Chapter 213: A Mountain Suspended, A River Submerged (27)
Outside the mountain, in the guesthouse area.
By the time the official in charge led the rescue team to thoroughly check every single guesthouse, night had already fallen.
The rescue team quickly escorted all survivors for medical treatment. Those who committed the attacks or showed obvious signs of aggression were isolated under close watch.
As for the dead, the rescue team carried them out from the guesthouses and placed them into body bags.
It wasn’t an easy task.
Even though the rescue team members, due to the nature of their job, had responded to countless special case scenes over the years, and had witnessed increasingly horrifying situations ever since the variety show “Heart-Pounding Journey of Ninety-Nine Days” began airing — this time, it pushed them beyond their emotional limits.
Never before had they felt this miserable.
They moved in and out of each guesthouse in an orderly manner, working together to carry the bodies out and trying their best to collect all the fragmented remains.
No one spoke a word.
Their faces were marked by silent sorrow.
The victims had died in such tragic ways — their skin torn along jagged lines, making their appearances grotesque and terrifying.
But what struck the rescuers even more deeply was the fact that many of the bodies hadn’t even gone cold. Some still retained a trace of warmth.
That meant that if they had arrived just a bit earlier, maybe… just maybe… these people could have been saved.
Human beings carried emotional warmth — seeing others die naturally brought sorrow.
Even more so for a rescue team, whose very job was to protect lives.
Everyone was weighed down with grief, silently enduring it.
The entire guesthouse area was deathly quiet, broken only by the cold mountain wind that dispersed the heavy scent of blood in the air.
After the hostess was rescued, she quickly regained her composure under the calming efforts of the rescue team.
After all, she had managed to single-handedly run the guesthouse for years whenever her husband went into the mountains. The trials of over a decade had forged her into a resilient person.
However, the one facing the hardest time was the official in charge.
He had already been skipping meals due to recent busyness. His irregular and poor diet had made his already weak stomach unbearably painful.
To make matters worse, during the emergency rescue of the hostess, he had instinctively thrown himself under her to break her fall from the building. The impact struck his abdomen directly — it felt like his internal organs had all shifted out of place.
Especially his stomach.
While commanding the rescue team, he also had to coordinate all aspects of the response.
Even though the pain turned his vision dark and made his voice tremble uncontrollably — so hoarse that every word was torment — and even though the person on the other end of the phone call kept asking with concern about his condition, he still didn’t allow himself a moment of rest.
The mountain air was bitterly cold in the winter night, yet sweat from the pain soaked his entire body.
He gripped the rescue captain’s arm, needing to pause every few sentences to catch his breath before gritting his teeth and continuing through the pain.
The captain couldn’t bear to watch and tried to persuade him to see the medics, but he merely waved his hand and said they couldn’t waste time — he couldn’t be the reason others’ work got delayed.
The hostess saw this scene, too.
She recognized him as the man who had caught her just now, shielding her from injury.
Seeing the obvious pain he was enduring, she couldn’t help but worry that he had gotten hurt during the rescue.
A mix of gratitude and guilt welled up inside her. She pointed to the official and quietly asked one of the team members about his identity.
The team member didn’t reveal anything about the special department, only said they had come after receiving a call about an incident here, and that he was the person in charge of their operation.
The hostess was shocked — she hadn’t expected someone in his position to be doing such things.
The team member simply smiled and said, “When it comes to saving lives, the only difference is in responsibilities. There’s no such thing as higher or lower status.”
From afar, the official saw the hostess walking toward him, wrapped in a thermal blanket, her face filled with emotion and guilt.
He had guessed what the other party meant, so he quickly forced himself to suppress his expression and put on a smile.
“How’s your body? Are you feeling unwell anywhere?”
The official in charge asked with concern, “If you’ve been bumped or bruised, be sure to let the medical staff know so they can take a look.”
The hostess expressed her gratitude and still looked shaken from the incident. “My husband usually takes care of the heavy labor around the inn. He’s strong, but he’s always been an honest and upright man. We’ve been together for so many years, and he’s never behaved like this before.”
“I usually worry that someone might trick or bully him. But today, how did he suddenly go mad out of nowhere?”
