Of Mountains and Rivers 64

"Alright, everyone, take a seat," Chu Huan tossed the binding ropes to the ground, sighing wearily. Fatigue etched across his demeanor as he began, "First, hear me out."

He clasped his hands together, vigorously wiped his face, and then cleared his throat, deliberately slowing down his speech. "Don't be impatient. Let me organize this for you—here's the current situation. We must reach Sunken Star Island and find the Sacred Text before the staff burns out, or at least uncover clues about it. Only the Sacred Text can guide us on how to handle the impending crisis. Now, we're halfway there, and suddenly, you want to turn back?"

Luger's expression remained emotionless as he retorted, "If you were a bit more rational, you would understand that this idea is correct."

Chu Huan pinched the bridge of his nose, suppressing the anxiety within him. After a moment, he composed himself and optimistically said, "I'm a bit confused now—whatever this thing is…let's not worry about what it is—the shadow in this Fallen Land surely has a consciousness of its own and, for some reason, has set its sights on us. It's preventing us from crossing this mountain through various means. Doesn't that precisely indicate that the path is the right one?"

Nanshan remained silent, and Luger couldn't be bothered to argue, only letting out a cold chuckle.

Yuan Ping sighed, "You don't understand.”

Once, Yuan Ping's demeanor turned earnest. He approached Chu Huan with silent steps, taking a seat beside him. "I've mentioned it before; we emerged from the water in the Sacred Spring, making us an integral part of the mountain. Regardless of whether the mountain breathes life or succumbs to death, it's an inescapable reality for us. Wouldn't losing an arm evoke some feeling in you?"

Chu Huan caught off guard, faltered, momentarily overlooking this perspective.

Luger, with an indifferent gaze, observed the swirling sea of black mist. Years of confronting countless life-and-death scenarios had made him immune to the turmoil. When there's no way out, facing death calmly becomes the only recourse.

The life of a Gatekeeper remained constant, where death was at times just a familiar destination.

A stifling silence enveloped the four, its weight rivaling that of the valley itself.

Yuan Ping quietly manipulated the ropes in his hands, a repetitive motion. Finally, after a deep breath, he lowered his head and softly uttered, "I won't."

Luger, usually an ice statue, displayed a reaction, lowering his head to scrutinize him.

"Patriarch, I won't return. I've faced all kinds of challenges in my life, but even if the sky falls, I won't passively await death," Yuan Ping declared, causing a subtle tremor in Luger's elegant eyebrows, a hint of surprise evident.

Yuan Ping then delivered a sullen kick to Chu Huan and prompted, "And you, say something too."

Chu Huan found himself at a loss for words. His presence here, if not entirely, was at least more than half for Nanshan. As for Nanshan, he had plunged into this perilous situation for the sake of his people.

With the sacred mountain's fall, his people vanished, leaving no place for them in this world. Chu Huan doubted if his perspective could alter anything now.

Nanshan stayed silent, seemingly dumbfounded.

In this awkward and isolated moment, Yuan Ping had no recourse but to kick Chu Huan once more, saying, "Savior, the sacred flame is still around your neck. Can you handle this? Don't falter at a crucial moment, alright?"

Chu Huan, expressionless, brushed off the shoe print on his pants, paying no heed. He turned to Nanshan without preamble, "Regarding jumping down myself, as I mentioned before, it's true."

His words baffled everyone, except Nanshan, who seemed to grasp their meaning.

Nanshan finally reacted, glancing at him. In a muted voice, he said, "Weren't you trying to deceive me?"

Chu Huan smiled bitterly, "It's too embarrassing to admit but at that moment… I truly didn't expect to meet you."

Nanshan's expression, a mix of joy and sorrow, was hard to decipher. In the current predicament, Chu Huan meeting him did seem unfortunate.

"At that time, life felt meaningless. If no one needed me, I'd live each day in monotony, turning into a corpse. What's the point?" Chu Huan ignored Yuan Ping, who appeared to have grasped something and looked bewildered. He continued, "So now, reflecting on what you said to me, it makes a lot of sense."

Nanshan was stunned.

Chu Huan went on, "Back then, I was transcribing information about those old soldiers on the mountain, intending to inform their families of their deaths. You told me, 'Not dying is living.' Do you remember that?"

Nanshan stared at him, "Are you advising me to keep moving forward?"

Chu Huan shrugged, "You're my Patriarch. I won't advise you. If you want to move forward, I'll accompany you. If you want to return to the mountain, I'll go with you."

Nanshan remained silent for a long time.

