Chapter 203: A Mountain Suspended, A River Submerged (17)
The hostess had no idea how things had ended up like this.
Her once honest and hardworking husband had suddenly gone mad, picking up the axe he used for chopping firewood and swinging it at her as she sat by the stove.
If she hadn’t stumbled away just in time, she would already be dead beside the fire.
Terrified, she had asked her husband why he was doing this, desperate for an answer.
She believed that although their relationship wasn’t sweet and romantic like those of younger couples, they had run a guesthouse outside the mountain together for more than a decade. They had supported each other through thick and thin and had long become as close as family.
But now, her husband wanted to kill her!
She looked into his bloodshot eyes, overwhelmed by both fear and rage.
She couldn’t understand what kind of unforgivable sin she had committed to make her normally mild-mannered husband hate her so much—hate her enough to want her dead.
No matter how many times she asked, he didn’t say a word. After missing with the first swing, he came at her again.
She had no choice but to run for her life.
In a panic, she fled wildly. Fear and heartbreak blurred her vision with tears. The cold mountain wind lashed against her face, making her skin sting with pain, and the rapid drain of her strength made everything in front of her grow hazy.
Still, she didn’t dare stop—not even for a second.
If she so much as paused or held on to the hope of reasoning with him, the axe would immediately come crashing down again.
Several times, it had missed her by a hair’s breadth. She had narrowly escaped being hacked to death by the man she once called husband.
Even so, her body was now bruised all over from bumping into things while running. Her shoulders and cheeks bore fresh cuts from dodging the axe, and most of her hair had been slashed off.
Now, her uneven hair hung messily over her shoulders. Her face was streaked with snot and tears. She was a pitiful, disheveled mess.
Shaking uncontrollably, she hid by the door and prayed frantically in her heart—begging that he wouldn’t find her, hoping someone nearby would hear the commotion and come to her rescue.
But outside the guesthouse, darkness stretched in every direction.
There were a few scattered lights from neighboring inns, but they only cast a dim glow over small patches of land. Everything was eerily silent.
On the staircase, the rusty axe scraped against each step as it was dragged along, making a slow, rhythmic clunk, clunk sound.
It was the sound of death approaching.
Every clang landed like a hammer blow on her heart.
Her husband, shirtless, stomped heavily up the stairs, each step making the wooden structure groan beneath his weight.
But louder than the creaking wood was the coarse, raspy sound of his breathing.
It was the sound of a wild beast.
His lips were cracked and bleeding. Even though he kept licking them, the skin around his mouth was split open, blood seeping through the cracks and dripping down his chin, staining his clothes.
The patterns on his skin had also split open into bloody fissures, as if his flesh might burst out at any moment. The sight was terrifying.
The guesthouse they had once kept so neat and tidy was now in utter chaos from her desperate escape. Chairs and cabinets were overturned everywhere. The once-elegant curtains were now wadded up like rags. A vase lay shattered on the floor.
The chrysanthemums that had been arranged in the vase—yellow and white—lay scattered in the puddled water on the floor, their petals splayed wildly.
His bloodshot eyes scanned the row of rooms and landed on one—the only one with the door shut, directly facing the staircase.
He licked his bloodied lips again, then grinned. It was a crazed, murderous grin.
Dragging the axe, he slowly walked toward that door.
Just one door stood between them.
Inside, the hostess was gripped by sheer terror. Her heart felt like it would leap out of her chest, and tears streamed down uncontrollably.
No matter how hard she prayed, the sound kept getting closer.
Until… it finally stopped right outside the door.
The hostess could vaguely hear faint sounds coming from outside the door—it sounded like the person outside had changed the way they were holding the axe, lifting it high into the air after dragging it along the ground, ready to strike down.
She hurriedly ran away from behind the door, frantically scanning the room for a place to hide.
At last, her gaze landed on the window.
“Bang!”
A loud noise erupted from the door panel. It shook violently, barely holding together against the force trying to break through from the outside.
The hostess watched in terror. Gritting her teeth, she dashed toward the window.
