Chapter 47: Curtain Call
This novel is translated and hosted on Bcatranslation
A gentle moonlight drifted over the forest, its tall trees rising like silent pillars into the star-flecked sky. The night air was so still that even a whisper would seem loud. Beyond the faint rustling of leaves and the quiet snuffling of a few grazing animals, the place felt utterly deserted. Qin Ming raced through the woods, his boots crunching the snow, until he reached a thick patch of bushes. There, he stopped suddenly, breathing hard.
He shrugged off his old armor and carefully set down his long-handled black metal hammer. Then, from beneath a shallow layer of snow, he pulled out a gleaming suit of golden armor. This armor had once belonged to Wang Nian Zhu, a warrior who was long dead yet still labeled as “wanted” by the authorities. Without hesitation, Qin Ming slipped into the dead man’s armor. He knew that out here, he couldn’t afford any mistakes. Some creatures—like those odd bear cubs or clever young calves—might actually remember his face. Getting recognized would turn a risky situation into a deadly one.
Wang Nian Zhu’s golden armor fit well enough, and Qin Ming strapped the dead man’s bright, polished sword to his waist. To hide his features, he tied a cloth around his face. He might not be very strong yet, but he was smart, and careful was the only way to survive. With that settled, he started running again, pushing on for about eight more miles until he reached a peculiar area—a kind of “stone forest,” where huge rocks stood like scattered giants between the trees. Some stones were piled so high they looked almost like little mountains.
As he approached, Qin Ming wrinkled his nose and muttered, “Ugh, this reeks!” He sounded just like a boy his age might, annoyed and disgusted. There was a giant white bear known to live around here, and it definitely didn’t bother tidying up its home. Even before he got near the main clearing, he caught the foul scent of bear dung drifting through the crisp night air.
Poking around the stone forest, Qin Ming soon spotted what he’d come for: a second-grade fire spring. It glowed with a reddish mist, flickering in the darkness much like the one in Silver Vine Town. Of course, a brute like this white bear would never be allowed deeper into the mountains, where higher-grade fire springs—stronger and more valuable—awaited those powerful enough to claim them.
To the mountain folk, this spring was a priceless treasure. But the bear had ruined it completely. Hides, bones, and assorted remains lay strewn about, and huge piles of waste sat shamelessly near the fiery pool. If the bear was hibernating, it sure didn’t show much care for cleanliness. The smell was beyond awful.
Qin Ming stood there, his face half-covered by cloth. “This is so gross,” he groaned, sounding every bit like a teenager fed up with chores. He poked around but found nothing useful. The place was a total dump. He had taken a big risk coming here and now had nothing to show for it but a headache and a stench so bad it made his eyes water.
“Ugh, maybe I should just burn this filthy den to the ground,” he grumbled, kicking a loose rock. He had hoped maybe there’d be bear cubs to snatch a paw from—something to feel like he was getting even—but no luck. He didn’t fancy sticking around longer than he had to. Just as he was about to leave, though, something flashed under the shimmering surface of the fire spring. Scales?
Qin Ming perked up. “Fish?” he whispered, stepping closer. In the faint red glow of the spring, he spotted fish darting about. Could the old bear really be raising fish here? Squinting, Qin Ming realized they were just tiny fingerlings. His shoulders slumped. “Oh, come on! These little guys are barely the size of my palm!” Still, small as they were, they had a certain spiritual glow. These were spirit fish, their bodies tinted a faint blue with translucent spots. If they’d had the chance to grow to a meter in length, they’d be bursting with life force. But this stinking bear would probably gobble them up long before that.
Grumbling under his breath, he scooped up about twenty fish that were big enough—just around six or seven inches. “Well, better than nothing, right?” he told himself. At least he always carried a beast skin bag. It was a habit from living in these harsh lands. Feeling a bit more justified now, he tied up the bag of fish and rushed off into the darkness again, heading toward Wild Bull Ridge, about seven miles away. He had to keep moving, keep taking advantage of the night and the fact that all the big shots were busy elsewhere.
The journey through the snowy forest under the night sky was both quiet and tense. When Qin Ming finally burst into the territory belonging to the Golden Giant Bull, he stopped short, stunned by what he saw. Another second-grade fire spring lit the darkness, but unlike the bear’s filthy den, this one fed a patchwork of odd, heated fields. There were no neat rows or careful gardening here—just wild, vibrant plants that thrived because the warm fire spring kept the harsh winter at bay. In a world of endless snow, he found himself standing in front of lush greenery.
