NABC Chapter 51: A Chance for Survival in Desperate Circumstances
Chapter 51: A Chance for Survival in Desperate Circumstances
At the edge of the Bone-Rotting Swamp, a slightly elevated, hardened slope became the desperate temporary refuge for the remnants of the Blackstone Iron Guard. The slope wasn't high, but it was one of the few relatively dry places in this endless mud. A few half-withered, crooked trees stood forlornly, their sparse branches trembling in the rising evening breeze, as if they too had been terrified by the bloody battle that had just taken place.
The campsite was so rudimentary it bordered on shabby. A few hastily felled, still damp, sticks were driven deep into the ground, barely supporting a few pieces of tarpaulin, their edges worn and frayed, pulled from the pack, thus creating a small, isolated space. Under the tarpaulin, the light was dim, and the stench of the swamp, a mixture of the sweet, humus-like smell and the stagnant, stagnant water, still seeped in relentlessly, lingering in the air, mingling with the fresh stench of blood and the pungent odor of spider fluids, creating a nauseating, deathly atmosphere.
In the flattest spot in the center of the shed, a layer of dried reeds, gathered as much as possible, was laid out, and on top of that was a relatively intact wolfskin rug taken from one of their fallen companions. Su Qingyao was placed here.
She lay there quietly, her pale white outfit now soaked through with mud, blood, and sweat, clinging to her body and outlining the girl's delicate, fragile features. Her eyes were tightly closed, her long eyelashes casting two heavy shadows on her bloodless cheeks, like two exhausted, too weary butterflies to take flight. Her face was ashen, her lips pale, almost ashen, and her breathing so faint it was barely audible. Only the extremely subtle twitching of her nostrils, as if about to cease, and the barely perceptible pulse in her neck, stubbornly testified to a sliver of life.
The most horrifying thing was the injury on her left arm.
From the shoulder down, the skin of his entire arm had turned a deep, terrifying inky black. The black was uneven, varying in shades, as if thick ink were freely spreading and flowing beneath the skin. The skin had lost the luster and elasticity of living skin, exhibiting a strange, scorched texture, like skin that had been scorched by fire and then rapidly cooled. It was covered with dense, fine, dark red lines, like cracked, parched land, or as if countless tiny venomous insects were frantically burrowing and biting beneath the skin. In the few places where the purplish-black spider's venom had directly splashed onto the skin, the underlying flesh was dark and indistinct, the edges curled up, yet not a drop of blood seeped out—the extremely potent venom seemed to have even burned and solidified the flowing blood. An indescribable, strange stench, a mixture of sweet, cloying, and rotting flesh, was emanating from the horrific wound. Even within the smoky, oilcloth-covered shed, it was clearly audible, like an invisible needle pricking at everyone's nerves.
Supported by two teammates, Li Tie sat on a wooden stump not far from Su Qingyao. The leather armor on his right shoulder had been carefully removed, revealing a similarly charred wound. Although much smaller than Su Qingyao's, confined to a palm-sized area around his shoulder blade, the shocking color and necrotic skin were indistinguishable. The intense pain caused cold sweat to pour down his forehead, trickling down his bronze face, gathering into thin streams at his chin, and dripping onto his already soaked shirt. He clenched his teeth, his cheek muscles tense, his right arm hanging limply at his side, his fingers slightly curled, unable to even tremble slightly. However, his eyes remained fixed on the unconscious Su Qingyao, his gaze filled with intense guilt, deep anxiety, and a ruthless yet powerless desire to take her place and bear all her suffering.
"Miss Su..." he murmured hoarsely, struggling to get up and move closer to check on her condition. But as soon as he moved, Zhao Si, who had been guarding him, held him down firmly.
"Boss Li! Please don't move!" Zhao Si's still boyish face was covered in mud and dried blood, but his eyes were wide open, and his voice was trembling with tears. "The wound was just... just treated, you can't move it!" He was holding a small piece of wood covered in black ointment in his hand. He had found it at the bottom of the medicine box left by Su Qingyao. It smelled pungent and unpleasant, and he couldn't tell what it was for or whether it was the right treatment. But at this moment, he had no other choice but to carefully and cautiously apply it to the edges of Li Tie's charred wound, his movements as light as a feather, afraid of aggravating the tough man's pain.
