Chapter 60: Bone Threads (V)
Dustpan Mountain was faithful to its name. The mountain was hidden behind a smattering of wild forest, close to a village that stood near the border of Qingping County. The side of the mountain that faced the sun was covered in rice paddies and looked pure and fresh in the daylight, half-hidden by a thin cloud of water vapor.
But the reason why it was called Dustpan Mountain was because the side that did not face the sun contained a large patch of concave earth. The concave part was always shrouded in fog so thick that someone standing at the foot of the mountain looking up would not be able to trace the contours of the sunken section. Every once in a while, someone slipped and fell in, or a curious person went to explore, but no one ever returned.
Thus, there were many local rumors about Dustpan Mountain. Some said that so many people had died in the sunken part that the area was a wild cemetery filled with white bones; others said that people lived there, that they could sometimes hear their voices, including the chilling cry of an infant –– they did not know if these were ghosts or humans.
There were all sorts of rumors that ranged from the mundane to the ridiculous, but not a single one of them could be proved.
In the first ten years after the concave part had been created, there were those with a death wish, but they seemed to have died out by now. Even the rumors begun to fade, and few people talked about it now, so that young people knew only that Dustpan Mountain existed and that they should not go there –– though they were never told why.
The officials from the Ministry of Ceremonies trotted forward, avoiding the sun-bathed little village and paddies and heading straight for the dark side. Before long, they could see that patch of fog on Dustpan Mountain.
The Taizhu lifted his hand again, halting the riders behind him, then turned and said, "Lady, which of these two paths do we take?"
Ahead of them, one of the paths went around the sunken part and was headed for the side of the mountain, whereas the other was entirely hidden by the fog.
The fog was humid, cold, and emitted a strong yin energy. It also had some faint, lingering wooden smell –– or maybe it was the smell of medicine. Ultimately, the smell seemed definitively to be one of poison.
The Taipu had already checked her records multiple times during the journey, but now she frowned at the tortoise shell again and finally pointed into the fog: "Yes. This one."
The Taizhu sighed, then said to the train behind him, "Let's make sure we all cover our faces... and eyeballs."
Indeed, they were all human, with frail human bodies –– no one would be too reckless in an unclear situation.
hearing the Taizhu's order, each of the riders in the train took out a small cotton pouch from their chest pockets and shook out a small antidote pellet, which they ingested. Then they took out a similar-looking, primitive perfume pouch and inserted these into their masks, beneath their nostrils.
The Taipu reached into the bags carried by her horse and retrieved a crescent-shaped bell, which was carved on the side with the image of a tiny eight-sided bell.
Then she took out a stack of folded talismanic papers and extracted one of them. She cast it into the fog and rung the bell three times, then kicked her stirrups. The horse obediently began to trot again, following the ringing of the bell into the thick, dense fog.
As the Taipu went first and the Taizhu followed, the entire carriage train fell in line from two rows into just the one as they inched into the fog.
The fog was a sickly white glaze through which they could see nothing –– even the horses beneath them became headless ghosts –– the sudden blindness was unnerving.
But the Taipu maintained a calm expression. With her brows slightly furrowed, she focused on maintaining the same rhythm –– five steps to a ring –– and led the long, thin train into the depths of the mountain. Halfway in, there was a young rider near the back of the train who had never experienced such a thing and began to panic in the fog.
When one panics, one loses control of one's breathing. As the young official entered the fog, he inadvertently gasped with fear, drawing a great breath of fog right into his nose.
Before he'd even taken three more steps, there was a plopping noise as the official slid off his horse and onto the ground, where he grasped wildly at his throat, gasping for breath. Those behind him were impatient: once they'd managed to control their own breathing, they repressed their anxiety and pulled the young official back onto his horse.
"Keep your steps steady and your breath steadier––" came the gloomy, distant voice of the Taipu, as wispy as smoke –– as though she were speaking from a whole other world.
Despite her warnings, seven or eight officials in the train fell victim to the fog. They began to convulse and spit out mouthfuls of blood, then quickly died.
The crescent-shaped bell rang five times in quick succession. This meant that the Taipu had arrived at their destination.
