I alone remain still, without sign of life, like an infant before it smiles.

Chapter 77 I alone remain still, without sign of life, like an infant before it smiles.

But everyone in the entire carriage drank the tea that was served.

Although Li Yuan was in a meditative state, he was fully aware of all the movements and stillnesses.

That is not the ordinary "seeing" and "hearing", but a deeper "illumination" - like the bright moon hanging in the sky, all things come naturally, neither welcoming nor rejecting; like an ancient mirror on a stand, things appear when they come, and disappear when they go.

The flight attendant had been traveling all the way, and Li Yuan knew everything.

Those feet, clad in black cloth shoes, trod on the carriage floor, one step at a time, making a soft "tap-tap" sound.

The footsteps were inconspicuous in the noisy carriage, but to him they were as clear as drumbeats.

The flight attendant carried a tray, walked to each passenger, stopped, bent down, smiled, and offered tea.

The action was repeated more than twenty times, each time exactly the same.

A well-trained, professional smile; just the right amount of attentiveness; and polite, lukewarm greetings.

Those people all accepted.

Those people all thanked them.

Some casually said "thank you," some nodded in acknowledgment, and some didn't even glance at the flight attendant, simply taking the tea and continuing to stare out the window in a daze.

Some had already finished their tea in one gulp, and were smacking their lips to savor the lingering sweetness, sincerely praising it as "good tea."

In those exclamations of praise lay a small satisfaction on the journey—a cup of hot tea was enough to soothe the long, bumpy ride.

Some were sipping their drinks, chatting casually with their neighbors, their faces showing the relaxation and comfort of a short rest during their journey.

In those casual conversations, there were everyday matters, glimpses into daily life, anticipation of the destination, and longing for one's hometown.

They didn't know.

I wonder what that sip of warm tea meant.

If this was truly the work of the Tang Clan, then this act is far too shocking.

That's completely out of character for that ancient sect.

The Tang Clan's use of poison emphasizes precision, restraint, and the ability to kill instantly without harming the innocent.

It is a sect with a history of hundreds of years, with its own rules, its own bottom line, and its own pride.

When targeting a specific person, no one else should be implicated – this is the ironclad rule of the Tang Clan, and the foundation upon which the Tang Clan has been able to establish itself in the martial arts world.

But this entire carriage has at least seventy or eighty people.

The elderly, women, children, peddlers, laborers, and all sorts of people are ordinary citizens.

If it was indeed the Tang Clan's doing, then it means that the sect that has adhered to its ancestral teachings for hundreds of years has completely abandoned its bottom line.

This is a huge undertaking.

It's too big for the Tang Clan.

The Book of Changes says, "If you tread on frost, solid ice will follow."

When you step on the light frost of autumn, you should know that the freezing winter, which will freeze thousands of miles, is not far away and will surely arrive.

This rising doubt is like the frost underfoot.

Li Yuan sat quietly, holding the cup of tea.

The temperature of the tea water, transmitted through the porcelain wall, was just right – neither too hot nor too cold.

The warmth lingered on my fingertips, like a silent question—

To drink or not to drink?

Li Yuan did not drink.

I haven't let go either.

Just holding it in.

Outside the window, the train, carrying a carriage full of noise and confusion, continued to speed into the vast twilight.

As dusk settles, the distant mountains appear like dark eyebrows, and the last rays of sunlight slowly fade from the sky, giving way to the approaching night.

The roar of the wheels seemed to have taken on an indescribable meaning.

The rhythmic "chugga chugga" sounded somewhat like an ancient incantation in the twilight, repeating itself over and over, pushing the fate of the people in the bus into an unknown abyss.

The scenery receded like flowing water, and the light and shadow flickered on his moon-white Taoist robe.

The interplay of light and shadow, like the ups and downs of fate, is elusive and unpredictable.

Inside the carriage, it was still bustling with noise and steaming with activity.

Some people are playing cards, shouting and yelling; some are chatting, talking loudly and passionately; some children are crying and screaming; some mothers are soothing them with gentle words.

The sounds mingled together, buzzing and whimpering, like a pot of boiling water.

No one knows what's hidden in that clear cup of tea.

No one knew what subtle and profound thoughts were swirling in the mind of the Taoist priest in the corner, dressed in a moon-white robe and sitting with his eyes closed.