The atmosphere inside the shed was oppressive and suffocating. The remaining team members, some sitting and some lying down, were all wounded, their expressions listless. Their eyes reflected not only the exhaustion of surviving the ordeal but also the heavy blow and helplessness of losing four comrades and severely wounding their leader. Those who were still able to move were also wounded, silently gathering dry branches and firewood outside the shed, trying to start a campfire for warmth and light. But on the edge of this damp and cold swamp, even the sparks from striking flint seemed weak and feeble.
Lin Yan strode back under the tarpaulin shed, his steps steady, yet each one seemed to resonate with everyone's hearts. His gaze first fell on Su Qingyao's paper-white face, lingering for a few moments. Even in her unconscious state, the girl's delicate brows were still slightly furrowed, as if she were enduring unspeakable suffering. The inky black poisonous markings that had spread from her left arm had already climbed over her shoulder and were slowly eroding her slender neck and vital area, like a greedy and vicious black vine, determined to strangle the last vestige of life.
Lin Yan's eyes narrowed instantly, and he no longer hesitated. He bent down, kneeling on one knee beside Su Qingyao, extending his right index and middle fingers, bringing them together like a sword, the tips of which were shrouded in a faint yet incredibly refined gray-black true energy. His gaze was calm as still water, and his fingers fell precisely and swiftly, striking three major acupoints on her neck: the Renying point, the Tanzhong point on her chest, and the Jiquan point under her left armpit!
"laugh……"
The moment his fingertips touched her skin, a faint sound, like ice water dripping into boiling oil, was produced. His dark gray true essence, like the most skillful weaver, swiftly constructed three delicate yet resilient invisible "gates" at the key points of her meridians. This was not a cure, but the most brutal and direct "interception"—using his own pure Soul-Devouring True Essence as a barrier, forcibly halting the spread of the icy toxins along the meridians towards her heart and head.
After completing this step, Lin Yan's forehead was already covered in fine beads of sweat. This action seemed simple, but in reality, it was extremely taxing on his mind and true energy. He needed to have precise control over the force, the location, and the depth of the true energy penetration. If he was not careful, not only would he fail to stop the poison, but he might also damage Su Qingyao's already fragile meridians. He adjusted his breathing slightly, and then reached out to check her right wrist for a pulse.
The sensation from her fingertips made Lin Yan's heart sink even further. The once warm and peaceful wood-attribute true essence within her meridians was now almost completely stagnant, like a stream frozen in winter. Her blood and qi flowed slowly and blocked, with only a faint, pale green glow, like a candle in the wind, stubbornly clinging to her heart, resisting the wisps of black poison enveloping her. But this vital life force protecting her heart was visibly dimming, like sand constantly slipping through an hourglass. The situation was far more dangerous than it appeared; the toxins were not only corroding her flesh and blood but also eroding her very soul. Without a suitable antidote, she might not even survive the night.
Lin Yan withdrew his hand, his face calm as an ancient well, only the sharp, cold light in the depths of his eyes grew even more piercing. He stood up and scanned the room.
"Li Tie, Wang Dashan, Zhou Fu," his voice was not loud, but it carried a resolute and cold hardness, "and those who were splashed with poison earlier, come here."
The men who had been named, along with two other team members whose arms or calves showed signs of burns and ulcers, helped each other to Lin Yan's side. Li Tie gritted his teeth and remained silent. Wang Dashan's face was pale, but he tried to straighten his chest. Zhou Fu subconsciously touched a burning, painful spot on his left cheek.
Lin Yan said no more, and with a clang, drew his sword. The blade was still dark gray, but its sharpness was unparalleled. He then took out a small leather pouch from his bag and poured out some dark red powder—it was "Chiyang Powder," which Su Qingyao had prepared earlier, a mixture of various minerals and medicinal herbs, with strong hemostatic and drying properties.