…
After the rescue team captain mentioned hearing something, the official in charge also tilted his head, puzzled and cautious, to listen closely.
Before long, everyone exchanged glances, confused and uneasy.
“It sounded like… someone was shouting for help.”
“It seemed to come from up ahead!”
“Hurry and check it out!”
The rescue team immediately pinpointed the direction of the distress call and dashed forward under the light of their flashlights.
But as they approached a few neighboring guesthouses, someone hesitated.
“Something doesn’t feel right.”
Watching their teammates rushing toward the small wooden building where the loud noise had come from, one of the team members spoke solemnly to the official, “These guesthouses are so close to each other—if one of them made such a loud and abnormal noise, even if the neighbors didn’t get along, they should have at least come out to check, right?”
“But…”
The team member and the official both looked up at the neighboring guesthouses.
A warm, yellowish light glowed from the row of wooden buildings, softly illuminating the folk-style decorations and flowers outside.
It should have been a cozy, relaxing scene—something like a shot from a movie, picturesque and inviting.
Yet, not a single sound came from any of the guesthouses in the row.
Only a deathly silence remained—quiet and eerie.
The team member glanced a couple more times and felt a chill rise all over his body. Goosebumps covered his skin, and he had the urge to scratch just to ease the creeping fear and tension.
The official spoke gravely to those beside him, instructing that every two team members should pair up and knock on doors one by one. It was both to understand the situation—why there had been such a loud noise from that guesthouse—and to check whether the other guesthouses were safe.
The team moved into action immediately.
Meanwhile, the official’s gaze was drawn to the flowerbeds beside the guesthouses.
Under the sweep of the cold, white flashlight beam, the flowers growing along the wall swayed gently in the mountain wind, thriving carelessly.
The mix of yellow and white blooms didn’t give off any sense of warmth or comfort; under the stark white light, they looked strangely unreal.
Chrysanthemums.
The official furrowed his brows.
It was early winter. By all rights, chrysanthemums shouldn’t be blooming now.
What’s more, ever since the sun had set, the temperature in the mountains had dropped sharply—it was now close to freezing.
Why were these flowers blooming in an environment that went completely against both their season and optimal temperature—and blooming so vibrantly?
Feeling that something was off, the official cautiously raised his foot and slowly approached, staying fully alert.
Just as he bent down to get a better look at the flowers, a loud crash suddenly came from overhead.
He instinctively raised his head in alarm—and met eyes with a face sticking out of a window above.
The woman’s face was streaked with tears, filled with despair. She stepped over the windowsill and let go.
The official’s pupils contracted sharply. On instinct, he spread his arms and rushed to the spot directly beneath the window…
Meanwhile, the team members knocking on doors at the other guesthouses had waited at one for quite a while, but no one answered.
Perplexed, one of them repeated his identity and purpose in a gentle voice, then turned to his companion with confusion: “Are they asleep? That can’t be—it’s only the afternoon.”
But the person next to him didn’t reply. Instead, they extended a trembling hand and pointed silently to the side.
They watched with wide eyes as the brightly colored decorations hanging from the wooden cottage rapidly faded, turning into dull shades of yellow and white.
Under the cold white light of their flashlights, the scene suddenly resembled a mourning hall.
Just beneath the window, a clump of plants began sprouting and growing at an abnormally fast pace. Yellow and white flower buds bloomed vividly, then trembled as they slowly unfolded their petals.
They were chrysanthemums.
At first glance, the entire scene eerily mirrored a mourning hall, complete with chrysanthemums used for offerings.
Both of them were startled.
But before they could react, they heard shouting and crying from behind them.
They quickly turned their heads and saw a figure falling rapidly from the side of the guesthouse where the noise had come from, plummeting straight down toward the official who was standing below, nervously looking up.
Instinctively, both of them rushed forward. “Sir!”
Bang!
A loud crash.
The official felt his vision spin. A heavy weight had slammed into him, sending him crashing to the ground with great force.
The back of his head struck a protruding stone on the ground hard, and his stomach—already aching so badly that his muscles were trembling—took the brunt of the impact as well. The pain caused his vision to blur and a metallic taste of blood rose in his mouth.
