I'm Allergic to Lamb

Walking out of that long, narrow valley, Yu Ziqing gazed at the thin mist ahead and understood in his heart that this Jinlan Mine was probably already different from what he had learned about before.

The temperature here was at least relatively much warmer, making it less likely for people to freeze to death.

But recalling the female ghost he had encountered earlier, and that man-eating forest—neither of which those few human traffickers had mentioned a word about—given their nature, they likely could never have walked out of that Abyss of Despair.

In other words, when those strongmen came last time, this change hadn't happened yet; it had only appeared in the last couple of months.

As for the other people in that illusion, their appearances showed clear signs of cannibalism, yet there were no traits of practicing evil arts.

From this, one could guess that two or three months ago, a major upheaval had occurred here, making it impossible for this place to sustain itself, with basic food supplies definitely running short.

No, it had to be a severe shortage.

Otherwise, unless driven mad by hunger and on the verge of starvation, there was no reason for people with cannibalistic traits to appear in droves, and that female ghost wouldn't have been so decisive in throwing the child in her arms off the ten-thousand-zhang cliff before she died.

Yu Ziqing slowed his pace, looked into the distance, and made up his mind again: no matter what, he had to go.

As he had said before, at the very least, a person shouldn't starve to death.

Even if hacked to death by random blades or devoured alive by demons, it was still better than freezing or starving to death in the bitter cold wilderness.

He was sick of the cold. Sick of the hunger.

First, he'd find a foothold in the mine. If that Jinlan ore was important to some big shots, then someone would inevitably brave the cold wind to come here.

Using those few evil, blade-and-spear-proof strongmen as a reference—their strength only allowed them to be human traffickers in this remote wilderness—then in the south, that so-called Great Gan Divine Dynasty that the old gentleman had mentioned many times, the people who could come here would definitely be stronger.

Add in the upheaval across a thousand li of wilderness; no matter what the situation was before, there would definitely be people trying to take advantage of the Jinlan Mine now, and more than just one or two would come.

Then he'd find a way to see how he could follow them out of the wilderness to the warmer south. That was the best choice. Anyway, Yu Ziqing was fed up with the weather that nearly froze him to death every day.

That was the new short-term plan. For now, the question was how to settle into the mine.

While Yu Ziqing was still thinking, Old Yang bit onto his cloak, glanced at the road ahead, and shook his head at him.

"Old sir, you mean I shouldn't go? Or that I should be cautious and scout first?"

Old Yang was silent for a moment, then shook his head.

Yu Ziqing understood Old Yang's worry. Not going was impossible—he had already come this far, and there was nowhere else to go. Scouting was even more absurd; he was alone, a weakling with no strength to truss a chicken, starving and half-frozen.

Trying to hide his tracks and scout into the unknown ahead was completely out of the question. If there were still living people inside, being exposed would be as good as showing ill intent and weakness.

Thinking back to that female ghost's fate, showing weakness was equivalent to offering yourself as a meal.

After weighing everything, Yu Ziqing decided to walk in openly and boldly. No matter the situation, he had to act like he had confidence.

Yu Ziqing pulled Old Yang along and led the remaining sheep forward.

As he walked out of this valley, the temperature climbed again. Suddenly, the sound of clinking and clanking came from ahead, as if the mist had parted, and in the dead silence, a patch of life abruptly appeared.

The ground was somewhat barren, dotted with sparse dry grass. On slightly higher terrain, there were holes in the earth, with people coming and going through them.

A bit farther off, he could see hollowed-out areas dug into the hillside, piled with earthen blocks outside, looking like crude versions of earthen kilns.

He smelled the scent of burning flames and the fragrant aroma of hot food. He also saw people carrying Sheep-Horn Picks, heading deeper into the area, and heard people shouting in various accents.

Yu Ziqing stopped in his tracks. To be honest, he hadn't expected this place to look like this.

So harmonious it felt like a dream.

Barely a few breaths after Yu Ziqing stopped, someone in the distance spotted him.

"A newcomer's here..."

A drawn-out shout rang out, instantly drowning out all other sounds.

Those who looked like they were heading to work all turned around at once, quickening their pace, and rushed toward Yu Ziqing with cheers.

Their expressions were like those of old village farmers about to till the fields, seeing their beloved grandson who hadn't returned in years—joy so overwhelming it couldn't be held back. Before their minds had even registered it, their bodies were already striding briskly over, afraid that if they were a moment late, that most cherished grandson would vanish.