“This old yellow bull is seriously dedicated,” Qin Ming said, genuinely impressed. The entire region was buried under snow. Yet here, the wind felt mild, the ground warm, and the plants alive and thriving. He spotted a vine loaded with fiery pears, around twenty or thirty of them glowing softly and giving off a delightful scent.
“These are perfect for boosting your blood and energy,” he said, plucking the pears and dropping them into his bag. Nearby, he found short shrubs full of purple berries that tasted sweet and sour. “Purple Sun Berries… just what I need to keep my strength up,” he murmured happily. He sounded younger and lighter now, pleased with his find. “Man, this yellow bull really knows how to set a table.”
Even though the field was messy, the spiritual energy from the fire spring made up for any lack of care. The only trouble was that the old yellow bull had a huge family—plenty of younger bulls to feed—so it probably didn’t leave behind any truly rare treasures. The animals here would have munched through the best spiritual plants ages ago.
Qin Ming sighed in frustration. “Oh, come on! I risk my neck coming here, and I can’t find anything good enough to push me through a third awakening.” He kicked at a clump of snow. “Guess I’ll have to rely on Old Man Liu and head deeper into the mountains later on.”
Still, he had to admit these fruits weren’t bad. Even ordinary folks would love them, and for someone like him—stuck in a harsh, snowy world—this kind of bounty was a rare treat. He picked as much ripe fruit as he could: bright red ones, golden ones, filling both of his beast skin bags until they bulged.
He glanced around. “Any calves around?” Qin Ming wondered aloud, hoping to catch a glimpse of something he could use against the bull clan. Instead, he narrowed his eyes and spotted something unexpected: a small donkey creeping among the plants.
It looked a bit like Old Weasel’s famous mount, but much younger. The donkey was in the middle of munching on stolen fruits when it noticed Qin Ming. He tensed, not wanting the creature to bray and draw attention.
“Hey, donkey!” Qin Ming hissed, sounding like a teenage boy telling a younger sibling to shut up. “Don’t you dare start yelling! I’ve got places to be, man!” Without waiting for a reaction, Qin Ming whirled around and ran off. Better to leave quietly than risk an alarm that might bring something monstrous down on him.
The little donkey just blinked, confused. It had expected a fight, or at least some shouting, but now the intruder had vanished. With nothing stopping it, the donkey kept munching away, swinging its tail as though nothing strange had happened.
Some time later, a massive white bull, one that had undergone three mutations, stepped from the heart of Wild Bull Ridge. It had been guarding the place while the main family was away. The big white bull had noticed the donkey’s presence and decided not to scare it off—after all, it never hurt to show kindness toward a creature connected to powerful beings. Better that the donkey’s elders think well of them. But now, as it surveyed the damaged fields and the missing fruits, the bull snorted in disbelief.
“Moo! Was there a whole herd of donkeys through here?!” it bellowed, astonished at how many fruits had vanished.
Meanwhile, Qin Ming had already run a solid six miles away before he finally slowed, panting and checking over his shoulder. No one and nothing seemed to be chasing him. He breathed a sigh of relief. Now he’d head back, retrieve his hammer and armor he’d stashed earlier, and also pick up that piece of jade-iron he’d hidden in the mountains. The Great Rift Valley was currently filled with dangerous experts, leaving the outskirts deserted. It was the perfect time to gather his hidden treasures.
The village was relieved to see him return safe and sound. Xu Yue Ping and Yang Yong Qing stood at the entrance, their faces etched with worry.
“Qin, you’re back! We were seriously worried!” Xu Yue Ping exclaimed, looking him over as if afraid he’d vanished again.
Qin Ming shrugged, trying to sound casual despite the adrenaline still pumping in his veins. “I’m fine. Just a close call, that’s all,” he said, sounding like a teenage boy returning from some mischievous late-night adventure. “And hey, I brought back some pretty neat stuff from the mountains.”
They were both shocked when Qin Ming briefly explained what had happened—how the Variants were launching a massive counterattack against the people from the Great Rift Valley. Xu Yue Ping and Yang Yong Qing were stunned by the news, their faces pale. They realized that, somehow, all the mountain folk had come out alive while the noble elites of Red Glow City faced disaster deep in the valley.
