Chapter 214: A Mountain Suspended, A River Submerged (28)
The moment the elderly man appeared in front of the wooden cabin, Yan Shixun’s alertness shot up to the highest level.
Whether it was a stranger or someone familiar, as long as they came close to him, Yan Shixun was supposed to sense it. Even if ghosts and spirits varied in strength, his years of experience dealing with them should have raised his guard.
Yet, this old man who claimed to be the village chief gave him no such feeling.
The only somewhat similar incident had been with the younger sister, Ah Yu, not long ago.
But Yan Shixun clearly understood that these two situations were not comparable.
With Ah Yu, his attention had been more focused on the village at the time, which was why he hadn’t noticed her appearing behind him. But now, even though he was fully on guard and watching the wooden cabin closely, he still hadn’t noticed this old man’s approach.
This village chief… was dangerous.
Yan Shixun’s gaze darkened. Casually, he grabbed Nan Tian’s arm beside him. Using the cover of their movements, he quickly drew a calming charm on Nan Tian’s arm.
Nan Tian blinked, still dazed, a fog of confusion lingering in his eyes. He turned to look at Yan Shixun, unsure of what was happening.
Yan Shixun put on a polite smile and said to the village chief, “My friend and I accidentally got lost in the mountains. It’s only thanks to the hospitality of Longevity Village that we’ve found a temporary place to stay.”
“But such a grand ritual—we’ve never seen anything like it elsewhere. I wonder if the village chief could perhaps tell us more about it?”
The village chief lifted his drooping eyelids slightly, giving Yan Shixun a smile that wasn’t quite a smile.
“The Winter Solstice Rite is, of course… a prayer to the god of Longevity Village, begging for health, safety, and happiness from here on out.”
His voice was hoarse, laced with a strange amusement that made his words sound even more bizarre—like the pity and charity of someone high above.
“Even though your arrival was odd and you broke the rules, since tomorrow is the final Winter Solstice Rite, I believe even the master would want to see it be lively. You may stay and observe from the sidelines.”
His expression was eerily kind. “The god of Longevity Village will also bless you.”
As the village chief finished speaking, Yan Shixun keenly noticed that the surrounding villagers, who had gathered nearby, began breathing heavily and roughly, like wild beasts panting through open mouths.
Even Liu Ming, who had always smiled in that creepy way, now had a feverish look in his eyes. His gaze toward the village chief was one of pure devotion, as though he were staring at a god, as if through the chief he saw all the happiness he longed for.
What gave Yan Shixun the biggest headache was Nan Tian, right next to him.
The guy behaved as though he’d been enchanted.
Just moments ago, the calming charm had restored Nan Tian’s clarity and calmness, but the moment the village chief began to speak, his eyes glazed over again, and he even started moving toward the man.
Thankfully, Yan Shixun reacted quickly. As soon as Nan Tian stirred, he shifted position and delivered a swift elbow to Nan Tian’s abdomen. Caught off guard by the pain, Nan Tian stumbled and fell to the ground.
Then, Yan Shixun feigned surprise and grabbed Nan Tian around the waist. But instead of pulling him up, he used the momentum to fall down with him.
During that tumble, Yan Shixun swiftly stuffed the woven item the older sister had given him into Nan Tian’s arms.
Under the deathly gaze of the village chief, Yan Shixun acted as if nothing unusual had happened. His demeanor calm and composed, he even performed a convincing act of concern for his friend.
“Are you too excited? Can’t even stand properly? Hurry and get up, or the village chief will laugh at us.”
With practiced ease, Yan Shixun pulled Nan Tian up and even kindly dusted off his clothes.
Nan Tian shivered slightly, and as he looked up at Yan Shixun, the clarity in his eyes slowly returned.
He seemed to realize something, and a look of fear crossed his face. He opened his mouth to say something.
But Yan Shixun merely closed his eyes for a moment.
Nan Tian immediately understood and shut his mouth, saying nothing more. He let Yan Shixun pull him to his feet.
