Li Che gripped the sinister Spirit Infant carving tightly, his gaze flickering with uncertainty. The crude, malevolent energy radiating from the carving only deepened his unease. The enemy had clearly marked him, leaving behind this grotesque effigy as a harbinger of ill intent. Li Che dared not take any chances. If he left his family alone at the earthen house and the adversary struck in his absence, it would be too late for regrets.
"The safest place… would naturally be the wood carving workshop," Li Che muttered to himself. His mind raced as he pieced together a plan. "I'm now a master woodcarver with my own workshop. Xixi and Ya can stay there while I work. The workshop is secure, and with people always coming and going, it's much harder for anyone to act openly."
Having made up his mind to prioritize safety, Li Che turned to wake his wife, Zhang Ya. Her serene face was flushed from the warmth of the blankets, and she stirred lightly under his touch. As her eyes fluttered open, she gazed at him with a mix of drowsiness and affection.
"Husband, you were too much last night…" Zhang Ya's cheeks reddened as her voice softened to a whisper. "You've been holding back, haven't you?"
Li Che chuckled lightly, brushing his fingers through her loose hair. Despite the gravity of the situation, her warmth brought a flicker of calm to his heart. "Wife, pack up and bring Xixi along. The two of you will come with me to the wood carving workshop for the next few days."
Zhang Ya blinked, her smile fading as she sensed the seriousness in his tone. "Go to the workshop together? But husband, today is your first day as the workshop's master woodcarver. If I bring Xixi, won't it upset the shopkeeper?"
Li Che shook his head firmly. "No, it won't. The workshop has private quarters for the master woodcarver. Family members staying there is perfectly acceptable, and I'll explain the situation to the shopkeeper if needed."
Though still puzzled, Zhang Ya trusted her husband's judgment. Without further question, she began packing their belongings, bundling up little Xixi, who was lying in bed waving her tiny hands and feet. Li Che busied himself preparing their coats, ensuring they were well-layered against the biting cold outside.
Braving the swirling wind and snow, the family of three set out toward the Xu family's wood carving workshop. Li Che kept his eyes sharp, his peripheral vision constantly scanning their surroundings for anything unusual. His arm tightened protectively around Zhang Ya as he adjusted her cotton coat, ensuring that Xixi was securely wrapped and shielded from the bitter chill.
Zhang Ya noticed her husband's unusual vigilance. Although she didn't voice her concerns, a cold unease began to take root in her heart.
The snowy streets, paved with blue stone slabs, stretched out before them. Along the way, the family passed through an alley where the chilling sound of bells and rhythmic drumbeats pierced the air. Li Che's steps slowed as a procession emerged in the distance.
"Hear the Holy Spirit's teachings, cleanse yourself of the mundane, and fear not reincarnation…"
The voices of Spirit Infant Cult followers rose in unison, their chants accompanied by the heavy aroma of incense smoke. At the center of the procession was a ceremonial platform carrying a grotesque three-headed, six-armed Spirit Infant carving. Its twisted features seemed to pulse with an otherworldly malevolence, and Li Che's sharp instincts flared as he caught the faint sensation of the cult leader's carving watching them.
His back tensed as if a thousand needles pricked his skin.
"Husband…" Zhang Ya whispered, her voice trembling as her gaze darted toward the procession.
"Don't be afraid. I'm here." Li Che's voice was steady, though his muscles remained taut. "Don't look. Just keep walking."
Pulling Zhang Ya close, Li Che quickened his pace, guiding his family through the narrow streets. Yet, no matter how swiftly they moved, the shadow of the Spirit Infant Cult seemed to cling to them, its cold presence lingering like a storm cloud overhead. The wind seemed to swirl unnaturally behind them, and Li Che's unease deepened as if danger was pooling like ink in water, spreading to engulf them completely.
Fortunately, the Xu family's wood carving workshop soon came into view. The towering gates and the warm glow of lantern light spilling onto the snow-covered path brought a measure of relief. As they stepped inside, the oppressive feeling lifted, though Li Che couldn't resist glancing over his shoulder one last time.
Far down the street, he thought he saw a shadow flit around a corner. His breath hitched, and a name surfaced in his mind like a dark whisper: "Lei Chunlan?"
The name carried weight, dredging up memories of the infamous midwife linked to countless infant deaths.
Li Che's chest heaved as a flash of anger ignited within him, but a familiar voice cut through his thoughts.