Even so, the official still reached out and firmly shielded the woman who had jumped down, perfectly acting as a human cushion and preventing her from sustaining any injury.
Before he could recover from the dizziness and ask her what had happened, he saw from his angle a man’s figure appear at the window above, leaning out to look down.
Even though the man stood with his back to the light, the official could still make out his features thanks to the flashlight beam.
The man held an axe in his hand, wood shavings still clinging to his body, and stared fixedly at the woman who had just jumped. A twisted, menacing grin curled at the corner of his mouth.
The official was alarmed and instinctively shouted upward in a hoarse voice, “Restrain him!”
The rescue team had just entered the guesthouse and were still on the stairs when they heard the official’s cry.
Their expressions sharpened instantly, and they rushed toward the source of the sound.
One sharp-eyed team member spotted the man, immediately ran over, and grabbed the axe from his hands. Another tightly locked the man’s arms, trying to restrain him.
But the man, who had previously been focused only on the woman, suddenly went berserk. Roaring in rage, he struggled violently, landing several punches on the rescuer behind him.
His strength was so immense that he almost flung the rescuer off entirely.
Fortunately, the noise quickly drew more team members to the scene. They rushed in to help, and after joining forces, they finally managed to twist the man’s arms behind his back and pin him to the ground, successfully subduing him.
Seeing the immediate danger was now under control, the official finally turned his attention back to the woman and reassured her gently, “Don’t be afraid. Don’t worry. We’re here to rescue you. You’re safe now.”
The hostess trembled as she cried, and for a long time, her mind seemed frozen from the terror of nearly dying. Only after a while did she begin to come to her senses.
Her eyes were swollen red, and she sobbed uncontrollably, as though she had finally found someone she could rely on. She let herself cry out all the fear that had built up inside her.
The official patiently comforted her, waiting for her emotions to settle. Only then did he gently point out that she was currently pressing down on him.
When the hostess jumped, the official had been too focused on protecting her to think of himself.
But unfortunately, her knees had landed right on his stomach, greatly worsening the pain he was already feeling. Even the words he spoke to soothe her were forced out through gritted teeth, as he endured the agony.
Once the hostessrealized his situation, she quickly got up and moved to the side. But by then, the official was shaking from the pain and couldn’t get up on his own.
A few of the nearby team members hurried over and helped him to his feet.
The official didn’t have time to dwell on his pain. He immediately turned to the woman and asked her what had happened.
With teary, red eyes, she replied, “I don’t know either. My husband has always been an honest man. Whenever guests came, he was always warm and helpful to them. But tonight… tonight he actually tried to kill me.”
She choked with sobs as she said, “I don’t know what I did wrong to make him hate me this much—hate me so much he wanted me dead…”
Amid her crying, the hostess stammered and sobbed as she recounted the situation to the official in charge.
Meanwhile, a few other team members who had gone to knock on the doors of neighboring guesthouses came running back in panic.
“Sir! Sir!”
One of them shouted, eyes wide in terror, as if he had just seen something horrifying. He hadn’t even caught his breath before raising a trembling finger and pointing toward one of the guesthouses behind them.
“In there…”
The sight he had just witnessed left him nearly speechless. His voice broke as he whimpered, “They’re all dead!”
The official’s heart sank. He immediately instructed the others to protect the hostess and then sprinted toward the guesthouse the team had indicated.
The moment he opened the door, an overwhelming stench of blood rushed out at him.
The lights inside were still on, casting a warm glow. In the dark, chilly wilderness, the room looked peaceful and inviting—like the kind of place where one might easily curl up on the couch and fall into a restful nap, safe and relaxed.
But the blood and bodies scattered across the floor told an entirely different story.
The dishes on the table were only half-eaten, now splattered with crimson blood.
The bowls had been knocked over, and food was strewn all over the ground.
Those who had been eating were now lying on the floor with their eyes wide open in death, unable to rest in peace.
One man had both hands clutched tightly around his throat, but blood still streamed through his fingers, soaking the carpet beneath him.