Mentioning her husband and hearing his hoarse shouting in the distance, her eyes reddened with sadness. “Before you arrived, I truly thought I was going to die here. Thank you, really… thank you.”
The official waved his hand dismissively but suddenly remembered something.
Earlier, the rescue team had thoroughly checked every inn, and in the end, only the inn run by this woman had been deemed relatively “safe.”
In the others, the moment you stepped through the door, the stench of blood hit you in the face. The scenes were so horrific that a few younger team members had run outside to vomit uncontrollably.
Among the survivors, the hostess was the least injured. Other than a few scrapes from falling and running, she had hardly bled at all—no fractures, no major wounds.
The few other survivors were already bloodied beyond recognition, clinging to life by the thinnest thread.
They had only survived thanks to the timely arrival of the rescue team and the medical team’s expertise.
This stark contrast made the official start to harbor suspicions.
In such a situation, either the woman had some connection to whatever had attacked the inns—after all, her husband, who lived with her day and night, was now in such a bizarre state—or, something had been protecting her, sparing her from harm.
“Forgive me for asking—do you usually wear peace charms or jade pendants?”
The official smiled and posed a seemingly unrelated question. He didn’t want to startle her before confirming anything.
The woman shook her head. “No, I have work to do most days. I’m not used to wearing fragile things like that.”
After speaking, she thought for a moment, then hesitated and said, “But… I did wear something else.”
She removed a woven item hanging from her waist and handed it to the official.
“This is…”
The official’s eyes narrowed. After politely asking for her permission, he carefully took the brightly colored woven piece and examined it under a flashlight.
“At noon, a team came by to film some kind of variety show. A very good-looking young man liked these colorful things and came over to ask about them. Someone in the group seemed familiar with them and explained quite a bit. I ended up giving them a few pieces.”
She continued, “After they left, I thought the young man’s explanation was really good, so I took one and wore it myself.”
Seeing the official’s solemn and cautious expression, she asked nervously, “Is there something wrong with this thing?”
“The young man said it brings peace and protection, so I wore it… Did this cause what happened to my husband?”
Earlier that afternoon, Song Ci had originally chosen a vibrantly patterned piece symbolizing “blessing of life.” But seeing the woman take interest in that particular design after Nan Tian’s explanation, he had pretended not to like the colors and switched to another one.
After the filming crew left, the woman, for some unknown reason, kept thinking about the piece Song Ci had held. Compelled by a strange feeling, she ended up wearing the one he had put down.
People can be odd like that sometimes.
The sisters had been selling those weavings for a while now, and she had always seen it as a charitable act to help those two kids. She never cared much about how the pieces looked.
But after seeing the enthusiasm from the filming crew, she was swept up by their excitement and suddenly found the weavings quite pretty.
Especially the one touched by that refined young man, Song Ci.
She figured a picky boy like him wouldn’t choose something unattractive—if he liked it, then it must be beautiful.
So, she hung it on herself, admired it briefly in the mirror, then went back to work and soon forgot all about it.
Until the official brought it up.
After hearing her story about the weaving’s origin, the official fell silent for a moment. He realized that her wearing it might have been exactly what saved her life. While everyone else had suffered severe injuries or died, she’d escaped with just a few scrapes.
Moreover, according to her retelling and Nan Tian’s earlier explanation, each pattern held a different meaning.
Could it be that she happened to pick one that counteracted the danger and activated a protective effect?
The official had a theory but wasn’t certain yet.
After all, the southern Ten Thousand Great Mountain region was vast, with countless villages and diverse customs between peaks. Even the most authoritative folk culture experts wouldn’t dare jump to conclusions lightly.
Sometimes, a pattern considered a blessing on one side of a mountain could be viewed as a deadly curse on the other.
The difference was enough to demand careful judgment.
The official quickly messaged an expert he knew and received a response. He also searched online for similar weavings to compare.
After examining several examples, he was shocked to find that Nan Tian’s explanation had been entirely correct.
—Whoever made these weavings had a deep, unexpected understanding of folk customs, with no mistakes or inaccuracies.
That was what allowed the piece to be so effective.
The official realized that if they could find the person who wove these items and ask about Longevity Village and Nanming Mountain, that person’s knowledge of folk traditions and heritage would likely yield valuable information.
