When the exorcism dagger pierced the monster's heart, it seemed to trigger a hidden power within the blade. Countless rays of holy light burst forth from the dagger, enveloping the monster's terrifying body and hideous head, forming patterns like magic circles.
And when those patterns spread from the pierced heart across the monster's entire body, the fearsome creature lost its strength, frozen in place, unable to move another inch.
Then, the holy patterns exploded. With a blinding flash, the terrifying monster turned into wisps of black smoke and vanished from the cave, vanished from the world.
Little Li Mo lay on the ground, watching with the last of his strength. He had only one thought: they had won. He had known the monster feared the dagger, but he had never imagined it was this powerful. It had killed the monster so easily.
But to drive the dagger into the monster's heart, Li Mo had suffered grievous wounds. His entire shoulder had been severed. Lying on the cold stone floor, he felt so cold, so tired. He just wanted to close his eyes and sleep, preferably until morning.
But he knew that if he closed his eyes now, he might never open them again. His life would end. And little Shenhe, barely clinging to life, would have no chance.
So Li Mo forced himself to stay awake. He bit his teeth and slammed his head against the ground until his skull split and blood flowed. The pain jolted his body, rousing him slightly.
Then, with his remaining hand, he crawled across the cold stone floor, inch by inch, toward Shenhe. The pain in his shoulder was unbearable, his body numb, but he didn't care. He had only one thought: reach Shenhe and find a way to save her.
...
Now, at Wangshu Inn, Li Mo told this brutal story in a calm tone. In truth, he was forcing himself to remain composed. He did not want to show too much emotion in front of the audience.
Below, as the audience listened and watched the projections, many were moved to tears.
"Damn storyteller. Shenhe has an adeptus master. Why make it so painful?"
"Storyteller, why won't you let the powerful adeptus appear?"
"Both Shenhe and Li Mo are too badly injured. No ordinary healer can save them."
"If the adeptus doesn't appear soon, both children will die."
"Call the adeptus master. Come save Shenhe."
The audience buzzed with discussion. They knew that in the end, the adeptus master would appear and save the young Shenhe. But watching the adeptus delay, they were beside themselves with anxiety.
In the corner, Shenhe, the subject of the story, watched as little Li Mo fought the monster to save her, even sacrificing a shoulder and an arm to kill it. Her usually indifferent heart finally broke through its adeptus defenses. Tears streamed down her face.
Without her memories of that time, she did not know if she was crying for herself or for Li Mo.
Beside her, Hu Tao sighed. So adepti had emotions too. They could cry. She had wanted to ask Shenhe whether the little boy in the story had survived, but seeing her tears, she held back.
Never mind. The storyteller would tell them. The fifth story was almost over anyway.
Hu Tao looked at the stage again and saw Li Mo drinking water. "That storyteller is always drinking water instead of telling stories properly."
"If we stole his teacup, do you think he'd tell stories properly?"
Keqing considered this seriously. "He would. But he'd probably die of thirst within two days."
...
On stage, Li Mo took a sip of water to moisten his throat and continued.
As he spoke, the Electro projections shifted once more.
Little Li Mo gritted his teeth, dragging his broken body, enduring the pain, crawling toward Shenhe. He tried to stand, using the wall for support, but the pain in his body and the numbness in his legs made it impossible. He could only crawl with his remaining arm.
After great effort, he reached Shenhe. He examined her wounds. She was just as badly hurt and unconscious and would die soon without treatment.
Li Mo had no choice. To save Shenhe, he had to carry her out of this dark cave on his broken body, missing an arm and a shoulder, and find a healer.
But he had overestimated his strength. Badly wounded, barely able to move himself, carrying Shenhe seemed impossible.
He did not give up. With one arm, he rolled Shenhe onto his back. Missing an arm, he used his blood-soaked clothes to tie her to himself. Then, with his wounded arm, he crawled toward the cave entrance, toward the sunlight.
But he was growing weaker. Blood loss made him drowsy. To stay awake, he slammed his head against the cold ground again.
Crack. His forehead split. Blood stained the stones.