There are Fog Ghosts in the Mountains

The dozen or so people all looked to be in middle age. Two of them were easy to recognize as biao martial artists, wearing identical outfits in the fashion of martial artists of the jianghu. One carried a Brow-Tip Blade in his hand, while the other had a chain flail tucked into his belt. The rest were dressed as merchants, their attire primarily black and white according to Great Yan regulations.

The group entered another pavilion shelter, unloaded their cargo, and piled it in a spot sheltered from the rain before taking off their cloaks and shaking the accumulated water from the ground.

The pavilion shelter was not large, and the horses and mules were tough, simply sheltering from the rain beneath the trees.

The dozen or so people conversed in low voices with dialect-accented tones. Soaked by the rain and chilled by the night wind, they felt a biting cold, and some could not help but glance toward the fire Song You faced, as well as the dry firewood in the corner of the pavilion shelter, whereupon they exchanged nudges and glares with one another.

Finally, one man walked over and cupped his fists toward Song You.

"Greetings, Young Mister. Is this firewood something you gathered? It looks like it won't be used up tonight, so might you sell us some? Our clothes are damp, and we'd like to roast them to get warm."

The Great Yan dynasty affectionately called Daoist priests mister.

Song You was still wearing a Daoist robe.

"I didn't gather it. It was here when I arrived. If you all have need of it, please feel free to take and use it."

"Then we won't be polite."

The middle-aged merchant carried a small armful of firewood back. He didn't come to borrow a fire after all, but instead started a fire of his own, then took out dry rations, toasted them warm by the fire, and conversed in low voices while eating and washing it down with water, looking left and right from time to time.

The wind blew their voices over.

Hearing them discuss their previous decision to shelter from the rain and their slight discord, Song You roughly understood the reason they were traveling by night to reach this place.

This group were all tea merchants. Originally, their destination for today was a relay station thirty li ahead, a lodging place convenient for travelers. Unfortunately, heavy rain caught them midway, and someone's cargo had a waterproofing failure for unknown reasons. Fearing the tea leaves would be soaked, they found a place to take shelter, but that particular stretch of road had recently been plagued by fog ghosts, and many people dared not walk it at night. Thus, as soon as the rain eased a little and the waterproofing issue was resolved, they set off in a hurry.

Passing through this place, the night was already late, and walking the night road was not a good idea either, so they had no choice but to rest here.

Some said this place had long since passed that stretch; some said the tea peddlers had all moved away, so it must be fog ghosts making trouble here. Some said they shouldn't have taken shelter back then; some said they shouldn't have stopped just now and should have continued forward instead. Others even discussed Song You.

Although Song You wore a Daoist robe, he happened to be truly young. In this day and age, Daoist priests who could catch demons and drive away ghosts were one in ten thousand, so naturally no one took him too seriously. After exchanging a couple of sentences, they no longer focused their attention on him.

"Fog ghosts..."

Song You stared fixedly at the fire, lost in thought.

This was a common type of mountain spirit and wild ghost that loved to roam in the fog. Those with weak abilities used the fog to conceal their forms and usually relied on terror to harm people, while those with high cultivation could spew mist to shroud an area and attack travelers within the fog.

However, such spirits and ghosts could usually never amount to much, and ordinary hot-blooded martial artists of the jianghu, or even bold, robust men, were not afraid of them.

The fire grew smaller, and Song You added more firewood.

Before he knew it, the rain stopped.

When mountain rains stopped, fog often arose, mostly in the form of massed banks of mist or pooling in mountain depressions, and this time was no exception.

Only, this fog seemed a bit too thick.

Although the sky was late to begin with, it wasn't completely devoid of light, and the shadowy outlines of distant mountains could be vaguely seen. Where the firelight shone, ancient cypresses by the road and weeds beneath the trees could also be seen. Yet now, in just the span of a momentary daze, the entire world seemed filled with a dense fog.

Amidst the thick fog, neither mountains nor trees could be seen. Even between two nearby pavilion shelters where fires still burned, only each other's blurred firelight could be discerned.

Even this firelight was compressed to its limit by the fog.

It seemed to have grown eerie unawares.

The merchants were instantly alarmed, how could they not know that they had run into monsters and ghosts?

"Everyone don't be afraid! The more people are afraid, the fiercer it gets!"

"Well said! Ghosts are also afraid of people!"

"Add wood, add wood! Make the fire burn bigger!"

"There's no more wood..."

Everyone looked at each other in dismay, gazing toward the direction of the other pavilion shelter earlier, only to see a yellowish-orange firelight.

Though it was only twenty or thirty feet away, thick fog filled the space between them. Judging by the current situation, it seemed only this small area illuminated by the firelight was safe. Who would dare cross through the thick fog to fetch firewood over there? Or should they all go over together and simply move to that side?

A cold wind suddenly blew from outside.

Everyone cast their gaze upon the two hired biao martial artists.