Another body was sprawled over a cabinet—his torso lay across the top while his legs dangled off the edge. A wooden stick was embedded in his back, and the corpse had already begun to grow cold.
There were more bodies on the staircase, on the floor, on the couch…
Blood had soaked into every inch of the floor, and the corpses stared unblinking at the newcomers, their wide eyes locked in place.
It was as if they were asking: Why didn’t you save me? Why me?
The official felt a wave of emotions churn within him. His brows furrowed tightly as he forced back the sting in his eyes. Maintaining professional composure, he stepped forward and knelt beside one of the bodies to examine the cause of death.
Some of the bodies were still warm, suggesting they had died only moments ago. Others were colder.
But they all shared one thing in common—none of them had been on guard.
Except for a few at the back, most of the victims bore no signs of struggle or resistance. It was as though they hadn’t sensed the danger at all.
The body nearest the door still had food and chopsticks scattered around his hand, as if he had been killed mid-meal.
Beyond the fear frozen on his face, there was something else—shock and disbelief.
It was as if the person who killed him had been someone he knew, someone he never believed would harm him. So he hadn’t defended himself at all.
The official slowly lowered his arm and bowed his head, a heavy weight pressing down on his heart.
Just then, a cry rang out from one of the team members inspecting the back rooms. “Sir! Come quick! There’s… there’s a monster!!”
The official jumped to his feet and ran over.
And what he saw was—
A man had shoved his entire upper body into a water tank, drinking like he hadn’t had water in hundreds of years.
Even so, the man still wasn’t satisfied. His legs, dangling outside the water vat, kept struggling to climb in, as if he wanted to immerse his entire body in the water.
On the ground beside the vat lay several discarded chunks of bloody flesh.
The trail of blood extended all the way from the guesthouse to the vat, dripping steadily from the man’s heels.
He was drenched in blood from head to toe, his soaked clothes clinging tightly to his body, allowing everyone to clearly see how his figure had shriveled rapidly—like a goji berry drained of moisture.
Even though the team had seen many bizarre scenes before, witnessing something like this with their own eyes still filled them with shock. They gasped in disbelief.
But the official in charge was thinking on a deeper level.
As soon as he saw the chunks of flesh with bite marks on the ground, his mind immediately flashed back to the mutilated corpses found earlier in the guesthouse.
It was as if, after killing them, this man had torn chunks of flesh from their bodies and eaten them to stave off hunger.
But no matter how he looked at it, the official couldn’t understand the man’s behavior at this moment.
At a murder scene, the suspect was desperately drinking water?
He had seen countless cases, and personally handled many involving unusual circumstances.
Yet even so, there had never been a case like this—one where he couldn’t find anything in the past to compare it to.
The rescue team kept their eyes locked on the man, prepared for any sudden attack.
As the man continued forcing himself into the vat, his belly visibly swelled before their eyes.
His limbs and torso were rapidly shriveling, yet his thin arms and legs seemed to be supporting a grotesquely growing belly.
No matter how they looked at it, the sight was deeply disturbing, sending chills down the spines of the team members.
Finally, when the man had drained the vat completely—so much so that the sound from inside echoed hollowly—he slowly pulled his upper body out, looking both unsatisfied and unwilling to give up.
The moment they saw his face clearly, the official’s pupils trembled.
His face was bloated and ghostly pale, as if a slab of rotten meat had been soaked in water for months.
Yet despite this, streaks of blood still remained on his face, as though the water in the vat had only diluted the blood that had previously covered him. His mouth was mangled and bloody.
It was exactly the same as the man they had earlier found controlled inside the guesthouse.
Prepared for such a situation, the rescue team sprang into action. Grabbing a mountaineering rope they had picked up in the living room, they rushed forward and, before the man could react, bound him tightly.
The man thrashed violently, his eyes bloodshot as he roared and howled like a crazed beast.
The scene made everyone’s skin crawl.
The team had never imagined that a living person could appear so ferocious—almost inhuman.
But they could still feel the warmth of a human body radiating from him. The man was still alive—he wasn’t a corpse.
