Chapter 74: 74, Fire seed

Xu Xianchu, Ren Xiaosu, and Yang Xiaojin certainly had no one willing to carry that ragged doll, and since Liu Bu was the one to raise the question of whether to bring the doll at all, he was resolutely entrusted with the task. In truth, Ren Xiaosu and the others believed the doll might be of little use, though none of them knew what purpose it had served before the catastrophe—but they were not fools. However, it mattered little whether they brought it or not; in the end, it was not their burden to bear. Thus, Liu Bu’s journey became a wretched one, already weary from travel yet forced to cradle the tattered doll with utmost care. The cruelest twist was that they had not eaten a single bite that day. Xu Xianchu suddenly halted, his resolve faltering—even he, let alone Liu Bu and Luo Xinyu, could endure no more. He turned and said, “Let us each gather pine nuts from the fir trees. We shall eat first, then press on.” For Xu Xianchu and his companions, their wilderness survival training had only just covered the basics of subsisting on pine nuts. In reality, pine cones were notoriously difficult to peel, and the yield was meager. A single pine cone might yield but a handful of nuts, barely enough to fill a gap between teeth—but what else could they eat? Watching Ren Xiaosu make no effort to assist them, they could only sigh. Without warning, Ren Xiaosu unsheathed his dagger and slashed at an unfamiliar tree. From the gash, a milky sap oozed forth, and Xu Xianchu’s eyes lit up: “Can this be drunk?” The others gathered round with eager hope, only for Ren Xiaosu to shake his head: “Most of the milky sap in the woods must not be consumed, for the risk of poisoning is great.” Xu Xianchu frowned: “Then why did you cut it?” “To coat the dagger with poison,” Ren Xiaosu replied matter-of-factly. The others fell silent—*what kind of operative are you*, they thought, *to lace your blade with venom? How delightfully grim!* Yet they dared not scorn Ren Xiaosu’s cunning, for they had relied on him too often along the way. Should any of them suffer injury, it was Ren Xiaosu who would stitch their wounds and tend to their ailments. Liu Bu, Luo Xinyu, and Wang Lei still carried money—reserved for emergencies, for summoning Ren Xiaosu to save their lives. They had come to realize that in Ren Xiaosu’s presence, money might as well be life itself. If they offended him now, he might still heal their wounds, but afterward, his hands would claim a kidney—or what else could they expect? As Liu Bu gathered pine nuts, he slipped and fell from the tree, though the soft carpet of pine needles below spared him pain. His voice trembled with despair: “It’s all those wolves’ fault. The walls said they’d migrated to other ranges—why have they appeared here? If not for them, we might have already returned to the walls! As the saying goes, ‘Wolves and jackals collude in mischief’—wolves are nothing but trouble!” Yet this time, Ren Xiaosu disagreed: “I’ve heard the phrase ‘wolves and jackals collude in mischief,’ but have you ever seen a jackal?” The others froze: “A jackal is the beast that trails behind wolves, is it not? The idiom means wolves and jackals together prey upon livestock—wolves with their forepaws, jackals with their hind—symbolizing mutual scheming.” “Hmm,” Ren Xiaosu nodded: “Master Zhang in the academy taught the same, but I ask again: have you ever seen a jackal?” Liu Bu hesitated, muttering, “Where in the walls would we find one?” “I have,” Ren Xiaosu said: “The very wolf pack that drove us into the gorge last year—it was then I glimpsed a jackal.” “What does a jackal look like?” someone asked. “A jackal is but a wolf,” Ren Xiaosu replied calmly: “Its forelegs were crippled by a hunter’s trap, so the others hoisted it upon their backs and carried on living with it.” Xu Xianchu and the others stood stunned. In the walls, they had been taught that wolves and jackals were both malevolent, that insects were either beneficial or harmful. But in the wilds, Ren Xiaosu saw it differently. He had heard Zhang Jinglin speak of nomadic tribes who once revered wolves. At the time, he was too young to attend lectures, so he asked Yan Liuyuan to inquire on his behalf: “Do wolves not ravage livestock? Why would nomads worship them?” Master Zhang had countered: “Did the wolf err?” Indeed, wolves prey on sheep, sheep graze grass—none are in the wrong, for such is the order of nature. Though wolves bring harm to humanity, they do not abandon their crippled kin. Can humans claim such loyalty? How many had perished on this journey due to companions’ indifference? It was not that they were at fault, yet Ren Xiaosu sometimes envied the wolf pack—for when disaster struck, they were not callously left to die. Ren Xiaosu paid no heed to their thoughts, plunging his dagger into the soil at the fir tree’s roots. “In the wilds, never clear leaves with your hands,” he said. “Here lurk scorpions, centipedes, and venomous snakes. Disturb them, and they shall bring you death.” This time, he found no scorpions, though a pang of regret stirred in him—roasted scorpions were quite tasty. Perhaps he ought to catch a few for supper? As he pondered, he unearthed some fir roots: “If pine nuts prove insufficient, eat the roots. Boil them for dinner.” The others stared in disbelief—they swore Ren Xiaosu treated anything as sustenance. Pine nuts had been one thing, but now fir roots? Was this food or timber? Yet Ren Xiaosu cared not. In years of wandering the wilds, he had consumed too many things others deemed inedible. At that moment, Ren Xiaosu posed a question: “Are there places like Jingshan near other walls? I mean, sudden mutations and evolutions.” Xu Xianchu paused, then answered: “There are, though they are controlled by the Huozhong Company.” “The Huozhong Company?” Ren Xiaosu frowned: “I’ve never heard of it. Which consortium does it belong to?” “None—it is an independent entity. It controls over twenty walls,” Xu Xianchu explained: “Though it lies far from our No. 113 Wall, so your ignorance is understandable.” “What are the places under Huozhong like?” Ren Xiaosu inquired. Xu Xianchu’s expression darkened, as though his knowledge ended there. Yet it was Yang Xiaojin who spoke: “The Huozhong Company’s territories are shrouded in mystery. Some say they glimpsed colossal prehistoric birds in their skies, but Huozhong’s forces quelled it. Perhaps only their core members know the truth of what transpired.”