On the hillside near the valley floor.
The three of them carried bundles on their backs, keeping their distance from one another as they walked. Every so often, one would knock his walking stick against a nearby tree trunk with a hollow thunk, and the other two would knock on trees beside them in response. The sounds spread through the woods.
They used those intermittent knocks to keep track of one another, adjusting their spacing and pace with practiced understanding.
Toward noon, the oldest man stopped and knocked several times against an old tree beside him. Before long, the burly man and the young fellow pushed through the bushes to join him.
The old man tipped his head back, gulped down some water, and wiped his mouth.
"There's an old house ruin beside the deep pool down below, and a Medicine Field. It's open ground. Let's eat there and refill our water."
The young fellow's eyes lit up.
"I've heard there's an old Medicine Field hidden in these mountains! People found good herbs there years ago. After lying abandoned all this time, who knows what valuable treasures might have been brewing in it?"
He looked around as he spoke, staring through gaps in the foliage at that patch of sun-dazzled grass, as though he could already see ginseng seedlings swaying there.
The burly man grinned, exposing teeth yellowed by pipe tobacco.
"People have combed through it who knows how many times. What could be left that's worth anything?"
He bent down to pick a stone out of his shoe and flicked it away, then took the water flask and swallowed two great mouthfuls.
The old man led the way, pushing aside vines and branches as he headed toward the clearing below.
When they finally emerged from the dense shade, the view opened before them. Without tall trees blocking their sight, they could see a vast stretch of blue sky. Only half a wall remained of the old house, and the afternoon sun felt hot against their skin.
The old man narrowed his eyes as he examined the ruins, then pointed with his walking stick. His voice was quiet, but held the peculiar mystery of mountain folklore.
"The elders said that, long ago... an immortal cultivator lived here. Later, well, they said he ascended to the heavenly realm. The Thatched Hut he left behind collapsed ages ago, and the Medicine Field went to waste."
He paused and looked farther up the mountainside.
"But that little courtyard up on Lone Crag still has a few sturdy stone walls. They say there's a Pill Furnace inside. Walk past it, and you can still smell a medicinal fragrance that never quite fades."
The young fellow craned his neck.
Sure enough, he spotted Lone Crag jutting out amid the dense woods on the slope. Ruined stone walls covered in vines were faintly visible.
"Could there be... immortal pills left for someone destined to find them?"
His voice held the raw, unpolished yearning peculiar to the young.
Neither the old man nor the burly man answered. Clearly, they were long accustomed to such innocent fancies.
They cared more about what lay before them. All that remained of the old house was a ring of ruined walls half a person's height. Blackened traces of a campfire marked one corner, and someone had built a crude shelter from sticks and weeds for resting and keeping off the rain.
Several flat stones around the campfire served as seats. Leaning against the sun-warmed wall was quite comfortable.
The young fellow still refused to give up.
"What if... what if we found half a scroll of some heavenly cultivation scripture?"
His voice was quiet but stubborn.
"Even if we don't, finding a few old things an immortal used would be good enough. Or we could just figure out how to haul the Pill Furnace out of the mountains. Surely it'd fetch a fair bit of money?"
His eyes seemed glued to Lone Crag halfway up the mountainside.
The old man shook his head and tapped the bowl of his pipe against a stone.
"That place is forbidden. You can't just barge in. A great Black Snake coils there. I've heard he's as thick as a water bucket. Besides, could you carry an iron Pill Furnace as tall as a man? Stick to gathering in the mountains and stop dreaming about useless things."
With that, he paid the youngster no more attention and went on gnawing his hard, coarse-grain cake, washing down each bite with water and chewing a few freshly picked wild berries.
Young people were bound to be curious about all sorts of things. That was only natural. After a few more years of experience, his restless spirit would gradually settle, and he would understand that living free of sickness and calamity mattered more than anything.
Suddenly.
Fox flashed past outside the ruined wall!
His fur gleamed like red satin in the sunlight. Leaving a blur behind him, he sprinted straight toward Lone Crag halfway up the mountainside.
All three froze with food in their mouths. They had seen plenty of foxes, but never one with fur so brilliantly colored.
Suddenly, a tiger's roar came from upstream!
Deep and resonant, it rolled through the valley like muffled thunder. Their minds went blank, their bodies stiffening as cold sweat broke out.
The old man's face turned grim. He grabbed the youngster, who had instinctively started to bolt.
"Don't run! Two legs can't outrun a four-legged tiger!"
His eyes swept rapidly over their surroundings and settled on a steep cliff not far away.
"Follow me!"
With that, he took to his heels and dashed toward the cliff.
As he ran, he pulled a short blade from his pack and deftly fitted it onto the end of his walking stick. In the blink of an eye, he held a crude but lethal spear.
Behind him, the other two struggled to steady their breathing as their hearts pounded, copying him to assemble the weapons commonly used by mountain folk.
Once they reached the foot of the cliff, they immediately gathered branches and dry wood from nearby, then took out their flint and hurried to start a fire.
Sweating profusely and fumbling in their haste, they had struck only a few times when they heard dead leaves rustling in the woods. Heavy footfalls drew closer and closer. Soon, through gaps in the foliage, they saw a huge striped figure...
The tiger raised its enormous head, nostrils fluttering, and spotted the three men beneath the cliff.
But its target was Fox. That distinctive, lively aura seemed steeped in the essence of the wild mountains, drawing it onward like an invisible hook.
It desperately wanted to swallow Fox. Instinct told it that doing so would bring immense benefits.
But Fox had slipped away too quickly, leaving only a soul-snaring trace of his scent. The tiger had not originally intended to hurt anyone, but the arduous journey had long since set hunger burning inside it. It was simply too hungry.
The three men's faces turned ashen.
The worst had happened after all. The tiger's immense body bore down on them at an unhurried pace.
Before they could fully ignite the tinder, however, the approaching tiger inexplicably stopped. Its enormous head turned toward the opposite hillside.
Every muscle in its body tightened. It lowered its forequarters with a growl, its four paws shifting uneasily as it braced itself to fight with all its strength.
Yet the dense woods on the hillside were utterly still. Apart from the stream, there was not the slightest sound.
That silence was more terrifying than any roar.
The tiger sniffed the air. Staring into the silent woods, it seemed to weigh something, then turned its massive body and bounded into the forest in a few leaps.
The chilling striped figure quickly vanished from sight.
Before their bewilderment at escaping death had faded, they heard crack, crack from the bushes. Branches were brutally crushed aside, falling in both directions.
Then they saw the largest snake they had ever seen in their lives.
Black Snake approached the Thatched Hut at an unhurried pace, his head raised and his tongue flickering soundlessly. He watched the direction in which the tiger had departed, then, a moment later, turned his gaze toward the three mountain gatherers beneath the cliff.
He ignored them, glided to the pool, and lowered his head to drink at a leisurely pace.
He drank for quite a while.
If he drank too little, an unbearable pain would arise in his belly. He did not understand why. He only knew he had to drink enough to avoid the suffering.
Paying no attention to Fox's squeaking, he returned halfway up the mountainside once he had drunk his fill and quietly waited for rain, as always.
Black Snake knew the three men at the bottom of the valley had not left. They spent a long time busying themselves with strange, meaningless tasks. By the look of it, they intended to camp overnight in the old house ruin.
The three spent the entire afternoon grunting as they carried stones over and stacked them into a waist-high platform beside the ruined wall of the old house, in front of a small elm tree.
Then they laboriously found some flat stone slabs and managed to build a little stone shrine atop the platform.