sending me nightmares every night, and I’ll keep you by my bedside. How about that?”
The sword remained silent, of course, offering no response.
So He Lingchuan hung it back in its place.
...
Before nightfall, the Xiangsi Tower was already bustling.
The restaurant had been open for three years and had thrived in Heishui City, managing to please both locals and travelers alike.
Rumor had it that the owner was a retired official from the mainland, and the dishes from his hometown had found great success in this borderland.
Xiangsi Tower was famous for its duck dishes.
Yes, duck—the simple, water-dwelling bird.
The chefs, specially brought in from Longhua City, were experts in cooking duck.
Whether it was marinated, roasted, braised, or steamed, fried, cured, or stewed, there was nothing they couldn’t do.
They even selected ducks based on their age and fat content, truly tailoring their cooking to the ingredients.
(End of Chapter)