Chapter – 71
My Name Is Hu Hansan. My Father Is Hu Yidao
That pitch-black hand hovered in midair, with nothing to support it, yet it firmly grasped the iron staff that could split mountains and shatter stone.
The Ape Demon Beast tried to wrench the staff free, but no matter how much strength it used, the weapon did not budge in the slightest.
Suddenly, as if struck by realization, its eyes shifted from blood-red to gold. It looked down at that hand—and then its entire body shuddered violently, as though it had seen something utterly terrifying. Its eyes were scorched shut, and a shrill, miserable scream burst from its throat.
At that very moment, the black hand floating in the void tightened its grip on the iron staff and gave a violent tug. The mountain-like Ape Demon Beast was flung away together with the staff, smashing heavily into a distant peak.
Strangely, after struggling to its feet, the Ape Demon Beast did not seek revenge for the black stone. Instead, it fled in extreme panic back into its cave, never to emerge again.
In the darkness, only that black hand remained, blending seamlessly into the night—or rather, darker than the night itself, a darkness that gleamed.
In the palm of that hand, a vertical eye slowly opened, radiating an eerie light. It swept a glance toward the Ape Demon Beast’s cave, then turned and locked onto the direction in which Qin Mo had fled. With astonishing speed, it vanished from its spot in the blink of an eye.
After an unknown amount of time, dawn gradually broke.
The Ape Demon Beast cautiously stuck half its body out of the cave, peering outside. Its eyes were blood-red, clearly burned, yet compared to the injury, its fear of that bizarre black hand was far greater.
Only after confirming that the hand had completely departed did it finally breathe a sigh of relief. Even so, the arm that had held the iron staff still trembled faintly.
Qing Wei’s sword had not yet fallen when she suddenly saw the mysterious figure rushing back from the direction he had previously departed.
That was also the direction Qian Xing had gone. She was confused—she had sensed that terrifying blade light, yet could not understand why Qian Xing had not returned.
It was only after hearing the dreadful beast’s roar that she finally understood somewhat. In her heart, she could not help but admire how deep this mysterious man’s calculations were.
“Go!”
Before she could speak, the mysterious man pulled her into his arms as before and dashed into the mountains under cover of night.
“You—”
Qing Wei immediately sensed something was wrong. Before she could finish speaking, the previously broad and sturdy body suddenly went limp, and the two of them pitched forward.
Reacting instantly, Qing Wei slapped a hand against the ground to steady herself. Seeing the mysterious man about to collapse, she reached out and caught him. Before she could ask anything, she saw his eyes—empty and unfocused, filled with terror. His skin was deathly pale, as if he might die at any moment.
“Take me with you,” Qin Mo said.
Qing Wei did not know why this man was so terrified. Even when facing Qian Xing earlier, his gaze had been calm and steady.
Yet she did not ask. She grabbed him and fled into the distance.
Moments after they left, a pitch-black hand abruptly appeared where they had nearly fallen. The vertical eye glowed with sinister light, revealing an almost human expression before it shot off in pursuit.
Qin Mo felt as though his body were falling apart. As they ran, he coughed up blood repeatedly—blood mixed with fragments of flesh. His internal organs had been shattered.
An ordinary person would have long since died. But Qin Mo forcefully suppressed his injuries with seventy-four acupoints, barely managing to remain conscious.
Qing Wei knew his condition was dire, but she could not stop. She, too, sensed an aura even more terrifying than Qian Xing’s rapidly closing in.
She had already forgotten her earlier disappointment in Qin Mo. Though she had always loved cleanliness, and though his blood now stained her body, her concern outweighed all discomfort.
“Put me down!”
Qin Mo spat another mouthful of blood. “It’s after me, not you. If you keep running like this, we’ll both die.”
Qing Wei glanced at him without answering. Instead, her slender arms tightened around him. That was her reply.
Qin Mo gave a bitter smile. He understood her intentions, but he also knew that with him in her arms, escape was impossible.
If the one chasing them were Qian Xing, there might still be a chance. But it wasn’t.
The searing pain in his back told him clearly—it was a hand. A terrifying hand that had left a palm imprint on his back.
Because of that mark, even with his cloak of concealment and the Divine Prison Breath-Concealing Art, he could not escape its pursuit.
Now he had to choose: either he died, or they died together.
