The incense burned, but what burned was not fire—it was phosphorus, white ghostfire.
The instant Zi Bo laid eyes on the Mountain Lord, his vision swam, and he instinctively took a step back.
The Mountain Lord seemed to notice Zi Bo retreating. His upper lip parted slightly, and his whiskers trembled.
"Eek—" A chill ran through Zi Bo's heart. He gripped himself tight and straightened up again.
Mountain Lord, sir, wh-why had you appeared before us at a time like this?
By rights, shouldn't you wait until the wine sacrifice was nearly over, until the pigs and sheep had been slaughtered and cooked, before coming out to receive the offerings?
Why were you sitting before the temple at this hour?
But he could not retreat.
Trembling, Zi Bo took a step forward.
He absolutely could not retreat.
This was the Mountain Lord's wine sacrifice, not child's play. It was the reverent sacrifice that the people of the three villages beneath Pangxia offered to the Mountain Lord, held year after year for over a hundred years without a single mishap.
So nothing could go wrong.
Bracing himself, Zi Bo walked toward the Mountain Lord.
The members of the wine sacrifice procession turned around. They were all trembling in terror, but they still walked on. They had to.
The Mountain Lord's twitching tiger whiskers settled. After casting one final glance at Zi Bo, who led the procession, he let out a low growl that made their hearts tremble.
"Woooooo—"
Then he rose, turned around, and walked into the Mountain Lord Temple.
Without the Mountain Lord glaring at them, Zi Bo and the wine sacrifice procession finally calmed down a little, and at last had the presence of mind to think.
Something had indeed gone wrong with the Mountain Lord.
Zi Bo screamed