Fuck. Zhang Yuanqing suddenly did not want to stay in the main hall a moment longer. A sense of desperate dread washed over him—trapped in an impasse where neither heaven nor earth would answer his cries.
Danger lurked everywhere, yet he had no way to call for outside help. He had only himself to rely on.
After wavering back and forth, he gritted his teeth, steeled his resolve, bent down, and dragged out the skeleton clad in the work uniform.
*Rriipp~*
In the process of dragging it, the durable work clothes tore easily; after all these years, the fabric had long rotted away.
Pulling the corpse under the candlelight, he suppressed his discomfort and began inspecting it.
Though the dead could not speak, the body could tell a story. Figuring out how this person had died could help him avoid many pitfalls.
"A few broken ribs and sternum fractures... The right shoulder has fine hairline cracks, but nothing too severe."
The deceased had suffered heavy trauma in life, but given how much time had passed, the exact cause of death was impossible to determine.
Next, Zhang Yuanqing searched the worker predecessor's pockets and found several yellowed, brittle sheets of paper, clearly aged by many years.
They were covered in tiny characters written in standard script.
A flicker of joy rose in Zhang Yuanqing's heart. These sheets had obviously been found in the temple by this worker predecessor, which would help him understand what had happened to the ancient shrine.
By the candlelight, he focused his gaze and read through the writing on the paper:
"Last night, another junior brother vanished. That makes three fellow disciples who have mysteriously disappeared from the temple. The brothers say Mount Sandao is haunted, or perhaps some powerful demon has arrived, slipping into the temple every night to snatch people to eat. But many disciples in our temple possess cultivation, and Master is a renowned Perfected One across a hundred li. What foolish demon would dare come here to feed?
"As for ghosts and apparitions, my Corpse-Suppressing Talisman and Spirit-Calling Talisman are more than enough to deal with them without even troubling Master. Still, a foul premonition grips my heart. I must go confer with Eldest Senior Brother..."
"Another person vanished today. That is the fifth. Master told us to keep this from the pilgrims, lest it affect the temple's incense offerings. He must know something. Eldest Senior Brother and I plan to patrol tonight..."
"Three days have passed, and three more people have vanished during this time, yet Eldest Senior Brother and I found no clues. The nights were calm and peaceful. The ominous premonition in my heart has grown even deeper..."
"Eldest Senior Brother acted very strange today. He seemed to have discovered something and appeared furious. When I asked him, he refused to tell me. He was in foul temper, so I will ask him again tomorrow."
"The one who vanished today was Eldest Senior Brother. I searched all over Mount Sandao but found no trace of him. I... I can't take this anymore. I'm going to Master to demand an explanation. The other brothers support me as well, for they too are terrified..."
The handwriting in this passage was somewhat hurried and messy, showing that the writer's composure had begun unraveling.
Zhang Yuanqing continued reading:
"After my persistent questioning, Master finally agreed to tell me the truth. My intuition was right—he truly knows why the junior brothers vanished so mysteriously. But Master said that during the day there are too many prying ears. After sunset, he will come to my room to tell me a momentous secret, one tied to the rise and fall of several millennia.
"After finishing my evening meal, I waited in my room, waiting for the sun to set. Ever since people started disappearing at night, I have never looked forward to darkness so eagerly..."
The writing on the paper stopped there.
*That's it? Getting cliffhung like this feels awful...* Zhang Yuanqing grimaced.
He sorted through the information on the paper. In some past year, disciples of this mountain god temple had vanished mysteriously one after another.
The disciples were helpless, and panic spread. Yet the temple's head priest—their master—seemed to know the reason.
And this reason was tied to a grand secret spanning several millennia of rise and fall.
*The cause of the mountain god temple's decline is unknown. If I uncover the source, will that complete the second main quest?* Zhang Yuanqing surmised.
He slid the brittle paper back into the skeleton's work clothes and pushed the remains back under the table—out of sight, out of mind. Then he pondered his next move.
