Chapter Thirty: The Yellow Weasel

"Old... Old Master Chen?"

Seeing the scene before me, I swallowed hard and exclaimed in shock.

Hearing my call, Old Master Chen instinctively looked up. After glancing at me briefly, his pale face twisted into an incredibly ugly smile.

"Sanqi!" he called out.

I rushed over, seeing blood gushing uncontrollably from Old Master Chen's arm.

"Old Master Chen, what... what on earth is going on?" I was momentarily at a loss for what to do. I had originally thought Old Master Chen was enjoying the greatest pleasures in life, but it seemed that was not the case at all.

Old Master Chen spoke in a weak, chilling voice: "Sanqi, that woman named Bai Qi... she isn't from the survey team."

I was astonished. "Not from the survey team?"

"Yes!" Old Master Chen nodded heavily.

I quickly said, "But didn't she say that there really is a person named Qi Yang on the survey team?"

At this moment, Old Master Chen used a knife to cut a strip of fabric from his own clothing and handed it to me. "Stop the bleeding for me first. Something isn't right. There are some things we need to ask Qi Yang when we get back!"

"Not right?" I asked softly as I took the cloth, wrapping it tightly around his arm to stem the flow.

"Argh!" Old Master Chen let out a pained cry. "Huu, huu, huu!" He panted heavily.

I had thought things would end there, but reality dictated otherwise. Old Master Chen then told me to build a fire, and once it was burning, he sliced open his clothes to reveal the wounds underneath.

"You... this... this is!" As I tended the fire and caught a glimpse of the wounds on his arm, I froze.

The wounds on Old Master Chen's arm weren't ordinary knife cuts; they were five bloody holes. Blood bubbled out in torrents, looking exactly as if they had been gouged by a zombie.

Ignoring my questions, Old Master Chen, after cutting open his clothes, placed his knife over the fire and stared blankly into the flames. Moments later, as the blade grew hot, he gripped the handle and pressed it firmly against his bleeding wounds.

*Ssssss!*

The scent of burning flesh filled the air, but I had no appetite.

Grimacing, I watched Old Master Chen. He bit down hard on his teeth, sweat streaming down to cover his forehead, but even in such agony, he didn't make a sound. I had to admit, this was a real man!

After a long while, having repeated the process five times, he finally stopped the bleeding. His body trembled uncontrollably, and his face was as pale as paper. A moment later, his body swayed as if he were about to collapse.

"Old Master Chen... how... how are you feeling?" I asked softly.

"Huu, huu, huu!" After several deep, heavy breaths, he shakily pulled a cigarette from his pocket, lit it, and took a deep drag. Suddenly, his complexion began to flush slightly. I was amazed; did smoking really have such an effect?

After a moment of thought, I spoke first: "Old Master Chen, were these wounds caused by that woman?"

"Yes!" He nodded heavily. "Sanqi, aren't you curious... how she managed to inflict these wounds?"

I swallowed, imagining the strange, slender fingers of the girl, Bai Qi. "It wasn't... she didn't poke them with her fingers, did she?"

"That is exactly what she did."

Hearing this, I was completely stunned. If what Old Master Chen said was true, then Bai Qi's fingers were practically as lethal as daggers.

"Don't believe me?" Old Master Chen squinted.

"No... it's not that," I quickly replied.

He let out a heavy sigh and looked at me. "Remember the 'Fox Hand' I mentioned to you earlier?"

I nodded repeatedly. "I remember. After you told me about it, I even thought you meant she was a fox spirit because she had a 'Fox Hand'!"

Old Master Chen thought for a moment before saying, "Sanqi, the 'Fox Hand' is actually a concept, not literally the hand of a fox. You can think of it as a type of hidden weapon."

"A hidden weapon?" I asked, confused.

"Yes. The origins of the Fox Hand go back a long way, but mastering it comes at a terrible price. First, one must take ten children under the age of eight and sever their fingers at the first joint, leaving only two-thirds. The remaining parts are then trimmed with a blade until they are thin, long, and razor-sharp at the tips. Training starts at age eight, involving fire, iron sand, and dozens of other methods. Over eight years, if they succeed, they can pierce through iron blocks without pain or leaving a trace. Those who fail are either killed or sold. Because this weapon consists of fingers that are slender and sharp, resembling those of a fox, it is called the 'Fox Hand'."

After hearing his explanation, I swallowed hard. I had never encountered anything so cruel, and I found it difficult to accept.

Old Master Chen continued, "If I'm not mistaken, this so-called Bai Qi is definitely not from the survey team. On the contrary... she is likely some kind of assassin, and I just happened to see through her."

"An assassin? Then who is she trying to kill?"

Old Master Chen looked up at me and said quietly, "I believe... it is Qi Yang!"

...

Ten minutes later, we extinguished the fire and began heading back toward the Duizifang. Thankfully, Old Master Chen's injury was limited to his arm; otherwise, I wouldn't have been able to carry him back alone.

Unknowingly, night began to fall, and moonlight filtered through the dense forest.

"Sanqi, we need to move faster. The old forest is dangerous at night," Old Master Chen said.

"Understood!"

We quickened our pace. Suddenly, after rounding a bend, we encountered something strange on the tree branch where a half-corpse had previously been hanging.

A yellow weasel with sleek, oily fur was squatting on the branch. Hunters in the field often spoke of the eerie phenomenon of a "weasel worshipping the moon."

But the weasel we saw wasn't bowing to the moon. Instead, it sat quietly on the branch, head tilted, staring fixedly at the moon. Its eyes were incredibly complex, filled with melancholy, sorrow, and desolation—as if it were a real human being.

Recalling it now, I can still feel the scene: the pitch-black old forest, the dark, eerie night sky, and the moonlight filtering through the dense leaves in scattered patches. Even now, as I write this, I can still smell the distinct scent of pine from that old forest and hear our heavy breathing—Old Master Chen's and my own.