Yu Ziqing didn't sense any malice, yet something in his heart felt unreal.

He looked down at Old Yang beside him.

"Old sir, I'm not caught in an illusion right now, am I?"

Old Yang shook his head and, for good measure, lifted a front hoof and stomped heavily on Yu Ziqing's foot.

Yu Ziqing cautiously pulled out the recipe book from his chest and glanced at it, confirming he could still recognize the characters. He'd heard that in dreams, you can't read, so this probably wasn't a dream. Plus, the sharp pain from his toes being stomped told him this should be real.

The sheep following behind him also surged forward in a swarm, scrambling for the sparse dry grass left on the ground.

The dark-faced man charging at the front pounced on a gaunt goat. With one hand pressing down on the goat's head and the other lifting its hind leg, he looked down and immediately broke into a grin. His right hand wiped at his waist, and a short dagger was already pressed against the goat's jaw.

The dagger sliced downward from the jaw, cutting a gash over a foot long in the blink of an eye. Hot blood gushed out. The weak goat let out a terrified bleat but couldn't break free. The dark-faced man's right hand didn't stop, continuing to slit open the goat's belly.

In just a couple of breaths, he had already skinned the goat. With a flick of his wrist, the dagger returned to the leather sheath at his waist.

He grabbed the separated goat hide with both hands and yanked hard to both sides. The sound of flesh and skin tearing accompanied the gush of blood.

The goat let out a miserable cry, its head lolling to the side, and went still.

Seeing the goat stop struggling, the dark-faced man moved even faster, forcibly tearing the hide off the goat. He picked up the bloody skin, gave it a hard shake, and the last bit still clinging to the head came completely off.

In an instant, the skinless goat fell to the ground and transformed into a blood-soaked, naked, gaunt woman.

The dark-faced man grinned broadly, hoisted the woman—whose fate was unknown—onto his shoulder, and sped off to the side, his feet moving like the wind.

"Hei Wa, you little bastard, don't you run!"

A furious shout came from behind. An old man, carrying a Sheep-Horn Pick, was so angry his beard and mustache bristled.

Unfortunately, the dark-faced man had already slipped into an earthen hole and vanished. The old man grumbled a few curses but didn't bother to chase. The people catching up behind him didn't seem surprised either; someone even laughed and tossed out a few more insults.

What left Yu Ziqing even more bewildered came next. Some people carried wooden poles, others held hemp ropes, and as soon as they arrived, they swiftly and skillfully set up a frame.

Some drove the flock, some sharpened knives, and others bound a goat's limbs and hoisted it onto the wooden rack.

Hoisted up, skinned. The skinned goats that took human form—those who endured the agony of being flayed—were carried away.

Those who couldn't bear the pain and died on the spot were dragged aside, piled up like trash.

In just a short while, the scene turned bustling and lively, like a village market fair.

But to Yu Ziqing, it felt more like an orderly assembly line—efficient, seamless.

For those who survived the flaying, there were cheers and even people squabbling over them. The dead were simply discarded. Even among the few real goats mixed in, once skinned and butchered, someone immediately lit a bonfire and set up a cauldron big enough for a bath.

No one seemed to find anything strange about this scene.

Except for Yu Ziqing.

Without thinking, Yu Ziqing reached out and clamped his arm tightly around Old Yang, keeping him from running off and preventing him from being dragged away to be skinned too.

In that short time, all the goats that had died from flaying were the older ones.

Given Old Yang's current condition, he probably couldn't withstand the agony of being skinned.

Yu Ziqing held Old Yang fast and stood there, expressionless—no, he was so stunned he was numb, watching scene after scene, as if he were seeing the real world for the first time.

Even though over the past few months he'd grown used to human life being treated like weeds, this still shattered his worldview far more.

Under disaster, fighting and killing—Yu Ziqing thought that was a pretty normal development.

Slave traders appearing, killing without blinking—Yu Ziqing also thought that was normal.

When resources ran out and cannibals emerged, though it shocked him, he could still match it to the phrase, "In years of great famine, people eat each other."

But this was completely different.

These people were just ordinary, run-of-the-mill folks, like a normal village.

There was no savagery on their faces, no malice in their eyes. If you ignored those goats, it was the picture of a simple mountain village celebrating a festival.

No one thought there was anything wrong with brutally skinning those "goats" alive. If some died, the one doing the work would just sigh and say it was bad luck.