It seemed that she was right in front of the mountain hollow. Strangely, the hollow looked different from the way it did at the foot of the mountain –– the fog was thin here, as thin as a layer of water vapor rising from the ground after a day of rain, and not at all like the terrifying, opaque thing that had pestered them all the way in. And within that weak layer of fog was a small, solitary building made of bamboo. It had around three stories, and was exquisitely crafted.
Perhaps because it had been submerged in the fog for too long, but every single thin plank of bamboo was clean and shone with a brightness –– if it wasn't for the fact it was located within that poisonous fog, it would look like a luxury inn.
At the head of the train, the Taipu and Taizhu studied the building for a while, waiting for those behind them to file in and surround the building. If it weren't for their masks, the officials' faces would probably reveal a sense of unhappiness––
Their mission had only been to track a location, but they'd already lost several lives. Anyone else would be upset, too.
"Don't lose caution. The thin fog is poisonous too," the Taipu reminded the Changzi officials around them. Then she met eyes with the Taizhu. The two swiftly descended their horses and proceeded, with practiced hands, to lay down a series of talismans around the building.
As the spell took effect, the thin fog around the building suddenly floated away, sucked into the thicker fog around them, creating a circle of clean air.
The officials all removed their perfume pouches and got off their horses, gathering near the two leaders to inspect the building.
They knew that they were here to find a person –– but who it was, the lowly Changzi were not told. They had only seen a likeness, but could not say what the person did, why they were looking for them. Only the Taipu and Taizhu knew.
"Are you sure it's here?" the Taizhu asked the Taipu as he scanned the building again.
Even the Taipu herself felt that if you wanted to hide a person here... it was both easy and difficult: if the fog could block visitors out, then it was a perfect hiding place, but if visitors managed to penetrate the fog as they had, then there was nowhere to run.
"Oh well. Let's search it," the Taizhu said as he turned to give instructions to the Changzi.
Soon, the two led five Changzi into the bamboo building with the aim of inspecting every room. The hundred-odd other officials remained outside, holding down the fort.
The three-story building really was small –– in no time, they'd finished searching it.
"So?" The Taizhu hurried down from the top floor. He held a scroll in his hand and flipped through it, looking for clues, then shook his head and tossed it onto a nearby table.
The Taipu stood on the first floor, staring into a pristine living room. She said, "Nothing at all."
The Taizhu crossed his arms and looked around again, then finally said, "Lady, I'm not saying your divinations were wrong... but maybe we missed a clue somewhere, and it affected the results?"
With the situation as it was, the Taipu was not offended by the question. She sat down by the table and slammed the grass knot and tortoise shell onto its surface, studying them carefully.
"Do you want to... try another shell?" the Taizhu asked.
The Taipu shook her head. "No. I cannot burn a shell for the same matter twice in a day. Let me look harder."
But soon, she let out an exclamatory "Yi!"
"What is it?" the Taizhu asked.
"Nothing. It's the person I mentioned earlier," the Taipu replied. "When I was divining, they happened to be in the nearby town, and now they've been brought into the shell markings."
"The one you said could not possibly be there? Who is it?" the Taizhu asked, confused.
The Taipu lifted her head and looked back at him, her black eyes behind the mask revealing a sense of unease. "It must be some other person with a similar birthdate or life horoscope. It can't be who I think it is. Indeed..."
"Stop beating around the bush. Who? Tell me." The Taizhu was about to explode.
The Taipu shook out the folded notes from her pocket and tapped at that the red stamp on the letter that read, Tongdeng. She said, "The Great Priest."
"Who?!" The Taizhu couldn't believe his ears, and wanted to scratch them, but his hands only came into contact with the mask, so he had no choice but to put his hands away again.
The Taipu looked at him and repeated, "The Great Priest."
"Impossible. Impossible. How could it be ––" the Taizhu blubbered, shaking his head. "The Great Priest is on the top floor of the Ministry of Ceremonies. We saw him before we left. The old man is still sealed away. How could he suddenly appear in Qingping County? You know the rules of his isolation as well as I do. If he leaves in the middle, then he's ruined the whole thing."
"Of course I know," the Taipu said. "That's why I said it must be someone similar, and not actually him. However..."
