Chapter 342 What the Hell

Chapter 342: Seeing Ghosts

The cliff wind was biting, whipping sand and gravel against the rock face with a fine, grating sound.

Cheng Ge's wrist was gripped so tightly it ached, his bones feeling like they might be crushed.

He kicked his feet futilely at the cliff edge, his boot tips scraping loose a few crumbling rocks.

The pebbles bounced and tumbled down, ricocheting off the rock wall a few times before vanishing into the bottomless darkness below—without even an echo coming back.

He couldn't help swallowing hard, his Adam's apple bobbing with difficulty.

Survival instinct made him grip Wuliji's hand back, his knuckles going white from the strain.

Though he knew he didn't have long to live, that didn't mean he wanted to end up splattered like tomato paste.

He tilted his head up to look at Wuliji, his eyes trembling slightly.

Wuliji's brow furrowed slightly, fine beads of sweat seeping from his skin and rolling down his jawline.

His deep eyes reflected Cheng Ge's swaying figure like the rippling surface of a disturbed pool—impossible to read clearly.

Thick, sticky blood kept seeping through the gaps in Wuliji's shoulder armor, gathering into streams that wound down his arm guard before dripping off.

A drop landed right on Cheng Ge's cheek—rusty-smelling, viscous, and scalding.

Cheng Ge instinctively turned his head to avoid the feeling, and his suspended body lurched violently.

That lurch sent another sharp jolt through their locked hands, loose dirt crumbling from the cliff edge.

Cheng Ge couldn't help glancing down at his feet—one look was enough to make his head spin.

His face went pale, and he figured this time he was probably done for.

But survival instinct dug his nails nearly into the flesh of the other man's wrist, gripping with all his might.

The wound on Wuliji's shoulder stung from the sudden, fierce force; he grunted, more cold sweat beading on his temples.

He looked at Cheng Ge's ashen face, at those eyes burning unusually bright with fear and stubbornness, and at those fingernails unknowingly digging into his flesh.

He couldn't help barking out in the Northern Di tongue, his voice hoarse and raspy from exertion, "Don't be afraid! I'll pull you up!"

Cheng Ge's feet dangled in the air, his mind spinning, the wind howling in his ears alongside his own thunderous heartbeat—he couldn't make out a single word this foreigner was muttering.

He only saw Wuliji's lips moving and his own pathetic reflection in those strange-colored eyes.

The look was complicated, unreadable, and only made him more uneasy.

Cheng Ge felt a tremendous force yank on his arm, his whole body hauled upward in a dizzying rush, his back slamming hard against the solid ground at the cliff's edge.

Before his ragged, post-escape breathing could even settle, a shadow loomed above him.

Wuliji had meant to lean in and check on Cheng Ge, but to Cheng Ge, it was clearly a signal that the enemy was about to attack again!

Without a second thought, purely on instinct, he viciously kicked out at the approaching figure!

All Wuliji's attention was on Cheng Ge's pale face—he never expected this sudden counterattack.

His footing faltered, and he took the kick square in the chest, stumbling backward—straight into empty air!

Wuliji: "!!!"

A flash of incredulous shock crossed Wuliji's eyes as his body lost its balance and toppled toward the cliff's edge!

At the critical moment, his combat instincts kicked in—his right hand slammed the curved blade hard into the cliff face!

A sharp, piercing screech rang out as the blade wedged into a crack in the rock, sparks flying!

His plummeting body jerked to a halt, suspended at the cliff's edge, supported entirely by one sword and one arm—far more perilous than Cheng Ge's situation moments ago.

Cheng Ge, meanwhile, used the recoil to scramble up from the ground, staggered two steps from exhaustion, and ran off without looking back.

Wuliji's forehead veins bulged, his arm muscles knotting as he strained to support his body.

He looked up at that retreating figure, which didn't hesitate for even a moment, and an indescribable bitterness surged into his chest.

He sucked in a sharp breath, staring hard at the fleeing figure.

In stiff but clear Great Zhou speech, he shouted hoarsely, "Lin Nanshu... Yuli...!"

The wind tore his cry into fragments, but it still reached Cheng Ge's ears as he ran.

Lin Nanshu... Yuli...

Cheng Ge's steps faltered abruptly. He thought he must be seeing ghosts—he could swear he'd just heard someone calling his brothers' names.

Instantly, every hair on his body stood on end, a chill shooting from the soles of his feet to the top of his head.

He bolted at full speed, running faster than he ever had in his life, and plunged headlong into the dense forest without a backward glance.

Wuliji: "..."

Cheng Ge raced toward the underground river. Cui Ji had warned him repeatedly—if the operation couldn't be finished in time, retreat immediately, and he absolutely had to take the rope route along the cliff.

But Cheng Ge didn't want to throw away all his progress. How could he just give up the grain supplies he'd already secured?

Yet in this situation, going back along the cliff was impossible—the underground river was the only way out.

Fortunately, he'd had Wufeng scout this river thoroughly; it wasn't very long, and as long as he pushed through in one burst, he could escape.

Cheng Ge quickly wiped the half-dried blood from his cheek, mixing with sweat and leaving grimy streaks across his face.

Without hesitation, he stepped into the shallow water at the river's entrance. The icy water instantly soaked through his boots and pant legs, the bone-piercing cold making him suck in a sharp breath.

The deeper he went, the dimmer the light became, until it was almost pitch black.

He quickly pulled a fire striker from his chest, snapped it alight. The weak flame flickered unsteadily in the damp air, barely illuminating the space around him.

He submerged half his body into the water, the freezing current rising past his shoulders, draining the color from his face as his lips trembled uncontrollably.

His teeth began to chatter, body heat rapidly leeched away by the frigid flowing water.

His limbs grew numb, nearly losing all sensation, leaving only a mechanical instinct driving him forward along the slippery stone walls.

The current wasn't too swift, but it carried an eerie, pushing force.

One hand held the fire striker high, the other groped for handholds along the slimy rock face.

Beneath his feet was an uneven riverbed, strewn with smooth, rounded stones.

Just as he was groping his way forward, his foot unexpectedly slipped on a round rock.

His whole body lost balance in an instant, tilting to one side, and it looked like he was about to plunge headfirst into the deep water!

"Ugh!" A short, startled gasp escaped his throat. His survival instinct kicked in, and the hand that had been feeling along the stone wall slammed down hard in a desperate attempt to steady himself.

A searing pain shot through his palm. A sharp rock fragment, driven by the force of his press, sliced through the skin and sank deep into his hand.

Blood immediately welled up, mingling with the icy river water, forming a small, quickly fading dark red blot.