Into the Mountains

A few days after breaking through to Body Tempering.

That afternoon, Zhou Yan squatted by the courtyard gate, sharpening his woodcutting knife. From far away, he heard someone shouting at the village entrance.

Hearing it, he looked up and swept his gaze over.

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

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

Zhou Yan did not move. He kept sharpening his knife, his ears pricked.

The square-faced man at the front was speaking with Liu Laonian.

His voice was not loud, but Zhou Yan had broken through to Body Tempering, and his five senses had improved greatly. 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 payment, that is easy to discuss."

Liu Laonian said, "Blackwind Ridge? They say that place is eerie as hell. Most people in the village only dare go there to chop firewood. But the third son of the Zhou Family's main branch is a clever lad. He roams the mountains year-round and could find his way back with his eyes closed."

He was talking about Zhou Yan. The original owner had few friends and a withdrawn nature. After finishing his work, he would wander through Blackwind Ridge.

The villagers had seen him there plenty of times.

The square-faced man asked which household.

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 sturdy man. Both had short knives hanging at their waists, and all three carried the scent of medicinal broth.

Zhou Yan could recognize it. It was the familiar Body-Tempering Decoction.

It seemed these three had reached, at most, Body Tempering.

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

"I used to go there often."

"The depths."

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

"Further in. Help us find a place with plenty of medicinal herbs." The square-faced man said, "Enter the mountain, lead the way—one tael of silver. Whether we find herbs or not, the money is yours."

Zhou Yan did not agree right away.

To be honest, one tael of silver was already no small sum for farming families like theirs who worked the fields all year. It was even a great deal of money.

He only had two taels left, and his Body-Tempering Decoction had long since run out.

In earlier years, he had only dared wander around Blackwind Ridge's outskirts. But its depths were no place to trifle with.

There were no shortage of strange tales.

But one thing was certain: the depths definitely contained demon beasts.

"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 had no idea how strong he truly was.

Besides, he needed money!

Desperately!

Without the 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 man grinned, while the sturdy one merely nodded once.

Zhou Yan stood and tucked his woodcutting knife behind his waist.

"Meet 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.

His woodcutting knife was the same one. He had sharpened it again last night.

The three martial hall apprentices did not arrive 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 followed the dirt road toward the foot of the mountain.

The sun had not yet climbed over the ridge. Zhou Yan walked neither fast nor slow, his steps steady.

Sun Ping had a loose mouth, muttering as he walked.

One moment, he complained that the 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. Every so often, he merely wiped the sweat from his face with his sleeve.

Zheng Tong was also a man of few words, but his steps were steady. With the foundation of Body Tempering Great Accomplishment, he did not even gasp after walking the Mountain Road for more than half an hour.

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

He had roughly sized up the three men. Zheng Tong was the leader, Sun Ping was lively and restless, and Zhao Laosi was quiet but dependable.

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

The first hour was along a familiar route.

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

But after turning onto a side trail, things were different.

He had never come this far!

The path grew narrower and narrower.

Patter, patter...

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

Zhou Yan noticeably slowed down. He used his woodcutting knife 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."

"Afraid?"

"I am." Zhou Yan did not turn around. "The old people in the village say there may be monsters here that steal one's soul. So there is nothing wrong with walking slowly."

Zheng Tong said nothing more.

They walked on for a while.

The forest suddenly fell silent.

Even the birds that had been calling earlier were gone.

The silence was terrifying!

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

Zheng Tong's heart beat like a drum. He coughed at the front, 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 say." He pushed aside a dead branch. "It is older than Qingyun County—much older. Long ago, a sect was built in these mountains, but that is only a rumor. Do not take it too seriously."

"A sect?"

"Yes. Then, overnight, everyone vanished. From top to bottom, not a single person in the entire sect remained."

Sun Ping swallowed behind them.

"After they disappeared, the mountains became unsettled." Zhou Yan continued, "Sometimes, black wind would suddenly rise in broad daylight, and the sky would darken at once. The wind blew so hard people could barely stand. Once the mist rose, you could hear mournful howls, like someone crying."

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

"No. That is what the old people say." Zhou Yan chopped through a dead vine stretched across his path. "They say they are the lingering souls of the sect's Martial Adepts, unable to disperse even after death. But it is only a rumor. Almost no one believes it, and the news of that sect itself came from a madman who entered the mountains a hundred years ago."

"No one even knows whether it is true!"

Sun Ping muttered something, too quietly to make out.

Zheng Tong did not respond.

Zhou Yan added, "None of the nearby villages have dared enter 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 remembering something, he glanced at Zhou Yan and swallowed the rest of his words.

A wind suddenly rushed out from the depths of the forest, chilly and carrying a nauseating stench of blood.

By noon, the forest had grown so dense it was nearly impossible to set foot inside.

The path had long vanished. They could only hack their way forward with their blades.

Suddenly, Zhou Yan stopped up ahead.

"What is it?" Zheng Tong stepped forward.

Zhou Yan said nothing, staring at the rock wall to the left.

Vines crawled all over the wall in dense layers, looking no different from the surroundings.

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

He walked over and used the back of his knife to push aside a clump of leaves.

The soil beneath was brownish, with an oily sheen. This 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 sniffed, then rubbed it again.

"Ginseng soil." His voice changed. "No mistake."

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

Zheng Tong stood and tore away several old vines.

The vines were quite tough, snapping with sharp crackles as he pulled.

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

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

"Dig."

Zhao Laosi handed over the short pickaxe. Zheng Tong did not take it, instead digging with his hands, plunging his fingers into the soil and scooping it out handful by handful.

Layers of fallen leaves were brushed aside.

The soil grew darker and oilier.

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

Zhao Laosi stood, one hand on the hilt of his short knife, watching the way they had come.

Zhou Yan retreated several steps and leaned against a tree to drink water.

His eyes never left their surroundings.

The mountain ravine was quiet. Only the soft rustle of Zheng Tong digging through the soil could be heard.

Occasionally, fragments of rock rolled down from the 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 slowly scraped away the surrounding earth. His movements were extremely light, as though afraid of breaking something.

Sun Ping barely dared breathe.

The mountain ginseng emerged.

It was more than a circle thicker than an adult man's thumb. Wrinkles layered over its body one after another, while its roots spread over a foot long in a dense mass.

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

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

"At least sixty years old." He lowered his voice, which had gone taut. "Over a hundred taels."

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

Zhao Laosi also leaned in. At last, there was an expression on his face. He reached out to touch the ginseng roots, but Zheng Tong slapped his hand away.

"Do not touch it."

Zhao Laosi sheepishly withdrew his hand.

Zheng Tong still cradled 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 something under his breath.

Suddenly, several sharp footsteps sounded nearby.

"Someone is coming," Zheng Tong suddenly said.

The three martial hall apprentices looked up at the same time.

The footsteps drew nearer and nearer, neither hurried nor slow. From the other end of the mountain ravine, several figures emerged from the shadows of the trees.