An Eerie Mountain Village

What he held was half a wet vine and a clump of damp soil, with a several-inch-long blade of lush green grass still hanging from it.

"What is going on?"

Shen Luo hurriedly flung away the things in his hand. After swiftly sweeping his gaze around, the remnants of his drowsiness vanished in an instant.

He was not lying in the bed in his little room at all, but sitting on muddy ground in the wilderness.

Shen Luo climbed to his feet with an unpleasant expression and looked around.

Only then did he discover that weeds grew thickly on both sides of where he had been lying, while insect chirps rose and fell without end. Ahead and behind him was a faintly visible muddy path, barely wide enough for one person to pass through, leading who knew where. Farther away, everything was shrouded in pale mist, obstructing his vision so thoroughly that he could see nothing clearly.

Shen Luo fiercely slapped both cheeks. The burning pain told him that he was not dreaming.

"What is this? I was clearly sleeping in my room. How did I suddenly end up in a place like this? Could someone have abducted me from Spring Autumn Temple without a sound?"

At that thought, Shen Luo hurriedly checked his clothes, then raised his sleeve and carefully examined the emblem of Spring Autumn Temple on it. After moving his arms and legs, he relaxed slightly.

He vaguely remembered that he had been too exhausted yesterday and had gone to sleep fully dressed. His clothes had not changed, and there seemed to be nothing wrong with his body either.

Shen Luo was filled with alarm and doubt, but he knew that his most urgent task was to figure out where exactly he was.

He forced himself to calm down and examined his surroundings once more.

A chill permeated the air nearby. Though it was clearly summer, it felt as cold as late autumn, making his clothing seem noticeably thin. He could not help tightening the lapels of his outer robe.

Shen Luo suddenly remembered something and abruptly looked up at the sky.

The sky was like an endless black curtain, with only a lone crescent moon hanging overhead, casting down a faint, dim light. It was clearly still nighttime.

At that moment, gust after gust of howling wind came from afar, sounding like ghosts wailing. Yet it scattered much of the surrounding mist, finally allowing him to make out some blurry scenery.

After taking a deep breath, he cautiously proceeded along the path.

Before long, stretches of level ground began appearing on either side of the road. Some places had rows of crops planted in them, and they appeared to be fields.

The soil in the fields without crops was loose, as though it had only recently been tilled during the day.

At the sight, Shen Luo relaxed a little.

Since there were fields and signs of people living here, he should not be in any immediate danger. Though he had no idea how he had ended up here for no reason, this was not the time to investigate it closely.

He quickened his pace and continued down the country path.

The night mist gradually thinned, and the distant scenery slowly came into view.

About a li ahead, he could vaguely see scattered houses built against a mountain, with a few sparse lights glowing among them. Everything looked hazy.

Shen Luo was delighted at the sight.

As long as he went to those houses, he should be able to find out where he was.

With that thought in mind, even the distant lights seemed to bring him a measure of warmth, and his steps unconsciously quickened again.

Before long, he was less than a hundred zhang from where the lights shone.

This was indeed a small mountain village. It was not large, with only a dozen or so households.

Yet the night was deep, and the village was silent everywhere, dark as pitch. Only one household in the center of the village had a faint light shining from within.

Shen Luo followed the path to the village entrance. He paused briefly and, after confirming that there were no villagers moving about, entered the mountain village. But after taking only a few steps, his toe struck something with a bang, sending pain shooting through it.

That object rolled more than a zhang away.

Startled, he lowered his head and saw that it was half of a filthy wooden stake. Another half lay not far from his feet.

At a glance, the two pieces of stake did not seem ordinary. Strange patterns that looked somewhat familiar had been carved into their surfaces.

Shen Luo focused his gaze and looked more carefully, only to realize that those patterns were formed from runes.

Frowning, he bent down, picked up the half stake by his feet, and held it before his eyes for a closer inspection.

The runes on the stake looked crude and simple, nowhere near as intricate as the talismans he drew. Yet each one was twisted in an unusual way, giving him an intensely uncomfortable feeling.

After studying them for only two moments, he suddenly felt dizzy and lightheaded. He hurriedly turned his head away, deeply alarmed.

The runes on this stake actually possessed such strange power. What would happen if they were drawn on talisman paper?

As Shen Luo made wild guesses, he silently circulated the Minor Transforming Yang Art. A current of Yang energy arose from his dantian and traveled to his right hand, making his palm faintly warm.

He then reached out and touched the runes on the stake's surface. Finding nothing unusual, he quickly withdrew his hand.

After hesitating briefly, Shen Luo tossed the half stake back where it had been and strode toward the household with the light.

This was not the time to linger. He could study it again after figuring out his circumstances.

When he reached the open area before the house's door, he stopped once more.

There was actually a collapsed shrine in front of this household.

By the faint light shining through the window, Shen Luo could see clearly that the shrine was over a person's height tall and entirely black. There was no memorial tablet inside, only an overturned incense burner, with ashes scattered all over the ground.

What caught his attention was that rows of runes had been inscribed upon the shrine, very similar to those on the stake at the village entrance. However, the runes here were blood-red, as though painted in fresh blood, making them look rather chilling.

Shen Luo stared at the shrine, his expression uncertain.

Just then, gusts of frigid night wind swept over, making several large trees near the house rustle violently as great swathes of leaves whirled down through the air.

The powerful wind also swept along vast amounts of mist from outside the village. The already dim light before the house immediately darkened further, while the other villagers' homes became hazy, as though they might disappear into the mist at any moment.

Shen Luo felt the air around him grow even colder. His body temperature plummeted, and his limbs began to go numb in the wind. He could only take a deep breath, temporarily cast aside his concerns, and walk several steps to the lit doorway.

Just as he raised his hand to knock, his movement froze. Then he slowly withdrew his outstretched hand.

Suspicion appeared on Shen Luo's face. His nose twitched twice before he lowered his head to look at the ground, his pupils suddenly contracting to pinpoints.

A stream of black blood was seeping through the crack beneath the door, nearly spreading to his feet and giving off a pungent stench of blood.

Shen Luo's face turned pale. He immediately spun around and sprinted madly down the path he had come from.

The wind howled ceaselessly past his ears on both sides, while each breath in his mouth became abnormally cold, as though several knives were constantly scraping against one another inside.

Shen Luo felt that he had never run so fast in his life. His chest seemed about to burst, and in the blink of an eye, he had reached the village entrance. Without slowing in the slightest, he was about to rush straight out of the village in one breath.

Bang.

His body suddenly halted, and he fell stiffly face-first onto the ground, dragging a deep trail half a zhang long behind him.

Shen Luo felt his entire body turn stiff and cold. Something icy seemed to have appeared against the skin of his chest, wriggling there.

A strained growl escaped Shen Luo's throat. He clenched both fists with all his strength and somehow regained a little strength. Suddenly, he tore open the front of his robe, widened his eyes, and looked down.

Two exceptionally clear black handprints had appeared on his chest at some unknown time. Each was the size of an ordinary person's hand, black as ink, and they were rapidly creeping upward. Everywhere they passed was unbearably cold, making every inch of his skin prickle. In the blink of an eye, they had climbed to both sides of his neck, tightening little by little like solid hands...