The Tao Te Ching says: "The multitude are merry and bustling, as if enjoying a great feast, as if climbing a spring terrace. I alone am still, without any sign of life, like an infant before it smiles."

That is what it means to be a lone traveler.

Amidst the clamor of the crowd, I alone maintain a quietude; amidst the confusion of the crowd, I alone possess clarity.

Li Yuan simply held the cup of tea, remaining motionless.

Like a still, isolated island that has existed since time immemorial and will continue to exist forever in this noisy and bustling world.

Li Yuan held his teacup, about to unleash his senses to check if there were any other supernatural beings in the carriage.

That perception hadn't fully unfolded, like a still pond about to ripple, but the next second—

"Bang!"

A muffled thud.

The sound came without warning, muffled and heavy, like a bag of flour falling from a height to the ground.

In the noisy carriage, what wasn't too loud was like a thunderclap, splitting through all the clamor.

In that instant, all sounds fell silent.

The card players stopped, the chatter ceased, and even the crying child forgot to cry, simply staring wide-eyed in that direction.

Li Yuan looked up.

The attendant who had just served him tea suddenly collapsed to the ground in the middle of the carriage!

The way he fell was extremely abnormal—

It wasn't a stumble and fall, nor a dizzy collapse, but rather like a sawn-off piece of wood, straight and hard, crashing to the ground with a thud.

There was no buffer, no struggle, no warning.

The tea tray was thrown far away, spinning in the aisle with a loud clanging sound.

The remaining teacups rolled to the ground, some rolling under the seat, others hitting the chair legs and shattering into pieces.

Tea was spilled everywhere, spreading across the floor and soaking the dust in the aisle, leaving a dark stain. A commotion broke out in the carriage.

The commotion spread like ripples from the fallen flight attendant. First, the passengers in the nearest rows gasped and stood up, shrinking back; then those a little further away craned their necks to see what had happened.

Finally, a buzzing discussion arose throughout the entire carriage, as if a hornet's nest had been stirred up.

A middle-aged man who happened to be walking towards the flight attendant was startled by the sudden scene and jumped up.

He was a typical street urchin—wearing a worn-out gray cloth gown, slightly overweight, with a shrewd face honed from years of wandering the streets.

He was walking with his head down, humming a little tune, leisurely heading this way.

With a muffled thud, he recoiled as if struck by lightning, the speed and force of his movement surprising even himself.

He stumbled and almost fell, instinctively raising his hands to shield his chest as if to block something unseen.

"He...! How did he suddenly collapse?!"

The man's face turned deathly pale, and his voice became distorted, sharp and piercing, like a chicken being strangled.

He hurriedly looked around and became even more flustered when he saw that everyone's eyes were on him.

In those eyes, there was fear, panic, and a hint of shrewd calculation—don't pin this on me.

"I didn't touch him! You all saw it! I was several steps away from him! He fell down by himself!"

As the man spoke, he carefully stretched out his foot and gently kicked the flight attendant who was lying on the ground with his toe.

The movements were cautious and tentative, as if testing whether a dead snake was truly dead.

The toes touched it lightly, then quickly withdrew.

The gesture seemed to be urging—Hey, wake up, stop pretending to be dead, you can't fool me with that.

"Hey, wake up, stop pretending to be unconscious."

The man swallowed hard, forcing himself to speak, his voice carrying a hint of bravado but underlying weakness.

"I've seen plenty of scams these days, but I've never seen one like this! You can't fool me with that!"

The man kicked twice, but the flight attendant remained motionless, her face pressed against the ground in an odd posture.

His face was turned to the side, half pressed against the floor and half exposed, appearing deathly pale in the dim light.

The man's face darkened further.

His face changed from deathly pale to ashen, and then from ashen to sallow.

He crouched down, gritting his teeth, his outstretched hand trembling slightly, as if he were about to touch a powder keg that could explode at any moment.

He flipped the flight attendant, who had landed face down, over.

The face turned over—

"ah-

'

Several female passengers nearby immediately screamed!

The scream was sharp and piercing, tearing through the air in the carriage and sending chills down one's spine.

A young mother holding her child instinctively covered the child's eyes, but couldn't help looking in that direction herself;

A well-dressed middle-aged woman covered her face with her hands, but peeked out through her fingers.