By now, the villagers who had been lingering outside the wooden cabin began walking again, passing the two of them and heading toward the structure.
They carried pale white lanterns in their hands. Under the funeral-like decorations of the wooden cabin, the lanterns looked like lights carried by mourners, drifting through the darkness, converging into a glowing river of dots flowing toward the village chief.
The village chief stood with his hands behind his back in front of the wooden cabin, and in the midst of the white river of light, he met Yan Shixun’s gaze from afar.
Yan Shixun’s handsome face wore a fake smile, but his eyes were ice-cold as he met the chief’s eyes without flinching.
After a while, the village chief was the first to step back. He raised a hand in a gesture of invitation and stepped aside to open the path to the wooden cabin.
“Well then, honored guest.”
The village chief fixed his stare on Yan Shixun, smiling as he said, “Welcome to the grandest rite in Longevity Village’s history.”
“This will also be… the final rite.”
Yan Shixun lifted his eyelashes slightly, his smile never reaching his eyes. “I’ve been looking forward to it for a long time. Let’s begin.”
He took a long stride forward, walking directly toward the village chief without a trace of fear.
Then, just as he passed the chief and set foot on the wooden steps of the cabin, he suddenly heard the faint sound of dripping water beside his ear.
Drip… drop…
Like a drop of blood gathering on a fingertip, growing heavier and heavier, until it finally fell.
In the darkness, it shattered into pieces.
Yan Shixun’s eyes widened slightly. He turned his head slowly, looking back toward the village chief.
What he saw was a grotesquely wide smile spreading across the chief’s face, stretching all the way to his ears, his face splitting as if torn apart.
The village chief’s entire face rapidly dried up and began peeling, the cracks racing along the lines of his skin. Bright red blood flowed along those fissures, quickly flooding his face in a blur of flesh and gore.
Inside the chief’s gaping mouth, deep within, was an eyeball—its iris gone, only the whites remaining.
The eye twitched and suddenly rotated, the pupil twisting back into view to lock directly onto Yan Shixun.
When it saw him, it first showed a flicker of horror, then seemed to grin.
Then, an arm suddenly burst from the village chief’s throat.
Squelch!
Splattering blood and mucus, a hand reached out from the chief’s wide-open mouth.
Yan Shixun forced himself to calm his racing heart, intending to take a step closer to the village chief—but he suddenly realized he couldn’t move at all.
It was as though his limbs had betrayed him, no longer obeying his will. As if something higher, something foreign, had taken over his soul and seized control of his body.
He could only stand there helplessly as the village chief’s head bent backwards, splitting in half like a blood-soaked bun torn apart.
The emerging arm twitched its fingers slightly, as if testing their flexibility.
Then it bent downward, the palm pressing against the chief’s chest, dragging itself forward.
It seemed that a large part of whatever it was still remained beneath the old man’s skin, struggling to tear free from the decaying shell.
First came the arm, then the shoulder, the chest, the thigh…
A complete human figure gradually separated itself from the village chief and landed steadily on the ground.
At such a close distance, Yan Shixun could even see the blood-red skin covering the body. Every pulse of the blood vessels stood out, vivid and powerful—yet the skin seemed to have lost its original function, exposing the raw flesh and muscle beneath directly to the air.
Even the viewers watching through split screens were able to clearly witness this horrifying scene.
[Holy sht, holy sht, holy sh*t, AHHH!!! Why is there a person inside a person’s mouth?!]
[What the hell is this!!! I’m so confused, mom save me, I want to go home—I’m not playing anymore, waaah.]
[Ugh, I’m going to puke. My sanity points just plummeted.]
[Is this real life or a dream? Am I still alive, or have I fallen into some kind of hell? What did I do wrong to deserve seeing this?! AHHHH!!!]
[I’m going insane. My scalp is tingling.]
[I was pulling an all-nighter at work, half-dead from exhaustion, and now I’m wide awake from fright. This thing is straight out of the underworld!]