He asked the woman, “You mentioned earlier that these were brought by a pair of twin sisters? Do you know where they live?”
The woman apologized and shook her head. “They’re afraid of being disturbed. From what they said, their elders are very strict and don’t like them interacting with outsiders. They always come at dawn, drop off the weavings at the inn, trade for some things girls might need, and then leave.”
“I only know they live in the mountains. That’s all.”
She added, “They didn’t want anyone to know they existed. If you hadn’t saved me, and if it didn’t seem like these weavings had some special significance, I wouldn’t have mentioned them at all.”
When speaking of the sisters, she looked sympathetic. She sighed and held her hand to her waist to indicate height. “The first time I met them, they were only this tall. They didn’t even have shoes—just huddled in a corner outside the wall, looking up at me so timidly and pitifully.”
“I really don’t know what their family was thinking, treating them that way.”
Someone nearby overheard her and couldn’t help walking over with a tablet. “Excuse me… are these the sisters you’re talking about?”
The official looked up and saw it was one of the staff members monitoring the live broadcast.
The tablet screen showed a split-screen of Yan Shixun’s footage.
Yan Shixun had stopped a running girl and asked about her sister. The elder sister’s guarded and urgent warning sent chills down anyone’s spine, even without knowing the full context.
But upon seeing the girl on screen, the woman was first surprised, then nodded affirmatively. “Yes.”
“This one looks like the older twin.”
She looked puzzled. “But I don’t see her sister. They’re always together.”
“That said, judging from past experience, tomorrow is the Winter Solstice. They should be coming to my place then.”
The official’s expression changed and he quickly asked, “The Winter Solstice? They come every Winter Solstice?”
“No.”
The woman answered straightforwardly, “At first, I couldn’t figure it out either. I just knew they came once each season. Over time, I noticed the pattern—they always came on the solar terms.”
Four solar terms?
The official frowned, deep in thought. That struck him as odd. Why exactly the solar terms?
Because the inn was remote and the signal unreliable, and she was usually too busy to keep up with internet content or variety shows, the woman hadn’t paid attention to the nature of the program crew that came by that afternoon.
Looking at the people on the screen, she was simply intrigued—she’d never been to the mountains and didn’t expect them to look like that. The village where the twins lived seemed otherworldly.
But the official and his staff, who knew the background, exchanged grim looks.
But they were afraid that their earlier guess was correct—that it was this fabric that protected the hostess.
However, judging by the things the elder sister had said to Yan Shixun, it seemed the other party truly knew something.
“I wanted to ask, how much of this fabric is left? Would you be willing to sell it to us?”
The official in charge smiled as he asked the hostess, “Do you remember how the people from the show team introduced this fabric? Could you tell me about it?”
The hostess quickly pointed toward the living room on the first floor of the guesthouse. “It’s all piled up there. No charge, I’ll give it to you.”
“You saved my life, how could I possibly accept money from you? Besides, it wasn’t expensive. When I bought it from those two sisters, I never planned to sell it for profit.”
Everything that had happened so far indicated that a tough battle would be fought in the mountains, and the official in charge dared not take it lightly.
Since this fabric had protective qualities, he naturally wanted to distribute it to the rescue team and staff, to prevent them from getting hurt.
After all… the upstream area was Nanming Mountain.
Just thinking about the tragic events from decades ago made the official feel a chill run through him.
However, as he worried, a sharp pain shot through his stomach, and he instinctively doubled over.
He sucked in a sharp breath, rubbing his stomach, the pain causing his whole body to curl up.
Seeing this, the people around him quickly helped the official to a nearby sofa. “Official in charge, did you bring any medicine? Please rest for a moment, we’ll handle everything else. Don’t worry.”
The official had initially wanted to refuse stubbornly, but the pain left him with no strength, and he was gently pushed onto the sofa.
The hostess, who had originally brought everyone over to collect fabric, hurried over in concern when she saw what happened. She looked deeply apologetic and quickly explained that she had accidentally injured the official in charge.
The official in charge repeatedly waved his hand and gritted his teeth, saying it wasn’t her fault. His stomach problems were an old condition and nothing to worry about.
He nudged the person next to him and asked them to go get two painkillers from the medical team.