*The main hall only has this much information. Since I need to explore the ancient temple, I definitely have to step outside. In that case, I'll have to face the dangers here directly...*
*In the urban legend of Sheling Tunnel, one worker managed to survive. Following his footsteps might lead me to a way to survive.*
After careful deliberation, Zhang Yuanqing walked to the main hall's entrance and pushed open the two well-preserved lattice doors.
*Creak~*
The wooden door hinges let out an ear-grating screech.
Bracing against the doorframe, he poked his head out to look left and right. Outside was dead silent; aside from the desolate, eerie atmosphere, no danger was visible.
After watching for a while, he stepped over the threshold and followed the cobblestone path to the left of the main hall, heading toward the rear courtyard of the mountain god temple.
Moonlight flowed like water over the swaying weeds. Walking for a minute or two, Zhang Yuanqing saw a cluster of buildings emerge ahead.
They were several interconnected single-story houses arranged into a vast quadrangle courtyard—black roof tiles, white walls, and straight roof ridges, with lattice doors and windows beneath the eaves.
The lattice doors were covered in dust, some open, some collapsed, and some tightly shut. The paper pasted over the windows had rotted into tatters under the wear of time.
The moon shone bright as frost on the ground. Taking advantage of the moonlight, he surveyed the layout of the temple's rear courtyard.
Beyond the quadrangle courtyard before him, an arched doorway stood to the east, reminiscent of the inner quarters of wealthy households seen in period dramas, where such archways connected adjoining courtyards.
Inside the courtyard next door grew a towering tree, lush with tangled, gnarled branches.
*Huh?*
Among the surging wild grass of the courtyard, he spotted several skeletons dressed in work uniforms.
Approaching cautiously, he inspected them closely. Every skeleton was heavily damaged, broken bones protruding beneath the work clothes. However, unlike the one in the main hall, the shoulder bones of these skeletons were intact, with no hairline fractures.
*All these people suffered terrible trauma before death. They died gruesome deaths...*
A gust of wind blew past, making the leaves rustle softly. Faintly, woven into the rustling sound carried by the breeze, Zhang Yuanqing heard a plaintive, weeping whisper:
"Help me... Help me..."
In this desolate, deathly silent night, cold sweat broke out across Zhang Yuanqing's back.
He stood frozen in place. After a good while, the wind died down, and the weeping whisper ceased along with it.
*That courtyard next door seems rather dangerous, but whatever is inside hasn't come over...* He exhaled silently, stepped through the overgrown weeds, and walked under the eaves to explore the quadrangle courtyard.
This seemed to be the living quarters for the temple disciples. Dilapidated, dust-covered furniture lay piled inside, and a faint, musty stench lingered in the air.
Zhang Yuanqing searched the rooms one by one without finding anything of note, until he pushed open the easternmost lattice door.
*Screeech~*
The door, sealed by dust for who knew how many years, swung open once more. Dust fell in flurries. Zhang Yuanqing dusted off his shoulders, his wary gaze sweeping every corner of the room.
In this long-abandoned room, a body sat slumping against the wall near the window.
From the clothes and the fallen miner's helmet, he could tell this was yet another predecessor.
Stepping across the threshold into the room, Zhang Yuanqing shivered, feeling as if the temperature around him had suddenly plunged.
"A bit chilly..."
He cautiously approached the corpse, parted its ragged clothing, and examined the skeletal structure as usual. This time, he saw no fractured bones; the skeleton was well preserved.
Yet when his gaze fell upon the skeleton's shoulder bone, his pupils contracted. Across the shoulder bone was a gaping crack.
This was identical to the crack on the shoulder of the body in the main hall, except the damage on this one was far more severe.
"Only the skeleton in this room and the one in the main hall have cracked shoulder bones. Is that a coincidence?" he muttered uneasily to himself.
Next, Zhang Yuanqing noticed that the corpse's trouser pocket was bulging, as if hiding something.
Reaching inside, he pulled out a yellowed ancient booklet, a dusty bronze mirror, and a yellow paper talisman.
Drawn in cinnabar on the yellow paper talisman were twisted lines resembling runes, converging into a glyph strikingly similar to the traditional character for "corpse."