Even the video platform received an emergency contact from the public opinion team and immediately reduced the video quality drastically—from HD down to low resolution—making the bloody and bizarre scene blurry and pixelated, like a thirty-year regression in digital imaging.
Still, despite this, many people felt their hearts pounding wildly.
In the face of such a scene, the only one who remained calm was Yan Shixun.
The last part to emerge from the village chief’s mouth was the person’s head.
Once the figure fully surfaced into the air, the village chief’s skin quickly shriveled up and collapsed to the ground, becoming a complete human skin laid out among the splattered blood and flesh.
It was exactly like the rotting corpses Yan Shixun had seen before downstream in Longevity Village.
Those things couldn’t be killed completely. They would simply turn into a skin husk, only to reappear again, wrapped around new flesh.
However, contrary to what Yan Shixun had initially assumed, the humanoid figure that had emerged from the village chief’s shell wasn’t grotesque or terrifying.
On the contrary, he looked extremely kind and approachable—someone who instantly gave off a good impression at first glance.
Yan Shixun watched as the bright red arm of the figure gradually grew a layer of normal skin, starting from the fingertips and slowly restoring itself to appear like that of an ordinary human being.
If he hadn’t witnessed it with his own eyes, he would never have believed that just seconds ago, this person had emerged from another body, covered entirely in exposed flesh without a trace of skin.
In fact, even now—if Yan Shixun hadn’t trusted himself so strongly—just a little bit of doubt would’ve been enough for him to forget what he had just seen and fully accept the appearance of the person before him as real.
The man looked to be around sixty years old, his silver-white hair neatly tied back and draped down his back.
He wore a gentle smile, refined and cultivated, his gaze warm and tolerant—as if no matter what mistakes the world made, he would never scold them, only forgive and embrace.
Yan Shixun also noticed that the man’s clothing, though full of traditional folk elements, was distinctly different from what the villagers and the village chief wore. Instead, it resembled the style worn by a group of people he had encountered years ago when he traveled to the southern region with Li Chengyun.
—A Ritual Master.
Just like how most people respectfully refer to Taoists and exorcists as “Masters,” those who conducted all the rituals of life and death in the village—spiritual mediums—were called Ritual Masters or Shamans.
Note: Please be aware that Ritual Master refers to a male practitioner, while Shaman refers to a female. Although both terms describe the same role, they are used here to distinguish gender.
In the remote southern areas, these Ritual Masters and Shamans not only presided over sacrificial ceremonies and rituals but also acted as village doctors. When the villagers fell ill, they would come to them for treatment.
In some cultures, Ritual Masters also practiced various unorthodox arts, including witchcraft or curse magic… Unlike exorcists from outside the mountains who specialized in a single path, the Ritual Masters and Shamans were all-rounders.
No one knew what kind of lineage or extraordinary encounters they had in the past, nor how many skills they actually possessed.
And for this reason, what Taoists and masters feared most—was running into a Ritual Masters or a Shaman.
Even someone like Li Chengyun had to act with more caution when operating in the southern regions.
Many years ago, when young Yan Shixun had been staring at a girl in that village who was covered in gu insects, Li Chengyun had gently told him not to judge by appearances. With such cunning opponents, the truth often had to be uncovered from strange and inexplicable details.
However, at that time, Li Chengyun had also told him, ”Xiao Xun, if you ever encounter Ritual Master and Shaman alone, don’t take the risk. As long as you feel you can’t win… just leave immediately.”
Facing Ritual Master’s gentle smile across from him, Yan Shixun was momentarily dazed, but his gaze quickly regained its firmness.
Master, why should I leave? This is exactly what I’m pursuing.
When Ritual Master saw Yan Shixun’s reaction, he was a little surprised, then smiled kindly and said: “Looks like you already know who I am.”
“That’s good. Then I won’t have to trouble myself over how to introduce myself.”
Ritual Master folded his hands in front of his abdomen, and his floor-length robe rippled like flowing water, making him look even more ethereal and dignified—there was not a trace of darkness or eeriness in him, only a gentle and noble presence that made people want to draw closer.