This was true despair, without the slightest room for luck.
And he would rather die himself than drag Qing Wei with him—nothing more than the quiet affection buried deep in his heart.
“You don’t understand how terrifying that thing is,” Qin Mo urged. “But I do. I can’t escape. Why drag you into this?”
Yet Qing Wei’s answer remained unchanged. She ran faster, holding him tighter, their bodies pressed close without any barrier between them.
“You foolish woman,” Qin Mo cursed between coughs of blood.
“You could live, yet you insist on dying. How did I ever meet someone as stupid as you?”
The words were harsh, but Qing Wei only frowned slightly and ignored him. No matter whether he pleaded or threatened, she remained unwavering.
She didn’t know why she was saving this mysterious man. Because he had saved her before? That answer didn’t convince her.
Yet she suddenly recalled how Qin Mo had held her earlier. What she felt now must have been what he felt then—no matter what, she would not let go.
“Let go… let go… cough… let go!” Qin Mo shouted.
His voice echoed through the forest.
Ancient beasts heard it, but none dared approach. They sensed a far more dreadful danger chasing these two humans—and these humans were prey of that terror, not theirs.
“Shut up!” Qing Wei snapped.
“If you don’t put me down, I won’t,” Qin Mo retorted. “If you don’t let go, I’ll sever my own meridians.”
“Suicide is blasphemy against the Holy Emperor,” Qing Wei said in shock, worry flashing across her face.
“We’re going to die anyway. Who cares about blasphemy?” Qin Mo said bitterly.
“I’ve never done anything to betray the Holy Emperor. I’ll count to three. If you don’t let go, I’ll die right in front of you.”
“One… two…”
Before he reached three, Qing Wei finally stopped. Furious, she flung Qin Mo hard onto the ground.
Just as she was about to speak, she saw him roll twice in pain, his face twisted in agony.
She rushed over and supported him, crying out in alarm, “Your hand!”
“Ruined,” Qin Mo said through clenched teeth.
“I’m a cripple now. Not worth dying for. Even if you save me, I’ll probably die soon anyway.”
Qing Wei’s frost-cold face turned ghastly pale. She reached out, wanting to pull him into her arms—but instead, what burst from her mouth was a shouted:
“Get lost!”
She stood up and finally stepped back. Moisture gathered at the corners of her eyes.
This mysterious man had always been her rival, yet they had never truly crossed blades.
But she knew now—she had lost.
In her heart, there had once been only one man: Qin Lin, the chieftain of the Hammerstone Tribe.
In her mind, Qin Lin was always indomitable, untouched by anything in the world.
She knew she would one day surpass him, yet she still held reverence for him.
But tonight, in the Black Stone Mountains, that towering figure in her heart was replaced by another man.
Though they had met only a few times, he had effortlessly taken that place and become the sole figure standing tall in her heart.
Tears were for the weak. Humans shed blood, not tears. This belief had been carved deep into her soul.
Yet now, she wanted to cry—out of guilt, out of retreat, and because the man who had just become her pillar was about to die.
“You… who are you?” Qing Wei asked, eyes shut tight, gripping her green sword.
“If I tell you, will you leave?” Qin Mo asked weakly.
“I want to know your name,” she said, turning her back to him.
“I will remember you. I will remember you for the rest of my life.”
“I am…”
Qin Mo hesitated. Then he shook his head.
“My name is Hu Hansan. My father is Hu Yidao.”
As he spoke, it felt as though a burden lifted from his heart.
He had once imagined the look on Qing Wei’s face when she learned who he truly was.
But he couldn’t say it now. If he did, she would stay—and die with him.
At that moment, Qin Mo recalled a saying from his former world:
The greatest distance in the world is not life and death, but standing before you while you don’t know who I am.
“Promise me one thing,” Qin Mo said.
“Go on,” Qing Wei replied, turning back—only to realize her eyes were already wet. She immediately turned away again.
“If one day you meet Hu Yidao, tell him his son did not disgrace him.”
Qing Wei nodded.
“I will find your father. I will tell him everything.”
“Yes,” Qin Mo smiled.
“You will. And he will know.”
“My name is Qing Wei.”
She tightened her grip on the green sword and did not look back.
One heavy step. Then another. Then a third.
In an instant, her figure vanished into the night.