The Taizhu waved his hand dismissively. "There's no however. Let's focus on the matter at hand."
Although he said this, he couldn't help but feel a rising sense of fear.
Just as the Taipu got ready to read her tortoise shell again, a small, gentle sound was emitted amid the fog outside, as though something had accidentally stepped on a bamboo leaf.
At the same time, as though blown by a breeze, the grass knot on the table shifted to a different position.
Immediately, the Taipu gathered her things and began to hurry down the stairs. "There's been a change," she said. "We must leave this hollow immediately. If we delay, we're going to lose the person!"
Soon after this, another group of people arrived at that fork in the road where the officials had stopped before entering the mountain.
"Where do we go now? The creepy road full of fog that looks like it's going to kill us, or the clean and safe-looking road?" asked a stout middle-aged man anxiously.
This group were none other than Xue Xian and his companions.
It was to be Jiang Shijing's birthday in two days –– Xue Xian hadn't made Jiang Shining come along with them, so that he could spend time with his sister at home. Instead he'd brought Lu Twenty-Seven, Stone Zhang, and Xuanmin.
Twenty-Seven was a human compass. Although he wasn't always very accurate, but he was still highly useful for someone so bad with directions as Xue Xian. Stone Zhang could remember the man who had blindfolded him, so if they found him, they needed the stonemason to identify him, so he, too, was useful. And as for Xuanmin...
Whether or not he was useful, he had to be brought along.
Where such a logic came from, Xue Xian wasn't sure. He was probably used to travelling with the monk, and feared he would get bored without him.
Although some unknown urge had compelled him to take Xuanmin along, now that they were here, Xue Xian began to regret it. The events of last night still stood between them, and this morning, Xuanmin had been in a weird mood. Plus... what had Fang Cheng said?
Oh, right: the effects of dragon spit could not go away within as short a time as one or two days.
Ha. Ha.
As Xue Xian admitted to himself that he must've been crazy to bring Xuanmin to Dustpan Mountain, Twenty-Seven suddenly pointed into the fog and said to Stone Zhang, "Do you really need to ask? Of course we have to take the road that looks like it's going to kill us."
"That fog.... i-i-is it poisonous?" stammered Stone Zhang.
"It's going to kill us. Of course it's poisonous," Twenty-Seven replied.
"So how do we go in..."
Twenty-Seven said, "We charge."
Oh, fuck off.
Stone Zhang wished he could simply run away. The worst part was, apart from a faint smell of wood, he also thought he could detect the stench of blood in the fog... fresh blood.
His legs began to tremble, and he wondered whether he should begin to cry again –– see if Xue Xian would take pity on him.
Thankfully, before he'd begun to squeeze out tears, the magnanimous Xuanmin said, "No need to panic––"
As he took out a talisman, just his mild mannerism was enough to reassure Stone Zhang. Xuanmin was always reliable; he always had an idea; so he must know how to get them through that poison fog.
Stone Zhang could tell from the talismanic paper that Xuanmin was going to use that for a spell. He moved out of the way to make room for the monk, and even tugged Twenty-Seven aside too.
But just as Xuanmin had selected the right talismanic paper, a certain person, who had been deep in thought, came back to his senses.
Suddenly, Xue Xian pushed Xuanmin's hand away and smirked. "There's no need to pull out all the stops for something as small as this. Let me."
He slapped the armrest on his wheelchair. With a kacha sound, an enormous gust of wind rose and began to rumble forward with the might of a thousand soldiers.
Hu–––
The fog that had blanketed the road for who knows how many years was blown to nothing by Xue Xian's fierce wind, revealing a dense thicket of old trees made gnarled by the poisonous air of the mountain hollow –– as well as a clear road into the mountain.
Xue Xian turned to Xuanmin and wagged his chin. Although his face displayed that usual air of lazy foolishness, there was something to his expression that seemed to say, Isn't this the part where you tell me how great I am?
Xuanmin only glanced back at him and said, "You've broken the armrest." His tone still had that... saltiness.
Xue Xian grumbled to himself, People who can't read faces and insist on being so rude all the time should be thrown directly into the sea.
