The Dilapidated Temple

Xiahou Aotian said in an easygoing tone, "There is no need for miss to be startled. This humble scholar was merely making a joke. In these desolate mountains, it is rare to have company, so my words were a bit frivolous. I hope miss will not take offense." He poked at the charcoal fire with a damp dead branch, sending up sparks, and continued, "Hurry over and warm yourself by the fire, lest you catch a chill." Only then did the comely young woman relax her expression. Offering a polite word of thanks, she sat down by the charcoal fire. The heavy rain poured relentlessly. Clouds layered upon clouds, turning the daylight so gloomy that it resembled night. Shivering, the woman warmed herself for a while, and color gradually returned to her cheeks. Xiahou Aotian glanced at her woven basket. Inside were only very ordinary herbs—some for treating sprains and bruises, some for catching cold, and some for resolving phlegm and soothing the lungs. *In an S-rank dungeon, they're actually all mundane herbs! Aren't there any heavenly treasures!* Xiahou Aotian grumbled in disappointment to himself. "Is miss an herb gatherer from a nearby village?" Xiahou Aotian took the initiative to strike up a conversation. "These wild mountains harbor bandits if not beasts. How could they send a lone woman like you up the mountain to gather herbs?" The woman sighed. "Father broke his leg while picking herbs in the mountains a few days ago. There are two younger siblings to feed at home, so I had no choice but to venture into the mountains to gather herbs and earn a little silver." Xiahou Aotian asked again, "Does your family have any wealthy or powerful relatives?" The woman shook her head. Xiahou Aotian let out an "oh" and fell silent for a few seconds. Suddenly, he pointed behind her and cried, "Look over there!" The woman instinctively turned to look. Seizing the chance, Xiahou Aotian raised his mechanical crossbow, aimed at her chest, and pulled the trigger. *Thwack!* The bowstring twanged crisp and clear. The crossbow bolt sank deep into her chest, and blood bloomed rapidly, staining her garments crimson. The young woman twisted her head back, staring at Xiahou Aotian in utter disbelief. She then collapsed sideways, eyes wide and staring, dead. Xiahou Aotian took the medicinal herbs from her basket and placed them into his own. Once he entered Chang'an, he could trade them for some money. His logic in killing the woman was simple: this place was not far from Chang'an, only about a day's journey on foot. Since reaching Chang'an was a side quest, there would definitely be danger along the way. During a one-day trek, every NPC encountered could be an enemy with sinister intentions. Shooting the woman was equivalent to nipping danger in the bud. Even if he had killed the wrong person, it was just a dungeon NPC anyway; she would respawn next time. The only thing he needed to verify was whether killing the maiden would actively trigger a crisis. That was why he had asked if her family had wealthy or powerful relatives, and received a negative reply. Steady as an old hound! Just as he was congratulating himself, he suddenly heard a knocking sound. *Thud, thud.* Two raps echoed in the quiet curtain of rain, abrupt and eerie. Immediately after, a woman's soft, delicate voice carried in from outside: "Young Master, this humble woman is a local herb gatherer. I went into the mountains to gather herbs and was caught in this sudden downpour. May I enter the temple to shelter from the rain?" The voice outside was identical to that of the maiden he had just slain, down to the exact same words. Xiahou Aotian's face slowly froze. He jerked his gaze toward the maiden he had shot down, and his pupils constricted instantly—the girl's corpse was gone... Just then, the woman outside spoke again: "Is anyone inside? This humble woman is coming in." A chill surged through Xiahou Aotian's heart. He stared fixedly at the hall doors, his grip on the crossbow tightening. His prediction had been correct; the woman was indeed a hazard on his journey to Chang'an. But what he had not anticipated was that the maiden he had clearly shot dead had returned once more. *Knock, knock. Knock, knock...* The knocking continued, and the woman outside asked again, "Young Master, is Young Master inside? This humble woman is coming in." Seeing that Xiahou Aotian inside the hall remained unresponsive, the woman outside seemed to grow frantic. Her tone quickened, tinged with a shrill edge: "Open the door! Why won't you open the door? I know you're inside! You haven't left yet! If you still won't open the door, I'm really coming in..." *Didn't you damn well push the door open and walk in on your own just now?* Xiahou Aotian cursed inwardly, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. "Why won't you open the door? Why treat me like this? Why treat me like this..." The woman's wails outside grew increasingly shrill and mournful, completely devoid of their former gentle sweetness. *Bang! Bang! Bang!* The doors and windows rattled violently, slamming over and over, as though a crowd of people stood outside. "You killed me!" the maiden's voice hissed from outside, dripping with rancor. Xiahou Aotian tensed his body, aiming his crossbow directly at the doors. As soon as that woman dared to enter, he would treat her to an armor-piercing bolt. At that moment, the shaking of the doors and windows stopped. Silence fell outside the hall, save for the patter of rain. The maiden outside seemed to have left. *Left? Scared of getting shot again? Yeah, I need to get out of here too. I can't stay in this place!