The biao martial artist carrying the chain flail was drumming in his heart, his gaze shifting slightly. The one with the Brow-Tip Blade met everyone's gaze, then turned his head and spat, his brow furrowing as a ferocity arose of its own accord—enough to make even minor ghosts tremble with fright:

"I'll go borrow some firewood!"

"Senior brother, I'll go with you!"

"Never mind, junior brother, you stay here and protect the various bosses. If you happen to encounter a ghost in the middle, your granddad will butcher it with a single blade!"

"Take care, Duke Chen!"

"Mere minor ghosts, I'll go and return in a flash!"

The biao martial artist surnamed Chen carried the Brow-Tip Blade and strode straight into the thick fog, heading directly for the firelight opposite. Seeing his stature was not overly tall, he still possessed a certain momentum.

Seeing this, the merchants felt their hearts settle somewhat.

As the saying goes, people fear ghosts thirty percent, while ghosts fear people seventy percent. With such a bold martial artist of robust vital energy, they wouldn't fear ordinary minor goblins and ghosts either.

Thus, everyone simply watched with their own eyes as that figure rapidly blurred, vaguely seeing that he even swung his blade a few times and cursed something in a Guanxi accent. Yet this fog seemed to possess the effect of blurring sounds in addition to obscuring vision, and after walking only a few steps, he could no longer be heard clearly.

The merchants grew nervous again, staring at that side one moment and turning their heads to look around the surroundings the next.

Before long, a figure walked out from the fog.

It was precisely that biao martial artist surnamed Chen.

The biao martial artist surnamed Chen still carried the Brow-Tip Blade, while his other hand was completely empty. He merely stood outside the pavilion shelter, a trace of panic on his face: "This is bad, that young mister over there has passed out. Quickly, someone come and help me carry him!"

Hearing this, the crowd was startled once more, their pupils widening.

As for that other biao martial artist, he had long since drawn the chain flail from his body, holding it in his hand and letting it hang down while swinging it, constantly licking his lips to conceal his nervous state.

In the end, it was that merchant who had gone to borrow firewood from the neighboring pavilion shelter who stood up, putting on a calm facade and even making a bow:

"We are merely passing through this road to earn some hard-earned money, and have not disturbed Your Excellency. If Your Excellency is willing to leave now, we will still take this road when we return, and at that time we will certainly bring some pigs, sheep, incense, and candles for Your Excellency as a token of gratitude."

"What are you saying? Hurry over here and carry the person!"

"Your Excellency, Your Excellency's voice isn't learned quite right."

"..."

That biao martial artist surnamed Chen instantly froze, opening his eyes wide as he stared at them. Just the next second, he burst like a popped balloon with a poof sound, dissolving into a cluster of mist that blended into the surrounding fog, leaving no trace behind.

This ghost departed cleanly, yet it made people all the more alarmed.

Everything was just as the rumors said...

Yet in the rumors, this ghost was not easy to deal with.

After roughly another snap of the fingers, yet another figure walked out from the fog. One hand carried the Brow-Tip Blade, while the other held an armful of firewood. In his haste, he crossed over from the fog in two or three steps, only relaxing once he walked into the range of the firelight.

As he looked over the crowd, he discovered that everyone had wide eyes and was staring straight at him with fearful and suspicious gazes.

The biao martial artist surnamed Chen was taken aback, his gaze also growing solemn.

"What is it? What happened?"

"The fog ghost just now disguised itself as you, trying to coax us out."

"Did anyone go?"

"It didn't learn well..."

"Hmph, cheap tricks!"

The biao martial artist surnamed Chen loosened his left hand, and the firewood he carried clattered onto the ground. Out of the corner of his eye, seeing a figure seemingly moving about in the fog, he grew alert in a hurry.

"Duke Chen, how is it over there?"

"Which side?"

"Naturally that young mister's side! Has he discovered anything unusual? Has he been scared? When you went to borrow firewood, was he reluctant at all?"

"This..."

The biao martial artist surnamed Chen was stunned instead.

His heart had been tight just now, and he had hurried over to borrow firewood, spoken a few words, and then hurried back holding the firewood, dropping the wood a few times even. He hadn't paid attention at all. Thinking carefully about it now, he realized that the pavilion shelter over there and the young mister inside it had both been unexpectedly peaceful. Recalling it now, he could actually only think of the sound of crackling flames and nothing else.

After thinking a bit, the biao martial artist surnamed Chen said:

"I didn't pay attention to much else, but the moment I went and said I wanted to borrow firewood, that young mister immediately agreed and even told me to take all of it."

"Did you explain the situation to him? Did you invite that young mister over?"

"Duke Li jests, how could I forget this matter?" The biao martial artist surnamed Chen was somewhat displeased. "I told him there are ghosts acting up here and that we have a lot of cargo, making it inconvenient to move over there to join him, and I called him over. But he only told me to carry all the firewood away."

"This..."

The merchants exchanged glances once more.