Chapter 60: Bone Threads (V)
Dustpan Mountain was faithful to its name. The mountain was hidden behind a smattering of wild forest, close to a village that stood near the border of Qingping County. The side of the mountain that faced the sun was covered in rice paddies and looked pure and fresh in the daylight, half-hidden by a thin cloud of water vapor.
But the reason why it was called Dustpan Mountain was because the side that did not face the sun contained a large patch of concave earth. The concave part was always shrouded in fog so thick that someone standing at the foot of the mountain looking up would not be able to trace the contours of the sunken section. Every once in a while, someone slipped and fell in, or a curious person went to explore, but no one ever returned.
Thus, there were many local rumors about Dustpan Mountain. Some said that so many people had died in the sunken part that the area was a wild cemetery filled with white bones; others said that people lived there, that they could sometimes hear their voices, including the chilling cry of an infant –– they did not know if these were ghosts or humans.
There were all sorts of rumors that ranged from the mundane to the ridiculous, but not a single one of them could be proved.
In the first ten years after the concave part had been created, there were those with a death wish, but they seemed to have died out by now. Even the rumors begun to fade, and few people talked about it now, so that young people knew only that Dustpan Mountain existed and that they should not go there –– though they were never told why.
The officials from the Ministry of Ceremonies trotted forward, avoiding the sun-bathed little village and paddies and heading straight for the dark side. Before long, they could see that patch of fog on Dustpan Mountain.
The Taizhu lifted his hand again, halting the riders behind him, then turned and said, "Lady, which of these two paths do we take?"
Ahead of them, one of the paths went around the sunken part and was headed for the side of the mountain, whereas the other was entirely hidden by the fog.
The fog was humid, cold, and emitted a strong yin energy. It also had some faint, lingering wooden smell –– or maybe it was the smell of medicine. Ultimately, the smell seemed definitively to be one of poison.
The Taipu had already checked her records multiple times during the journey, but now she frowned at the tortoise shell again and finally pointed into the fog: "Yes. This one."
The Taizhu sighed, then said to the train behind him, "Let's make sure we all cover our faces... and eyeballs."
Indeed, they were all human, with frail human bodies –– no one would be too reckless in an unclear situation.
hearing the Taizhu's order, each of the riders in the train took out a small cotton pouch from their chest pockets and shook out a small antidote pellet, which they ingested. Then they took out a similar-looking, primitive perfume pouch and inserted these into their masks, beneath their nostrils.
The Taipu reached into the bags carried by her horse and retrieved a crescent-shaped bell, which was carved on the side with the image of a tiny eight-sided bell.
Then she took out a stack of folded talismanic papers and extracted one of them. She cast it into the fog and rung the bell three times, then kicked her stirrups. The horse obediently began to trot again, following the ringing of the bell into the thick, dense fog.
As the Taipu went first and the Taizhu followed, the entire carriage train fell in line from two rows into just the one as they inched into the fog.
The fog was a sickly white glaze through which they could see nothing –– even the horses beneath them became headless ghosts –– the sudden blindness was unnerving.
But the Taipu maintained a calm expression. With her brows slightly furrowed, she focused on maintaining the same rhythm –– five steps to a ring –– and led the long, thin train into the depths of the mountain. Halfway in, there was a young rider near the back of the train who had never experienced such a thing and began to panic in the fog.
When one panics, one loses control of one's breathing. As the young official entered the fog, he inadvertently gasped with fear, drawing a great breath of fog right into his nose.
Before he'd even taken three more steps, there was a plopping noise as the official slid off his horse and onto the ground, where he grasped wildly at his throat, gasping for breath. Those behind him were impatient: once they'd managed to control their own breathing, they repressed their anxiety and pulled the young official back onto his horse.
"Keep your steps steady and your breath steadier––" came the gloomy, distant voice of the Taipu, as wispy as smoke –– as though she were speaking from a whole other world.
Despite her warnings, seven or eight officials in the train fell victim to the fog. They began to convulse and spit out mouthfuls of blood, then quickly died.
The crescent-shaped bell rang five times in quick succession. This meant that the Taipu had arrived at their destination.
