Miss Cannon Fodder Wants To Escape Death Flags - Chapter 313
Chapter 313
The wind grew stronger bit by bit.
At first, it was like a distant whisper, then it became dense, like silkworms gnawing on mulberry leaves, making the ears itch.
Later, it grew louder and louder, like thousands of demons wailing together, stirring a deep sense of dread.
The howling wind in the desert never ceased, while the people beneath the sand dunes were completely enveloped in a heavy, deathly silence.
Only the sound of a few bandits’ trembling, rapid breaths could be heard.
After a long while, someone shivered and said, “That one on the right, is that Lu Chao?”
“No, no way!”
Qian San gripped his bloodstained long blade and gritted his teeth, “Lu Chao is long dead, the whole town saw his corpse… What kind of ghost is this?!”
Lu Chao—it should be the name of Lu Wanxing’s brother.
“Careful.”
Wen Hemian coughed softly, “The one on the right has no aura, it is not human.”
“Impressive as always, Elder Wen, sharp eyes.”
The man on the left, his face covered by a black veil, let out a strange cackle.
His voice was hoarse, as if his throat had been scorched by fire, “But it’s a pity that the great elder has become a cripple, needing a young disciple to protect him. How pitiful.”
Wen Hemian’s eyes dimmed slightly, but he did not respond.
“E-Elder Wen?” Qian San’s voice shot up, “You, you’re the senior Elder Wen Hemian of the Xuanxu Sword Sect?! I remember you were close friends with Master Jueming—”
Senior elder.
Hearing this, He Zhizhou’s mouth twitched.
Qian San, a brawny middle-aged man, was nervously addressing Wen Hemian as “senior,” even though Wen Hemian, with his refined and thin appearance, could only be called a “youth” at best.
The whole scene seemed absurd.
Lu Wanxing had also heard of Wen Hemian’s name.
Still holding her compass, her wide eyes lifted to look at him.
“Demonic energy surrounds him, yet he carries the unique spiritual energy of the immortal sects.”
Wen Hemian’s dark eyes were serene, with none of his usual warm smile.
In contrast to the man’s rough, eerie voice, Wen Hemian’s voice was as gentle as a spring echoing in the mountains, “May I ask who you are?”
What kind of spiritual energy?
He Zhizhou, puzzled, focused intently, but could only feel overwhelming waves of demonic energy from the man.
The man hadn’t expected his faint spiritual energy to be detected, and after a brief pause, he let out a burst of laughter, “Hahaha! As expected of you. Even though you’re a cripple now, you still have some use left.”
He paused, the sarcasm in his tone deepening, “After all, you were once a genius known throughout the entire cultivation world!”
He Zhizhou felt disgusted and shot back, “Yes, yes, unlike you, who never achieved anything in your life. In the end, people at Xuanxu Sect live well, while you, pitiful, can’t even show your face, hiding outside the Demon Realm. Speaking of which, I should thank that black cloth covering your face. Without it, the appearance of the desert would drop by a few notches.”
Lin Xun, listening with growing confusion, finally turned to Wen Hemian, his tone serious, “Uncle master, do you mean… he was once a righteous cultivator but later joined the demonic path?”
Lu Wanxing seemed to have realized something, her face momentarily frozen.
She had been the most unremarkable of the group, small, thin, and of weak cultivation.
Now, however, she stepped forward with a pale face, positioning herself in front of everyone.
A gust of wind howled past, and the black mist obscured the sunlight.
She lifted her head and, with a trembling voice, spoke each word slowly to the man atop the sand dune, “Are you…?”
He Zhizhou, looking at her thin back, suddenly felt his heart pound uncontrollably.
He had a feeling, as if a long-buried secret was about to be revealed due to Lu Wanxing’s question.
The girl’s frail back trembled, and Lu Wanxing clenched her sleeves, taking a deep breath before speaking a name that was unfamiliar yet had appeared countless times in her thoughts: “Liu… Xiuyuan?”
“Liu Xiuyuan? You mean the sole survivor of that catastrophe years ago?”