The hostess felt a pang of guilt and quickly lifted a kettle of hot water she had previously heated on the nearby stove. She poured a cup and handed it to the official in charge.
“Drink some hot water—it should help ease the pain a little.”
Seeing her reddened eyes, the official in charge realized that if he refused again, it would only deepen her guilt. With a sigh, he smiled, took the cup from her hand, and thanked her.
Since the hostess stood right beside him, he couldn’t just set the water aside, so he held the cup in his hands.
After being exposed to the cold mountain wind for so long, his hands were already numb. Now, holding something warm, he actually felt a sense of comfort. Even the pain in his stomach seemed to ease.
He lowered his head to look at the cup of hot water in his hands. Strangely, it now looked so pure and sweet.
His Adam’s apple bobbed. To his surprise, he felt thirstier than ever before.
It was like he was a traveler in the desert who had finally come across a life-saving source of water—and all he could think of was to drink it.
Almost as if driven by some unseen force, he lifted the cup.
The moment the hot water slid down his throat, his entire abdomen felt warm. Even the unbearable pain in his stomach began to fade, like a soothed cat curling up peacefully—completely pain-free.
He leaned back on the sofa and let out a comfortable sigh.
Suddenly, it felt as if all his worries had drifted far away: the mountain of stressful work, the endless tasks that needed coordination and communication—all of it faded from his mind.
Even the physical pain disappeared.
At that moment, the official in charge felt as if he had returned to his teenage years, his body light and almost capable of floating.
Seeing the smile on his face, the hostess grinned warmly and said, “Right? Drinking hot water does help.”
“Good thing I had just boiled a pot earlier. I hadn’t even had a chance to drink it before my husband suddenly went crazy. If I hadn’t come back to get fabric for you, I wouldn’t have remembered the water was even there.”
As she spoke, she poured him another cup.
This time, the official in charge didn’t refuse.
She poured a few more cups, and he drank every one. Eventually, he felt embarrassed and asked her to just leave the kettle nearby so he could pour it himself.
Just then, the person who had gone to get painkillers returned.
He rushed through the door, worried the official in charge might have passed out from the pain, only to find him smiling, completely relaxed.
It was as if all the pain had disappeared. He looked exactly like the composed leader everyone knew.
The staff member asked in surprise, “Sir, are you still in pain? You look much better now.”
The official in charge laughed and replied, “Looks like drinking hot water really does help with stomach pain.”
But inwardly, he was confused. Just moments ago, the pain had been so unbearable that he wished he could reach into his gut and rip his stomach out. Yet after drinking some hot water, the pain was suddenly gone?
Even if hot water had soothing effects, it shouldn’t have worked faster than medication.
He remembered that morning, Yan Shixun had reminded him to take care of his stomach.
Given Yan Shixun’s personality, he wouldn’t pay attention to minor ailments—so it was probably a more serious condition.
If it was serious enough to catch Yan Shixun’s notice, could it really be cured by just a cup of hot water?
The official in charge vaguely felt that something wasn’t right, but the fleeting suspicion slipped from his mind like a fish escaping from his hands. Even the impression it left behind began to fade.
He opened his mouth, wanting to say something.
But before he could speak, whatever he wanted to say was already forgotten.
He felt lighter both physically and mentally, and even the corners of his eyes and brows lifted in a smile.
He suddenly understood why people said they wanted to settle down in Longevity Village.
If even the guesthouses outside the mountains were this cozy, life inside the village must be wonderful… If not for his job, he would’ve wanted to stay here forever and never leave.
His job…?
His mind lagged for a beat before he remembered—oh right, he was supposed to wait for the Taoists from Haiyun Temple to arrive so they could head into Longevity Village together.
For the first time in decades of hard work, he felt that his job was truly exhausting.
If not for Yan Shixun’s warning about his stomach illness echoing faintly in his mind and keeping his name circling in his thoughts, he really might have wanted to forget all his worries completely—just sit lazily by the fire in the cold winter and fall into a deep sleep on the sofa.
The hostess warmly greeted the staff member who brought the medicine, handing him a cup of water as well. “It’s cold out. I still have some hot water from earlier. Drink it while it’s warm.”
