Wei Shufen

Chapter 80 Wei Shufen

The sound wasn't loud, but it seemed to possess a strange penetrating power.

It instantly drowned out all the screams, cicada chirps, and cries.

It doesn't drown out those sounds, nor does it overwhelm them with a louder volume; rather, it passes right through them.

Like a needle piercing cloth, like water seeping into parched land, it reaches the deepest, softest, and most fearful part of the human heart.

Like the bell of an ancient temple deep in the mountains, it suddenly rings in the darkest hour before dawn, shaking off the dust accumulated in the corners of the hall and shaking off the ignorance in people's hearts.

The lingering melody drifted through the morning mist, startling the roosting birds and awakening those senses that had been dormant for too long.

Like the croaking of a frog in a deep pool at midnight, it rises alone when all is quiet, filling the entire night sky and the empty heart in everyone's chest.

The sound echoed through the canyon, one after another, unhurried and gentle, as if saying:

I'm here, I'm here.

Immediately afterwards...

The flying insects that filled the entire carriage, those dense swarms of insects like dark clouds pressing down on the city, those insects that were just frantically biting, attacking, and laying eggs, suddenly seemed to have been put on pause.

Everything was frozen in mid-air.

Not moving at all.

It's not about slowing down or stopping, but about coming to a standstill.

They hung there in the air, each maintaining its own posture.

Some were diving, their wings sweeping backward, the patterns on their thin wings clearly visible;

Some were circling, their bodies slightly tilted, their six slender legs curled up under their bellies;

Some were about to swoop down on their prey, their mouthparts already open and their forelegs outstretched, their faces frozen in greed and ferocity.

The wings were still open, maintaining the arc of half-vibration;

The compound eyes were still lit, and countless crystal facets refracted the dim yellow light of the carriage. Every refracted ray of light was frozen in the air, like a miniature, still rain of light.

The antennae were still trembling slightly, a subtle yet real tremor—

But they just can't move.

It can't move at all.

It was as if I had been frozen in place.

Immediately afterwards—

"Crackling sound"

They fell from the sky one after another.

The sound of the falling leaves was as dense as a summer downpour hitting banana leaves, and as crisp as hailstones pounding on a bluestone slab.

It fell to the ground with a thud, like countless beans scattering.

It fell onto the seat with a soft thud, like someone gently knocking on a wooden door;

It fell on those who were screaming in agony, pattering like tears hitting their clothes;

They fell into the vomit all over the ground, plop, plop, like stones sinking into the mud. They lay there, their wings still trembling slightly, their delicate feet still twitching gently, but they could no longer fly.

That trembling was not a struggle.

It is fear.

It is the instinctive, uncontrollable fear that arises after encountering their most terrifying natural enemy.

That fear, etched in their blood and imprinted in their souls, they knew what that sound meant from when they were still larvae, from when their ancestors were still in ancient times.

It is a memory etched deep within our genes, older than life itself, more primal than instinct itself.

It was like a sheep encountering a wolf.

It was like a mouse encountering a cat.

It was like a bird encountering a falcon.

It's like all things encountering their natural enemy.

Li Yuan's gaze sharpened slightly.

That fixed gaze was like a pebble thrown into an ancient well, rippling outwards in a delicate circle.

But he didn't look at the fallen insects or the still trembling wings; instead, he followed the sound of the toad's croak and looked towards the other end of the carriage.

There, at this moment, a figure is slowly walking towards them.

I walked through the mess.

He walked through the collapsed crowd.

They came amidst lingering fear.

He walked among the corpses of insects and vomit, among the pale faces, and among the lingering stench of blood and decay.

Her pace was unhurried, as if the mess on the ground was just an ordinary road surface.

These paralyzed people are just an ordinary sight, and the lingering fear is just an ordinary atmosphere.

She stepped over the insect corpses, which shattered silently beneath her feet.

She walked around the collapsed people, her clothes brushing gently against their bewildered faces;

As she passed through the stench of blood and decay, the faint herbal fragrance emanating from her body gradually spread out, like a gentle breeze passing through a putrid swamp.

at the same time--

Inside the carriage, those who were still vomiting violently suddenly stopped.