"Zhao Si, start a fire and heat the dagger until it's red-hot," Lin Yan instructed briefly.
Zhao Si was startled and quickly responded. He ran to the small bonfire that had just been lit outside the shed, took out his short dagger, and carefully placed it over the flames.
Lin Yan walked up to Li Tie, his gaze falling on the charred wound on his right shoulder. "Bear with it," he said, uttering only two words.
Before the words were even finished, the blade flashed like lightning! It wasn't a slash, but rather an extremely precise and swift technique that thinly sliced away a layer of flesh that had completely lost its vitality and was even beginning to rot, close to the edge of the charred and necrotic area! Where the blade passed, the dark red and black, necrotic tissue, like rotten mud, was removed, revealing the relatively normal-colored but still strangely bluish-black, fresh muscle underneath. This time, dark red, viscous, almost paste-like blood slowly seeped out.
Li Tie shuddered violently, beads of sweat bursting from his forehead, his bronze face turning purple, his teeth clenching so tightly they made a grinding sound, and a muffled groan of pain escaped his throat. His whole body trembled violently as if he were having a seizure, but he managed to straighten his spine and not fall backward.
Almost simultaneously, Zhao Si handed over a red-hot dagger, its hilt wrapped in a damp cloth. Lin Yan took it; the tip of the dagger gleamed a dazzling dark red in the dim light. Without the slightest hesitation, his wrist as steady as a rock, he precisely pressed the red-hot tip against the freshly bleeding spot on Li Tie's wound!
"laugh--!!!"
A sizzling sound, like flesh being scorched, rang out, accompanied by a plume of acrid white smoke. Li Tie jerked his head back, veins bulging on his neck, his eyes wide with terror. The suppressed roar finally broke through his teeth, turning into a short, agonizing howl, which he then forced back down, leaving only heavy, bellows-like breathing. He was instantly drenched in cold sweat, as if he had been pulled from the water.
However, the dark red blood that was slowly seeping from the wound was instantly frozen and stopped by the scalding heat, and the skin tissue at the edges also slightly contracted and closed under the high temperature.
Lin Yan continued working, evenly sprinkling the Chiyang powder onto the scalded wounds. The powder, upon contact with the still-warm wounds, emitted a slight "sizzling" sound and quickly adhered, forming a dark red protective film. He then carefully bandaged the wounds with clean strips of cloth (torn from each person's underwear, moistened with the only available water and wrung out).
"Next." Lin Yan's voice remained calm and even, though there was another layer of sweat on his forehead.
Seeing Li Tie's almost exhausted state, Wang Dashan's Adam's apple bobbed, but he still took a deep breath, stepped forward, and deliberately showed Li Tie a wound on his calf that was corroded by venom and had begun to fester and ooze pus.
The blade flashes again, the hot iron sears the flesh, medicine is applied and bandages are bandaged...
Zhou Fu, along with two other injured team members, received this simple, brutal, but ultimately the only feasible treatment in this desperate situation where medical resources were scarce.
Throughout the process, only heavy, suppressed breathing, the faint sounds of flesh being cut and scalded, and the occasional short, painful groans that could not be suppressed and leaked from between the teeth could be heard inside the oilcloth shed. The strange smell of burnt flesh mixed with the powder of Chiyang San permeated the air.
But the effect is obvious.
After the excruciating pain subsided, although Li Tie's face remained deathly pale and his body was utterly exhausted, the burning, agonizing pain in his right shoulder wound, which felt as if countless ants were gnawing at his bone marrow, had indeed lessened considerably. It had been replaced by a dull, numbing pain, tinged with numbness. Most importantly, the chilling, numbing sensation that had lingered since the injury, like a persistent, bone-deep infection spreading to other parts of his body, seemed to have been temporarily suppressed by this brutal "removal" and "burning."
After bandaging his calf, Wang Dashan tentatively moved his ankle. Although the movement still aggravated the wound, the terrifying trend of his entire leg gradually losing sensation had indeed stopped.