Before they could say anything else, a muffled whine sounded like the crying of a ghost in the wind. The cold wind carrying rain actually blew the campfire in the pavilion swaying violently, nearly extinguishing it.

The flames temporarily turned deep red, illuminating the misty pavilion shelter to look like the netherworld.

The crowd hurriedly formed a circle to block the wind before the fire could relight and the light within the pavilion grew bright again, bringing back a trace of a sense of security.

The biao martial artist surnamed Chen stood holding his blade and began cursing again.

There was a saying among the common folk that dirty language could drive away minor ghosts. Perhaps the biao martial artist surnamed Chen held this thought, or perhaps he was simply bolstering his own courage.

Regardless of the reason, the merchants truly felt a degree of comfort from it. But upon second thought, martial artists possessed robust vital energy and were hard for spirits and ghosts to afflict; if one possessed a bold heart fearless of spirits and ghosts, they would feel even more secure. Yet ordinary martial artists seemed to have no way of dealing with this ethereal and shifting fog ghost either, and could probably at most protect themselves while struggling to keep everyone safe.

And this firewood... even if the campfire wasn't blown out by the sinister wind, it probably wouldn't last until dawn.

This fog ghost could completely wait until their firewood was used up!

The moment this thought came to mind, another gust of sinister wind blew over.

"Whoosh..."

It was more urgent and colder than before, blowing as though from the skin into the internal organs and straight into the depths of the soul, making one unable to help trembling. And the fire, as if stimulated by something, shrank to the extreme all at once, to the point that only smoldering crimson charcoal could be seen.

Before the crowd had time to shield it—

"Whoosh..."

The campfire instantly extinguished.

For a moment, only the wood coals emitted a crimson glow, reflecting upon panicked faces, making the people almost indistinguishable from ghosts.

The wood coals were also rapidly turning black and gray.

Amidst their terror, the crowd saw figures seemingly moving about in the dense fog, and also saw another cluster of firelight not far away, revealing a blurred yellow color through the thick fog.

The fire over there hadn't actually gone out?!

"Go over there!"

Someone shouted, and the crowd instantly scrambled to their feet, running frantically toward that patch of firelight.

The fine rain beat against their bodies with a bone-chilling coldness.

Merchant surnamed Li was short in stature and the oldest. Even though he ran for his life, he ran the slowest. Seeing that the firelight representing safety was drawing closer and closer, he suddenly felt a hand grab his clothes, and then claw toward his arm and neck. The icy fingertips felt as though they were about to pierce into his flesh. At that moment, his heart was filled to the extreme with terror, and he stretched out his arm to grab the clothes of the person in front of him, but he could no longer reach.

This is the end of me...

Facing impending death, he could no longer remember those flowery words he had learned while traveling for business, knowing only that he was likely to fall here today and would probably be devoured of flesh and blood and sucked of his soul by that ghost, leaving nothing behind.

At this critical moment, a hand covered in calluses grabbed him. Those calluses were as hard as wood, scraping his skin with a sharp pain.

Merchant surnamed Li opened his eyes wide and discovered it was that biao martial artist he had hired at great expense who was playing a role. At this moment, the man was gripping his wrist tightly, hurling angry curses behind him while dragging him forward with immense strength.

Both sides seemed to be locked in a tug-of-war.

"Poof..."

Merchant surnamed Li vaguely saw firelight burst forth like a burning knot of wood exploding. The icy chill on his body instantly vanished, and the dragging force behind him disappeared as well, replaced by an irresistible force pulling him forward.

Swish!

Merchant surnamed Li had already been pulled into the pavilion shelter.

The sound of the biao martial artist surnamed Chen spitting echoed in his ears once more, and the man smugly and disdainfully uttered a phrase:

"And here I thought you were something formidable!"

Merchant surnamed Li recovered from his panic, only to realize that the pavilion was so quiet—

It wasn't that there was no sound of wind, but rather that there was only the ordinary wind, so faint as to be almost inaudible. Compared to the ghostly wails and wolf howls just a moment ago, it was simply peaceful and calm. Meanwhile, the campfire in the pavilion burned fiercely and crackled, emanating a comfortable temperature as if the sinister wind couldn't blow in at all.

It seemed just like when they had first arrived here.

Where the firelight shone, a young man wearing a Daoist robe was still sitting cross-legged on the ground. His features were delicate and his expression calm, his head lowered as the light of the campfire was reflected in his eyes.

This pavilion shelter was truly so peaceful.

Looking back outside once more, thick fog still shrouded the surroundings, and figures still lingered about, both hesitating to leave and seemingly not daring to approach.

"Everyone..."

It was the voice of that young mister.

The group gave a start and hurriedly turned to look, their gazes respectful.

"Rest here for the night."

That young mister spoke, pursed his lips, and turned to look outside the pavilion shelter. Amidst the fine rain in the fog, he softly added a sentence:

"Don't be anxious, once the rain stops, I'll come find you."