paranoianovel Chapter 18: Returning to Blackstone Town at Night
Chapter 18: Returning to Blackstone Town at Night
Night fell like ink, painting the world in a chaotic blur. The wind howled through the mountain valleys, carrying the chill of early winter, stinging like needles on the face. Lin Yan supported Su Qingyao as the two trudged along the rugged mountain path, each step heavy with effort.
Su Qingyao's bangs were soaked with cold sweat, clinging to her pale cheeks. She bit her lower lip; although the wound on her calf was tightly bound with strips of cloth, dark red blood still seeped out with each step, spreading like withered plum blossoms on the plain hem of her skirt. Lin Yan's left arm, though healed, burned as if branded with a hot iron. He steadily supported Su Qingyao's arm with his right hand, his fingertips able to feel the slight trembling of her skin beneath her sleeve.
"The smell of blood is too strong," Su Qingyao suddenly whispered, her voice barely audible.
Lin Yan's nostrils twitched slightly, and he indeed smelled the faint, sweet, and metallic scent emanating from the two individuals. This smell might be faint to ordinary people, but to those nocturnal demons, it was as distinct as a candlelight in the darkness. He looked up into the distance—the outline of Blackstone Town was faintly visible under the moonlight, its walls resembling a coiled giant python, protecting hundreds of households within its belly.
"Enter through the gap in the west wall," Lin Yan said in a low voice. "That's where the defenses are the weakest."
The two circled around to the west of the town and found a section of the town wall collapsed and unrepaired, haphazardly covered only by some crooked wooden fences. Moonlight filtered through the clouds, illuminating two old soldiers dozing behind the fence, their white beards trembling slightly with their snores. Lin Yan held his breath and helped Su Qingyao squeeze sideways through the gap in the wooden fence, carefully avoiding the rustling gravel as they stepped on the ground.
The alleyways in the town were as black as ink.
The doors and windows of the houses on both sides were tightly closed, and occasionally the cries of infants would escape from the cracks in the windows, only to be quickly drowned out by the soft humming of women. Lin Yan led Su Qingyao along the wall, their shadows stretching long and thin on the bluestone path.
The blacksmith's shop was deep in the back street, its door panel so old that the edges were frayed. Lin Yan went around to the backyard and saw that there were still a few sparks coming out of the chimney. He knocked three times on the door panel, paused, and then knocked twice more.
A soft clanging sound of metal coming from inside the door could be heard.
After a moment, half a deeply lined face peeked out from the crack in the door—it was Uncle Zhang. The old man's cloudy eyes lit up when he saw Lin Yan, but a hint of caution flashed across his face when he caught sight of Su Qingyao. He silently stepped aside, and after the two slipped inside, he immediately closed the door, the thick bolt clicking as it went down.
The backyard was cramped and narrow, littered with raw iron and half-finished farm tools. The blacksmith's fork in the corner had been extinguished, but the residual heat still lingered, filling the air with the distinctive aroma of charcoal. Uncle Zhang brought over an oil lamp, its dim yellow light dancing on the faces of the three men.
"This young lady is..." The old man's gaze lingered on Su Qingyao's blood-stained skirt.
"Su Qingyao is trustworthy." Lin Yan said succinctly, already sitting down by the stove. "Uncle Zhang, how has things been in town these past two days?"
Uncle Zhang's deeply wrinkled face looked particularly solemn under the lamplight. He rubbed his calloused hands and lowered his voice, saying, "In the afternoon, Granny Wang went to the town mayor's mansion and stayed for a full hour. When she came out, her face was ashen, and she went straight to the refugee camp to send more people—specifically to question the newcomers and find out if any strangers had inquired about the 'sacrifice'."
Lin Yan's heart sank.
"She asked about Sister-in-law Zhou," Uncle Zhang said in an even lower voice. "She said someone saw you go to her dilapidated shed yesterday."
The wick of the oil lamp popped with a "pop," releasing a spark.
Su Qingyao raised her eyelids, her eyes shining surprisingly brightly in the darkness: "They've become suspicious."
"It's more than just suspicion," Zhang Bo sighed. "Zhao Mang suddenly started training his soldiers today, specifically his trusted confidants, and each of them was equipped with a waist knife. I watched from afar at the street corner, and those men all looked strange—it didn't look like they were training, but rather like they were going to fight to the death."
Lin Yan unconsciously tapped his knees with his fingertips. Although the mother-child seal on the contract hadn't alerted Qingyang City, Chen Fuhai and Zhao Mangding had already noticed the theft. The current commotion clearly indicated an internal purge, eliminating anyone who might have leaked the information.
"Sister-in-law Zhou and her child are in grave danger," he said slowly.