"It...it works!" Zhao Si exclaimed in surprise. He saw that although the leaders were exhausted and in pain, their eyes had regained a bit of spirit, unlike the lifeless look they had just had. His tense and fearful heart, which had been tense for days, seemed to have been infused with a faint but real power.
Seeing this, the remaining team members' low morale was lifted. In dire straits, even a faint, visible glimmer of hope is enough to reignite the will to survive and fight. Their gazes towards Lin Yan held not only awe, but also an indescribable reliance and trust.
Lin Yan tossed the dagger back to Zhao Si and wiped the blood and powder off his hands with a cloth. He looked at Li Tie and the others, whose breathing had calmed down and whose eyes had refocused, and said in a deep voice, "This method is only a temporary measure to stop the spread of the poison and buy time. Whether it can be eradicated still depends on the antidote."
His gaze fell once more on the unconscious Su Qingyao, lingering for a moment on her pale face and the shocking black poisonous markings, before turning back to the depths of the bone-rotting swamp outside the shed, completely swallowed by the thick night and swamp mist, a deathly silence concealing endless killing intent.
"Lu Ling," Lin Yan called out.
"Here." The hunter, who had been watching like a shadow at the entrance of the shed, stepped out in response. The torn parts of his wolfskin armor were hastily tied with straw rope, and the bloodstain on his cheek from the spider silk had already congealed, but his eyes, even in the dim light, were still like those of a hawk lurking in a crevice of a rock—calm, sharp, and always on high alert.
"You lead all the remaining brothers who are still capable of fighting, and use this hilltop as the core to form a circular defensive formation." Lin Yan's voice was clear and calm, as if he were deploying a routine city defense. "Utilize the terrain, dig shallow trenches, set up tripwires, prepare plenty of flammable dry branches and damp firewood, and gather all available tinder and fire oil. The demon spiders fear fire and smoke; this is crucial. While I am away, you will have full authority to decide on all defensive tasks. Remember, you have only one mission: to defend this place to the death, and absolutely not allow any demon to cross the defensive line and disturb the wounded."
Lu Ling's chest heaved slightly as he clasped his hands in a deep fist salute, his voice resolute: "Lu Ling obeys! I'll stay here as long as I'm here!"
Lin Yan nodded slightly, then turned his gaze to the anxious Zhao Si beside him: "Zhao Si, you and the other two brothers with lighter injuries are responsible for taking care of Miss Su, Li Tie, and the other seriously wounded. Do your best to keep the campfire burning and maintain their body temperature, and pay close attention to any changes in their injuries. If there are any abnormalities, no matter how minor, report them to Lu Ling immediately without delay!"
Zhao Si immediately straightened his thin frame and replied loudly, "Yes, sir! I will certainly not fail you!"
Finally, Lin Yan's gaze met that of Li Tie, Wang Dashan, Zhou Fu, and the others. Their eyes were filled with bloodshot eyes, exhaustion, and pain, but deeper still, there was an unspoken trust and entrustment, as well as a hidden resentment and plea—hate that he was too badly injured to fight alongside them again.
Lin Yan didn't say anything more comforting or inspiring. He simply nodded very slightly, but very solemnly, to them and to all the eyes looking at him, both inside and outside the shed.
Then, he turned around and took out the wood core—a vibrant green and warm-smelling material imbued with boundless vitality—from the innermost layer of his baggage. He held it tightly in his palm. The warm vitality emanating from the wood core was like a clear spring flowing over a dried-up riverbed, slightly calming his agitated and boiling mind caused by anxiety, rage, and repeated fierce battles. It also somewhat alleviated the faint stinging pain and emptiness he felt from forcibly unleashing the wide-range "Spirit-Slaying" divine power.
Without looking back, he moved slightly and, like a wisp of pale blue smoke blending into the night, silently slid down the slope. In a few leaps, he completely disappeared into the thick, impenetrable darkness of the swamp below, a darkness that seemed to resemble the panting breath of a giant beast.
Alone, I ventured into a death trap once more.
This time, it's not about charging into battle or slaying generals, but about seizing a glimmer of hope for survival in that most filthy and poisonous place.