In the current predicament, caught between a past he couldn't revisit and an uncertain future that felt like a jest, Nanshan grappled with the conflicting emotions of cowardice and irony. Clutching Chu Huan's hand tightly, he found solace in the vulnerability and powerlessness that this person seemed to embody—a stark contrast to the homeland he had lost.

"Let's move forward."

Ultimately, Nanshan stood up, resolutely severing ties with both his past and future.

Yuan Ping, ready to echo the sentiment, heard a faint snort, realizing he had unintentionally isolated his own Patriarch. Quick to rectify, he turned his head, attempting to explain, "Um, Patriarch… this…"

Luger's pale face remained serious, resembling frost on his skin. With an air of indifference, he glanced at Yuan Ping, his expression revealing neither joy nor anger. Without a word, he casually lifted the venomous snake, Little Green, and callously tossed it into Yuan Ping's arms. Holding the burning staff aloft, Luger led the way ahead.

The trap set for Yuan Ping was ingenious. After a moment of bewilderment, he found himself under the affectionate gaze of the venomous snake. His initial oversight was forgiven, but now he was gripped with overwhelming fear. Hesitating, torn between the impulse to scream and the fear of disturbing the creature cradled in his arms, he stood petrified, emitting a feeble plea, "H-help…"

Unfortunately, his plea fell on deaf ears, and no one was willing to lend a hand. Yuan Ping clutched the azure snake, resembling Magu holding a longevity offering¹, as he was dragged away, his reluctant footsteps leaving deep furrows in the ground.

Forced by circumstances, they advanced into the depths of darkness with unwavering determination.

Whether harboring fear or feigning ease, they all understood the inevitable truth that the sun would never rise again from any corner of this world.

Navigating along the ridge, cautiously skirting the valleys, intermittent cries—faint yet discernible—echoed in the distance.

Little Green, perhaps weary of Yuan Ping’s embrace, spontaneously left him and went towards Chu Huan.

With this burden lifted, Yuan Ping could not contemplate other matters. Walking and reflecting simultaneously, he mused, “Screaming is usually a sign of fear, and crying… seems to indicate sadness or grief, right?”

This sparked contemplation among the group, finding merit in Yuan Ping's words.

In moments of sorrow, the mind might initially go blank. However, as grief deepens, a suffocating sensation emerges, echoing their recent experience in the valley.

“The shadow that descended from the girl followed us to the riverbank. It dared not cross the river, but do you think there is a possibility…” Yuan Ping continued, “For example, this side of the river belongs to another territory, and it refrains from trespassing—meaning, the Fallen Land is not a unified whole, but rather divided into many pieces.”

Chu Huan responded, “It’s not certain. It could also be that it knows we crossed the river but can’t climb over this mountain. Regarding the Fallen Land, the Elder once said something strange. He mentioned, ‘The Fallen Land is a consciousness that forbids one from thinking about anything.’ I’ve been pondering the meaning of that statement, and now it seems I’ve touched upon something, but I’m not entirely sure.”

Nanshan, now composed under the influence of his robust psychological resilience, held the rope, vigilantly surveying the surroundings. He spoke with a deep voice, “Go on.”

“When we refer to the Fallen Land, we mean the places swallowed by these dark shadows. If the topography of these places—mountains, rivers, and streams—is inherently sound,” Chu Huan paused, “then the issue lies with the spontaneous, spreading shadows. We can consider them as some form of unknown life.”

This explanation was more palatable than the concept of “the enemy being the world.” Chu Huan had skillfully elevated an unbeatable adversary to a level not requiring awe in just a few words.

His narrations were speculative, and though some words seemed far-fetched at first glance, they carried a convincing tone. One could liken the skill to a group of scammers specializing in bank card fraud against the elderly.

“Since it is a form of life, it must obtain energy by consuming something. I believe this energy isn’t derived from plants; it can only be gained through animals—including humans.”

Luger furrowed his brow, “You’re saying that it consumes people.”

“Yes, but it’s a life form that I currently cannot comprehend. So, what it consumes may not necessarily be the flesh and blood of humans or animals,” Chu Huan pondered for a moment, “I think it might be related to human consciousness—so, I have a question now: Patriarch Luger, Mutayi, Sound Beasts, Eye-Feasting Beasts, Wangsi Flower, and Mirage Monkeys—are they truly existing species from time immemorial?”

Chu Huan had mulled over this since the mountain patrol. From his perspective, the presence of these monsters seemed highly irrational. Despite the Mountain Keepers' exceptional combat skills, the vulnerability of these ecosystems meant that some creatures posed insurmountable challenges, not to mention other wild animals.