“A guest from afar. Although this was unexpected, it’s a pleasant surprise nonetheless.”
Ritual Master’s gaze shifted gently to the side, his eyes tinged with nostalgia. “I thought I’d never see that child again in this lifetime, and that I’d have to wait until I left Nanming Mountain to go searching for him. I didn’t expect him to return on his own.”
“How wonderful.”
Ritual Master smiled. “No one ever left the Nan Village.”
Nan Village!
Yan Shixun’s heart trembled.
Wasn’t that Nan Tian’s hometown?
Could it be that the child Ritual Master referred to was Nan Tian?
Yan Shixun recalled how Nan Tian had told him about a dream, in which Grandma Nan told young Nan Tian never to come back, never to go near Nanming Mountain again.
Could it be that the one Grandma Nan had been trying to guard against… was Ritual Master, who might find Nan Tian?
But… what exactly was it about Nan Tian?
Yan Shixun clenched his jaw and forced his paralyzed body to turn his head toward his side.
And what he saw chilled him to the core.
Nan Tian, who had been right by his side, was gone.
Yan Shixun quickly moved his eyes as much as his limited vision allowed, searching for Nan Tian’s figure.
He found him quickly.
In the midst of darkness, only two pale lanterns swayed faintly.
Two villagers, faces rigid, stood on either side of Nan Tian, holding him up and dragging him away.
Under normal circumstances, Nan Tian should’ve been bewitched by the village chief, then voluntarily led away under the guidance of the villagers.
However, due to the calming talismans that Yan Shixun had layered on him moments ago, Nan Tian had forcibly broken free from the fog of confusion and regained his self-awareness.
Nan Tian struggled in panic, opening and closing his mouth as if calling out “Brother Yan,” desperately hoping Yan Shixun would save him.
But no matter how much he struggled, he couldn’t break free from the villagers’ iron-grip hold. All he could do was repeatedly twist his body, straining to look back at Yan Shixun, watching helplessly as the distance between them grew wider and wider.
Yan Shixun tried to rush over and rescue Nan Tian, but no matter how many times he tried, his combat boots felt like they had been glued to the ground—he couldn’t take a single step.
Despite gritting his teeth and using all his strength, his limbs refused to respond. He couldn’t move at all.
Ritual Master quietly watched Yan Shixun’s struggle, a composed smile always resting on his face. The lofty contempt was hidden in his aged yet bright eyes.
After a moment, he lifted his leg and walked forward, his long robe sweeping across the floor like rippling water.
“Why struggle?”
Ritual Master sighed and looked at Yan Shixun with pity.
“What you’re resisting is a world you don’t yet understand, but one that is truly perfect. If you knew what it really was, you’d realize just how foolish and laughable your current struggle is.”
“Guest, please wait quietly on the side.”
Ritual Master smiled and gave a slight bow to Yan Shixun: “When you see this world again, you’ll discover what a perfect place it has become.”
“There will be no more farewells between life and death, no more pain for wandering souls. Every prayer will be answered, and every day will be filled with happiness and joy.”
With a compassionate smile, Ritual Master gently brushed past Yan Shixun, his steps calm and steady, heading in the direction where Nan Tian had been taken.
Yan Shixun desperately turned his head to look back, but all he saw was that the scenery that had once been the village had completely vanished.
In its place was a boundless darkness.
No wooden cottages. No lights.
Only pale lanterns carried by villagers illuminated limited pockets of space.
The villagers’ faces were stiff, like wax figures. Mechanically, they walked toward the ancestral hall at the front.
White curtains billowed and rustled sharply in the dark.
In front of each memorial tablet, white candles suddenly ignited with a loud “whoosh!”, and the wildly flickering flames gradually lit up each tablet.
Offerings had already been neatly arranged in front of the tablets.
As Yan Shixun focused his gaze, he was stunned to realize that these so-called offerings were not food or objects, but bones—skeletons that had already turned pure white!
These bones had been carefully folded and placed together, like roasted piglets meticulously laid out on a banquet table.