Their open mouths slowly closed; their convulsing bodies gradually calmed down; their churning bellies slowly quieted down.

It was as if the croaking of that toad not only silenced the flying insects, but also those things inside them—those things that had just been wriggling and growing wildly.

Those things, now quiet, curled up, and trembled with fear.

Those who were still screaming in agony gradually quieted down.

They stopped screaming and crying, and just stared blankly at the flying insects that had fallen to the ground.

Looking at the wounds on my body, and at the white calluses that were slowly drying up.

It's like waking up from a nightmare, not knowing whether it was a dream or reality, whether you're alive or dead.

The croaking of the toad still echoed in my ears.

Deep, heavy, and lingering.

It possesses a strange, comforting power.

That power, like a mother's hand, gently strokes a child's forehead, soothing all fear and trembling;

Like the spring sunshine, it slowly melts the winter snow, warming all the cold.

Like a light in the dead of night, flickering in the storm, yet never extinguished.

It is neither intense nor domineering, yet it can gradually calm even the deepest fears.

It was like an invisible hand, gently pressing on every terrified soul, saying:

Let it be quiet, it's all in the past.

Another voice rang in Li Yuan's ears.

Crisp and melodious, like the gentle swaying of a wind chime.

That was the sound of a wind chime.

The sound of the wind chimes was delicate and lingering, like a mountain spring flowing under the moonlight, tinkling and tinkling.

Like a gentle breeze rustling through bamboo leaves in the forest; like a wind chime under the eaves being turned by the night wind, one note after another, unhurried and gentle.

It intertwined with the toad's low croak, one high and one low, one clear and one deep, one crisp and one thick, forming a strange and harmonious melody.

Li Yuan followed the sound and looked in that direction.

As far as the eye could see, a figure was walking towards him, passing through the mess on the ground, past the passengers slumped on the floor, and through the layers of misty atmosphere.

The vomit scattered on the ground, the fallen white cocoons, the collapsed people, the lingering fear and bloodshed—none of these seemed to be able to stop her steps.

It was a young girl.

She was dressed in a beautiful Miao ethnic costume.

A blue pleated skirt, with intricate silver embroidery on the hem—

The patterns gleamed softly under the dim light, swaying gently with her steps, as if they had come alive and were slowly moving on the hem of her skirt.

Some of them looked like they were about to take flight, their wings already half-open, as if they would detach from their skirts and fly into the night sky in the next second;

Some seemed to be diving deep into the folds of a skirt, their tails swaying gently, gradually disappearing into the blue waves;

Some simply lay there quietly, gazing at the mess in the carriage with their silver eyes.

The upper garment was a black, short, double-breasted jacket, with colorful silk thread embroidery along the edges. The patterns were delicate and intricate, layered upon layered, like some kind of ancient talisman, each stroke bearing the marks of time.

The red silk threads, like fire, flickered faintly under the light, as if they were really burning.

The blue silk threads flowed like water, graceful and flowing, as if they might spill over the hem at any moment.

The green threads are like a forest, lush and verdant, layer upon layer, as if you can hear the birds singing in the woods.

They intertwine, weaving together intricate patterns—butterflies, centipedes, toads, snakes, scorpions, and countless unnamed insects.

They lay dormant on her clothes, cuffs, and hem, as if they might come to life at any moment and crawl all over her body.

A silver belt was tied around her waist, adorned with various small silver ornaments: tiny bells, fish, flowers, and even tiny moons and stars.

With each gentle sway of her footsteps, a soft, crisp sound was produced.

Each sound was like someone whispering something in my ear, reciting ancient languages ​​that had long been lost, reciting ancient songs that had long been forgotten.

She wore a silver crown on her head, from which hung countless fine silver chains. These chains draped from her forehead to her eyebrows, from her ears to her shoulders, obscuring her face, yet not completely concealing it. They swayed gently with her steps, opening and closing, revealing glimpses of her face.

That face appeared and disappeared behind the silver chains, like the moon behind the clouds, like distant mountains in the mist, making one want to push aside those silver chains and find out what was behind it.