It seemed that she was right in front of the mountain hollow. Strangely, the hollow looked different from the way it did at the foot of the mountain –– the fog was thin here, as thin as a layer of water vapor rising from the ground after a day of rain, and not at all like the terrifying, opaque thing that had pestered them all the way in. And within that weak layer of fog was a small, solitary building made of bamboo. It had around three stories, and was exquisitely crafted.
Perhaps because it had been submerged in the fog for too long, but every single thin plank of bamboo was clean and shone with a brightness –– if it wasn't for the fact it was located within that poisonous fog, it would look like a luxury inn.
At the head of the train, the Taipu and Taizhu studied the building for a while, waiting for those behind them to file in and surround the building. If it weren't for their masks, the officials' faces would probably reveal a sense of unhappiness––
Their mission had only been to track a location, but they'd already lost several lives. Anyone else would be upset, too.
"Don't lose caution. The thin fog is poisonous too," the Taipu reminded the Changzi officials around them. Then she met eyes with the Taizhu. The two swiftly descended their horses and proceeded, with practiced hands, to lay down a series of talismans around the building.
As the spell took effect, the thin fog around the building suddenly floated away, sucked into the thicker fog around them, creating a circle of clean air.
The officials all removed their perfume pouches and got off their horses, gathering near the two leaders to inspect the building.
They knew that they were here to find a person –– but who it was, the lowly Changzi were not told. They had only seen a likeness, but could not say what the person did, why they were looking for them. Only the Taipu and Taizhu knew.
"Are you sure it's here?" the Taizhu asked the Taipu as he scanned the building again.
Even the Taipu herself felt that if you wanted to hide a person here... it was both easy and difficult: if the fog could block visitors out, then it was a perfect hiding place, but if visitors managed to penetrate the fog as they had, then there was nowhere to run.
"Oh well. Let's search it," the Taizhu said as he turned to give instructions to the Changzi.
Soon, the two led five Changzi into the bamboo building with the aim of inspecting every room. The hundred-odd other officials remained outside, holding down the fort.
The three-story building really was small –– in no time, they'd finished searching it.
"So?" The Taizhu hurried down from the top floor. He held a scroll in his hand and flipped through it, looking for clues, then shook his head and tossed it onto a nearby table.
The Taipu stood on the first floor, staring into a pristine living room. She said, "Nothing at all."
The Taizhu crossed his arms and looked around again, then finally said, "Lady, I'm not saying your divinations were wrong... but maybe we missed a clue somewhere, and it affected the results?"
With the situation as it was, the Taipu was not offended by the question. She sat down by the table and slammed the grass knot and tortoise shell onto its surface, studying them carefully.
"Do you want to... try another shell?" the Taizhu asked.
The Taipu shook her head. "No. I cannot burn a shell for the same matter twice in a day. Let me look harder."
But soon, she let out an exclamatory "Yi!"
"What is it?" the Taizhu asked.
"Nothing. It's the person I mentioned earlier," the Taipu replied. "When I was divining, they happened to be in the nearby town, and now they've been brought into the shell markings."
"The one you said could not possibly be there? Who is it?" the Taizhu asked, confused.
The Taipu lifted her head and looked back at him, her black eyes behind the mask revealing a sense of unease. "It must be some other person with a similar birthdate or life horoscope. It can't be who I think it is. Indeed..."
"Stop beating around the bush. Who? Tell me." The Taizhu was about to explode.
The Taipu shook out the folded notes from her pocket and tapped at that the red stamp on the letter that read, Tongdeng. She said, "The Great Priest."
"Who?!" The Taizhu couldn't believe his ears, and wanted to scratch them, but his hands only came into contact with the mask, so he had no choice but to put his hands away again.
The Taipu looked at him and repeated, "The Great Priest."
"Impossible. Impossible. How could it be ––" the Taizhu blubbered, shaking his head. "The Great Priest is on the top floor of the Ministry of Ceremonies. We saw him before we left. The old man is still sealed away. How could he suddenly appear in Qingping County? You know the rules of his isolation as well as I do. If he leaves in the middle, then he's ruined the whole thing."
"Of course I know," the Taipu said. "That's why I said it must be someone similar, and not actually him. However..."
