I carefully held onto Da Xiong, stopping him from moving freely, terrified of touching a sore spot. Da Xiong struggled a couple of times, his face turning somewhat sallow; it was clear the pain was immense, so he could only sit there, gasping for breath.

Seeing that he finally stayed still, I let out a sigh of relief and turned to search the street for a place we could take temporary shelter. Looking at these dilapidated structures, I felt a knot of anxiety tighten in my own stomach.

Even if we found one intact shelter, after so many years, it would certainly be precarious, and the odor inside would be unbearable. However, the current situation was dire: except for me, the other three were essentially incapable of moving.

If we didn't find a place to hide quickly, disaster was inevitable. I glanced at the three slumped figures on the ground: Long Jia was unconscious, Liang Qian’s eyes were open but her expression was vacant, clearly not aware of anything, while Da Xiong stared at me with wide eyes—looking quite alert, yet his complexion was that of a corpse.

The torrential rain continued to pour down, the drops striking the ancient street, splashing up plumes of gray water against the rough-hewn flagstones. Weeds sprouted thick between the stones, shaking violently under the barrage of rain.

Lining both sides of the street were two-story buildings constructed from black stone blocks; some were half-collapsed, many lacked roofs, and very few remained complete. A dense fog enveloped these damaged structures like thick smoke, churned by the rain, billowing outward from within the rooms.

The wild grasses growing in the cracks between the stones seemed almost fused with the walls, dripping water bead by bead. The pervasive desolation and ruin, coupled with our current plight, suddenly gave me an overwhelming urge to weep.

But I gritted my teeth, swept my rain-soaked bangs up, adjusted my glasses, and walked toward a relatively intact building near the roadside. This building had no door, only an arched alcove where a wooden door had once been.

I looked up and noticed what appeared to be a square, white sign embedded in the wall above the entrance. By now, the sign was entirely coated in moss, rendering whatever it advertised illegible; only a few large centipedes, made slick by the rain, occasionally crawled across it.

I figured this place must have been a shop or something similar, otherwise, they wouldn't have bothered with such a large sign. Stepping into the doorway, the smell wasn't as foul as I had anticipated.

All perishable items like food, wood, and cloth had long since rotted away centuries ago. The interior was mainly overgrown with weeds, perhaps hiding a wild rabbit or a particularly large field mouse.

Consequently, the scent filling my nostrils was the earthy, wild smell characteristic of a primeval forest. The room was pitch black; the windows had long since caved in.

I took a few steps forward and noticed debris like shattered stones littering the floor. Fearing I would trip and take a nasty spill if I proceeded further, I plunged my hand into my trouser pocket, intending to pull out my flashlight.

But as my hand went into the pocket, the first thing I managed to squeeze out was a pocketful of rainwater. I couldn't help but let out a wry, humorless laugh.

After fumbling in my damp pocket for a long time, I finally located my portable Wolf Eye flashlight. The flashlight felt in my hand like a chicken bone pulled from soup broth, dripping continuously.

Luckily, the Wolf Eye models were all waterproof. I flicked the beam on and swept the light around the room.

Just as I suspected, the interior was filled with knee-deep weeds, growing with tenacious vitality from the cracks between the flagstones, displaying a dull, yellowish-green hue typical of late autumn. In the areas not covered by grass, there were dark, crumbling remnants, perhaps the charred dust of tables and chairs from a thousand years past.

I also spotted fragments of ceramic jars, and rusted * coins scattered across the floor. Perhaps the former occupant had been attempting to flee with their wealth when a tsunami struck, dropping the money where it lay, untouched.

Thank heavens this poor soul hadn't drowned in the house; otherwise, I certainly wouldn't fancy spending the night sharing a space with skeletal remains. Aside from the occasional insect crawling out of the weeds and a strange, cold mist hanging in the room, I found no other immediate dangers.

It seemed our luck held; we had found the right spot on the first try. I couldn't let Da Xiong and the others continue to soak outside, so I dropped my backpack and went back out.

My own physical condition wasn't excellent either; I was afflicted by intermittent dizziness, and ringing in my ears was almost constant. It took a tremendous effort for me to carry Liang Qian and Long Jia inside, and then return for Da Xiong.

This hefty man, weighing over 200 pounds, sat on the ground, panting as he insisted he could walk in himself. I absolutely refused to let him move, grabbing both his arms and dragging him toward the entrance.

Da Xiong’s rear end scraped along the stone floor; if it hadn't been raining, smoke probably would have been rising. I expected him to cry out in pain, but he didn't utter a single groan the entire way.

When I finally managed to drag him inside, utterly exhausted, I saw that he simply hadn't been able to speak because of the agony. We exchanged a look, saying nothing.

After settling the three of them, I circled the room, looking for anything we could burn. Da Xiong was severely injured; without some form of warming measure, his condition would only worsen.

I needed him to hold out at least until Long Jia woke up, since Long Jia was the only one among us who knew anything about medicine. But after searching the entire room, I couldn't find a single thing suitable for fuel.

Da Xiong, looking surprisingly alert, saw me pacing and said, "Stop wandering around. There’s nothing in here to burn.

However, when we came in, I noticed an old tree across the street. If you chop that tree down, we'll have firewood." Hearing that, I tried to recall, but I couldn't remember seeing any tree outside the doorway.

Da Xiong interrupted my thoughts again, urging, "Hurry up. I’m starting to feel cold." I looked at his face; it was alarmingly pale, almost tinged with blue—I couldn't tell if it was from the cold or the severity of his injuries.

I noticed some streaks of dried blood beneath his nose, and then I looked at his hands. But for some reason, his hands were tucked deep into his pockets.

"Stop looking so hard and go..." Da Xiong sounded weary. I nodded, saying, "I'll be right back.

Wait here." Taking two steps toward the door, I turned back to him. "Since you seem so spirited, remember to keep an eye on the two ladies.

There are a lot of bugs in here; don't let a centipede bite them." Da Xiong nodded, replying, "Don't worry." I nodded too, giving him a long, deep look. Something about him felt subtly off.