Soon after, cries and shouts erupted from every guesthouse where rescue teams had gone to investigate.
One report after another came back—and each was dire.
In some guesthouses, everyone was already dead. In others, a few severely injured individuals clung to life by a thread.
However, in every guesthouse where something had gone wrong, there were people whose skin had cracked open and was oozing blood.
They looked as though they had been trapped in an extremely arid environment, their skin so dry it had split along natural lines. Yet they ignored the bottled mineral water left in the rooms, instead going mad trying to drink from barrels and vats of water.
And even then, they remained unsatisfied, letting out painful, beast-like roars.
The rescue team quickly subdued the suspected perpetrators and pulled out anyone who was still alive, calling in the medical unit for emergency treatment.
What had once been a lifeless mountain area now buzzed with light and movement thanks to the rescue team. Their shouts and coordination filled the night air.
The hostess stood shivering at the entrance of the guesthouse, wrapped in a down jacket given to her by a rescue worker. She watched as blood-covered people were carried out of every building, while the raving and roaring ones were restrained in the open area outside, all under the watchful guard of the team.
Even her own husband had been pushed outside by the rescuers, who now kept an eye on him to prevent any chance of him lashing out and hurting someone.
Among those restrained and wounded were many familiar faces.
The normally kind and smiling owner of the neighboring guesthouse now lay bloodied on a stretcher. Medical personnel surrounded him, frantically trying to pull him back from the brink of death.
And the backpacker who had once talked about settling down here—he had a stable career and a family. He was refined, self-disciplined, and always greeted the hostess politely when they crossed paths.
Right now, he was bound tightly with rope, mouth wide open in a bloodied, mangled mess, screaming desperately. His appearance had become so savage that there was no trace left of the scholarly elegance he once had.
A wave of sorrow surged up in the hostess’s heart.
She stared blankly at the scene before her, unable to comprehend what had happened.
“Ma’am, I’d like to ask you about the nearby guesthouses.”
The official in charge approached and asked gently, “Do you recognize those people? Were they always like this before?”
If it had been possible, the official wouldn’t have wanted to further traumatize the still-shaken hostess with more questioning.
But after conducting a full sweep, she was the only survivor who, thanks to the rescue team’s timely arrival, had escaped with minor injuries and retained her sanity.
The others had either been scared out of their wits, rambling incoherently, or were too severely injured to speak at all.
Though terrified, the hostess was grateful to the official for saving her, so she answered everything she knew without holding back.
“No, they weren’t like this. Normally… normally, they were all good people.”
Choking up, the hostess said, “I don’t understand how they could end up like this. So many people died too…”
The official handed her a tissue and asked in a warm tone, “Can you tell me more about them?”
According to the hostess, winter was a low season for tourism, so the guesthouses that relied on Longevity Village didn’t have many visitors—just a few scattered backpackers coming down from the mountains.
These were people who had stayed in the guesthouses before. After spending a few months in the mountains, they came down a few days ago, saying they needed to handle some things at home and would then return to settle down for good.
But now, those people had turned into mindless beasts, their appearances twisted and terrifying. The rescue team had to fully subdue them.
The official frowned. “You’re saying… all the attackers were backpackers who came from the mountains?”
“Not all of them,” the hostess replied.
She pointed to her husband, who had just tried to kill her, and several others. “Because Longevity Village isn’t a very popular tourist spot, those of us running guesthouses here don’t make much money. We also have to deal with the low season.”
“But there were online rumors that said eating the food from Longevity Village made people healthier—it’s all the organic, green stuff people like these days. And the water here is incredibly sweet and refreshing. So, a lot of people who couldn’t come themselves, or didn’t want the hassle of hiking into the village, asked others to bring back food and water for them to try.”
The hostess continued, “So a few of us guesthouse owners opened online shops to sell crops and water from Longevity Village.”
“Those people over there…”
She glanced at the subdued attackers on the ground. Their frenzied shrieks scared her so much that she took two steps back.