The Taizhu waved his hand dismissively. "There's no however. Let's focus on the matter at hand."
Although he said this, he couldn't help but feel a rising sense of fear.
Just as the Taipu got ready to read her tortoise shell again, a small, gentle sound was emitted amid the fog outside, as though something had accidentally stepped on a bamboo leaf.
At the same time, as though blown by a breeze, the grass knot on the table shifted to a different position.
Immediately, the Taipu gathered her things and began to hurry down the stairs. "There's been a change," she said. "We must leave this hollow immediately. If we delay, we're going to lose the person!"
Soon after this, another group of people arrived at that fork in the road where the officials had stopped before entering the mountain.
"Where do we go now? The creepy road full of fog that looks like it's going to kill us, or the clean and safe-looking road?" asked a stout middle-aged man anxiously.
This group were none other than Xue Xian and his companions.
It was to be Jiang Shijing's birthday in two days –– Xue Xian hadn't made Jiang Shining come along with them, so that he could spend time with his sister at home. Instead he'd brought Lu Twenty-Seven, Stone Zhang, and Xuanmin.
Twenty-Seven was a human compass. Although he wasn't always very accurate, but he was still highly useful for someone so bad with directions as Xue Xian. Stone Zhang could remember the man who had blindfolded him, so if they found him, they needed the stonemason to identify him, so he, too, was useful. And as for Xuanmin...
Whether or not he was useful, he had to be brought along.
Where such a logic came from, Xue Xian wasn't sure. He was probably used to travelling with the monk, and feared he would get bored without him.
Although some unknown urge had compelled him to take Xuanmin along, now that they were here, Xue Xian began to regret it. The events of last night still stood between them, and this morning, Xuanmin had been in a weird mood. Plus... what had Fang Cheng said?
Oh, right: the effects of dragon spit could not go away within as short a time as one or two days.
Ha. Ha.
As Xue Xian admitted to himself that he must've been crazy to bring Xuanmin to Dustpan Mountain, Twenty-Seven suddenly pointed into the fog and said to Stone Zhang, "Do you really need to ask? Of course we have to take the road that looks like it's going to kill us."
"That fog.... i-i-is it poisonous?" stammered Stone Zhang.
"It's going to kill us. Of course it's poisonous," Twenty-Seven replied.
"So how do we go in..."
Twenty-Seven said, "We charge."
Oh, fuck off.
Stone Zhang wished he could simply run away. The worst part was, apart from a faint smell of wood, he also thought he could detect the stench of blood in the fog... fresh blood.
His legs began to tremble, and he wondered whether he should begin to cry again –– see if Xue Xian would take pity on him.
Thankfully, before he'd begun to squeeze out tears, the magnanimous Xuanmin said, "No need to panic––"
As he took out a talisman, just his mild mannerism was enough to reassure Stone Zhang. Xuanmin was always reliable; he always had an idea; so he must know how to get them through that poison fog.
Stone Zhang could tell from the talismanic paper that Xuanmin was going to use that for a spell. He moved out of the way to make room for the monk, and even tugged Twenty-Seven aside too.
But just as Xuanmin had selected the right talismanic paper, a certain person, who had been deep in thought, came back to his senses.
Suddenly, Xue Xian pushed Xuanmin's hand away and smirked. "There's no need to pull out all the stops for something as small as this. Let me."
He slapped the armrest on his wheelchair. With a kacha sound, an enormous gust of wind rose and began to rumble forward with the might of a thousand soldiers.
Hu–––
The fog that had blanketed the road for who knows how many years was blown to nothing by Xue Xian's fierce wind, revealing a dense thicket of old trees made gnarled by the poisonous air of the mountain hollow –– as well as a clear road into the mountain.
Xue Xian turned to Xuanmin and wagged his chin. Although his face displayed that usual air of lazy foolishness, there was something to his expression that seemed to say, Isn't this the part where you tell me how great I am?
Xuanmin only glanced back at him and said, "You've broken the armrest." His tone still had that... saltiness.
Xue Xian grumbled to himself, People who can't read faces and insist on being so rude all the time should be thrown directly into the sea.
