Chapter 13

Adaptation

"A friend? ...Nearby?" the woman asked, her voice tinged with a hint of disbelief. Jon scratched his head, letting out an awkward laugh. It was a hasty fabrication, and now he was committed to telling a tale he hadn't fully thought through.

"I see," she continued, her eyes narrowing slightly. "And... that friend of yours, what would be their name? Not that I do not believe you, but I frequently traverse these parts and have never seen any habitation, you see."

Jon felt a surge of irritation. How is that any of your concern?! he wanted to shout, but he tempered his frustration. Showing anger could lead to confrontation, and with his injuries, that was a losing battle. Okay, let's be smart about this, Jon thought, opting for diplomacy. "Erm... yeah, he...moved here recently."

"Here?" She seemed genuinely puzzled. "How odd, there is hardly anyone else nearby. Why did he not come to Zhilan Village then? Would that not have been more simple?"

"Oh, yeah... haha...hahaha..." Jon's laugh was forced, his mind scrambling for excuses. "He's... he's not much a people person, you see. Likes to stay away from others."

The woman seemed reflective for a moment, then nodded slowly. "Hmm, I see." Her inquiry wasn't over. "But, if you don't mind, may I ask you another question?"

Jon's internal monologue was less than gracious: Girl, what the hell do you want from me? But aloud, he maintained his polite facade. "Oh, of course, please go ahead."

"Where are you and that friend of yours from exactly?" She asked, her curiosity unyielding.

Taken aback by the directness of her question, Jon's mind raced. Then he remembered Huo Zheng's advice—to head to Hainan Province. Clinging to this single piece of regional knowledge, he responded quickly, hoping it would suffice. "Ah, we're both from Hainan."

Jon was pleased with his swift reply, expecting it to end their exchange. But then he saw a flicker of a smile cross her face, an expression that seemed to say 'Gotcha'.

The woman's brow furrowed slightly at Jon's hasty Hainan excuse. "How odd. I've traveled to Hainan many times and never encountered an accent or dialect like yours."

For God's sake, lady. Perspiration prickled on Jon's neck as her scrutiny intensified. Okay, think Jon...think... He grasped for another plausible lie, but his mind went blank under the subtle interrogation.

The woman watched him closely, her gaze discerning. "You seem to be struggling for an answer. Is everything alright?"

Jon opened his mouth, but no words came out. He was drowning, flailing for any way to divert the conversation as it spiraled further from his control.

"No need to be so flustered." The woman's tone remained infuriatingly calm and cordial. "I don't mean to make you uncomfortable. But you must understand my position - strange occurrences in these remote areas demand a certain...prudence on my part."

She took a step closer, her eyes fixed intently on his face. "Now why don't you simply tell me the truth about who you are and how you came to be here?"

The hairs prickled on the back of Jon's neck. The woman's polite, probing demeanor unnerved him more than outright aggression. He was utterly cornered, trapped by his own lies and inability to manufacture a convincing cover story.

In that pressured moment, desperately grasping for any out, Jon's mouth opened before his mind could catch up.

"Because you're a woman!" he blurted in a flustered rush.

The woman froze, her mask of unruffled poise cracking slightly as her eyes widened in surprise. "...Excuse me?"

As the adrenaline faded, realization hit Jon like a sledgehammer to the temple.

Oh you've really gone and done it this time, haven't you, you idiotic bastard? he muttered to himself, pinching the bridge of his nose.

He could just imagine the conversation now:

Masked Weirdo: "So I heard you figured out my deep, dark secret..."

Jon: "Uh, yeah, sorry about that whole 'calling you a woman' thing. In my defense, you kind of were dressing like someone'smeek auntie going to-"

Masked Weirdo: *slits throat*

He groaned aloud, dragging his hand down his face. Nice going, dipshit. You just had to poke the possible serial killer assassin cultivator right in her murderous secrets, didn't you?

Sarcasm was his brain's default coping mechanism, but even Jon had to admit this situation teetered on the brink of pure slapstick idiocy. What were the odds the first person he encountered was some kind of deadly master of deception?

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

I should've stuck to my 'clueless amnesiac' routine, he berated himself. But noooo, had to go chasing windmills with my razor-sharp detective skills and whip-smart mouth.

But then, the woman turned her gaze away from Jon, a gesture that took him by surprise. Rather than the cold fury he expected, her flustered glances and fidgeting exposed discomfort - even guilt?

"Uh—I-I take offense at this," she said, her tone indignant but without menace. She seemed genuine, caught off guard as much as he was.

Oh? So that's how it was then? You were lying too, huh? Jon observed, a wry smile tugging at his lips as the situation took another turn. It appeared she might not be a cultivator after all, or at least not the threatening type he had imagined. If she had been, surely she would have used force rather than waste time with questions. Now, she seemed as disconcerted as he felt.

Now, with the upper hand, Jon felt a rush of confidence. The situation had shifted, and it was his turn to steer the conversation. His earlier panic morphed into strategic thinking as he prepared to ask questions that might trap her further in her own lies.

"So, just out of curiosity," Jon began, his tone casual yet probing, "what’s the story with the mask? It’s quite convincing."

The woman’s expression tightened, her eyes narrowing. "What mask?" she retorted, her voice edged with annoyance. "I think you are mistaken."