On top of the crisscrossed bones lay a skull, placed steadily.
Its dark eye sockets stared hollowly at Yan Shixun. Suddenly, blood surged out from the sockets, flowing along the bones and plate, dripping downward and staining the white cloth beneath a vivid red.
It was a shocking sight.
But Yan Shixun remembered very clearly that before he stepped onto the small wooden building, what he had seen through the window outside was not like this.
There hadn’t been any skeletons used as offerings either.
However, under the glow of the white candles, Yan Shixun was able to clearly read the names written on the spirit tablets.
Liu Ming’s name stood out prominently among them.
And not just his — there were many names that felt familiar to Yan Shixun.
The leader of the hiking team, the team members’ names written down by the captain, the few names left scattered throughout the small wooden cottages in the village, and those who had posted online claiming they would retreat from the world and live in seclusion in Longevity Village…
All of them had now turned into spirit tablets, densely packed, stretching endlessly into the darkness ahead.
As Yan Shixun watched with wide eyes, Ritual Master stood before a coffin whose lid hadn’t yet been closed.
He reached out his hand, extending it over the coffin, closed his eyes slightly, and began chanting softly under his breath, as if reciting a spell.
Chrysanthemums swayed as they gracefully grew from the coffin lid, gently rustling in the cold wind with a soft “swish, swish” sound.
The yellow chrysanthemums seemed to emit a faint glow in the darkness, and a few petals fell lightly, slowly drifting down beneath the coffin.
Only then did Yan Shixun notice that, at some point, the floor beneath the coffin was no longer the wooden planks of the small building — it had turned into a flowing river.
The yellow petals floated on the river’s surface, ripples spreading outward in circles, a beauty that felt eerie.
Then, Yan Shixun watched helplessly as the villagers, who had been holding Nan Tian down, forcefully dragged and pushed him toward the coffin.
Nan Tian looked panicked, desperately trying to turn his head back in Yan Shixun’s direction. His mouth opened wide, clearly mouthing the words: “Brother Yan, help me!”
Ritual Master standing beside the coffin smiled and opened his mouth, saying something to Nan Tian.
Nan Tian froze for a moment, his eyes dazed, staring at Ritual Master with a look of confusion and distant memory.
Yan Shixun couldn’t hear what they were saying.
For some reason, it was as if he had been left behind in place, with an invisible barrier cutting off all sound from that side.
It felt like looking through a one-way mirror — he could see everything, but hear nothing.
Still, by reading Ritual Master’s lips, Yan Shixun could vaguely make out what he was saying.
Ritual Master asked Nan Tian: “Do you remember me, child? I am your god. Your grandmother’s nemesis, and also the god your grandmother and your village have worshipped and nurtured with their own hands. Now, I’ve found you. So, the time has come.”
After a brief moment of stunned silence, Nan Tian started to scream even more desperately, his eyes turning bloodshot.
He was shouting: “Where is my grandma? Did you do something to her? Did you kill her?!”
Their conversation suddenly made something click in Yan Shixun’s mind — from the beginning, Nan Tian hadn’t come to Longevity Village by accident.
Nan Tian had been brought here on purpose, for Ritual Master’s so-called goal of “earthly happiness.”
And most likely, Grandma Nan had foreseen this day many years ago. That’s why she had warned Nan Tian again and again not to go near Nanming Mountain, not to return to the village.
For all these years, every time Nan Tian tried to go back to Nanming Mountain and failed, it was probably because Grandma Nan had done something to prevent him — something that made it impossible for him to find his way back home no matter what he did.
But there was one thing Grandma Nan hadn’t anticipated.
—Nan Tian had joined Zhang Wubing’s variety show, and Zhang Wubing had led the entire crew right into Longevity Village at the foot of Nanming Mountain.
Right into Nanming Mountain’s field of vision.
When Nan Tian dreamed of his grandmother, Grandma Nan had realized that he had entered Nanming Mountain. That was why, in the dream, she had pushed him to run, helping him hold back the spirits surrounding him. At the chaotic crossroad between the realms of the living and the dead, she had forcefully carved out a path of escape for Nan Tian.
