Liang Song subconsciously reached for the dagger at his waist. The blade caught a cold glint in the dim crevice of the rocks, its handle polished smooth by long use. This dagger had been with him through countless battles; it was one of his most trusted companions. In this dire situation, with their ammunition exhausted, it had become their final weapon—and their last hope.
Liang Song leaned his back against the damp, ice-cold stone wall, eyes half-closed, trying to reclaim a sliver of strength during this rare lull. Days of flight had left him physically and mentally drained, and every wound throbbed with a dull ache. Yet, he knew the danger had not truly passed. Even in rest, he remained in a state of light sleep, ready to be jolted awake by the slightest disturbance.
The night wind, like an invisible specter, swept quietly through the treetops, carrying the chill from the depths of the forest. The dry leaves brushed against each other with a rustling sound, creating a haunting nocturne in the silent mountain woods. At first, the sound was soft, like a distant whisper, but in the stillness, it struck Liang Song’s ears like an alarm. His eyes snapped open, sharp as starlight in the cold night, filled with alertness and resolve. His body tensed, muscles coiled, and his ears pricked up like sensitive radar, capturing every abnormal vibration in the night air.
Chapter 416