He quickly thanked her and took the cup.
Meanwhile, in a quiet corner where no one was paying attention, the lid of the water bucket near the fire hadn’t been tightly fastened. The once full bucket was now noticeably lower.
It was the water the man had carried down from the mountain…
…
Inside Longevity Village, Liu Ming was leading Yan Shixun and his companion toward the village chief’s house, smiling brightly the entire way, clearly excited.
But along the way, Yan Shixun noticed that they weren’t the only ones heading there.
Many people dressed like villagers were also on their way.
They wore clothing similar to Liu Ming’s. Some of them were smiling happily, but others looked numb, as if they were no longer aware of their surroundings, with no hope left for the future.
The stark contrast caught Yan Shixun’s attention.
Liu Ming explained nonchalantly, “Isn’t the festival happening tomorrow? They’re just going to prepare.”
People emerged from all corners of the village, all heading toward the village chief’s house at the foot of the mountain.
There was no talking, no sound between them.
Only the white paper-covered lanterns they carried in their hands lit the gradually darkening village—but the light brought no warmth or human vitality.
The silent crowd with their white lanterns looked, at first glance, like a funeral procession.
Nan Tian clung to Yan Shixun in fear, clutching his sleeve, hardly daring to breathe.
But Yan Shixun’s gaze calmly dropped down to the feet of those people.
And then he saw—
In the light of the lanterns, none of them had shadows.
Some walked on their heels with exaggerated care, producing no sound and appearing eerily stiff.
Others touched the ground with their feet, but without the usual up-and-down rhythm of walking. They moved like they were gliding, not even their heads bobbing.
Yan Shixun was alarmed. His fingers by his side moved subtly to begin a calculation.
But the divination result was severely disturbed—like a compass thrown into a magnetic storm. The needle spun rapidly between several directions, never settling on the right one.
At first, the hexagram told him that all these people were already dead.
But the next second, the result contradicted itself, leaving him with nothing but a blank.
Yan Shixun furrowed his brow and tried again.
This time, the divination said some were dead, while others were still alive.
For instance, the ones walking on their heels.
But to Yan Shixun, that was absurd.
Impossible!
He could tell at a glance that those walking like that were possessed by ghosts.
Ghosts, used to floating above the ground, often continued that habit even after entering a body—so their heels wouldn’t touch the ground.
Yet the divination claimed those people were alive.
Yan Shixun didn’t understand. His wariness of Longevity Village deepened.
Earlier, when he saw the strip of cloth left by the captain, it had a trace of the leader’s blood. That allowed him to perform a more accurate divination, even without having seen the man in person, to determine if he had truly perished.
The result matched his suspicion.
The divination revealed that the leader was already dead—his vitality had long since dissipated, and even his soul couldn’t be found anywhere.
Yet now, the people standing before him… the divination had first shown that they, too, were all dead, and what he initially saw were faces shrouded in thick black mist.
But when he looked again, what he saw left Yan Shixun utterly stunned.
The vitality radiating from these people was overwhelmingly strong—like that of healthy young adults. No, it even far exceeded the normal limits of human beings.
Yan Shixun’s gaze fell upon them, and Liu Ming noticed. Shaking his head with a smug look, he said, “These people are all villagers from our Longevity Village. Didn’t you see them walking around when you were strolling through the village?”
Then, without waiting for Yan Shixun to respond, Liu Ming chuckled to himself. “No worries. You’ll get used to them soon enough. After all…”
“You’ll be living together for a very, very long time.”
Nan Tian broke into goosebumps at Liu Ming’s words, staring at him in horror, finding him increasingly eerie and disturbing.
Even the viewers watching from behind the screen couldn’t take it anymore.
Many people quickly rubbed their arms and bodies, feeling an unexplainable chill creep over them, raising goosebumps layer by layer.
[Why does this guy talk so creepily? He’s even more disgusting than that snide relative of mine.]
[At least my relative doesn’t suddenly turn into a ghost and try to kill me… When Brother Yan suddenly turned to look at him just now, and the camera zoomed in on his smile, I really thought I was seeing a ghost.]
[It’s the first time I realized a smile could be so disturbing. He looked totally normal earlier when the sun was out. How did he suddenly turn like this?]