"It's not just them," Uncle Zhang said with a wry smile. "Anyone involved in this matter probably won't live more than three days."
The courtyard fell silent for a moment, with only the distant sound of the watchman striking his clapper, urging people on.
After a moment, Lin Yan suddenly stood up, her clothes rustling slightly in the wind: "Uncle Zhang, you said you contacted some reliable people, how many have you managed to gather?"
The old man counted on his fingers: "Eight. Butcher Li, Widow Liu, Wang Dachui... they're all victims, either their relatives were sacrificed, or they've long disliked Chen Fuhai's ways." He looked up at Lin Yan, his eyes filled with a mixture of hope and worry, "What are you going to do?"
"We can't wait any longer." Lin Yan's voice was as cold as iron. "Now that Wang Po has found out about Zhou Saozi, she will definitely take action tonight. Zhao Mang is also investigating the mole, the sooner the better. If we hesitate any longer, we will be sitting and waiting for our doom."
Su Qingyao gently untied the bandages from her leg. The wound was exposed to the light, but she calmly took out a small porcelain bottle from her bosom and carefully sprinkled the medicine powder on it, her movements so steady that not a tremor appeared.
Looking at the two men—one exuding a murderous aura, the other as calm as an abyss—Zhang Bo felt a strange sense of certainty. He took a deep breath, his white beard trembling: "Alright! I'll go get help right away. You two wait here, don't light any lamps, and don't make a sound."
After saying that, he put on the patched-up cotton-padded coat, pushed open the door, and disappeared into the night.
The shop returned to silence.
Su Qingyao re-bandaged her wound and looked up to see Lin Yan rummaging through a medicine box in the corner. His back looked thin in the dim light, his shoulder blades pushing the coarse cloth clothes into a distinct curve. This boy was only sixteen or seventeen years old, yet he carried the weight of life and death for the entire town on his shoulders.
"Here you go." Lin Yan handed over a clean strip of cloth, then pulled out a bottle of wound medicine. "Apply some more medicine, and make sure it doesn't get infected."
Su Qingyao took it, her fingertips briefly touching his. The boy's palms had thick calluses from years of holding knives, yet they were surprisingly warm.
"Thank you," she said softly.
Lin Yan shook his head, sat down opposite him, picked up the half-burnt charcoal pencil from the table, and began to sketch on a scrap of paper. The lines were rough but accurate, and he quickly outlined the contours of Blackstone Town—the town mayor's mansion, the demon-suppressing bureau, the refugee camp, alleyways... each place was marked with a detailed annotation.
Su Qingyao watched quietly.
The watchman's drum sounded again; it was already the fourth watch.
Footsteps finally came from outside the door—chaotic, yet deliberately slow. Lin Yan suddenly stood up, his right hand already on the hilt of his sword.
The knocking began: three light knocks, two heavy knocks.
As the door opened, Uncle Zhang led eight men in single file. There was a burly butcher, a gaunt widow, a towering man, and a hunched old man. They crowded into the backyard, filling the small space to the brim. The oil lamp was relit, its dim light illuminating faces that held expressions of fear, grief, or resolve.
"This is Corporal Lin," Uncle Zhang said in a hoarse voice. "And this is Miss Su. They... got that thing."
Butcher Li was the first to step forward. This man, who usually slaughtered pigs and cattle without batting an eye, now had his hands trembling slightly. He took the paper Lin Yan handed him and examined it closely by the lamplight—the names and dates copied on it were still fresh in ink.
When the name "Li Xiaocui" came into view, the man let out a wild, whimper. He gripped the paper tightly, his knuckles turning white, and the veins on his forehead bulged like earthworms.
"Xiao Cui... my Xiao Cui..." He repeatedly stroked that name, large, turbid tears falling onto the paper and spreading the ink.
The paper was passed from hand to hand.
When Widow Liu recognized her deceased husband's name, she collapsed to the ground, covering her mouth and sobbing uncontrollably. Wang Dachui, upon seeing his brother's name, slammed his fist on the anvil beside him, the dull thud causing the oil lamp flame to flicker wildly. Zhao Laosi, Sun the Cripple, Granny Zhou… every pair of eyes that met those familiar characters erupted with a deep-seated hatred.
After the last person finished reading, the backyard was deathly silent. Only suppressed breathing and the grinding of teeth could be heard.
"The original is in our hands," Lin Yan said, his voice eerily calm. "But Chen Fuhai and Zhao Mang already know it's been stolen. They're investigating the mole, silencing witnesses—leaving no one who might know anything."
"Then we..." Widow Liu looked up, her eyes filled with tears, "...escape?"
"Where can you flee to?" Lin Yan's gaze swept over the crowd. "With your families in tow, how far can you escape? Even if you do escape, what about your relatives who were sacrificed? Who will avenge their grievances?"
