cry that scum

Chapter 71 Are You Crying Again?

Lan Jing rushed all the way to Tianfeng Mountain, and then followed the map marker Mu Zixing sent him to find the place where the gun battle took place.

He turned on the high beams, jumped out of the car, and ran to the locomotive that had been turned into a pile of scrap metal by the side of the road because of the explosion.

That was Cong Lang's locomotive, other than that, all traces of the scene were artificially erased.

The surrounding area was desolate and vast, and the fig leaf of the night covered up all the crimes. No one knew that there had been a tragic fight here.

Suppressing the anxiety in his heart, Lan Jing tried his best to keep his head calm. Based on the ruts left by the tires rubbing violently with the road, he roughly judged where Cong Lang was most likely to fall.

Mu Zixing said that if he was not found, it means that he is still alive and may have been hidden. This is good news.

But when Lan Jing lay down on the side of the road and looked down, his heart suddenly turned cold.

This is not a steep slope, it is a cliff.

Lan Jing thought he had found the wrong place, but judging from what Mu Zixing pointed out and some clues at the scene, this was indeed the scene where Cong Lang was intercepted and killed.

Confused, he ran back to the car to get the medical bag and rope, put the gun on his waist, and ran back to the side of the road.

Lan Jing dug the claws of the rope into the cracks in the concrete pavement, tried it, and jumped off the cliff.

I couldn't see it on the road, but when I came down, I realized that the cliff was at most three meters high, and then it did become a steep slope.

But his heart is not optimistic.

When walking down, Lan Jing estimated that the slope under his feet was at least 65 degrees, and the entire steep slope was full of jagged rocks and thorny plants.

If a person falls from the top and has no time to stand up, if he rolls all the way down, he will turn into a hedgehog without knocking his head and bleeding.

The more Lan Jing went down, his face became more gloomy, and his heart became more anxious. The rope he was holding was used up, and he hadn't reached the end yet.

He took a flashlight and looked down, wishing he could roll down here too.

After finally reaching the bottom of the ditch, I looked around. On the right hand side was the road going out, and on the left hand side was the deeper part of the mountain.

Lan Jing lowered his head, searched carefully, and finally found some bloodstains and unclear footprints in the direction to the right.

He ran to the depths. The ditch became narrower and wider, and the terrain became narrower and narrower. The sound of whistling wind poured in from the mouth of the valley in front, as if there were many babies crying around.

"Cong Lang!"

Lan Jing called Cong Lang's name while running forward, but there was nothing in the ditch, the only response to him was the echo that spread out and hit the cliff and turned back.

"Where the hell are you?"

Lan Jing asked in a low voice, bit his lip, and continued to move forward.

His eyes dare not let go of any place, for fear that that person will fall in some corner.

As we walked, the ditch that had become narrower and narrower suddenly disappeared, and the front suddenly opened up, and a jungle appeared.

Cong Lang should have been chased here all the time, and the small bushes on the edge of the jungle showed signs of being trampled.

Lan Jing followed some faint clues left around and got into the jungle. His voice was almost hoarse, but he didn't hear any response from Cong Lang.

Either the other party is too far away from him, or that person has no way to speak.

What kind of situation made him unable to speak, Lan Jing didn't want to think about it, but his heart full of worries began to tremble uncontrollably.

Mu Zixing withdrew all those who chased and killed Cong Lang, but there are still countless unknown dangers lurking in the jungle, what will happen to him with injuries?

Lan Jing's hands and feet were icy cold, and he stepped on the thick layer of fallen leaves numbly. He stopped shouting and just looked around with a flashlight.

After an unknown amount of time, when he was almost in despair, a black figure from the front left slashed straight at him with a cold dagger, so fast that he couldn't react immediately.

Lan Jing avoided the vital point only by instinct, the blade pierced his shoulder blade, he let out a muffled snort, and the other party stopped immediately after hearing the voice.

"Lan Xiaojing?"

Cong Lang hastily withdrew the dagger, and the next second he was hugged tightly by the person in front of him.

"It's really you."

Cong Lang settled down, and hurried to see Lan Jing's injuries. The light of the flashlight made Lan Jing himself completely dark under the lamp. He didn't recognize it, and thought it was the killers chasing him, so he wanted to preemptively strike.

If it wasn't for Lan Jing barely dodging and hearing his voice again, he would already be a corpse or a broken arm at this moment.

Cong Lang was chased and intercepted all night without fear, but now a layer of cold sweat broke out on his back.

He tugged at Lan Jing's clothes, "Show me the injury."

But Lan Jing didn't let go, and hugged him tighter. Cong Lang realized that it had been more than a minute since the beginning, and Lan Jing hadn't said a word, but he felt some damp heat on his neck.

"Lan Xiaojing," Cong Lang patted his head and asked softly, "Are you crying again?"

"You're still alive." Lan Jing muttered something that didn't answer the question.

The voice was obviously choked and trembling.

Cong Lang felt distressed for a moment. He patted Lan Jing on the back, tilted his head and kissed his ear, and comforted him, "I'm still alive, I'm fine."

Lan Jing didn't move, hugged Cong Lang, and didn't let Cong Lang care about his shoulder injury. After a while, he sniffled and let him go.

When he saw the appearance of the person in front of him clearly, he immediately wanted to take a gun and put two bullets in Lei Shao's head.

Cong Lang's state is not at all related to nothing. At first glance, Lan Jing doesn't know where he is injured. The blood and mud muddy his troubled face. There is nothing but dirt on his body, but A strong smell of blood can be smelled.

"Where? Hurt? I brought a first aid kit."

Lan Jing looked him up and down hastily, and turned around Cong Lang again, and when he saw the blood hole on his back shoulder, he held his breath.

"Don't worry," Cong Lang tilted his head back, "The bullet didn't go deep, so I simply bandaged it, but you brought a first aid kit, so do me a favor and dig it out for me."

The bullet almost hit the rock first, and then changed its trajectory and shot into Cong Lang's shoulder. The power has been greatly reduced, and fortunately, it is not the kind of large-caliber bullet with strong ring-breaking power, otherwise, Lan Jing is really not sure. Can see Cong Lang alive.

Cong Lang knew Lan Jing's fear, he reached out and squeezed Lan Jing's hand, then handed him the dagger in his hand.

Lan Jing didn't make a sound, just let Cong Lang sit under a tree in silence, and then carefully cut off his clothes.

He looked at Cong Lang's wound, took out alcohol from the first aid kit to sterilize the knife and tweezers, and broke a branch for him to bite, then said softly, "Be patient."

Cong Lang nodded, and said in a vague voice, "Come."