He Zhizhou was stunned, confusion filling his mind, “But wasn’t he long dead?”
“Is it rare for people in the cultivation world to fake their deaths and escape? They say he died from severe injuries at home, but how many have seen his corpse?”
Lu Wanxing’s voice became hurried, and by the end, her tone was tinged with tears she could barely suppress. She pointed toward the man on the sand dune who looked just like her brother.
“Do you see that thing? If they can create something like that now, why couldn’t they during the great battle between the immortals and demons?”
At that moment, it felt as if something struck hard against He Zhizhou’s chest.
Not only him—Lin Xun’s expression changed too, “Are you saying—”
Exactly.
Regardless of what that puppet-like figure atop the sand dune was, since it was made to look like Lu Wanxing’s brother, did it mean…
That when her brother was still alive, the demons had already created such things?
No way.
If that’s the case, then doesn’t it mean—
“Look!”
Lu Wanxing, more excited than ever, handed over the compass she had been holding.
Her whole body was shaking, and her voice was so unsteady it was barely understandable, “This is the compass my brother and I each took one of before parting. The needle points to the location of the other compass.”
The needle wobbled wildly along with her trembling arm.
He Zhizhou clearly saw that the needle pointed deeper into the desert.
Further, more dangerous, and more distant into the desert.
“The other compass… is inside the desert.”
A tear slid hastily down her cheek.
Lu Wanxing bit her lip and hoarsely said, “The person who returned from the desert that night didn’t have a compass on him. Do you understand? When I faced him… the needle always pointed in the opposite direction.”
“So, you—” Lin Xun stared blankly at her, countless thoughts piling up in his mind, finally exploding, “So, all these years, you’ve been risking your life going deeper into the desert because of this?”
So that was it.
He had always wondered why, despite seeing that their group had high cultivation, Lu Wanxing had blatantly stolen their money and then didn’t bother to hide afterward, as if intentionally letting them find her.
What if it was intentional?
With her weak cultivation, there was no way she could venture deep into the desert alone.
She had to team up with powerful cultivators.
She thought they were treasure thieves, so she used this clumsy method as a way to offer her services as a guide.
But when they rejected her, her plan fell apart.
That’s why, despite carrying countless priceless treasures in her storage bag, she repeatedly risked her life to enter the desert.
From the very beginning, Lu Wanxing’s goal had never been treasure.
She had been secretly holding on to a single thought.
A wild, unimaginable idea that, if spoken aloud, would be mocked and ridiculed by others.
But for this idea, Lu Wanxing had persisted for over ten years.
“During the chaos of the war, I heard that Liu Xiuyuan was seriously injured and expressed a desire to return to his hometown before his death.”
For the first time, Wen Hemian’s normally calm demeanor wavered, his voice growing heavier, “Not long after, news of his death came from his hometown.”
In other words, almost no one had seen his body.
At that time, it was the final decisive battle, and countless cultivators died.
The death of one Liu Xiuyuan seemed like just another drop in the ocean, hardly worth noting.
The man standing atop the sand dune laughed wildly, his strange voice like a knife scraping against stone.
He seemed more pleased with himself than ever before.
After a brief pause, he reached up and tore off the black cloth covering his face.
“Do you know how it feels when you’ve deceived everyone, but the thrill and excitement are known only to you, and you can’t tell anyone? Do you know how painful that is?”
Beneath the black cloth was an extremely peculiar face.
Half of it belonged to a fair and clean young man, while the other half was covered in scars left by a great fire, the marks twisting like crawling insects—horrifying to behold.
Finally, rage flashed in Wen Hemian’s eyes, and he spoke the man’s name in a low, angry voice: “Liu Xiuyuan.”
“After all these years, I’ve longed to see with my own eyes the expressions you’d all make once you realized you’d been played for fools.”
He giggled as he spoke, “Yes, yes, that’s the expression I wanted! Get angrier! I’m the one who killed your friend! Jueming’s reaction when he realized he’d been betrayed was priceless. And those townsfolk, too—buried in the desert but still burdened with eternal disgrace. So pitiful, so tragic!”