Their bad luck.

Not the goat's bad luck.

Yu Ziqing snapped back to reality. Now he suddenly felt that the way things were here, unlike what he'd imagined, actually made perfect sense.

Only like this could they maintain a scene that, at first glance, looked harmonious and stable after months of upheaval.

Instead, it was Yu Ziqing—if he was the only one different from everyone else—then he was the abnormal one.

Watching the flock get split open one by one, the evil spell broken, most of them survived, while the dead were carried away one after another.

As for the real goats, aside from the very first one, the rest were all butchered and carried off to a high slope on the side. There, the wind was biting cold, and within a few days, the goat meat would be wind-dried, nearly impossible to rot.

Everything proceeded in an orderly fashion.

To be honest, Yu Ziqing had guessed there might be a way to undo the evil spell here, but he never expected it to be this simple and brutal.

Just then, an old man leaning on a cane slowly walked toward Yu Ziqing from behind.

The old man's eyes were cloudy, squinting, his neck craned forward—as if his eyesight was poor and he was trying hard to make out the newcomer.

"The Shepherd's here. A bit few this time, huh."

"The weather outside has turned. It's too cold—can't find many living things anymore." Yu Ziqing paused briefly, then continued, "All the Shepherds are dead. This is the last time."

Hearing this, the old man was slightly startled. The people behind him also paused, turning to look at Yu Ziqing.

Yu Ziqing's expression didn't change. He pointed behind him.

This old man, who looked half a foot in the grave and seemed like a doddering fool at first glance, had already set a trap for him with his very first words.

The Shepherds, when they chatted, had never discussed the internal situation of the mine. Besides, with the special natural barrier at the entrance, could those merciless, cannibalistic evil-doers who killed without a second thought even get in?

Thoughts racing, Yu Ziqing decided that responding to the old man's probe with honesty was the best approach—simple, and it would save trouble from being exposed later.

"I was a cook they dragged here. They wouldn't have lasted a few more days outside, so I brought them all in. I also plan to rest here for a few months and leave when spring comes. Any problem with that?"

The old man looked Yu Ziqing up and down, then suddenly cracked a faint smile.

"Fine. Then stay here until spring. But we don't keep idle hands here."

"That's only fair."

The old man didn't ask how the Shepherds died, nor did he mind Yu Ziqing keeping a tight hold on Old Yang. He simply had someone arrange an earthen hole for him.

On the wind-sheltered hillside, each Earth Den had a space about ten feet square. The lighting and ventilation were poor, the space cramped—taller people could barely stand upright—but that wasn't a problem. They kept out the wind and cold, and with dry straw inside for warmth, it was already good enough.

Hunkered down in the Earth Den to rest, Old Yang lay on the straw, eyelids drooping, utterly exhausted. But Yu Ziqing forced himself to stay awake.

"Old sir, I keep feeling something's off. They didn't ask a single question before letting me settle in."

Old Yang didn't react. Yu Ziqing looked down and saw that Old Yang had already fallen into a deep sleep.

Yu Ziqing let out a soft sigh. From the looted baggage, he pulled out a few grimy robes and draped them over Old Yang.

Just then, a voice came from outside.

"Hey, little brother, come have some soup."

Crawling out of the Earth Den, he saw a stocky man holding a wooden bowl. It was filled with a thin, watery mutton soup, with two fatty slices of meat floating on top. The strong, gamey smell and the rich aroma both madly burrowed into Yu Ziqing's nose.

The man himself kept swallowing saliva, his gaze locked onto the wooden bowl in his hands as if chained to it.

Yu Ziqing shook his head.

"I'm allergic to mutton."

"What?"

"Eating mutton gives me an upset stomach. You and the others go ahead, brother. Just give me some boiled water."

"Oh, what a shame." The man's face was full of regret. An upset stomach here could mean death.

The man carried the bowl away with both hands and walked over to the old man with the poor eyesight.

"Grandpa, he won't eat it. Says mutton gives him an upset stomach. What do we do?"

"Heh..." The old man was a bit surprised, then grinned. "Doesn't eat mutton, huh? Then let him stay for now. Go ask him later what he can do. We don't keep idle hands here."

The status has been changed to signed. You can now vote monthly tickets and tip. Asking for some monthly tickets—having them during the public period feels a bit strange.

Second chapter, still a four-thousand-word chapter.