Unfortunately, perhaps because Grandma Nan’s power was too weak, or for some other reason, Nan Tian hadn’t left Nanming Mountain or returned downstream to the lower Longevity Village — instead, by some twist of fate, he had landed right in the upper Longevity Village.
And this resolved Yan Shixun’s initial confusion.
Grandma Nan was connected to Longevity Village. The village itself was tied to the mass death of the Nan Village decades ago, and even to the past tragedy of Nanming Mountain.
It was highly likely that back then, the “god” Grandma Nan had led the remaining villagers into the mountains to face… was this very Ritual Master.
That would explain why Yan Shixun couldn’t understand how Nan Tian had entered the village.
—Because Nan Tian hadn’t entered of his own will. From the start, he had been fundamentally different from everyone else.
Nan Tian… was the vital sacrificial offering that Ritual Master needed.
A sudden clarity lit up in Yan Shixun’s heart—all the doubts he had harbored shattered into pieces of thought, finally coming together to reveal the real truth.
He stared hard at Ritual Master and Nan Tian, clenching his molars so tightly that the veins bulged from his long neck, trying to break free from the spot he stood on. But no matter how much force he exerted, he couldn’t move an inch.
He could only watch helplessly as everything unfolded before him.
Ritual Master lowered his eyes slightly, his face filled with loving kindness and serenity.
Just like the statues placed atop the divine altar, he gazed down at the world from a lofty height.
It was as if all of Nan Tian’s anger and sorrow were nothing more than a child’s tantrum—and he tolerated it all with compassion.
But that compassion… sent chills through Yan Shixun.
It felt as though his entire heart had been chilled to the core, with not a trace of warmth to be found.
The villagers remained unmoved by Nan Tian’s collapse and screaming.
One lifted Nan Tian by his legs, another pinned down his head. Together, they hoisted him up and threw him into the coffin.
“Bang!”
Nan Tian was flung into the coffin.
He reached out desperately, clawing at the coffin’s edge, trying to climb back out.
But the villagers pried his fingers off one by one and shoved him back in again.
Again and again.
All his struggling was as futile as an ant trying to shake a tree. He couldn’t match the villagers’ strength. In the end, exhausted and drained, his hand merely rested weakly on the edge of the coffin, as if silently begging them not to treat him this way.
But the villagers wore blank expressions. Without a shred of mercy, they pushed the heavy coffin lid over him.
They sealed the coffin shut.
Nan Tian’s figure could no longer be seen.
The yellow chrysanthemums growing on the coffin bloomed even more brilliantly, as if nourished by fresh life, their radiant beauty taking on an eerie, unsettling charm.
Yan Shixun watched all of this, yet still couldn’t take a single step forward.
Darkness poured in behind him like water, engulfing his ankles, his strong thighs, then his abdomen, and finally covering his nose and the top of his head.
Even the pale lanterns became blurry in his eyes, as though they had come to mourn him.
The human skin that had fallen to the ground—the one belonging to the village chief—began to swell again after soaking in moisture.
It wrapped around the scattered flesh and organs like an inflatable doll outside a shop, and in no time at all, it stood upright once more.
It returned to the very same image of the village chief that Yan Shixun had seen at the beginning, without the slightest difference.
As if coughing up an entire person was just an everyday thing for him—completely routine, leaving him unaffected.
The village chief cast a cold and sinister glance at Yan Shixun, then turned and walked away with his hands behind his back, slowly disappearing into the distance.
Around him, the villagers walked in the opposite direction, moving effortlessly through the water that had risen above their heads.
It was as if…
They had always lived in the water.
Even in the suffocating pain of near-drowning, Yan Shixun’s eyes remained bright and sharp.
He recalled something Nan Tian once said: in the customs of Nan Village, yellow symbolized blessings.
In both the upstream and downstream Longevity Village, he had seen chrysanthemums in both yellow and white. But only here—only here—they were purely yellow.
