She had been holding onto her grievances and anxiety all the way, and now they finally found an outlet.
Just as she was about to unleash a torrent of curses in her mind at this “worthless piece of crap” system, using every derogatory term she could think of, a loud commotion suddenly came from outside the door.
“Bang! Crash—”
A heavy thud followed by the sound of splintering wood came from the door she had barely finished repairing.
Su Zhiyun flinched, nearly jumping out of her skin.
The torrent of curses on her tongue was forced back down, her heart pounding wildly.
“Cough… cough…”
Just as Su Zhiyun was bracing for the worst, a pained coughing fit came from outside the door.
The voice sounded familiar, carrying a heavy weariness and hoarseness.
Then, the dented door panel was pushed hard from the outside, letting out a groaning creak, but it didn’t budge.
Su Zhiyun had been thorough earlier—not only had she hammered in nails, but she had also wrapped the bolt several times with hemp rope.
“Hey… open… the door…”
A weak, intermittent call came from outside, almost identical to Jiu Baiyun’s voice.
Su Zhiyun froze for a second, then was both startled and suspicious.
She didn’t rush forward immediately.
Instead, she lowered her voice and called out warily.
“Who is it?!”
There was a two-second silence outside, followed by more violent coughing, then a response tinged with helplessness and exhaustion.
“It’s me… Jiu Baiyun…”
Instead of opening the door, Su Zhiyun took half a step back, her eyes growing even more alert.
She lowered her voice, her tone full of suspicion.
“You say you’re Jiu Baiyun, so you are? How do you prove it!”
Outside, Jiu Baiyun seemed to choke on his words.
After coughing a few more times, he gasped and replied hoarsely.
“Cough… I need proof for that?”
Another moment of silence outside, broken only by the night wind whistling through the cracked door.
Just as Su Zhiyun tightened her grip on the hammer she hadn’t yet put down and considered peeking through the crack, Jiu Baiyun’s voice came again.
“Fine… if you don’t want to open the door, I can just make do in the ancestral hall…”
After Jiu Baiyun’s words about “making do in the ancestral hall,” the sounds of rustling clothes and stumbling footsteps followed, as if he really was turning to leave.
Inside the small house, Su Zhiyun’s heart skipped a beat.
After a moment of hesitation, thinking that the fox immortal had just left and those creepy things probably wouldn’t dare come back anytime soon, Su Zhiyun called out to the door, “Wait!”
She gritted her teeth and quickly whispered to A Ran, who was equally tense and worried beside her, “A Ran, step back. Take this.”
She shoved the hammer into A Ran’s hands and grabbed a thick wooden club leaning against the wall, which she had picked up from the rubble earlier as a spare.
A Ran took the hammer, holding it tightly.
Though still worried, she obediently retreated a few steps and hid beside the offering table.
Su Zhiyun took a deep breath and crept quietly to the door.
She didn’t open it immediately.
Instead, she pressed her ear to the door and listened.
Outside, there was only the rustling of night wind sweeping through the yard and brushing against the weeds, along with… heavy, labored breathing, occasionally interrupted by a suppressed, painful cough.
The weariness and pain in those breaths didn’t seem feigned.
After a moment of deliberation, Su Zhiyun carefully peered through a wide crack in the door, squinting.
Pale moonlight dimly illuminated the small courtyard fenced in by rails.
A familiar figure, with its back to the little house, was staggering toward the ancestral hall at the other end of the yard, which had no door.
That figure was wearing the same clothes Jiu Baiyun had on earlier, but now they were covered in dust and suspicious dark stains.
The fabric on his back was even torn in several places.
It really was Jiu Baiyun! And he seemed to be seriously injured!
The remaining doubt in Su Zhiyun’s mind was instantly dispelled.
She immediately opened the door and called out to the figure, “Hey! Come back! I’ve opened the door for you.”
Hearing Su Zhiyun’s voice, the staggering figure paused.
He slowly turned around.
The cold moonlight outlined his dust-and-dirt-smudged profile.
The stray hairs on his forehead were soaked with sweat, plastered messily to his skin.
His face looked especially pale under the moonlight.
Jiu Baiyun looked at the tense Su Zhiyun inside the door and pulled the corners of his mouth upward, forming a not-so-good-looking smile.
“Guess you… do have a heart.”
His voice was extremely hoarse, laden with heavy fatigue.
After speaking, he used his hand to steady himself against a crooked fence post, trying to stabilize his body, and then slowly began to shuffle toward the little house.
But after only two steps, perhaps the turn or the step itself aggravated a serious injury, Jiu Baiyun’s expression instantly froze.
Then he sharply sucked in a breath of cold air, his brows tightly furrowed, baring his teeth in obvious pain.
“Hiss—”
If he had known it would hurt this much, he would have gone easier on himself.
But since it had come to this, no matter how much it hurt or how much he wanted to cry, he had to bear it and endure.
Getting rid of his fox demon transformation had taken considerable effort.
Su Zhiyun watched Jiu Baiyun’s almost collapsing state.
After a moment of hesitation, she finally gritted her teeth and muttered a quick complaint in a low voice.
“Seriously…”
Before she could finish, she had already dropped the wooden club, dashed out the newly repaired door, put on her long gloves, and reached Jiu Baiyun’s side.
Though she was worried about her fellow villager’s safety, she had to take the necessary precautions!
No direct contact was allowed!
The night wind blew in coolly, stirring up the dust on the ground.
Su Zhiyun extended her hand, clumsily yet swiftly propping up one of Jiu Baiyun’s arms, letting part of his body weight lean against her.
Supporting Jiu Baiyun’s arm, Su Zhiyun could clearly feel the weight of his body and his involuntary trembling.
Even through the rough long gloves, she could sense the tension in his arm muscles from the pain.
With most of Jiu Baiyun’s weight pressing down on her, she stumbled, nearly losing her balance.
“Hey, put some effort into it yourself!”
Su Zhiyun couldn’t help but complain under her breath, but her hands held steady, moving gently as she helped him step by step toward the little house.
Jiu Baiyun didn’t respond.
He just clenched his teeth, more cold sweat beading on his temples, and matched Su Zhiyun’s pace.
Every step was agonizingly difficult.
As he crossed the threshold, he let out a muffled groan, his body visibly swaying.
“Brother Jiu!”
A Ran, who had been watching in anxiety, cried out.
She dropped the hammer and rushed over, her small face full of panic.
“You… you’re bleeding so much!”
Only then did Su Zhiyun see clearly in the light: the torn parts of Jiu Baiyun’s clothes on his back and side were stained with dark blood.
Some had dried, but fresh wounds seemed to still be oozing blood.
“It’s nothing… I won’t die.”
Jiu Baiyun pulled at the corner of his mouth, trying to give a reassuring smile, but it turned into a grimace due to the pain.
Still, he really wouldn’t die.
These wounds weren’t from a fight—he had inflicted them on himself.
So Jiu Baiyun was well aware of his own condition.