[Look at this video—don’t you feel cold? My AC is set at thirty degrees, and I’m still freezing, shivering all over.]
[Stop being superstitious. Put on more clothes. If that doesn’t work, check if you left the window open.]
[No, seriously, it’s not that. I got so scared earlier I turned the livestream off. As soon as I did, I stopped feeling cold. But when I turned it back on, I felt this icy sensation at the back of my neck—like something was perched on my shoulders.]
[??? Don’t scare me! I’m sleeping alone tonight in a six-story villa in the village. Alone. Completely alone!]
[What’s the ritual tomorrow anyway? Why does it sound so ominous? I’m so scared, I just want to fast-forward to tomorrow.]
The only one unaffected by any of this was Yan Shixun.
After Liu Ming finished speaking, he kept watching the expressions of the two men. His eyes, catching the lantern light in the dark, reflected an eerie white glow.
When he saw that Nan Tian looked like a quivering quail, Liu Ming nodded with satisfaction, like an actor pleased that someone appreciated his performance. Even the smile at the corners of his lips widened.
However, when he turned to look at Yan Shixun, he was caught off guard by the other’s cold, emotionless expression. It was enough to make him choke on his breath.
Yan Shixun’s gaze swept past Liu Ming with indifference before settling again on the so-called villagers.
He had never been the enthusiastic type. Any prior politeness or smiles he’d shown Liu Ming had only been for the sake of gathering information. He hadn’t wanted to alert anyone before he understood the full situation.
But now he clearly understood: regardless of how he acted, Liu Ming would only say what he wanted to say, and not a word more.
If that was the case, why should he waste time on Liu Ming?
To Yan Shixun, the two of them were already halfway into a direct confrontation. Since things had reached this point, he no longer bothered to maintain appearances with Liu Ming.
Either way, the village chief was bound to appear as promised, and the ritual would still take place on schedule tomorrow.
Yan Shixun’s apathy dealt a blow to Liu Ming. The man’s twisted, manic grin froze on his face. It took a long while before he came back to his senses, then glared at Yan Shixun with deep, bitter resentment.
Nan Tian, terrified, silently shifted around to Yan Shixun’s other side—further away from Liu Ming—and stayed close, making sure not to break physical contact with Yan Shixun at any point.
But Liu Ming seemed fixated on clashing with Yan Shixun.
He was like a persistent player who wouldn’t give up until his prey was scared senseless in the hunting ground.
Only when he saw genuine fear on Yan Shixun’s face would he feel victorious and smug again.
Unfortunately, despite Liu Ming talking nonstop along the way—even letting slip things he probably shouldn’t have said—Yan Shixun never even raised an eyebrow, his gaze unwavering.
Meanwhile, Nan Tian was already completely terrified. He looked like a puppet being dragged along by Yan Shixun, his soul seemingly scared out of his body.
As they approached the village chief’s wooden cottage, Liu Ming ground his teeth in frustration and finally fell silent.
But Yan Shixun’s eyes lit up with amusement.
It was an unexpected bonus.
The usually tight-lipped Liu Ming, driven by his stubborn desire to see Yan Shixun show fear, had ended up revealing some useful information.
For instance, though all the villagers heading toward the village chief’s house shared the same destination, they had different roles.
From the direction Liu Ming had glanced while talking, Yan Shixun determined how the two groups were divided.
Those villagers who didn’t tiptoe as they walked would serve as laborers in the ritual. The others, according to Liu Ming, would be “blessed.”
This bizarre division of roles puzzled Yan Shixun.
Still, once he noticed how easily Liu Ming was provoked, he chose to stay expressionless like a statue, not even speaking again—just to see what more he could get him to say.
—Of course, even if he asked, Liu Ming wouldn’t tell him anything else. It would only tip him off.
So Yan Shixun silently observed the villagers closely while storing his suspicions away.
The village chief’s small wooden cottage was already lit after nightfall, its lights casting an icy, colorless hue against the already pale white curtains.
Cold mountain wind swept through the hanging curtains, which billowed eerily from the second floor to the ground. The breeze whistled through cracks in the doors and windows, making low, mournful sounds like crying.
Every window in the small house glowed with cold white light, silhouettes outlined against the glass.