It wasn’t a prayer for peaceful rest.
It was a blessing for rebirth.
The pain and cold of drowning quickly drained Yan Shixun’s strength. In his daze, he saw Ritual Master turn to him and offer a merciful smile.
And Yan Shixun’s last thought was—
Ah… thank goodness. That life-saving woven charm the older sister gave him—he had managed to stuff it into Nan Tian’s arms just in time.
This way, even if he couldn’t see Nan Tian for a while, Nan Tian should be fine.
Then, Yan Shixun was completely swallowed by the darkness. His eyes shut tightly, and he lost consciousness.
But in Nan Tian’s eyes, things looked completely different.
From the moment Yan Shixun stepped onto the first stair of the wooden platform, he had suddenly frozen in place, his expression icy and vigilant, as though he had encountered something that demanded his full guard.
Nan Tian looked fearfully around at the coffins nearby, trembling all over. Unconsciously, he moved closer to Yan Shixun, hoping Yan Shixun would tell him what was happening and what he should do.
But Yan Shixun didn’t respond at all.
It was as if he had been trapped in a nightmare.
The village chief stood nearby, chuckling with a hoarse “heh heh.” The way he looked at both of them was laced with venomous delight.
Nan Tian shook Yan Shixun’s arm, trying to snap him out of it. But Yan Shixun pulled away from him and, alone, stepped up the wooden stairs of the small tower, heading straight toward the coffin displayed in front.
At the same time, a figure slowly emerged from the open room beside them.
Nan Tian wasn’t sure if his eyes were playing tricks on him.
At first glance, the figure looked like an infant. Then it morphed into a pregnant woman with a large belly, followed by a withered, mean-faced old lady, an honest and simple villager, a sly-looking young man, a traveler carrying a hiking backpack, a terminally ill patient with sallow skin…
In just a split second, over a hundred different forms flashed before his eyes.
Nan Tian was stunned.
For a moment, he forgot all about chasing after Yan Shixun. He quickly rubbed his eyes and looked again.
What stood there now was clearly an old man dressed in a traditional ceremonial robe that flowed all the way to the floor.
His silver-white robe shimmered beautifully, as though woven from moonlight, rippling with a faint glow.
His long silver hair flowed neatly down his back.
The old man’s appearance left Nan Tian momentarily speechless. He suddenly felt that even aging could look so elegant and dignified.
The old man didn’t need to speak—just standing there exuded a remarkable aura.
His gentle and kind expression stirred a natural warmth in one’s heart.
But what happened next left Nan Tian utterly horrified.
—The old man actually guided Yan Shixun into the coffin, then reached out and began to close the lid.
“Brother Yan!”
Nan Tian no longer had time to admire the old man’s grace. Eyes wide with shock, he rushed forward, desperate to pull Yan Shixun back.
But the village chief’s voice rang out behind him.
“Guest, where are you going? The festival is about to begin.”
As the village chief’s voice fell, corpses began descending from the wooden stairs.
Some were pale and bloated, like they’d been soaked in water. Others looked like dried-out cured meat—shrunken, dark brown flesh clinging tightly to their bones, exposing the skeletons beneath.
These corpses had blood-red eyes and swayed as they slowly advanced toward Nan Tian.
His heart leapt in alarm. Before he could process what was happening, he saw even more corpses closing in on him from all directions.
He instinctively stepped back—only to realize that he and Yan Shixun had already been completely separated by the swarm of corpses.
Then, with a loud “pop!”, all the lights in the small wooden building went out at once.
Everything around him was swallowed by darkness.
In the mountains, there were no streetlights, and even the moon hung far beyond the peaks.
Between the ranges, not a single warm ray of light could be found.
The only illumination came from the dim, white lanterns held by the villagers.
Yet when one of the paper lanterns swayed, Nan Tian saw that the character painted on it was clearly the word “Congratulations.”
It was as if they were celebrating a grand festival.
Pairs of blood-red eyes gleamed under the pale light, floating in the darkness and gradually closing in on Nan Tian.