Butcher Li suddenly looked up, his eyes bloodshot: "Squad Leader Lin, what do you say we do? I'll risk my life if I can just kill those two beasts!"
"We can't fight them head-on." Lin Yan shook his head. "Chen Fuhai has guards, and Zhao Mang commands soldiers. Their late-stage Body Tempering cultivation is far beyond our capabilities. We need a plan, we need to leverage their strengths, we need to... create an opportunity."
He took out another piece of paper from his pocket and slowly spread it out on the table. It was a topographical map of the area surrounding Blackstone Town, with the Azure Wolf Mountain, the Spirit Spring, and the Demon Tiger's Lair clearly marked.
"Within three days, there will be great chaos in Canglang Mountain." Lin Yan pointed to a spot on the mountain range. "At that time, Chen Fuhai and Zhao Mang will be distracted, and that will be our opportunity to make our move."
The crowd gathered around to hear him recount his thrilling plan: luring wolves with the demon-attracting incense, inciting tigers with the raging scattering of wild energy, causing the two beasts to fight each other... Every word exuded a deadly, suicidal danger.
"Will this... will this work?" Granny Zhou asked in a trembling voice.
"Fifty percent certainty," Su Qingyao suddenly spoke. She had somehow appeared beside Lin Yan, her pale face gleaming like a piece of cold jade under the lamplight. "If we succeed, the demon wolf will lose its head, and Chen Fuhai will lose his support; if we fail—"
She paused, her gaze sweeping across each face: "If we lose, we will simply die. But to sit and wait for death is also a dead end."
These words were like ice water poured over their heads, jolting everyone awake.
Yes, it's a choice between waiting to die or fighting for one's life. In this world overrun by demons, they have no other choice.
Butcher Li was the first to beat his chest: "Let's do it! My daughter can't have died in vain!"
"I'll do it too!" Widow Liu wiped away her tears, a fierce glint in her eyes. "At worst, I'll go down and help me manage the household!"
Count me in!
"And me!"
Eight voices rang out in succession, not loud, but like iron nails being driven into wood, each word leaving a mark.
Old Zhang's eyes reddened, and he shakily pulled a cloth bag from his bosom. He opened it layer by layer, revealing a few pieces of silver and a string of copper coins: "My old bones are of little use. Take these... to buy what you need."
Lin Yan did not refuse, but only gave the old man a deep look.
He began assigning tasks: Uncle Zhang was to prepare sulfur and kerosene, Butcher Li was to contact the moles, and Widow Liu was to evacuate the women and children… Each instruction was clear and decisive. As the crowd listened, the tangled mess in their minds gradually began to unravel, and a glimmer of hope emerged from their despair.
By the time everything was arranged, it was almost dawn.
The eastern horizon was tinged with a crab-shell blue, and the thin morning light squeezed in through the cracks in the door, casting a few thin streaks of light on the ground.
"Go back and prepare," Lin Yan said finally. "Remember, your lives are the most important. If things go wrong, retreat immediately and don't look back."
The crowd agreed and quietly dispersed.
The backyard was empty again. Uncle Zhang went to the storeroom to search for materials, the clanging of metal utensils echoing through the air. Su Qingyao sat by the stove, taking out all the necessary medicinal herbs and utensils, and began to prepare the alluring incense and the berserk powder. She dipped her fingertips in cinnabar and traced intricate patterns on the yellow talisman, each stroke imbued with her concentration.
Lin Yan was organizing the caltrops and crossbow bolts. He repeatedly sharpened the arrowheads on a whetstone until the blades gleamed with a cold blue light in the morning light.
"Lin Yan," Su Qingyao suddenly called out to him.
The boy raised his head.
"Are you afraid?" the woman asked softly, her hand still holding the talisman brush.
Lin Yan remained silent for a moment, his gaze falling on the gradually brightening sky outside the window.
"I'm afraid," he honestly admitted. "I'm afraid the plan will fail, afraid of implicating innocent people, afraid... that in the end no one will be able to save me."
He paused, then added, "But what I fear even more is doing nothing and watching those people get sent to be fed to the wolves one by one."
Su Qingyao finished the last stroke of the rune, and a flash of inspiration disappeared on the paper.
"Me too," she said calmly, carefully putting the talisman into her pouch. "That's why we have no choice but to take this dangerous path."
The morning light finally spilled over the town walls, turning the blacksmith's window paper a warm yellow.
A new day has begun.
Three days later, the outcome will be clear.
The oil lamp burned out its last drop of oil, the flame struggled to flicker twice, and then went out. But dawn had arrived, and light would eventually come—even if that light had to be bought with blood and fire.
The first rooster crowed in the distance, tearing through the last darkness before dawn.