It was a deathly pale face.

It was deathly pale, a color that shouldn't be seen on a living person.

That white was not the usual paleness, nor the paleness after blood loss, but a deathly white.

Like a corpse that has been lying in a coffin for three days and three nights, that kind of bone-chilling, cold, lifeless white.

His lips were bluish-black, as black as if they had been smeared with ink, and as blue as the frozen earth in early spring.

The bruises spread from his lips outwards, leaving patches of bluish-purple marks on his chin and around his nose.

A thin, red streak of blood seeped from the corner of her eye, like two lines of bloody tears, flowing from the corner of her eye all the way to her ear.

The bloodstains had dried, forming dark red scabs that looked shocking against the pale face.

Dark red liquid was seeping from his nostrils, not flowing, but seeping out little by little, forming a small patch around his nostrils.

The scariest thing was his stomach—

It's moving.

Li Yuan's gaze fell on the flight attendant's stomach, and his expression shifted slightly.

Her belly was visibly swelling and churning.

It wasn't normal breathing; the fluctuations were too gentle and too regular.

It's not the peristalsis of the stomach and intestines; that peristalsis is too deep and too intense.

That is the movement of a living thing.

It looked like something was moving around inside.

From left to right, from top to bottom, there is no pattern, no direction, just a frantic, desperate attempt to get out.

It looks like there's a snake inside, winding and slithering.

The snake would sometimes curl up into a ball, sometimes stretch out in a line, and sometimes suddenly lunge forward, causing its belly to bulge out into a large bump.

It looked like there were countless insects wriggling and rolling inside.

The insects were densely packed, layer upon layer, jostling each other, staging a silent carnival beneath their thin bellies.

What's going on here?!

The thought had just arisen in Li Yuan's mind.

Something strange has happened!

"belch-!

'

A deep, muffled burp escaped from the flight attendant's throat.

That sound wasn't like a normal hiccup. A normal hiccup is crisp, short, and comes out from deep in the throat.

The sound was muffled and dragging, as if it were being forced out by something blocking it.

It was as if something was surging up from the stomach to the throat, but it got stuck, unable to go up or down, and could only make this strange, creepy sound.

Immediately afterwards—

The flight attendant suddenly opened her mouth and spat out a large amount of thick, turbid vomit!

The vomit gushed out, yellowish-green in color, mixed with undigested food residue and some other indescribable substances.

It was as thick as paste, as murky as mud, and had a pungent, fishy stench that spread quickly.

The smell wasn't the usual sour stench of vomit, but a more complex and nauseating odor—a putrid, fishy smell, a medicinal bitterness, and an indescribable, cloying, rotten-flesh-like stench.

Everyone in the carriage was stunned.

"vomit!"

Some people covered their mouths and noses, their brows furrowed; some turned their heads away, not daring to look any longer; some had already begun to gag, making "goo-goo" sounds in their throats, but nothing came out.

The flight attendant was still vomiting.

One bite after another, one stall after another.

His body was convulsing and spasming, and each vomiting caused a violent tremor throughout his body.

His mouth was wide open, to an abnormal degree, as if he was about to vomit out his internal organs.

The vomit accumulated and spread down the aisle, flowing under the seats, next to the luggage, and to the feet of the terrified passengers.

Li Yuan's gaze, however, was not on the vomit itself.

He stared at the puddle.

Because he saw that, in that pool of yellowish-green vomit, besides the usual food scraps, there were other things.

Some white things.

Like a silkworm cocoon.

About the size of a little finger, it was milky white and smooth, standing out conspicuously in the filthy mess.

They were half-buried in the vomit, some with only a little white tip showing, while others had already floated to the surface.

more than one.

There are three or four, five or six, seven or eight.

Li Yuan counted them; there were more than a dozen in this one pool alone.

And those white cocoons—

They are moving, moving gently.

Each thump felt like something was struggling inside.

The struggle was light and weak, yet it revealed an indescribable stubbornness—a determination to emerge, a relentless drive to get out.

With each beat, the patterns on the surface of those white cocoons become clearer.

Those lines, which started as faint lines, became deeper and more obvious as the waves rippled, eventually forming fine cracks.

It looks like it could break open at any moment.