* Xiahou Aotian immediately dashed toward the scrawny horse, intending to leave this bizarre, ruined temple at once. Just as he neared the horse, he suddenly noticed something moving in the basket, vaguely showing long strands of hair. In the dim light, Xiahou Aotian leaned in and looked closely. Resting inside the basket was a woman's severed head, the back of its skull facing him, squirming slightly. As if sensing someone's gaze, the head whipped around, revealing a bluish-black face bleeding from the seven orifices. Its lips were dark, and chilling, all-white pupils stared straight at Xiahou Aotian. "You killed me..." a venomous, piercing shriek rang out. Xiahou Aotian's heart seized. He stumbled backward repeatedly, goosebumps erupting all over his skin as terror flooded his soul. He had only backed up a few steps when he bumped into something behind him. Looking back in a panic, his pupils shrank, and his heart skipped a beat. Standing behind him was a headless corpse, dressed in the exact same clothes as the maiden from earlier. His adrenaline surged, and his scalp went numb. Xiahou Aotian instinctively raised his mechanical crossbow and fired at the headless corpse. The armor-piercing bolt sank into the corpse's chest. Yet the already dead body remained entirely unaffected. Raising a right hand with pitch-black fingernails, it grabbed Xiahou Aotian by the throat and hoisted him into the air. Xiahou Aotian kicked his legs wildly, his face turning purple from oxygen deprivation. Blood vessels webbed across his eyeballs, and his tongue slowly protruded. The headless female corpse possessed monstrous strength; with his current constitution, he could not resist in the slightest. Behind him, from the basket on the horse's back, came that shrill, venomous cry: "You killed me! You killed me..." Xiahou Aotian's consciousness began to fade, his flailing legs growing weaker. Right at that moment, a cool energy flowed from his thumb, like a bucket of icy water or a block of frost, sending a shudder straight to his soul. Xiahou Aotian suddenly came to his senses. *Why didn't I fight back? Why was I so terrified of a mere corpse? Why didn't I use the items in my inventory?* Only then did he realize he had fallen into an illusion. Only an illusion could reduce a Spirit Realm walker to a panicky mortal, ruled by emotion and robbed of calm judgment and reason. The power surging from his ring had helped him shatter the illusion. This was precisely the weakness of illusions: as long as a third-party force intervened, the illusion would collapse on its own. Xiahou Aotian snapped his eyes open. He found himself lying by the charcoal fire, having fallen asleep at some unknown point. Outside, bleak winds and bitter rain raged. The scrawny horse stood docilely beside the fire, head lowered, occasionally snorting. There was no knocking outside the hall, and there was certainly no woman inside. Everything that had just happened seemed like a dream. Yet the ache in his neck told him it had not been a simple dream; he had been trapped in an illusion and had nearly strangled himself in his sleep. "Old thing, old thing..." He stared down at his thumb ring, calling out repeatedly. The old master gave no response. Ever since entering this dungeon, he had lost contact with the Qin dynasty fangshi. *Even though he's sealed by the dungeon, he can still sense disturbances in the outside world, so at the critical moment, he channeled Transcendent stage power to wake me up?* Xiahou Aotian realized. He ceased trying to speak with the old master and began pondering what kind of entity he was up against. The only classes specializing in illusions were Night Wanderers and Illusionists. Everything he had witnessed and the crisis he had suffered took place in a dream. Judging by class characteristics, it pointed toward a Dream Master. Yet honestly speaking, if it were truly a Dream Master, even with the old master's help, he would never have escaped the dream. Xiahou Aotian's gaze swept across the hall, his thoughts racing: *Possesses dream abilities, hasn't reached the Saint stage, and scares people with supernatural horror... but what I fear most isn't ghosts... unless the enemy's ability to craft illusions is limited...* *Clearly not that strong, yet able to enter my dreams?* A contradiction existed between the enemy's demonstrated strength and their manifested traits. "If it isn't powerful, it couldn't possibly affect me in this temple from too far away. It must be nearby..." Xiahou Aotian opened his inventory, pulled out a black ghost-face mask, and slipped it onto his face. This was an Illusionist class item, its primary functions being Emotion Manipulation and Mental Strike. Without hesitation, he activated the Emotion Manipulation ability. The enemy might possess special methods to conceal itself, but emotions could never be hidden. Xiahou Aotian looked around and found no anomalies inside the hall. He pushed open the doors and stood beneath the eaves, carefully scanning the front courtyard. Suddenly, his gaze froze. In a weed-choked corner of the front courtyard, he saw plumes of black smoke rising steadily from the soil. It was resentful energy! In that single instant, Xiahou Aotian understood everything. A wronged woman was buried in this temple. Her unyielding resentment had turned her into a vengeful wraith, which instinctively preyed upon travelers who entered the temple. Xiahou Aotian opened his inventory, drew a saber, and strode out into the rain. Arriving at the corner where the resentful energy billowed, he used the blade as a spade to turn up the mud. Layer after layer of earth was dug away—ten centimeters, half a meter, one meter... The tip of the blade struck something with a sharp crunch, and amidst the mud, a skeleton was revealed.