Even the rooms Yan Shixun had previously failed to open now had shadows behind their windows.
These figures varied in height and build, but if one looked closely, it became clear—they hadn’t moved a single inch. They resembled lifeless wax figures.
Behind every window was a pair of eyes, staring downward, fixed on Yan Shixun.
At first glance, the entire house gave off a suffocating sense of oppression.
The dense, watchful eyes created a net that no prey, even if it noticed, could escape.
But the hunters had never considered this:
—What if the person they marked as prey had stepped into the trap willingly all along?
The front door of the wooden cottage stood wide open, offering a clear view of the entire living room.
When Yan Shixun looked up, his gaze immediately sharpened.
The walls that had been bare that afternoon were now covered in black memorial tablets, packed tightly beneath layers of white cloth, taking up the entire front wall.
And where the living room had once been empty, rows of coffins now stood neatly in formation.
Each coffin was pressed tightly against the next, their presence pressing down the air and thickening the cold into something almost tangible.
There were so many coffins that Yan Shixun couldn’t see the end. The limited space of the living room seemed to stretch into infinity, like two facing mirrors reflecting each other endlessly until the scene became ungraspable.
He couldn’t count how many coffins there were.
And to prepare so many coffins—how many deaths did that imply?
He drew in a sharp breath. The frigid air filled his lungs, and the tip of his nose caught a faint, putrid stench.
After stepping in a few more paces, he suddenly realized—not all the coffins were closed.
The one at the very front had its lid propped loosely on top, not fully sealed.
As his eyes landed on that particular coffin, his attention shifted to something beside it.
A door wrapped in heavy, overlapping chains had been opened.
The strong stench he’d smelled came from there.
Murky yellow water had flowed from that room and seeped into the cluster of coffins, leaving behind bloody, sticky footprints mixed with black-red fluid across the floor.
As if… a corpse from inside that room had walked into its coffin on its own.
Yan Shixun narrowed his eyes.
Nan Tian, having seen the scene inside the house, was so terrified he was barely conscious. His legs had gone weak, and he struggled even to stand.
If Yan Shixun hadn’t been calmly supporting him, Nan Tian would have collapsed into a useless pile on the floor.
Just then, a burst of laughter came from ahead.
Yan Shixun looked toward the sound and noticed—outside the unlit house stood a hunched old man.
Before the old man laughed, Yan Shixun hadn’t even noticed his presence.
Yan Shixun was startled, silently cursing himself for missing what was right under his nose.
The old man, despite how unsettling his home appeared to others, didn’t seem to find anything disturbing about it at all. Instead, he grinned broadly and, with a raspy voice, said to Yan Shixun, “Welcome, guest. Welcome to Longevity Village. I’m the village chief here.”
“Do you want to be healthy and live a long life, free from worries?”
There was an odd rhythm to the old man’s voice, something strange yet incredibly persuasive, as though everything he said would undoubtedly come true—as if he genuinely and deeply cared for you.
“In Longevity Village, you can have all the peace and happiness you’ve ever wanted. You’ll never have to suffer again.”
“Just like you used to pray for, month after month, year after year. But the gods never answered, did they? The gods long ago closed their gates and declared that the human world is beyond saving.”
The old man’s smile widened, his tone soft and slow: “But Longevity Village can still save you.”
“As long as you become a villager here, everything you’ve ever wished for will be right within reach.”
Nan Tian, who had been filled with fear just moments earlier, now wore a blank, almost dazed expression. All traces of his earlier anxiety vanished the moment he laid eyes on the old man.
He had become completely captivated by the old man’s words. He couldn’t help but picture the scenes the old man described forming vividly in his mind—and just imagining it made him feel a deep sense of happiness.
Even the viewers on the other side of Yan Shixun’s split screen froze in place, stopping whatever they had been doing. Holding their breath, they stared at the image of the old man, drawn in by every word he spoke.
Health. Longevity… Could it really be possible?
But at that moment, it was as if everyone’s internal alarm had been silenced. Instinctively, they all began to yearn for this painless, blissful place.
Many people found themselves muttering, “Longevity… Longevity…”
Yan Shixun glanced at Nan Tian, who now looked completely bewitched. His eyes turned cold.
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