Chapter Seventy-Five: Chen An's Premonition
Dusk was like ink, slowly staining the lone small courtyard at the foot of the mountain.
The last trace of orange-red sunset clung reluctantly to the distant mountain ridgeline, stretching the courtyard fence's shadow long across the ground.
Chen An stood barefoot on the cool mud, bending over as he carefully hilled soil around a row of radish seedlings that had just begun to sprout.
The instant his fingertips sank into the damp, earthy softness, his heart suddenly lurched without warning! It felt as if an invisible hand had seized it hard, choking off his breath.
A nameless panic welled up for no reason, mixed with an icy dread that shot up from his coccyx, flashed across his back like lightning, and raised every hair along the way.
This feeling was not the shock of facing a known demonic beast. It was more like being silently watched from the shadows by some enormous, incomprehensible invisible monster, making his scalp prickle.
Then, a sharp ringing suddenly erupted in his ears, like steel needles piercing his skull.
The sounds of the world around him—the faint sloshing of well water in the wooden bucket beside him, the autumn insects' final chirps beneath the stone slab by the wall—instantly receded like a tide, becoming indistinct. Only the ceaseless, high-pitched ringing continued to reverberate wildly inside his head, impossible to dispel.
Almost at the same time, the last trace of warmth left by the setting sun seemed to be sucked away.
A chill like a tangible blade of ice pressed tightly against his back, making him shudder violently despite himself.
Chen An jerked upright, his chest heaving as he scanned the surroundings with confusion and wariness.
Beyond the courtyard wall, the mountain forest lay silent in the dusk, save for