Chapter Twenty-Nine: Self-Rescue

This is how people who have traversed worlds behave—relying on their golden fingers, they act recklessly. Yun Hao was now finally paying the price for his own willfulness. Lions and tigers could become friends, and if a fox or dog was clever enough, it might join their club as well. But monsters were different—their actions were dangerously unpredictable. In the eyes of other creatures, a feeling named fear sprouted wildly from the depths of their hearts, like mushrooms after rain.

Fortunately, Yun Hao had Qin Qiong's protection. Otherwise, he would have been torn to pieces by now. Did anyone really expect people in a bandit’s lair to possess lofty virtues like respecting the old and cherishing the young? In this world, it turned out that good deeds were truly repaid with good fortune. Yun Hao felt deeply grateful that he had once spent nearly all he had to help Qin Qiong through a crisis.

Seeing the gathering heroes brimming with hostility, their faces dark and threatening, Yun Hao summoned his courage and stepped forward. At this moment, he could not afford to shrink away like a turtle pulling in its head.

He once had a friend, a seasoned wild beast keeper, who taught him: if you ever meet a tiger and it locks eyes with you, you’ve made it onto its menu. In that instant, you must never lower your head or expose your vital parts, lest it mistake you for some easily devourable herbivore. Nor should you turn and flee, for not even Bolt could outrun a healthy adult tiger—and fleeing would only embolden it to pounce. Instead, you should stand as tall as possible, meet its gaze with stern and furious eyes, spread your arms, and bellow at the top of your lungs—something along the lines of “Come eat me if you dare!” That way... at least you die with dignity.

Yun Hao now planned to die with dignity—unless his scheme succeeded, in which case he might not make such a swift return to the underworld to face King Qinguang’s mockery. He had promised himself to live to eighty-two; did that mean he would not die before his eighties? A strange thought flickered through Yun Hao’s mind.

He shook his head vigorously. Now was the time to maintain the bearing of a master. Even if he must die, he would do so with dignity.

“Chief Xie, do your words still count?” Yun Hao struggled to keep calm, his little chest held high. Yet his trembling legs betrayed his weakness. After all, no matter how hard a seven-year-old tried, he could never pretend to be a Zhang Fei or Xiang Yu.

“What words?” Xie Yingdeng’s eyes were bloodshot, like a hungry wolf ready to tear this troublesome brat to shreds.

“You said that if I cured Qi Guoyuan and brought him back to health, all would be forgiven. Is that what you meant?” Yun Hao was starting to regret this; his bladder was ready to burst and felt as if he might wet himself at any moment. He wanted to run, but his knotted legs couldn’t move. Gritting his teeth, he held on desperately, praying he wouldn’t embarrass himself. That would be mortifying—he’d be laughed at for life.

“Hmph! As long as you cure my brother, not only will I let the past be the past—I’ll pay you a hundred taels of silver, for you and your mother to use on your journey to Jinyang.” Xie Yingdeng’s face was stony, but he knew full well that with Qin Qiong present, he could not lay a finger on Yun Hao. Besides, there was also Wang Botang’s reputation to consider; no matter what, he couldn’t kill this little scoundrel. All he could do was put on a fearsome act to vent his frustration.

“Very well! A gentleman’s word!” Yun Hao extended his hand, ready to seal the oath with a high five, only to be yanked back by Qin Qiong, who grabbed him by the collar. A high-five oath? Xie Yingdeng could easily smack him—and his hand—clear across the yard.

“Even four horses can’t chase back my word! Now come to my quarters and cure my brother!” Xie Yingdeng could barely restrain his eagerness to drag Yun Hao to his own yard to treat Qi Guoyuan.

“Chief Xie, the treatment must be performed here. You’ll need to have Chief Qi carried over. My medical skills are ancestral secrets—no one else may watch. Let... Brother Hou assist me.” Yun Hao had meant to ask Madam Zhao, but thought better of it. After a quick look around, he pointed straight at Hou Junji.

“Hmph! You’d better not try any tricks. If you do, even if you flee to the ends of the earth, we brothers will hunt you down.” Xie Yingdeng spat out a threat and left with a few underlings. The others, told it was a secret art, gave up any thought of eavesdropping. Still, curiosity gnawed at them: how could Yun Hao manage to drag Qi Guoyuan, who’d attempted suicide eight times, back from death’s door?

Qin Qiong was puzzled as well, but couldn’t ask in front of so many. He let Wang Botang drag him off to drink with Li Mi and the others. The yard was soon filled with burly men eating and drinking, making Madam Zhao afraid to step outside. She couldn’t understand what had happened to the estate these past few days—it seemed to be turning into a banquet hall, with tattooed fellows drinking and playing games in the courtyard from dawn to dusk.

Meanwhile, Yun Hao was whispering urgently into Hou Junji’s ear. Hou Junji tried to run but was pulled back, and the whispering continued. No one knew what was said, but Hou Junji’s face turned deathly pale, his legs shaking like Old Wu’s next door.

Qi Guoyuan was carried over on a door plank, tightly bound with ropes. Even an Egyptian mummy couldn’t expect such treatment—but Qi Guoyuan now enjoyed it.

He was carried inside and placed on the bed as Yun Hao instructed. The moment Qi Guoyuan saw Yun Hao, he began to struggle violently, flopping like a fish out of water. He was truly terrified of this child, who was no child at all, but a devil in a child’s skin—a purebred, bone-crunching fiend. Seeing Yun Hao’s sinister grin, Qi Guoyuan felt the urge to burst into tears.

“Don’t struggle, and don’t shout. Even if you scream until your throat breaks, it’s useless. Isn’t your Brother Xie formidable? Yet he still fell into my trap. Today, I’m going to teach you another lesson, so you’ll never forget that my bottom is not to be trifled with.” Yun Hao growled at Qi Guoyuan.

“All I did was spank you—why must you push me to the brink of death?” Qi Guoyuan was nearly in tears. If only he’d known those two slaps that day…

“I haven’t pushed you to death. You’re lucky to have a good big brother. He came to me weeping, begging me to spare your life. For his sake, I agreed to detoxify you. But you’ll have to cooperate, or you’ll spend the rest of your life half-mad, scratching your own skin off.” Yun Hao’s eyes seemed to glint coldly as he looked at Qi Guoyuan.

“Don’t threaten my brother. If it comes to it, I, Qi Guoyuan, would rather die. Even in death, I’ll haunt you as a ghost.”

“It’s too late. Your big brother has already made a bet with me: if I cure you, he’ll give me two hundred taels of silver. Now, look at this—”