As he examined the yellow talisman, a band of fluorescent blue text floated before his eyes:
[Name: Corpse-Suppressing Talisman]
[Type: Consumable]
[Function: Corpse Suppression]
[Description: A talisman crafted by a powerful Night Wanderer, the bane of all corpse-like yin creatures. Stick it onto a yin creature's forehead to seal it.]
[Remarks: It can only be used once.]
The fluorescent blue information resembled his status panel. Evidently, this was a prompt provided by the Spirit Realm.
Since entering this bizarre ancient temple, this was the first time Zhang Yuanqing had seen such a prompt.
*This must be an important item.* Zhang Yuanqing folded it neatly, slid it into the pocket of his windbreaker, and zipped it shut.
After a brief thought, he unzipped it again.
He was reminded of a trope from a wuxia novel: a master swordsman who liked to carry his sword wrapped in cloth strips on his back.
One day, a challenger challenged him while the swordsman was eating.
And just like that, the swordsman was done for.
Cause of death: taking too long to untie the cloth strips...
Zhang Yuanqing then picked up the ancient booklet and the bronze mirror, but no relevant information appeared.
Setting the bronze mirror aside first, he carefully flipped open the brittle, yellowed booklet with its curled corners.
The text read:
"It has been two and a half years since I joined Lady Sandao Temple. I have learned to read and write. Eldest Senior Brother said that once Master returns from guiding departed souls, he can formally initiate me to practice the Moon-Swallowing Soul-Nurturing Technique. This is the entry method to becoming a Night Wanderer.
"The Prince of Yan has rebelled, and beacon fires burn across the realm. As the strongest among the Night Wanderer lineage in Song Prefecture, Master had no choice but to descend the mountain to deliver the dead. Otherwise, with the war unsettled and yin disasters arising anew, the common folk would have no peace..."
Zhang Yuanqing felt a dull ache in his shoulder and rubbed it. His preliminary assessment was that this was a journal—a diary.
Its contents chronicled the author's cultivation and daily life in the temple. Judging by the handwriting, this diary and the papers found on the skeleton in the main hall came from the same hand.
Given references like "the Prince of Yan's rebellion," the timeline pointed to the Jingnan Campaign in history.
However, he could not be certain whether this temple truly existed in history, because the journal contained baffling terms like "cultivation," "Night Wanderer," "breathing techniques," and "talismans."
Zhang Yuanqing rolled his aching shoulder, warily scanned the room, and listened for any sounds outside. Confirming nothing was amiss, he continued reading the journal.
Soon, he came upon the continuation of the notes from the main hall. A few earlier pages had been torn out, and the following entry read:
"Sunset. Darkness has finally fallen. I heard knocking at the door and eagerly opened it, but standing outside was not Master. It was Eldest Senior Brother, who vanished last night.
"Eldest Senior Brother, missing for a day and a night, has returned, but I feel no joy, for he is already dead. What returned was a corpse. Blood drenched his chest, his heart carved out by someone unknown.
"Eldest Senior Brother stared fixedly at me and said: Do not trust Master..."
These lines were written crookedly and jaggedly. One could imagine how shattered the author's mind had been while recording them.
When Zhang Yuanqing turned to the next page, he found no more entries. The journal's owner had never written in it again.
"*Hiss...* What does 'do not trust Master' mean?"
A chill seized Zhang Yuanqing at the sudden twist.
Did the head priest murder Eldest Senior Brother? Was he the culprit behind the disciples' successive disappearances? Zhang Yuanqing rubbed his shoulder, slipped the booklet back into the corpse's pocket, picked up the bronze mirror, and prepared to leave.
Yet, when his peripheral vision caught a glimpse of the bronze mirror, his body abruptly froze.
Moonlight fell like water upon the mirror's surface, reflecting his image. And clinging to his back was a person.
That person's face was deathly pale, lips dark purple, eyes solid white. Its head tilted sideways, resting on Zhang Yuanqing's shoulder, those white, pupilless eyes staring at him in dead silence.
Chapter 6