A single misstep brings regret for a thousand ages.

Black Ox saw the two of them returning in such a sorry state and cursed furiously, "You two useless wretches, what happened this time? Where's Zhao Liang?"

Rat, his face twisted in misery, wailed, "We were both tricked by that brat too—he actually set hornets on us! Is he even human? He's even more shameless and despicable than we are! Boo hoo hoo..."

As he spoke, Rat's tears flowed freely as he began to denounce Zhao Liang's crimes.

"Stop your damned bawling! No matter what, we have to catch Zhao Liang—dead or alive! He's made us suffer too much, and if we don't take revenge, we're not men!" Black Ox nearly ground his teeth to powder in his rage.

"Tian Er, help me up. Rat, stop your damned whining—hold it in. The three of us will go together. This time, we must be careful not to let that brat pull any more dirty tricks."

Tian Er helped the limping Black Ox forward, while Rat grimaced through the pain, sniffling as he trailed behind them.

From a distance, Zhao Liang saw the three catching up once again and thought to himself, These three are really stuck to me like glue—no matter how I try to shake them off, I can't get rid of them.

The forest on the mountain was dense, and there was only this one path down. If he tried to go another way, it would definitely be dangerous, with a high chance of getting lost.

A little farther ahead lay the summit—a sheer cliff with nowhere else to go. What should he do now? After a moment’s thought, he realized he would have to take a risky gamble.

Gritting his teeth, Zhao Liang continued running toward the mountain peak.

In less than half an hour, he reached the top. The bright moon hung high in the sky, its light bathing his cheeks in a silvery glow.

A gentle night breeze swept over him, blowing away the fatigue of the day and refreshing his spirit.

He had been to the peak many times and knew that on the side of the cliff there grew an ancient pine, its roots gnarled and intertwined, its canopy like a dragon’s wings.

Under the cover of night, it was the perfect place to hide.

He carefully stepped onto the rocks at the edge of the cliff, gripping the branches and climbing down, step by step. Glancing down, he saw only swirling clouds below—the drop was bottomless. A chill ran down his spine, but he steadied himself and, with great care, clambered down the trunk to a ledge beneath the cliff.

There, at the base of the old pine, the rock face was hollowed out—a space large enough for three or four people. Zhao Liang settled himself there, finally able to breathe easy.

This spot lay directly below the cliff edge; from above, there was no way anyone could see him.

About fifteen minutes later, Zhao Liang vaguely heard the voices of Tian Er and the others drawing closer.

Black Ox kept cursing Zhao Liang, while Rat continued his complaints—their voices grew louder as they approached.

"Where the hell did that brat Zhao Liang go? There’s not a trace of him!" Black Ox grumbled angrily atop the peak.

"Did he sprout wings and fly away? We haven’t seen a hint of him along the whole way," Rat complained in frustration.

"Maybe he’s hiding somewhere along the way? We might’ve missed him—should we go back and check?" Tian Er suggested uncertainly.

"You’re barely hurt, Tian Er. Go back and look for him. Rat and I can’t go on; we’ll rest here and wait for you."

"Fine, you two rest. I’ll go back and search," Tian Er replied, though he also sounded reluctant.

Hearing their conversation, Zhao Liang didn’t dare make a sound, remaining as still as a rock.

A gust of mountain wind swept by, making him shiver.

"This night wind is damned cold. Rat, help me up—let’s find a spot out of the wind."

Rat helped Black Ox to his feet, and the two of them staggered to hide behind a large boulder.

Nearly an hour passed before Tian Er came running back in a panic, shouting to Black Ox and Rat, "We need to hide—people from Tian Family Village are coming!"

It turned out that Zhao Liang hadn’t returned to the charity house by dusk. Tian Yi and Jiang Ran had assumed he was delayed in the village and wouldn’t be home for dinner. At first, they thought nothing of it, but when the night wore on with no sign of him, they grew anxious and started asking around house to house.

Yet after searching the whole village, there was still no trace of Zhao Liang.

Fearing something had happened to him on the mountain, they gathered everyone from the charity house and some of the villagers, lit torches, and began searching the mountain.

Zhao Liang heard every word of Tian Er and the others. He realized that Tian Yi and Jiang Ran had brought people to find him. As the three gradually moved away, he could faintly hear them calling his name.

Relief washed over Zhao Liang, the tension in his heart finally beginning to ease.

He was just about to climb up the pine branches when, without warning, the branch he grasped snapped with a loud crack.

The accident happened so suddenly that Zhao Liang had no time to react. He lost his balance and tumbled headfirst from the tree with a cry, plummeting toward the base of the cliff.

Misfortune never comes alone—joy turned to disaster in an instant.

All he could hear was the fierce wind whistling past his ears, the scenery rushing by ever faster, growing more indistinct.

Is this how I die?

Father, mother, am I about to see you again?

Uncle Tian, Master Jiang, my friends at the charity house—am I to bid you all farewell forever?

A thousand thoughts raced through Zhao Liang’s mind.

Suddenly, a jolt of searing pain snapped his fading consciousness back to clarity—something had blocked his fall.

He seized what looked like a vine before him, but the force of his descent was too great and the vine snapped. Still, his fall slowed considerably.

Like a drowning man clutching at a straw, Zhao Liang ignored the pain and desperately grabbed for more vines.

After three snapped in succession, the fourth finally managed to hold his weight.

Now he hung in midair, face-up, dangling from the vine. Looking up, he saw only mist and clouds. Glancing down, he saw nothing but darkness—what lay below, he could not tell.

He thought to himself that, being injured, it would be difficult to move. And with the terrain so unclear in the dead of night, it would be best not to act rashly. He decided to wait for dawn before making any plans.

Zhao Liang spent a sleepless night, enduring until daylight at last.

As the first rays of sun pierced the fading gloom, he peered upward to see only swirling clouds—he must be hundreds of meters below the summit.

Looking down, he saw a stream flowing at the bottom of the gorge, flanked by smooth stones the size of eggs. The ground looked flat enough. He judged he was still some four or five zhang from the valley floor. Cold sweat broke out on his back—had it not been for those vines, he would have been smashed to pieces, his corpse left in the gorge.

Carefully, Zhao Liang tested his limbs and was relieved to find nothing broken—he had escaped with only cuts and bruises.

He lay on the vines and rested for another three or four hours. Only after noon, when the pain in his wounds had lessened, did he cautiously turn over and, clinging to the vines, slowly lower himself to the valley floor.

Once bitten by a snake, he was now ten times more wary—he moved with utmost care, determined not to stumble twice in the same place.

Reaching the bottom, Zhao Liang carefully surveyed his surroundings. Sheer cliffs rose on all sides, with no visible exit from the gorge.

The stream surfaced from underground at one end of the valley and disappeared below ground at the other—a brief stretch of an underground river exposed to the light.