Jon chuckled, unfazed by her denial. "Oh, come on, it’s quite obvious to me. Is it some kind of xianxia tradition here, or are you just unusually fond of theater?"

Her discomfort was palpable, and she shifted uneasily. "Some what? I- just...(sigh) I assure you, I have no idea what you're talking about. This is simply how I look."

Jon couldn’t help but smile wider at her response. "Really? Because I've never seen a man with such... meticulous attention to skin care, then. And those features, quite soft for a guy, don't you think?"

The woman was visibly getting more frustrated by the minute, her hands clenching and unclenching. "Is this funny to you?" she snapped, her tone rising. "To accuse a man like me of being a woman?"

"I say what I see, buddy, and I see that you're not a man," Jon said.

Her gaze turned icy, viewing Jon as if he were some bizarre creature. "Hey... no need to look at me like that. I’m not weird. You’re the one putting on a mask and pretending," Jon quipped, the situation almost comical in its absurdity.

Before she could muster a response, a distant shout broke through their standoff. A deep male voice echoed across the area, calling out, "Yulian! Doctor Yulian, where are you?"

The woman’s head snapped towards the direction of the voice, her stance tensing as if ready to bolt. Jon observed this, his curiosity piqued further. "Friend of yours?" he asked, one eyebrow raised inquisitively.

Ignoring his question, she glanced back at Jon, a flash of uncertainty crossing her face. "I must go," she said hastily, her previous facade crumbling as she began to turn away.

Jon watched her, considering whether to follow or let the mystery end here. But as she started to move, he called out, "Hey, Yulian! Is that your real name then? Or just another part of the act?"

She paused, looking back at him with a complex expression of resignation. "Yes, that's my name. And no, there's no act. I'm sorry for the confusion," she admitted, her voice softer now, tinged with sincerity.

Jon lay on the ground, clutching his 'broken' clavicle and sneaking glances at the woman who, despite her annoyance, had not shown any real intent to harm him. This observation alone shifted the calculus of his situation significantly.

Alright, let's break this down. On the pro side, heading to the village means shelter, food, and a chance to heal these actual injuries. Plus, if this 'Doctor Yulian' is as competent as she is persistent, I might even get some decent medical attention. And given that someone is out here searching for her, it suggests she's got some standing or reputation. That could work in my favor.

On the con side, she clearly has her own secrets. If she's hiding her identity, there’s a risk of getting entangled in whatever mess she's running from. But then again, she hasn’t attacked me even after I all but called her out. If she wanted to off me, she would’ve done it already when I exposed her. Either she's not dangerous, or she's dangerous but has a conscience. Or... she's just really committed to this whole 'innocent doctor' act.

Jon smirked inwardly. There's a thought: maybe she's just as trapped in her own web of lies as I am. Could be fun to watch her squirm a bit more.

He considered the village itself. More people meant more eyes, more mouths, and more potential sources of information. The village was a wildcard—could be a treasure trove of intel or a nest of vipers. But staying out here alone, injured, and with night approaching, wasn’t a winning strategy.

Alright, Jon. Play it smart. Act weak, get in, observe, gather intel, and then decide the next move. Worst case, I keep the act going long enough to slip away if things get hairy.

"Yulian, huh?" Jon muttered, glancing up at her. "Let's see if the village offers more answers or just more questions."

With a final, dramatic groan, he decided it was time to play the part and see where this new chapter would lead.

As the woman started to walk away, Jon called out. "Now that I think about it, that warm tea of yours wouldn't be half bad."

His comment was light, yet it carried the weight of his newfound understanding of her situation. He saw this many times. She was likely not a cultivator but perhaps some runaway princess from God knows where, wanting to experience the commoner life in a random village. A common trope in tales, both overused and romanticized.

"You seem fine since you have so much energy to talk," the woman retorted, her tone dismissive. "Go back to where you came from," she added, just as the man who had been calling her name came into view. He looked like he was in his forties, red hair, frail yet vigorous, his pace brisk as he approached.

Jon knew he needed a place to rest and gather his thoughts, and the village was an unexpected blessing. However, his friction with the woman meant he couldn't rely on her to help him get there. In a flash of inspiration—or desperation—he decided to act.

"Aaaargh, my nose and clavicle, I-I think they're broken!" Jon exclaimed theatrically, loud enough for the man to hear. He collapsed onto the ground, feigning agony, his screams echoing through the clearing.

"...What are you doing?" the woman asked, her tone full of annoyance and disbelief at his transparent act.

"Making sure we get some tea, right buddy?" Jon said to the dog, who seemed to catch on to his antics.

The dog barked in agreement and then, as if understanding the need for drama, began whining and rolling on the ground, mimicking Jon's display of pain.

"Ooh, attaboy!" Jon praised, genuinely impressed by the dog's impromptu performance. "Even I didn't think of rolling."

The woman, annoyed, retorted. "Get. Back. Up."

To which, Jon and the dog, after looking at her together with mischief, their intention clear as the woman said in a low voice, almost begging. "Don't-"

Jon and the dog screamed even more "Aaaaargh, why did this happen to us?! How tragic! How unfortunate! Is this a light I see at the end of the tunnel?"

"Awooooo! Aw! Aw! Aw!" the dog was not any different.

But before the woman, who was giving them death glares could talk, the man, now close enough to assess the situation, hastened his steps, concern etched on his face. "What happened here?" he asked, his voice filled with worry as he knelt beside Jon.