“Other than the backpackers, the rest of the attackers were the ones responsible for going into the mountains to fetch water and buy farm goods for the guesthouses. My husband too. The water we sold came from his trips into the mountains. He went every few days—he said he didn’t feel right if he didn’t.”
“In fact, he just got back from the mountains this afternoon.”
As she spoke, the hostess began to realize something herself.
A jolt of fear shot through her as she looked at the official in horror. “Could it be… there’s something wrong with the mountains?”
The more the official listened, the colder he felt inside, though he still offered calm reassurance to the hostess.
But when he turned away, his expression turned grim.
The official dialed the emergency line for the southern region and spoke solemnly: “Immediately begin evacuation procedures around Longevity Village. Every village the river flows through must be cleared of people—do it as fast as possible!”
“And issue a public statement: the river upstream has been contaminated. Everyone along the river must avoid contact with the water and absolutely must not drink it!”
Though the official didn’t voice his own suspicions about some malevolent force being involved, what he did say was enough for the southern region to grasp the gravity of the situation and launch emergency action.
After yet another failed attempt to reach Zhang Wubing by phone, the official slowly lifted his head, surrounded by the stench of blood. He looked toward the dark, looming outline of the mountain and felt a wave of deep anxiety.
Amidst the hectic coordination efforts by the official and the rescue workers busy saving lives, no one noticed that just beneath the wall of the guesthouse, the chrysanthemums that had only recently bloomed were now slowly withering—scattering yellow petals and leaves across the ground—until they shriveled and died.
It was as if the flowers only bloomed to absorb the blood and flesh of the hostess who had jumped down.
Now that the v had been rescued and her blood and flesh were no longer nourishing them, the flowers began to lose their vitality and water, slowly wilting away.
Meanwhile, in the dark forest far off, a faint sound of rustling could be heard. It was as if someone was walking over the grass, making a soft, crackling sound.
A pale white figure briefly flashed through the trees.
Only a pair of red, glaring eyes slowly opened in the darkness, glowing with a faint red light, fixed intently on the distant, lively lights of the human voices.
…
After receiving the guide’s warning about the river water, Yan Shixun did not hesitate for a moment. He left the old woman’s small wooden cottage and headed straight for the river.
Upon arriving, he was shocked.
After the incident at the cottage where the program team was temporarily staying, Yan Shixun had discovered corpses floating in the river and had quickly killed all the rotting bodies that were heading towards the house.
But now, the flesh on the riverbank had disappeared completely, without even the faintest trace of blood.
It was as if someone had specifically come to clean up the riverbank, removing all the blood and flesh that had been scattered across the ground.
But how could that be possible?
Even if the villagers had not approached the area, and everyone from the program team had stayed at the small wooden cottage, how could someone clean up so thoroughly, leaving not a single trace of blood or remains?
The rotting bodies had been bloated and white from soaking in the water. In Yan Shixun’s hands, they had been like water balloons, swollen to the size of giant corpses that exploded with a burst, splattering blood and flesh, which soaked into the earth.
If there had been cleaning, there should still be traces of blood on the ground.
But now, everything looked as if nothing had happened at all.
Yan Shixun recalled the guide’s warning, and his expression darkened. After standing still for a few seconds, he composed himself and walked closer to the river to examine it.
The surface of the water was still covered with numerous chrysanthemum petals, giving off an eerie beauty in the dark.
However, it also prevented Yan Shixun from seeing anything under the water clearly.
He glanced around, picked up a stick from the ground, and used it to push aside a petal, revealing the surface of the water beneath.
But because the light was dim, even with the faint glow from the side, Yan Shixun still couldn’t make out what was beneath the water, even as he squinted his eyes.
However, when the stick stirred the water, it touched something hard.
Yan Shixun froze.
The sensation was not like touching a stone, which would be solid, but something soft yet firm. If he pressed the stick down harder, it would sink further in.
A bad premonition flashed through Yan Shixun’s mind.
To confirm his suspicion, he pushed the stick down further, then suddenly yanked it out of the water.
A streak of blood slowly spread across the water’s surface, where the petals had been pushed aside.
At the same time, the end of the stick he had raised to his eyes had a bit of blood on it.
