My heart skipped a beat, and I stared at Zhuomayangjin with wide eyes, unable to believe it: "The White Python… did it…?"

Zhuomayangjin didn't look much better; her face was ashen, clearly terrified. "Yes…" she said to me, sounding worried, "the White Python was injecting venom into Kameda's body." As she spoke, she glanced over at Kameda, then turned back, as if talking to herself yet also to me, "The White Python usually doesn't dare attack people outright. For it to sneak attack us, despite so many of us being here, I fear… I fear…"

She kept trailing off with "I fear" for a long time without reaching a conclusion. I grew impatient and cut her off: "Fear what?"

Zhuomayangjin didn't answer, just gave me a meaningful look, her eyes holding a mixture of anxiety and regret. This woman—one moment playing innocent and naive, the next feigning profound mystery. I just couldn't figure her out. Since she enjoyed putting on an act, I let her. Pushing her further would only make me look more foolish than a woman. So, I stopped paying attention to her and focused on how to treat the little Japanese man's injured arm—after all, he was a human being, and I couldn't just stand by and watch him die.

Kameda’s arm injury was no ordinary venomous snake bite. I pondered for a while, unable to conjure any good solution. Having no choice, I braced myself and consulted Zhuomayangjin again, asking if she knew how to treat Kameda’s wound.

Zhuomayangjin didn't answer immediately. She looked down, thinking for a long time, before finally saying, "Let's wait for Yamamoto to return. We don't truly understand anything." Her tone and expression always made me feel something was off; it was as if she knew something, but I couldn't find any proof.

"But we can't just watch Kameda turn into what that other Japanese man became, can we?" I said.

Zhuomayangjin glanced at me dismissively, mocking, "And now you pity him?" I didn't bother arguing. I went over to rummage through my pack, unsure if I’d even packed any medicine for snake bites. A desperate measure was better than nothing; even applying some random ointment to the little Japanese man would feel better than watching him writhe and groan until he turned into a pool of pus.

The contents of my pack were a disorganized mess. I dug for a long time without finding any medicine, growing frustrated. What made it worse was that Zhuomayangjin stood by, watching me search with an air of amusement. I shot her an annoyed glare. She watched me with a half-smile for a long moment before slowly saying, "Find a sharp dagger and a clean cloth. That will suffice." Since she said that, it meant there must be a way. I did as asked, finding a clean cloth and drawing the dagger from my boot, handing it to her. She waved her hands repeatedly, telling me to go dress the little Japanese man’s wound myself, claiming she found it too filthy and lacked the nerve, insisting she would only direct.

I went over and rolled up Kameda’s sleeve. His forearm was oddly not as vividly pink as before, just slightly swollen, with the wound itself being a dull, pale pink patch the size of a fist. Had he healed on his own?

I asked Zhuomayangjin to ask Kameda how he felt. Without bothering to ask Kameda, she immediately ordered me to cut away the pink flesh around the wound, demanding I excise it completely down to the bone, leaving not a sliver of muscle.

"Are you serious? Do you think he wasn't born of parents, that he doesn't feel pain?" I protested, standing up and looking at her angrily, "Besides, isn't that disgusting? Are you just messing with me?"

Zhuomayangjin gazed at me with complete confidence, pointing at Kameda. "Just cut that piece of flesh away, he definitely won't feel it. Right now, even if you sliced off his entire forearm, he might not even know the pain."

I looked down at Kameda. His face was a mask of terror and despair, truly not suggesting he was in great pain. Hesitantly, finding no other recourse, I decided to follow Zhuomayangjin's instructions. The dagger went in easily, feeling as if it were slicing through rotten tofu; with a gentle thrust, it hit the bone. Suppressing my nausea and fear, I rotated the dagger, completely carving away the flesh around Kameda’s wound, then meticulously scraped away any residual muscle clinging to the bone. Strangely, throughout the entire procedure, Kameda didn't bleed a single drop—not even a trace.

Just as Zhuomayangjin had said, when I carved away the flesh around Kameda’s wound, he didn't utter a sound, not even a furrow of his brow.

Next, Zhuomayangjin directed me to squeeze out the venomous blood, much like the Mongolian doctors perform bloodletting. I slowly forced the blood from his palm and arm toward the wound. At first, only clear fluid emerged, then it slowly gained a slight tinge of red, and only when it was running entirely bright crimson did Zhuomayangjin tell me to stop. It was only when the fresh blood appeared that Kameda let out a pig-like, utterly piercing scream. With the necrotic tissue removed and the poison blood expelled, the venom wouldn't continue spreading its corrosion. He was feeling pain now; that was a good sign, meaning his life was probably saved for the moment.

Zhuomayangjin signaled for me to bandage him quickly, all the while speaking to Kameda in Japanese to distract him.

