Chapter Twelve: Feng Batian and Feng Shihan

“Master, Master! What’s happened to you?” The Tian family’s steward hurried forward as his master collapsed, only to find that the body he touched was already chilling to the touch. Trembling with panic, his hands shook uncontrollably as he reached toward Mr. Tian’s nose, but felt not the slightest warmth of breath. “Somebody, come quickly! The master has passed away! The master has passed away!”

“Master, how could you leave us all alone? Our son just died, and if you go too, what are we supposed to do? Oh, woe is us!” Not long after, a white-haired woman burst through the door, wailing as she stumbled to the side of Tian Ergou’s father and collapsed over his body, sobbing bitterly.

This white-haired woman was, in fact, Tian Ergou’s mother. Since the day she received news of her son’s death, she had wept day and night, her hair turning gray, her face deeply lined with sorrow.

The death of Tian Ergou’s father cast the entire household into chaos; the once lively home became shrouded in gloom. Not long after, Tian Ergou’s mother also passed away. In the end, the Tian family from the town naturally took over the Tian family estate in Xiaohe Village.

Lin Yanghao slowly opened his eyes, surprised to find himself not in the wilds, but in a thatched hut built of wood. He thought to himself that someone must have rescued him again—truly, he was blessed with great fortune. Remembering the monsters he had encountered before, his hair stood on end and he shivered with lingering fear.

He tried to get off the bed, but his whole body felt weak and powerless. Barely a few steps forward, he collapsed to the ground.

“Oh! Why are you up? Grandfather said your vital energy and blood suffered a severe blow, and you were invaded by cold yin energy. You shouldn’t even be out of bed for at least ten days to half a month!” A clear, sweet, melodious voice rang in Lin Yanghao’s ears.

He looked out, and there stood a girl in white, about his age, pure as freshly fallen snow, drifting in the wind like a celestial maiden about to ascend to the heavens.

She was strikingly beautiful, like an orchid blooming in a secluded valley, otherworldly and serene, blending perfectly with the graceful scenery around her, as if she herself were part of the spirit and beauty of the land.

The young woman before him gave Lin Yanghao an impression of flawless purity—not only in her appearance, as breathtaking as a goddess, but also in her aura, ethereal and untouched by the dust of the mortal world. In her presence, one could not help but feel inadequate, as though all the world’s beauty paled before her.

Lin Yanghao was certain that even the legendary beauties Diao Chan and Xi Shi would feel ashamed before this goddess-like girl. He was convinced it must have been she who saved him—only a goddess could possess such a kind heart.

“Excuse me, miss, but may I ask if you were the one who saved me?” Lin Yanghao gazed at the white-robed goddess, unable to hide his infatuation.

“It wasn’t me; my grandfather saved you. He was out gathering firewood in the wilds this morning when he found you.” Perhaps noticing Lin Yanghao’s fervent gaze, the goddess-like girl shyly averted her eyes, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

“Oh, well, thank you all the same. Thank you for taking care of me.” Realizing she was deliberately avoiding his gaze, Lin Yanghao felt a surge of embarrassment, quickly collecting himself and sincerely expressing his gratitude.

“Why did you go to the Land of Death? Even if you went, how could you dare spend the night there? It’s a miracle you survived. When my grandfather found you, he thought you’d certainly died during the night, and only wanted to give you a proper burial so your body wouldn’t be left exposed to the elements. He never imagined you’d still be alive. He can’t understand how you endured a whole night of yin energy and lived—my grandfather himself was amazed at your tenacity.”

Seeing Lin Yanghao collect himself, the goddess-like girl breathed a quiet sigh of relief, explained as she came over to help him up.

From her words, Lin Yanghao understood the reason for his collapse. His curiosity grew: why did this grandfather and granddaughter live in the Land of Death? And how was it they seemed unaffected by its dangers? He surmised they were no ordinary people.

“By the way,” Lin Yanghao finally found the chance to ask, “Miss, what is your name?”

“Me? I’m Feng Shihan. You’ve been unconscious here for five days and nights; you’re still very weak. You should lie down and rest.” With that, Feng Shihan gently helped Lin Yanghao back to bed.

“Shihan—what a lovely name, truly beautiful,” Lin Yanghao couldn’t help but say, his infatuation showing again, though he was oblivious to his own rudeness. Seeing his expression, Feng Shihan’s cheeks turned an even deeper red; she almost wished she could knock him out of the room, but remembering his current condition, she restrained her embarrassment.

“I’m sorry, truly sorry. My name is Lin Yanghao.” After a moment, Lin Yanghao realized his impropriety and hastened to apologize and introduce himself.

Through his conversation with Feng Shihan, Lin Yanghao learned that she was a year younger than he, just fourteen, and had never left this place since she could remember. Lin Yanghao was the only man she had ever seen, apart from her grandfather. She didn’t know why her grandfather brought her here to live in seclusion, and the rest was a mystery.

“Hanha, Hanha, come quickly and see what Grandfather brought home today!” Just then, a hearty voice called from outside, and Feng Shihan dashed out as lightly as the wind.

As Lin Yanghao was still lost in thought, Feng Shihan returned, accompanied by an elderly man with graying hair and a stubbled face, his frame slender and frail. In his hand he dragged a wild boar, revealing unexpected strength. Lin Yanghao drew a sharp breath, now more certain than ever that this family was no ordinary one.

“Grandfather, thank you so much for saving my life and taking care of me these past days.” Lin Yanghao immediately understood that this vigorous old man must be the grandfather Feng Shihan had mentioned, and he bowed deeply in gratitude.

“Saving a life is more meritorious than building a seven-tiered pagoda—it was simply my duty. There’s no need for such formality. My name is Feng Batian. You can just call me Grandpa Feng, no need to be so reserved.” The old man paused, then went on to ask the question that had been on his mind: “You are but an ordinary man. What business did you have venturing into the Land of Death? Are you unaware of its deadly dangers? Not only did you survive a night’s invasion of yin energy, but you’ve recovered in just a few days. How do you explain this?”