…There were still rotting bodies under the river.
As soon as Yan Shixun realized this, a loud splash rang out.
Blurred figures surged from beneath the river, carrying the rancid stench of decay as they charged straight at Yan Shixun.
Even though the other party was fast, Yan Shixun still managed to catch a glimpse of their figure within their movement trajectory.
— It was very similar to the corpses that had attacked the cottage earlier.
However, they were not exactly the same as those earlier corpses.
The previous ones had been swollen all over, as if they had no bones. But the ones now rushing toward him had limbs that were so thin they were nothing but bones, covered in decayed human skin, while their bodies were swollen.
Without giving Yan Shixun any time to react, the corpses quickly surrounded him from all directions.
The sound of water splashing filled the air, and yellow and white chrysanthemum petals were lifted by the waves, only to fall again from mid-air.
It was as if paper money had been thrown out during a funeral, yellow and white, fluttering down and covering the ground.
These petals also obstructed Yan Shixun’s line of sight, causing his previously calm response to slow for just a moment.
In that brief opening, one of the corpses found the perfect opportunity to charge forward, its dry, bony claws reaching straight for Yan Shixun’s vital spots.
The throat, the heart, the crown of the head.
The essence of life and soul, all under attack by the corpses without exception.
No matter how Yan Shixun tried to dodge, it seemed impossible to escape their siege unharmed.
However, Yan Shixun remembered what the guide had said about the river water being problematic.
He glanced at the heavily fluctuating river, noticing that the violent waves caused by the corpses’ emergence had scattered the water and petals, revealing something on the riverbed.
Even though Yan Shixun had traveled far and wide and seen countless bizarre scenes beyond the ordinary, he still couldn’t help but widen his eyes in shock at the sight before him.
— The riverbed was densely covered with pale, hollow faces.
The bodies had probably been lying there for a long time, bloated and deformed from being submerged in the water. Their bodies and faces were unrecognizable, but their eyes, red as blood, remained open in a lifeless stare, gazing upward toward the world above the water.
And those bodies were still rising, one by one, climbing out of the water and lunging at him.
As Yan Shixun skillfully dodged the attacks aimed at him, he quickly calculated the number of corpses in his mind.
When he finished counting, his heart sank even further.
If the entire river was like this, there might be… over a thousand of them!
The most famous river of Longevity Village was hiding over a thousand corpses beneath its waters.
Yan Shixun remembered what Luo Xingxing had said at noon about the water being sweet, and how many of the staff had drunk it.
He also recalled that before the sun had set, the river water had been clear, and he had been able to see all the way to the bottom.
At that time, the river hadn’t had any corpses; it was just normal stones.
… So when had these corpses appeared?
Was it after nightfall? Or was it after the chrysanthemum petals appeared? Was the flood of petals perhaps meant to cover the existence of these corpses?
Yan Shixun’s heart sank as he looked at the corpses before him with a scrutinizing gaze.
His mind raced, but his movements never slowed.
Even though he only had a thin dry branch in his hand, seemingly fragile enough to snap with a touch, Yan Shixun remained calm.
His expression was sharp and composed, as though what he held in his hand was not a branch, but a sharp sword capable of severing his enemies’ heads with a single stroke.
And as it turned out, Yan Shixun did indeed have the confidence to back it up.
Muttering a spell under his breath, a pale golden light wrapped around the branch, transforming the previously fragile branch into something indestructible, capable of cutting through iron like it was clay. With one swing, a corpse collapsed with a loud thud, its blood spraying everywhere.
Yan Shixun’s tall and agile body dodged every claw aimed at him with precision, and as he spun, he thrust the branch into the skull of one of the corpses, crushing its head.
The battle seemed to be going smoothly, but Yan Shixun knew very well that his strength was dwindling due to the cold and the ongoing combat.
If all the corpses in the river rose, and he had to face them in a war of attrition, he would be drained of all his energy.
… No, he didn’t need a war of attrition.
Just as he felt a cold breeze brush against the back of his neck, Yan Shixun’s heart skipped a beat.
“Plop!”
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