The sound of the wind chimes came from these silver chains—

No, it wasn't just the silver chain; it was her entire being. Her whole being was emitting that delicate and crisp sound, as if she were the wind chime itself, a walking wind chime.

Wherever she goes, there is wind, there is the sound of bells, there is an indescribable gentleness and mystery.

Her face was delicate and radiant.

Her eyebrows and eyes were curved, like a crescent moon hanging in the clear night sky. The moonlight was cool and gentle, shining into the darkest corner of people's hearts.

His nose is high and straight, like a distant mountain shrouded in mist, making people want to climb up and see what's on the other side.

Her lips were slightly pursed, carrying a calmness that seemed unusual for her age.

That calmness was not feigned composure, nor was it a forced calmness; it was a genuine calmness that came from the heart.

Those eyes were dark and bright, like two black pearls soaking in a spring.

There was an indescribable light in those eyes—not the innocent naiveté or the shy reserve of a young girl, but something deeper.

That thing was hidden deep within the pupils, behind the dark, bright eyes, hidden in the blink of an eye, sometimes visible, sometimes hidden, sometimes close, sometimes distant.

Like a faint light at the bottom of a well, like an undercurrent in a deep pool, like a mural deep in an ancient cave, it flashed by in the light of a torch, making one wonder if one's eyes were playing tricks on them.

At that moment, those eyes were scanning everything inside the carriage.

The light slowly swept over those who had collapsed, over their pale faces, over their bewildered eyes—

That gaze, without judgment or pity, simply watched, as if watching a play, a scene from a drama, a destined calamity—slid across the fallen insects, across their still-trembling wings, across their gradually dimming compound eyes—one by one.

In that gaze, there was a very faint trace of pity, directed at these dead little creatures, and also at those who had created them—

Gently move over the mess on the ground, over the vomit, over the dried-up white cocoons—

Wherever her gaze fell, something seemed to be subtly changing.

Those who were still groaning gradually lowered their voices and eventually fell silent;

The trembling insects stopped trembling completely and became completely still.

The vomit that was still flowing no longer seemed so shocking or disgusting.

It was as if her gaze itself was a form of comfort and purification.

Finally, those eyes landed on Li Yuan.

For a fleeting moment, her gaze paused.

The pause was extremely short, so short that it was almost imperceptible, as short as a dragonfly skimming the water, or the tip of a bird's wing barely touching the surface of a lake.

But in Li Yuan's perception, this pause was like a pebble thrown into an ancient well, creating a clear ripple—

A ripple spread from the depths of her eyes, passing through the layers of silver chains, through the dim light, through the lingering fear and bloodshed, and surged straight toward him.

What's in those ripples?

It wasn't surprise, curiosity, fear, or vigilance.

Yes, it's confirmed.

Li Yuan was also looking at her.

Looking at this face that is both unfamiliar and familiar.

Looking at her exquisite Miao ethnic costume.

Looking into her bright black eyes.

Looking at her—

There was something in those eyes.

That wasn't a normal scrutiny, nor was it ordinary curiosity, nor was it the usual surprise of "this person is still standing."

Rather, it is a deeper examination.

A more focused observation.

A more complex process of consideration.

It was as if she was also watching him, pondering him, and trying to see through him.

It was her!

This thought flashed through Li Yuan's mind.

The thought came incredibly fast, as fast as lightning piercing the night sky, yet it was crystal clear, like the instant of enlightenment that follows a flash of lightning.

In that instant, memories of her past life surged like a tide, only to recede in a flash, leaving behind a few shimmering seashells on the beach—memories of her, memories of the Thirty-Six Thieves, memories of that great calamity.

Of course he recognized her.

In her previous life, among the thirty-six thieves, she was one of the few female Gu masters from Qinghe Miao Village, Wei Shufen.

I never expected to meet her here, in this way.

Amidst this complete mess.

Amidst the car's horrific state.

Amidst the swarms of flying insects and the overwhelming fear.

In this ordinary green train carriage, on this ordinary journey from north to south.

Li Yuan's lips curled up slightly.

But the coldness deep in his eyes quietly dissipated a little.

Instead, there was a faint sense of amusement.