Into the Mountains

A few days after breaking through Body Tempering.

That afternoon, Zhou Yan was squatting by the courtyard gate, sharpening his machete, when he heard someone shouting at the village entrance from far away.

At the sound, he looked up and swept his gaze over there.

In the distance stood three young men dressed in gray cloth tunics.

He had seen that attire before. They were from the White Cloud Martial Hall in the county town, and several idle villagers had gathered around to watch the commotion.

Zhou Yan did not move. He continued sharpening his blade, ears pricked.

The square-faced man in the lead was speaking with Liu Laonian.

The man was not speaking loudly, but Zhou Yan had broken through Body Tempering now, and his five senses had greatly improved. Even from half an alley away, he could hear clearly.

"Blackwind Ridge. We need someone to guide us. Does your village have anyone who knows the way? As for the payment, that can be discussed."

Liu Laonian said, "Blackwind Ridge? Rumor has it that place is awfully strange. Most people in the village only dare go there to gather firewood, but the third son of the Zhou Family's main branch is quite clever. He wanders around the mountains all year round and could find his way back with his eyes closed."

He was talking about Zhou Yan. The original owner had not had many friends either. He was solitary by nature and would wander through Blackwind Ridge whenever he finished his work.

The villagers had seen him there plenty of times.

The square-faced man asked which household he belonged to.

Liu Laonian pointed toward the Zhou Family courtyard gate.

The three men walked over. The one in front was in his early twenties, square-faced and broad-shouldered, with steady steps.

Behind him were one lanky man and one stocky man. Both had short blades hanging from their waists, and all three carried the scent of medicinal broth.

Zhou Yan recognized it immediately. It was the familiar Body-Tempering Decoction.

It seemed these three were at most at the Body Tempering stage.

The square-faced man looked Zhou Yan up and down. "You know the way through Blackwind Ridge?"

"I used to go there often."

"The deeper parts."

The whetstone in Zhou Yan's hand stopped. "How deep?"

"Further in. Take us somewhere with plenty of medicinal herbs." The square-faced man said, "Enter the mountains, guide us, and you get one tael of silver. Whether we find herbs or not, the money is yours."

Zhou Yan did not agree right away.

Honestly, one tael of silver was already no small sum for farming folk who tilled the land year-round. It was even a great deal of money.

He only had two taels of silver left, and he had long run out of Body-Tempering Decoction.

In earlier years, he had only dared wander around the outskirts of Blackwind Ridge, but its depths were no joke.

There were plenty of strange tales about it.

But one thing was certain: there were definitely demonic beasts in the depths.

"How many days?"

"One day will do. We leave tomorrow morning and return before dark."

Zhou Yan fell silent for several breaths.

He also wanted to see what the martial hall disciples were capable of. He had trained alone in the forest for two months and did not know how strong he had become.

More importantly, he needed money!

Desperately!

Without Body-Tempering Decoction, he had found that his progress had slowed.

"Fine."

The square-faced man nodded. "Zheng Tong."

Then he pointed behind him. "Sun Ping, Zhao Laosi."

The lanky one grinned, while the stocky one merely nodded.

Zhou Yan got to his feet and tucked the machete behind his waist.

"See you at the village entrance tomorrow morning."

At first light, Zhou Yan arrived at the village entrance.

He wore an old hemp shirt, his leg wraps tied tight, with a water gourd hanging at his waist.

It was still the same machete, though he had sharpened it again the night before.

The three martial hall apprentices were not late.

Zheng Tong walked in front, with an extra bamboo basket on his back.

Sun Ping carried two water gourds, while Zhao Laosi shouldered a short pickaxe.

No one wasted words.

The four headed along the dirt road toward the foot of the mountain.

The sun had yet to rise over the ridge. Zhou Yan walked neither quickly nor slowly, his steps steady.

Sun Ping was talkative, muttering as he walked.

One moment, he complained that dew had soaked his trouser legs.

The next, he complained that the forest was too stifling.

Zhao Laosi did not say a word from beginning to end, only occasionally wiping the sweat from his face with his sleeve.

Zheng Tong did not speak much, but his pace was steady. With the foundation of Body Tempering Great Accomplishment, he did not even pant after walking mountain roads for over half an hour.

Zhou Yan led the way in front, occasionally glancing back.

He had roughly figured out the three men. Zheng Tong was the leader, Sun Ping was lively and impulsive, while Zhao Laosi was quiet but dependable.

Zheng Tong was the strongest, while the other two were about evenly matched.

The first hour followed a familiar route.

He had entered the mountains at least twice a week before. He would not take a wrong turn on this path even with his eyes closed.

Things changed after they turned onto a side path.

He had never been here before!

The path grew narrower and narrower.

Patter, patter...

The rotting leaves on the ground had piled up for who knew how many years, soft and yielding beneath their feet.

Zhou Yan noticeably slowed down. He used his machete to push aside the branches blocking the way, his eyes constantly scanning both sides.

Zheng Tong asked from behind, "Have you walked this path before?"

"Half of it. I have never gone farther in."

"Scared?"

"Yes." Zhou Yan did not turn around. "The old people in the village say there might be monsters that steal people's souls, so it is better to walk slowly."