"Ah Che?"
It was Old Chen, the seasoned craftsman who had been a fixture of the Xu family workshop for years. He leaned casually against the doorway, his gourd of liquor in hand, but his sharp eyes quickly took in the situation. His brows furrowed as he noticed the tension in Li Che's stance and the tightly bundled carving tucked under his arm.
"Come in first," Old Chen said, his voice low but firm. He stepped aside to usher the family in, his usually relaxed demeanor replaced with quiet intensity.
Once inside, Li Che settled Zhang Ya and Xixi in the private quarters of the workshop before seeking out Old Chen. He found the elder craftsman nursing his drink, his expression unreadable.
"You're being watched, huh?" Old Chen asked without preamble.
Li Che nodded grimly and placed the Spirit Infant carving on the table. The moment Old Chen's eyes fell upon it, his face darkened. He paused mid-drink, setting the gourd down with a deliberate motion.
"You did the right thing bringing your wife and daughter here," Old Chen said after a long silence. "That house of yours… it's no longer safe."
"This carving…" Old Chen's voice dropped to a near growl as he picked up the sinister effigy, his fingers tightening around its surface. "This is the Spirit Infant Cult's mark. They've identified your daughter as a Spirit Infant."
Li Che's hands curled into fists. "They've been watching us all along."
"Likely," Old Chen confirmed grimly. "This 'Three-Headed, Six-Armed Spirit Infant Statue' showing up last night… they know you've become a wood carving master and that you'd be moving here. They're trying to strike first."
Li Che nodded, his mind racing. "They want to catch us off guard."
"Exactly," Old Chen said, crushing the carving in his hands until it splintered into pieces. "But you've outmaneuvered them this time. Bringing your family here was the right call."
Li Che's brow furrowed. "I think someone was following us on the way. It might have been Lei Chunlan."
"The brainwashed midwife?" Old Chen's lips curled into a scowl. "Wouldn't surprise me. She's been their pawn for years."
Old Chen took a long swig of his liquor before slamming the gourd down. "Let's go check it out."
Li Che's heart stirred at Old Chen's offer. Despite his gruff exterior, the elder craftsman's willingness to help spoke volumes.
After instructing Zhang Ya to remain in the workshop, Old Chen arranged for a trusted craftsman to keep watch over them. The two men donned bamboo hats and heavy cloaks, stepping out into the swirling snow. Old Chen tossed Li Che an extra cloak, which he gratefully wrapped around himself.
--
On the snow-covered ground, there stood a finely carved wooden statue of a "Three-Headed, Six-Armed Spirit Infant." Its grotesque features glinted in the dim light, a silent proclamation of defiance.
"Ha! Bold of them to leave their mark in front of Xu's shop. Do they think Xu's shop is made of mud?" Old Chen sneered, squinting at the ominous carving. Without hesitation, he stomped down hard. A surge of vitality erupted through him, and the Spirit Infant statue instantly splintered into countless fragments.
Crash!
The sharp sound echoed in the still air. At that very moment, a shadow at the far end of the alley stiffened, startled. With a flash of movement, it darted away swiftly, the faint trail of its footsteps disappearing into the snow.
"Found them," Old Chen muttered, his tone calm but his gaze sharp as he turned to Li Che. "Follow them at your own pace and stay safe."
Before Li Che could respond, Old Chen's exposed skin flushed fiery red, as if ignited by invisible flames. His body stretched and expanded, taut muscles emitting creaks like a bowstring drawn to its limit. The snow beneath his feet sizzled and melted as a wave of scorching heat radiated from him.
With a single powerful step, he launched himself forward. His form blurred as he tore through the falling snow, leaving a trail of melted ground in his wake. Within seconds, Old Chen vanished, a red-hot streak chasing the fleeing figure.
Watching the older man disappear, Li Che couldn't help but feel a deep sense of awe. Tempering the skin, strengthening muscles, tendons, and joints, quenching the bones, and refining the blood... What stage had Old Chen truly reached? And his internal energy—boundless, refined—was equally terrifying.
Letting out a hot breath that misted in the cold air, Li Che adjusted the wrist crossbow hidden beneath his sleeve. His expression remained icy, his calm exterior betraying the storm of rage inside.
The worst part isn't when thieves steal from you; it's when they fixate on you.