His heart trembled violently.
Without Yan Shixun by his side, the desolate dark surroundings awakened the shadows of his childhood fears. Crippled by overwhelming terror and tension, his muscles clenched so tightly they spasmed, leaving him nearly paralyzed.
He could even feel the pain shooting through his calves.
He looked like a dying little beast, tilting his head back to let out a final, pitiful cry.
But when Nan Tian lifted his head, he was completely stunned.
He actually… saw his grandma.
Grandma still looked exactly like she did back then. She lowered her head and smiled kindly at him, saying, “Our Tian Tian has finally come home.”
She reached out, as if to help Nan Tian up from the ground. “Come with Grandma, Tian Tian. From now on, Grandma will never leave you again. Just the two of us, living happily together.”
Nan Tian murmured dazedly, “Grandma…”
She replied gently, “Yes, Grandma came to take Tian Tian home.”
It was like a child who had been forced to grow up—though he had learned to stand on his own, weathering storms alone, traveling far and wide without ever crying out in pain.
But the moment he saw that loving elder, all his defenses collapsed. Tears of grievance welled up in his eyes, and he wanted nothing more than to throw himself into her arms and pour out all his pain.
Just like years ago, when he would run into her embrace and act spoiled.
Nan Tian suddenly let down all his guard. His tense muscles relaxed as he slowly reached out, trying to grasp the hand his grandma extended toward him.
He sniffled, his voice choked with sobs. “Grandma, why did you come only now? They all said you were dead…”
Halfway through his words, Nan Tian suddenly froze.
That’s right—Grandma was already dead. Then, who was this person in front of him?
And at that moment, he felt something on his chest begin to burn—so hot it was like a live coal, almost unbearable.
Nan Tian snapped back to his senses, his gaze toward the “grandma” turning heavy and sorrowful. “You’re not my grandma.”
“My grandma is already dead.”
The moment those words left his mouth, the once-kind face of “Grandma” instantly twisted into something hideous, her entire body collapsing like melting lava.
Nan Tian stared in shock at the scene.
Even though the life-preserving item had warned him that this wasn’t really his grandma, watching with his own eyes as the image of his most beloved elder crumbled still gave him the painful illusion that she was dying all over again. His heart ached unbearably.
And then, standing where “Grandma” had been—was now the village chief.
The village chief grinned, speaking in a slow, soft tone. “Where is the guest going? The festival is about to begin.”
“It’s time for the guest… to enter the coffin.”
That sentence was like a trigger, making Nan Tian’s mind buzz and suddenly snap back to clarity.
He turned his head in horror—only to find a heavy coffin pressed down on his body.
Nan Tian gasped and tried to struggle free, but the coffin had pinned him from the waist down, leaving him completely immobile.
When he looked up, he realized it wasn’t just him—coffins were all around him.
One after another, densely packed.
Only now did Nan Tian realize—he was in the middle of a sea of coffins!
Just like at the beginning, when he and Yan Shixun had stood outside the wooden cottage and seen an endless row of coffins inside the hall.
The sight horrified him.
He suddenly began to doubt—was that wild sprint just now really taking him toward the exit of the wooden cottage?
Or… had something clouded his vision, turning his escape into a trap?
A wave of despair surged in Nan Tian’s heart. He felt he had let down Yan Shixun’s expectations.
But then he noticed a strange noise beside him.
Some of the villagers holding white lanterns had their lights suddenly extinguished by a mountain breeze.
Then came the heavy creaking of coffins.
Those villagers whose lanterns had gone out seemed to receive some unseen command. Their eyes went dull, and they began walking toward the coffins, stepping in one after another.
They were climbing into the coffins themselves!
Nan Tian was struck with terror and instinctively wanted to call out to Yan Shixun for help.
But then he saw—on the coffin covering Yan Shixun at the front, white chrysanthemums were starting to bloom, trembling slightly in the wind.
Swaying gently.
White chrysanthemums… symbolized rest.
Peace in death.
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