Xiaohua later sent him a document containing some real but trivial information about Heixiazi. As Wu Xie read it, he felt the slow disappearance of a person’s divinity. For Xiaohua, there was a segment of her life that was incomprehensibly missing, forever shrouded in mystery before outsiders. This mystery was difficult for Xiaohua herself to explain.

Thus, she managed to preserve her divinity. However, everything about Heixiazi, from being completely unknown to now being known, seemed to be causing his divinity to collapse. Understanding and getting closer to someone can take away a person’s charm.

This was Wu Xie’s belief, and he somewhat enjoyed the process until he discovered the hidden aspects of this document.

During university, a girl once asked Wu Xie a question: “Why don’t you celebrate your birthday?”

Wu Xie was unwilling to celebrate his birthday; he felt that his life didn’t need a scale. A birthday seemed like a notification system, constantly reminding him that even if he did nothing, time would not pause for him. His response at the time was, “Why celebrate a birthday?”

“Because there is only one day in the year that is your birthday!” The girl found it somewhat amusing.

Wu Xie replied, “Any day in a year is unique.”

He was surprised by the philosophical nature of his own words, feeling as if they were spoken through him by someone else. Although this statement earned him the nickname “Pretentious Xie” and made him a peculiar presence among girls, he still felt that it expressed a truth often overlooked in the world.

Whether it be time or people, each individual has their own uniqueness. A person does not lose anything simply by being understood, just as any ordinary day in a year, any ordinary second, is unique and irreplaceable.

Existence itself is already impressive; everything beyond existence is trivial and insignificant.

Wu Xie did not finish reading the information about Heixiazi; he only reached one conclusion: this person was very simple, to the point of being unrecognizable in that simplicity.

Sitting on the short horse, Wu Xie unconsciously recalled many memories. He was very familiar with the surrounding snow-capped mountains; although he had not traveled this route often, each journey left a profound impression.

The bell on the horse’s neck would jingle violently every time they approached a steep slope, pulling him back from his chaotic thoughts.

However, every time he looked up and saw the distant snow-capped mountains drawing closer, all that chaos would be forcibly stripped away.

They traveled in silence, and by the time he entered Motuo, he felt he had completely forgotten everything outside the mountains.

He warmed himself at the last pass, drank plenty of butter tea, and realized that three days had passed. He still hadn’t received any further information from Beijing or the desert. He knew that it was impossible for everything to go smoothly; obstacles and counterattacks must have already arrived.

He had to survive. From this moment on, all dangers would come crashing down on him like a tidal wave.

This must be an extraordinarily grueling battle of encirclement. He cannot fight this battle within the city because there are too many interfering factors. Alone, with only a pair of eyes and ears, he is at a significant disadvantage in this siege.

As the battle remains unfinished, he does not know how long he can hold on, but he does not want to be patted on the shoulder in some Pizza Hut and never wake up again. In Motuo, this is the only place he has confidence to call his home ground.

The moment he enters Motuo, he is already on the battlefield. Theoretically, if the opponent has the fastest reaction speed, his arrival in Motuo coincides perfectly with the opponent’s quickest interception time.

They can only be faster. Wu Xie thinks of that large Jeep Cherokee convoy; in fact, any vehicle that overtakes them on the road could potentially be his enemy.

He hides behind the black tinted film, but ultimately cannot escape what happens after getting out of the car…

He recalls his uncle’s message. After understanding all of his uncle’s intentions, he has an epiphany about the last sentence that strikes him like an electric shock.

He comprehends the meaning behind everything his uncle has done. It seems like countless pieces in a game of dominoes, or raw materials, scattered in unexpected places, waiting to be put into action.

This is very similar to the approach taken during the underground work years ago. We do not know which person will ultimately be the key to the whole plan, but we do not care. I just bury those raw materials everywhere, without any logic, like the first 30 moves in a game of Go, chaotic and aimless.

But opportunities will arise when things become so chaotic that the opponent cannot keep up.

The meaningless disordered moves he makes in Motuo are the clearest in Wu Xie’s heart; it is only here that he feels he might still have a chance to survive.

That midnight, he returned to the lama temple, back to his room. The lama had prepared snacks, but he did not eat. Instead, he climbed up to the beams, where he had left a bottle of liquor when he departed.

He climbed down, took a sip, tucked it into his coat, and stepped out, heading toward the snow-capped mountains.

He carried nothing with him, no professional equipment, no warm clothing, and walked straight toward the snow-capped mountains. For two days, this bottle of liquor was his only sustenance.

He felt as if someone was around him; the sensation of being watched sent chills down his spine as he trudged through the snow.

However, there was nothing around. At the edge of the cliff, he could hear the howling of the wind, but that was all.

At one moment, Wu Xie wondered if he had mythologized the opponent’s abilities. Even if they could manipulate very small details, it didn’t necessarily mean they could perfectly keep pace in such a brutal battle of wits.

At this moment, perhaps they had already been led several streets away, or maybe they still did not know they had arrived in Motuo. Perhaps they were currently stuck on the Sichuan-Tibet Highway due to a mudslide.

He was deep in thought when suddenly he heard a noise behind him. In an instant, someone covered his mouth from behind, and a dagger sliced across his neck, hot blood rushing up his throat.

He was pushed to the ground and saw a person standing behind him, dressed in a white down jacket—just one person. He had never seen this person before; where did they come from?

“Having set such a grand plan for himself, did the other party only send one person to casually eliminate him?
Blood continued to pour from Wu Xie’s severed throat as the young man who had slit his throat looked at him coldly, without any expression.
He was there to confirm his death.
Wu Xie covered his neck, crawled back a few steps, and with his last ounce of strength, stood up and rolled backward into the cliff.”