Zheng Tong said nothing more.

They walked on for a while longer.

The forest suddenly fell silent.

Even the birdcalls from before had vanished.

The silence was terrifying!

Only the rustling of four people stepping on dead leaves remained.

Zheng Tong felt uneasy. He coughed ahead of them, his voice dry. "What is the history of this place?"

Zhou Yan knew he was asking about Blackwind Ridge.

"This is what the old people said." He pushed aside a dead branch. "It has existed longer than Qingyun County. Long ago, a sect was built in these mountains, but that is only a rumor. Do not take it too seriously."

"A sect?"

"Yes. Later, it vanished overnight. From top to bottom, not a single person from the entire sect remained."

Sun Ping swallowed behind them.

"After it disappeared, the mountains began to grow restless." Zhou Yan continued, "Sometimes, a black wind suddenly rises in broad daylight, and the sky immediately darkens. The wind blows so hard people cannot stand steady. Once the fog rises, you can hear sobbing sounds, like someone crying."

Zhao Laosi asked in a muffled voice, "Have you heard it?"

"No. I heard it from the old people." Zhou Yan chopped through a dead vine stretched across the path. "They say these are the lingering souls of the sect's Martial Adepts, unable to disperse even after death. It is only a rumor, and almost no one believes it. Besides, news of that sect came from a madman who entered the mountains a century ago."

"No one even knows if it is true!"

Sun Ping muttered something that could not be heard clearly.

Zheng Tong did not respond.

Zhou Yan added, "No one from the nearby villages has dared venture into the depths for the past hundred years. That alone is enough."

"If I had known, I would not have come, Brother Zheng. If not for..."

Zhao Laosi stopped halfway through, suddenly seeming to recall something. He glanced at Zhou Yan and left his words unfinished.

A gust of wind suddenly poured out from deep within the forest, chilly and carrying a sickening fishy stench.

By noon, the forest had become so dense that it was nearly impossible to move through.

The path had long since vanished. They could only advance by hacking through the way with their blades.

Suddenly, Zhou Yan stopped ahead.

"What is it?" Zheng Tong walked up.

Zhou Yan did not speak. He stared at the rock wall on the left.

The wall was covered in vines, layer upon layer, no different from its surroundings at a glance.

But he had spent years roaming the mountains and had an indescribable instinct for such things.

He walked over and used the back of his blade to brush aside a cluster of leaves.

The soil underneath was brownish and greasy. It was not the yellow mud commonly found in the mountains.

Zheng Tong narrowed his eyes, crouched down, and pinched up some soil to rub between his fingers.

After rubbing it twice, he brought it to his nose and smelled it, then rubbed it once more.

"Ginseng soil." His voice changed. "No doubt about it."

Sun Ping and Zhao Laosi exchanged a look and gathered around.

Zheng Tong stood and tore away several old vines.

The vines were quite tough, snapping loudly as he pulled them apart.

Beneath them was a natural hollow, just large enough for one person to crouch in.

The soil at the bottom was darker and greasier than outside, with a small mound raised in the center.

"Dig."

Zhao Laosi handed over the short pickaxe. Zheng Tong did not take it. Instead, he dug with his hands, driving his fingers into the earth and scooping it out handful by handful.

Layers of dead leaves were swept away.

The soil grew darker and greasier.

Sun Ping crouched beside him to help, using a small shovel to scrape away the loose earth around the edges.

Zhao Laosi stood up, one hand resting on the hilt of his short blade as he watched the path behind them.

Zhou Yan stepped back several paces and leaned against a tree to drink some water.

His eyes never left their surroundings.

The mountain ravine was quiet, with only the soft scraping of Zheng Tong digging through the soil.

Occasionally, bits of gravel rolled down from the rock wall with a patter.

After about the time it took to burn an incense stick, Zheng Tong's movements suddenly grew gentler.

A section of yellowish-brown material emerged from the soil, thicker than a thumb.

He switched to a small knife and carefully scraped away the surrounding dirt bit by bit. His movements were incredibly light, as though afraid of breaking something.

Sun Ping barely dared breathe.

The mountain ginseng emerged.

It was more than a full circle thicker than an adult man's thumb. Its body was covered in layered wrinkles, while its roots spread out over a foot long, dense and numerous.

One thin root had snapped during the digging, and milky white sap seeped from the break.

Zheng Tong held the mountain ginseng in his palms, his hands trembling.

"At least sixty years old." He lowered his voice, which had grown tight. "More than a hundred taels."

Sun Ping broke into a grin so wide he could not close his mouth.

Zhao Laosi also moved closer. At last, an expression appeared on his face. He reached out to touch one of the ginseng roots, only for Zheng Tong to slap his hand away.

"Do not touch it."

Zhao Laosi awkwardly pulled back his hand.

Zheng Tong was still cradling the ginseng, unable to suppress the smile at the corners of his mouth. Sun Ping crouched on the ground, picking up scattered ginseng roots and muttering to himself.

Suddenly, several sharp footsteps sounded nearby.

"Someone is coming," Zheng Tong suddenly said.

The three martial hall apprentices raised their heads at once.

The footsteps drew closer and closer, unhurried. From the other end of the mountain ravine, several figures emerged from the shadows of the trees.