The inn was the only shelter. Though steeped in death's stench, it was still safer than facing wolves and bitter cold beneath the open sky.
Ji En half-carried Lingyue into the innkeeper's small chamber—the cleanest space left—then steeled himself to drag the corpses from the common hall into the storage room. By the time he finished, his wounds had reopened, blood soaking through his bandages.
Finding a flask of lamp oil, he lit a dim flame, then searched the kitchen, only to discover every provision and pot long looted. Thankfully, his iron pot and a little rice remained. He kindled a fire and boiled thin gruel.
After feeding Lingyue a few mouthfuls, exhaustion claimed him, and he slumped at the table, asleep.
How long he slept, he knew not. But a strange scraping sound dragged him awake. The noise came from the corpse room.
Ji En's hair stood on end. It sounded like slow footsteps—soles rasping across the floor.
The dead… rising? The thought plunged him into ice.
He turned sharply—and saw Lingyue awake as well, pale against the doorframe.
"There… is something outside," she whispered.
Ji En seized his kitchen knife, heart pounding like war drums. Better to face death than be gnawed by fear! He kicked away the door-bar and charged out with a roar.
But no ghouls awaited. Instead, a gaunt wolf gnawed at a corpse's arm, dragging it toward the door. The terrifying sound had been nothing more than bones scraping wood.
Relief gave way to fury.
"You damned beast! Scaring me half to death!" he shouted, chasing the wolf with knife raised high. He pursued it into the forest with curses until it vanished into the dark.
Breathless, he returned to the inn, dragging the desecrated corpse back into the storage room. Exhausted, he sat by the fire once more.
Yet his ordeal was far from over.
From outside came the tramp of heavy boots and coarse laughter—five or six men at least, closing fast.
Lingyue's face blanched. "Those steps are heavy… no cultivators. Bandits! They've returned!"
Ji En's blood turned cold. Another band? And more of them…
"There's no time to flee," Lingyue rasped. "They're but ten paces away!"
Ji En clenched his blade, glanced at the frail woman, and his eyes hardened. "Hide. I'll deal with them."
She tried to speak, but fell into a fit of coughing.
At that moment—Bang! The inn door flew open, and six burly ruffians strode in, weapons glinting in the firelight.