Chapter 82

Chapter 82: Little Hamster Goes Online

Night.

In the courtyard of a hunter’s home nestled deep in the mountains, a six?year?old little girl occasionally lifted her head to the sky and saw a “shooting star” trailing the most gorgeous tail as it cut through the lonely darkness.

The little girl tugged at the hunter who was sharpening his knife: “Father, look, they’re setting off fireworks over there!”

The hunter looked up, his gaze going blank: “This is…”

The “shooting star” at the horizon plunged straight down.

On the desolate earth, the impact blasted open a crater hundreds of meters across.

When the smoke and dust thinned, a black?robed man lay at the bottom of the pit, his life or death unknown.

His eyes were lightly closed; his features were like an ink?wash painting, balanced between light and shade. The refined, deep lines of his face looked heaven?wrought; from afar they seemed veiled in mist, as if covered by a thin gauze, up close as pure as a jade bamboo glazed with a soft sheen, yet carrying a hidden, razor?cold edge.

Several figures swept down out of the sky and landed along the rim of the crater.

They looked at the man with mingled wariness and loathing.

One of them said, “That little wretch runs fast.” Another spat, “The little wretch is vicious; he almost crippled my hands.” A third sneered, “Relax. His memory and cultivation have been scrubbed. He’s like a grasshopper now. Crushing him will be easy.”

[So noisy.]

In the crater, the man’s brows drew together. He lifted his eyelids; in the depths of his eyes coiled a dark fury and irritability.

He flexed the arms and legs half?buried in the soil, then sat straight up without a glance for the bleeding wound across his chest.

As he turned his head to scan the surroundings, the violence in his gaze sank down, replaced by a thin haze of confusion.

But there was no time to drift. Above, they noticed he was awake.

Someone shouted, “The little wretch woke up!” Another barked, “Careful!”

A moment ago they had been bragging; now, seeing him conscious, they forgot he was no longer what he had been and braced as if facing a great foe.

After a few seconds, when he still didn’t move, their nerve returned. One scoffed, “What are we afraid of? He’s a cripple now.” Another roared, “All together—take him!”

He watched them surge toward him. His mind was a blur. Hesitating, he raised his right hand, extended a single forefinger, and pointed toward them.

In an instant, he felt most of the spiritual energy left in his body wrench itself away and gather at his fingertip as a thread of lightning.

Boom!

A savage beam of lightning blasted out of the crater.

Those charging straight in went wide?eyed with terror. The moment they turned to flee, the lightning had already engulfed them. Within that light their bodies were severed, dissolved, and finally reduced to traceless ash.

The furious ray did not stop. It carved a deep, long trench through the earth in that direction and punched through five mountain peaks in a row before at last guttering out.

When the white glare faded, night again ruled this world. All was heavy and still.

Tap… tap…

A hand gripped the edge of the crater.

Then another hand hooked the rim.

A head followed—then the man hauled himself up.

He remained seated on the ground. Lowering his head, he looked at the savage wound across his chest, as if something had torn him open; blood kept flowing.

He stared for two seconds, then lifted a hand and picked at the wound.

At the first prod, his brows knit. [It hurts.]

He poked a few more times; losing interest, he stopped.

He casually wiped away the blood with his palm, then lifted his head to take in the scene again, cold?blade eyes flickering with puzzlement and daze.

[Where is this?]

He stood, only to stand there blankly. A fragment flashed through his chaotic mind, and his lips moved in an unconscious murmur: “…north.”

He started walking north.

Time ticked by. After a night beaded with stars, gauzy dawn began to spill across the eastern sky.

Every few steps he stopped, his eyelids so heavy they could hardly stay open. [Sleepy.] [I want to sleep.]

Irritation gnawed at him. He had walked far, but there was no village ahead, no inn behind. He had passed a few small groves; he had stared at one tree for a quarter of an hour and decided it wasn’t a good place to sleep, then moved on.

He did not know how long he had walked when a caravan came into view ahead.

Inside, iron cages of all sizes held a number of spirit beasts.

A unit of guards watched the wagons.

At the sight of the cages, his gaze rippled for a heartbeat, and he walked toward them.

A guard barked, “Hey! Who are you? Stop right there!” Another snapped, “You brat, didn’t you hear me? Stop!”

One man reached out to shove him. Annoyance flickered across the man’s face; he waved his hand.

Suddenly a great wind rose, yellow sand shrouding the sky.

It was like an invisible giant palm that flipped everyone in the caravan flat onto the ground.

Lightning threaded that gale; it shocked every one of them into unconsciousness on the spot.

Unperturbed, he walked up to the cages one by one.

Many of the spirit beasts had been stunned by the blast and lay fainting.

Those still conscious looked at him and, as if sensing a terrifying predator, crouched and trembled in their cages without daring to make a sound.

He circled most of the way around and finally found a small cage, half?open and unlocked.

“Cage?” he murmured, then slowly furrowed his brows, staring at the little cage as if faced with a century’s riddle.

[Is a cage a place to sleep?]

Somewhere in his head, it was as if someone had once told him those words.

He reached into the cage, but it was only the size of a human head; once both hands were inside, there was no room for more.

He frowned in private distress. How could he possibly get into this little cage?

Suddenly more fragments flashed through his mind. His expression turned uncertain.

After a long struggle, he jumped.

A gust of wind and sand swept by; where the man had been, there was only an orange?yellow Little Hamster with a tiny flame?like tuft of red fur on its forehead. No bigger than a palm, it scrambled into the little cage on all fours, its short, soft tail swaying.

Once inside, the Little Hamster curled into a corner and lay flat. [Mm.] [Sleep.]

It found a comfortable pose and drifted into a deep slumber.

Moments later, other guards returned. Seeing their comrades sprawled unconscious, their faces changed.

One shouted, “What happened to you? Wake up!” Another cried, “What’s going on?” A third urged, “Check the goods!”

When they revived everyone, they found all had been injured—but no goods or money were missing—so the entire caravan exhaled in relief.

As for the mysterious man who had appeared out of nowhere, they discussed it and agreed to keep it quiet, as if it had never happened.

Then someone exclaimed, “Why is the gold?seeking mouse back?”

Another peered at the palm?sized Little Hamster in the cage that should have been empty and said, “This doesn’t look like a gold?seeking mouse. Those are a bit bigger.”

A third waved it off: “Who cares? It’s a gold?seeking mouse.”

They had been careless and let the gold?seeking mouse escape halfway, searching for ages without finding it. With a substitute now at hand, the group was happy to pretend nothing was amiss.

“Swap in a good lock and make sure this gold?seeking mouse is secured,” one ordered.

“When we get to Cloud Link City and deliver this shipment, we’ll be in the clear,” another said.

“That side will be hosting a grand sect tournament soon; the city will be full of cultivators. They won’t notice that this…” a third began.

“Don’t worry. We’ll fob it off on some inexperienced young lady with no eye for things,” the last laughed. “It’s so tiny—young ladies love this kind.”