After a long bout of effort, Kameda was finally bandaged, and I stood up with immense relief. Zhuomayangjin suddenly called out to me: "Engineer Luo, look over there…" She pointed to where I had discarded Kameda’s severed flesh. I looked, but there was no flesh remaining—only a puddle of pinkish fluid and a paper-thin sheet of human skin!

If I had been the one alone, then…

...

A while later, Yamamoto and his group returned, all breathing heavily. I was about to urge them to look at Kameda's injury, but I saw Zhuomayangjin had already gone to meet them, pointing at Kameda and speaking, presumably about his condition. There was no need for me to say anything further.

A moment later, Zhuomayangjin approached me, her face alight with excitement. "Engineer Luo, Yamamoto-kun found a clue about the deserter! And he is certain the deserter is hiding nearby somewhere."

Finding the deserter should have been cause for our own celebration, as it concerned us too. But judging by Zhuomayangjin's expression, it was as if some treasured possession of hers had been recovered. Moreover, frankly speaking, after enduring so much hardship, I had absolutely no interest in the deserter. If she hadn't suggested the little Japanese men had some conspiracy earlier, I would have already headed back down the mountain. So, I only replied coolly, "Oh," and fell silent, preoccupied with thoughts of Old Li, whom I hadn't seen in days—wondering if he had returned to the station or what had become of him.

Perhaps my reaction was too indifferent; Zhuomayangjin looked slightly surprised, gazing at me with astonishment. "Just now, Yamamoto-kun and the others chased the White Python until they reached a hot spring, and then the White Python vanished…" I chuckled inwardly. It wasn't strange to have a hot spring on this mountain; the White Python vanishing must mean it had its lair near the spring. What was so strange about that? "Oh... then go kill the White Python, and we'll head back," I said, still maintaining my detached tone.

Zhuomayangjin looked at me helplessly, as if wanting to say something but holding back. After a pause, she said, "Engineer Luo, have you forgotten what I told you when we first set out?"

"Are you suggesting the White Python is connected to the Japanese men's conspiracy?" I tilted my head, looking at her teasingly.

Unexpectedly, Zhuomayangjin’s earlier excitement vanished, replaced by solemnity. "Yes. So Yamamoto will ask you to join them later; you must not refuse. Also, you had best walk close to Wang and Liu."

"Why walk close to them?" Now I was genuinely puzzled.

Before Zhuomayangjin could answer, one of the Japanese men called her over. "I'll go first. Yamamoto just called me over to tell you to go find the deserter together. Remember, you must stay close to Wang and Liu." She said this while walking toward the Japanese group. I remained utterly confused, not understanding her meaning. I looked over at Section Chief Wang and Officer Liu; they were sitting there resting and chatting. Seeing me look at them, they both nodded slightly in greeting.

I sullenly walked over and sat down next to them, then told them the news that the deserter was nearby. Both of them brightened instantly; they probably figured they could report back successfully now. I felt things were overly strange, so I didn't relay Zhuomayangjin’s instruction to stay close to them.

After a brief rest, Yamamoto himself came over and, speaking our language with a stiff accent, pleasantly told us three that we had rested enough and should continue our journey. He then turned to Section Chief Wang and said his injury could likely be treated soon. He even asked if we could carry our packs, offering to have his subordinates help us if we couldn't. The more he dropped his airs and had Zhuomayangjin translate, the more I felt something was amiss—the feeling of "excessive courtesy hides wicked intentions" was strong.

Although I was suspicious and didn't grasp Zhuomayangjin's intent, I followed her advice. As soon as we moved, I shamelessly positioned myself between Wang and Liu. Primarily, I was afraid of being separated and ambushed by the sneaky White Python; Kameda's experience served as a constant warning to be cautious.

This time, Section Chief Wang, Officer Liu, and I walked side-by-side at the front, followed closely by Zhuomayangjin, with Yamamoto and his men bringing up the rear. Yamamoto’s group should have been leading, but Yamamoto insisted it was better for them to cover the rear so that us ill-equipped Chinese wouldn't be separated and attacked by the White Python. I couldn't be bothered to argue; besides, as long as none of us were isolated, I figured the White Python wouldn't dare attack us head-on.

This stretch of terrain was peculiar, abandoning the previous steep cliffs for a flat, open expanse. The wind also didn't whistle as fiercely as before. The further we walked, the quieter it became—so quiet that even our heavy panting seemed to disappear. Wang and Liu beside me seemed to grow more energetic the further we walked, showing no signs of fatigue. I nearly had to jog to keep up with them.

As we neared the summit—somewhere around six thousand meters in altitude—the view suddenly opened up. A small hot spring bubbled with thick steam, contrasted sharply by strange, jagged ice pillars beside it, which looked as if they had been split by axes and knives.

"Is this the place?" I turned to ask Yamamoto, "You said—the deserter is here?"

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