The thought of the Spirit Infant Cult targeting his beloved daughter, Xixi, made his blood boil. A violent rage surged within him.
You want to harm my daughter? I'll make sure you regret it.
Li Che followed Old Chen's trail, stepping onto the snow-laden stone-paved street. It didn't take long for him to catch up.
Ahead, Old Chen leaned casually against the corner of an alley wall, sipping wine from a weathered gourd. His relaxed posture contrasted sharply with the scene behind him—a bloodied figure lay crumpled in the snow, unmoving save for faint, labored breaths. The snow around him was stained red, a stark reminder of Old Chen's overwhelming strength.
"Not the midwife," Old Chen said, shaking his head as Li Che approached. His tone was calm, almost indifferent. "Just a martial artist at the Skin-Tempering stage. Looks like they've joined the Spirit Infant Cult recently—another one of their lackeys."
Li Che's heart sank. So, it wasn't Lei Chunlan. What a pity.
The man sprawled in the alley was older, his sun-darkened skin marked by years of toil under harsh conditions. But now, his strength was gone. His body trembled, blood trickling from his nose and mouth as he lay sprawled in the snow. The signs of Old Chen's handiwork were evident; the man hadn't stood a chance.
Old Chen, satisfied with his work, took another swig from his gourd, savoring it like a post-battle reward. Meanwhile, Li Che's icy gaze locked onto the injured man. His fists clenched, his voice low and hoarse as he demanded, "Where is Lei Chunlan?"
The man raised his head slightly, coughing blood as he muttered, "I… I don't… know…"
Before he could finish, Li Che's boot came down on the man's head, driving it into the cold stone pavement with a dull thud. He followed with several more kicks, each one precise and forceful. Yet the man, though groaning in pain, refused to cry out, his teeth gritted in stubborn defiance.
Old Chen watched the spectacle, smiling faintly but saying nothing.
A Quiet Resolve
After a while, the two men walked in silence along the long street. Old Chen sauntered leisurely, his hands clasped behind his back as though out for a casual stroll. Beside him, Li Che finally broke the silence. "Old Chen, you head back to the shop first. I'm going to buy some pig's head meat and a couple of ounces of yellow wine to thank you."
Hearing this, Old Chen's grin widened. "No need to be so polite. But if you're going, make sure it's from the braised meat shop on the west side of town."
Li Che nodded with a faint smile and turned, vanishing into the swirling snow.
Watching him go, Old Chen chuckled, shaking his head as he muttered, "This kid… He's a good father, no doubt about it. But killing a Skin-Tempering martial artist without any training of his own… that won't be easy."
Snow and Blood
The alley was eerily quiet once more. Snowflakes drifted lazily in the bone-chilling wind, mingling with the thick scent of blood that lingered in the air.
The dark-skinned man, still trembling from the beating he'd received, staggered to his feet. He leaned against the wall for support, his breath labored. Old Chen's overwhelming strength had left him utterly humiliated. As for the kicks from Li Che? They were more a blow to his pride than his body.
"Once the Master sets their sights on a Spirit Infant…" he muttered bitterly, wiping blood from his mouth. "Not even Xu's shop can protect them…"
Suddenly, his body froze. His waist stiffened as a tall shadow fell across the alley's entrance.
With great effort, he raised his head to see a figure in a bamboo hat standing there, silent and unmoving. The figure slowly lifted an arm.
Whoosh!
A sharp whistling sound pierced through the snow-filled air.
Thud!
Agonizing pain erupted in his eye as a wooden crossbow bolt pierced through it with brutal precision. Blood gushed forth, blurring his vision.
The man let out a blood-curdling scream, his voice echoing in the narrow alley. Rage overtook him, and like a cornered beast, he roared and charged at the figure.
Li Che stood his ground, his gaze colder than the falling snow. Another bolt flew, then another.
Thwack! Thwack!
Bolt after bolt struck true. Though the Skin-Tempering stage granted tough skin and resilient flesh, it offered no protection to the eyes.
By the time Li Che had fired all nine bolts, the man was barely recognizable. His face was riddled with crossbow bolts, his lifeless body collapsing to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut.
Li Che adjusted his sleeve, concealing the wrist crossbow once more. Without sparing the body a second glance, he tipped the brim of his bamboo hat and turned away.
His footsteps crunched softly against the snow as he walked toward the west side of town, the thought of braised meat and yellow wine the only thing breaking the cold monotony of the storm.