Chapter-Eight: Wu Wu.. A Coward
The sky was gloomy and gray.
At this moment, Yang Hong and Wang Chuan were still sitting around, bored.
"Alas~ Why hasn't Brother Li Shan come back yet?" Yang Hong sighed.
"Yeah, he should have returned by now," Wang Chuan agreed.
"Why don't we head back first? The village isn't far, after all."
"Well~ Let's wait a little longer. We have to trust Brother Li Shan!" Yang Hong replied, trying to stay patient.
As a hunter, Yang Hong had eyes sharp as a hawk, with a much keener field of vision than most people. He gazed toward the forest, where the branches swayed gently in the wind.
The already dim sunlight was swallowed up by the dense mountains and forests.
Li Shan hadn't returned for a long time, and as more time passed, both of them began to feel uneasy.
Still, their faith in Li Shan kept them from giving in to their worries.
The deep, dense forest was eerily quiet, almost deathly still.
Wang Chuan leaned against a tree trunk, glancing at the ever-vigilant Yang Hong. With a chuckle, he broke the tense silence between them:
"Oh, why are you so on edge? What could possibly happen to us?"
Yang Hong, still keeping watch, glanced at Wang Chuan's carefree expression and shook his head. "I don't know why, but I can't shake this feeling of uneasiness."
Wang Chuan chuckled again. "Oh, you're just overthinking. Relax, it'll be fine."
Yang Hong tried to shake off his anxiety, forcing a smile. "Maybe you're right. Maybe I am overthinking."
"…"
"..."
"Wang Chuan? Why aren't you saying anything? Damn it!"
Yang Hong turned to see why Wang Chuan hadn't responded, but the sight before him was something he would never—or could never—forget:
Wang Chuan had just met his fate at the Gate of Life and Death. An arrow had silently sliced through the air, piercing Wang Chuan's head and pinning it to the tree trunk...
Even Wang Chuan's smile was still on his head, but the bridge of his nose was pierced by an arrow, which went straight into the tree trunk, grinding away the brain, and the red blood mixed with the yellow and white brain matter trickled down...
Here's a polished version of your text with improved grammar, structure, and flow:
"No... no, how... why did Wang Chuan die so suddenly?"
"Who's there? Come out! Don't just shoot from the shadows!"
Even though he shouted in anger over his companion's death, his inner fear was impossible to conceal.
His lips turned pale, his legs felt weak, his pupils shrank, and his entire body trembled uncontrollably...
These were the instinctive reactions of a human overwhelmed by fear.
"No... it's fine, everything's fine... He must have been scared off by me," Yang Hong muttered, trying desperately to console himself.
However, the approaching footsteps only deepened the dread in his heart.
*Tap... Tap... Tap...*
Each step came closer, pounding against his chest like a drum.
*Boom... Boom... Boom...*
Every sound sent his fragile nerves closer to their breaking point, like a tightly stretched string on the verge of snapping.
*Snap!*
The string finally gave way.
"Woo... woo... woo... please, don't kill me! I'm a coward, I beg you! I'll do anything you ask!"
Yang Hong could no longer withstand the fear. He dropped to his knees, kowtowing repeatedly as tears and blood mingled on his forehead. Yet even then, he didn't dare stop.
The footsteps halted in front of Yang Hong, whose head remained bowed. He did not dare to look up at the newcomer.
Ning Chen stood over him, his expression grim and emotionless.
There was no mockery, no ridicule, no contempt, and no regret.
In Ning Chen's eyes, Yang Hong was just an ordinary man clinging desperately to life.
But in the end, it was nothing more than a futile struggle.
Ning Chen's grip on the hunting knife tightened slightly...
The setting sun painted the sky red like blood, and young swallows darted into the depths of the forest.
Meanwhile, Li Shan darted through the trees, his heart burning with anxiety as he rushed back at full speed.
"Yang Hong, Wang Chuan—you must stay safe!"
Although he was exhausted from running for so long, Li Shan didn't dare to rest. His breath came in ragged gasps, like a bellows drawing in the cold air, and his lungs burned with every inhale. The chill gnawed at his nerves, and the pain in his legs weighed heavily on his mind.
He was tired and in pain.
But as the eldest of the group, it was his duty to protect them. That responsibility kept him moving, even though two of his companions were in mortal danger and one was already dead. How could Li Shan afford to stop?
He closed his eyes for a moment.
"Brother Li, where is my husband?" A woman approached him, her eyes filled with worry.
"Uncle Li, where is my father?" A young man, practicing his archery, asked as he loosed an arrow at a distant target.
"Li Shan, where is my son?" An elderly woman hobbled toward him, leaning heavily on her cane.
How could Li Shan answer them? If he were alone, how could he face his fellow villagers?
Unconsciously, he had already resolved himself to the possibility of death.
Suddenly, a sharp sound broke through the air, slicing through branches and leaves with deadly precision. Li Shan's heart jolted as he caught sight of an arrow, its cold gleam expanding rapidly in his vision. He twisted his body desperately to avoid it.
The arrow whizzed past him, embedding itself firmly in the tree trunk behind him. It sank deep into the wood, its power undeniable.
Li Shan stood frozen, dazed. He turned to look at the arrow, which had pierced the tree so deeply that half its length was buried. Its strength and accuracy were unmistakable—this was the work of a seasoned hunter.
Reaching up, he touched his cheek. The arrow had grazed him, leaving a shallow but painful cut. A wave of stinging pain spread across the wound.
The sound of crunching leaves drew his attention to the tree ahead. Someone was approaching.
How many people could there be in this dense forest?
The footsteps were steady, neither hurried nor slow, as they emerged from behind the tree.
Li Shan squinted, trying to make out the figure. Wasn't this the boy who had urged him to eat lunch earlier? Could he have fired that arrow? Was it even possible for someone his age to shoot with such skill?
Questions swirled in Li Shan's mind as he observed the figure. The boy stood with his hands behind his back, his long black hair cascading over his shoulders. Despite the black robe he wore, his muscular frame was evident. Though still a teenager, his tall and imposing stature was unmistakable.
His face was sharp and angular, his pale skin almost icy in appearance. But it was his eyes that stood out the most—calm and deep, like an ancient well. They held a serenity far beyond his years. Who else could it be but Ning Chen?
He was a strikingly handsome young man.
Yet, as Li Shan stared at Ning Chen, an overwhelming sense of unease crept over him. It was the primal fear of a creature encountering its natural predator.
"Hey, kid, have you seen my brothers?" Li Shan asked, his voice tinged with suspicion.
"I think I have," Ning Chen replied with a smirk.
"Where?" Li Shan pressed, his unease growing with every passing moment. He couldn't shake the feeling that the source of his dread was standing right in front of him.
Ning Chen sneered but didn't answer directly.
The sound of that sneer sent a shiver down Li Shan's spine. It felt like ants crawling over his skin, like a parasite burrowing into his bones. It was a sensation that filled him with disgust, though he couldn't pinpoint why.
Ning Chen slowly brought his hand out from behind his back, revealing what he had been holding.
His pale hand was smeared with blood.
In his grasp was a willow branch, and strung along it were three spherical objects, dripping with crimson.
Li Shan's breath caught as he looked closer. They were heads—severed and blood-soaked.
Yang Hong. Wang Chuan. Zhao Hu.