By the time Qin Ming reached his own small courtyard, Wen Rui was waiting anxiously at the gate. The young boy’s face lit up like a lantern when he saw Qin Ming approaching.
“Uncle Qin! You’re really back!” he cried, hopping up and down. He’d been checking all afternoon, dreading bad news. Now he grinned as Qin Ming lifted a large bag of brightly colored fruit and berries over his shoulder.
Inside, little Wen Hui gurgled happily, giving Qin Ming a wet kiss on the cheek. Lu Ze, who was still recovering from injuries, leaned against Liang Wan Qing for support. Everyone gazed at the pile of fresh fruits in amazement. In the dead of winter, these treasures were a miracle.
Wen Rui, cheeks pink from the cold, snatched a handful of red berries and stuffed them into his mouth. “These are incredible, Uncle Qin!” he said between chews.
In a small iron cage, a mutated squirrel with fiery red fur hopped around excitedly. Its beady eyes stared hungrily at the red berries. Qin Ming couldn’t resist teasing it. “Bow to me and I’ll give you some,” he said, half-joking.
To his surprise, the squirrel stood up on its hind legs and began bobbing its head, squeaking as if it were counting each bow. Qin Ming laughed, delighted. “You’re really something, you know that?” he said, amazed at how quickly these creatures adapted and learned.
In the following hours, messengers rushed back and forth. The families left behind in Silver Vine Town had realized something terrible must have happened in the Great Rift Valley. Qin Ming’s return confirmed it. Predatory birds were released into the night sky, carrying urgent messages to Red Glow City. Reinforcements would be on their way before long—every moment mattered if they were to save whoever remained alive in that perilous place.
But by the time the experts arrived, the Variants had already begun their retreat. They didn’t want to spark a full-scale war with Red Glow City. Many lives had been lost, but the worst was over. Some great names like Cao Long, Mu Qing, and Wei Zhi Rou had still suffered heavy casualties. The Huang family’s losses were terrible. Golden Rooster Ridge and the Three-Eye Sect had been nearly wiped out.
The survivors limped home, battered and shaken. The leaders, furious and disappointed at their own people’s failure, complained bitterly. They were astonished to learn that simple mountain folk had managed to slip away unharmed while they themselves bore deep wounds.
The next morning, Qin Ming and Old Man Liu went to bid farewell to Cao Long, Mu Qing, and Wei Zhi Rou, who were leaving now that their grand plans had failed. Before departing, these important figures advised Qin Ming to move on, telling him that this remote place had nothing left to offer him.
“There’s a whole wide world out there, Qin Ming,” one of them said gently. “You’re better off exploring it.”
Another added, “Cities filled with wonders, beings beyond your imagination, and gods hidden among men—five hundred years ago, Black and White Mountain was mighty, but now it’s just an old legend.”
Qin Ming listened quietly. He was grateful for their advice, but his heart wasn’t set on leaving just yet. He smiled politely as they departed, Nie Rui and Shen Jia Yun nodding warmly at him.
That night, Qin Ming carried a sack of fiery pears and berries to Old Man Liu’s place. The old hunter’s eyes widened as he rummaged through the fruit.
“These pears, Purple Sun Berries, Silver Melons… Good heavens, lad! Did you wander right into a mutated beast’s private orchard?” Old Man Liu demanded, astonished.
Qin Ming just smirked, leaning on the doorframe. “Let’s just say I ran into an old bear’s garbage heap and a hardworking yellow bull’s garden. Not my best night, but not my worst,” he said lightly, sounding more than ever like a teenage boy with a good story to tell.
Old Man Liu shot him a sharp look. “So, you got guts and smarts enough to steal from big, nasty creatures, hmm? And now you’re looking for that spiritual material I mentioned?” His eyes narrowed. “You must’ve completed your second awakening, right?”
“Yup,” Qin Ming said, nodding. “I’m feeling warmer inside lately, like I’m ready for the next step. What about you?”
“Give me two more days,” Old Man Liu said quietly, closing the door to keep in the heat. “After that, we’ll go searching. And let’s keep these awakenings to ourselves, got it?”
Qin Ming grinned. “Got it, old man.”