The ecological system would inevitably be rearranged, resulting in the excessive proliferation of certain monsters and the inevitable extinction of other species. That would be the logical outcome.

When they stumbled upon the group of Eye-Feasting Beasts in the forest years ago, Chu Huan felt that something was off—these monsters formed a community despite significant internal management issues. They even had a place for storing reserves, yet as they fled through the entire forest, it appeared they had no designated area for nurturing offspring.

Could it be that they didn’t have offspring at all?

As this question was posed, Nanshan remained uncertain. But Luger, after a brief daze, seemed to struggle with a somewhat vague recollection. After much contemplation, he hesitantly replied, “Now that you mention it, it does seem that way…”

The passage of time had blurred the impressions, and even Luger’s recollections were somewhat unclear. However, he remembered that the Gatekeepers were initially just protectors of the sacred mountain. Back then, after growing old and frail, they would immerse themselves in the Sacred Spring willingly, awaiting the arrival of new life. But seemingly, at some point, from an unknown time, the Gatekeepers began facing endless battles from birth. It was considered a luxury to be able to live until old age and peacefully enter the Sacred Spring.

“They appeared suddenly, and I can’t exactly pinpoint when,” Luger stated.

Chu Huan refrained from cross-referencing the times of monster appearances and the Fallen Land, recognizing that information in this world was scarce, and discrepancies could be significant. He nodded and added, "Because these monsters correspond precisely to the five senses of humans, and consciousness is largely built upon these senses, I suspect that their emergence and growth are closely linked to the Fallen Land.” 

“I agree,” Nanshan interjected abruptly. “The closer we get to the core of the Fallen Land, the fewer monsters we encounter. Haven’t you all noticed that we haven’t come across one for quite some time now?”

Chu Huan responded, “I’ve been contemplating the situation with that little girl, as well as the others we’ve encountered along the way. Their consciousness seems to be stuck in certain scenes that they firmly believe in. I don’t know what would happen if we communicated with them and led them out of those scenes, but it’s evidently not something the devouring monster wants to see. Otherwise, it wouldn’t have chased us relentlessly, like someone who had been cuckolded.”

The others nodded thoughtfully. After a while, Luger revisited Chu Huan’s words and, with a hint of doubt, asked, “I understand what you mean, but what is a cuckold?”

Chu Huan hesitated.

With deepening understanding, he realized that the Patriarch of the Gatekeepers appeared to keep his emotions in check, adopting a rather cool demeanor. Despite his stoic exterior, his focus remained sharp, and he didn’t overlook any inquiries, always addressing them comprehensively.

Nanshan interjected, “It’s not a serious matter, just ignore him.”

Chu Huan was once again left speechless. If Luger wasn’t playing dumb, it seemed that even Nanshan was unfamiliar with the term ‘cuckold’. This Patriarch had inadvertently developed a built-in function to filter out sensitive words. 

Chu Huan began to lose interest in understanding how he was perceived by them.

“But if you bring up something sad…” Nanshan paused. “Try whispering in his ear, ‘This is not real.’”

“Hey, Patriarch Nanshan, you’re too straightforward,” even Yuan Ping couldn’t bear it any longer. “Of course, it’s not real. But merely saying it, will people genuinely believe you? That’s too simplistic.”

Chu Huan, however, remained silent, deep in thought.

“People respond differently when they're sad,” Nanshan said calmly. “If someone tells them that everything happening is not real, they are more willing to accept it than you might think.”

Chu Huan couldn’t help but ask, “How do you know that?”

Nanshan glanced at him, refraining from disclosing the moment when Chu Huan's breath and heartbeat had ceased in his arms. Yet, that single gaze conveyed a multitude of unspoken words, causing Chu Huan's heart to inexplicably race.

Coughing awkwardly, Chu Huan averted his gaze from Nanshan, sensing an unusual embarrassment creeping over him.

He believed his thick skin was impenetrable, yet now it appeared that he hadn't faced enough genuine emotions.

Certainly, this brainwashing-like manipulation method was unlikely to sway the group in the valley. The oppressive atmosphere alone surrounding the valley had the potential to overpower them.

Following another full day and night of careful travel, the group successfully traversed the mountain range. Within the expansive wilderness, they came across a man who seemed to be journeying with a determined purpose.

"I can't hear anything," Chu Huan remarked.

Yuan Ping suggested, "We're too far away to hear anything. Let's move closer."

"Its power is increasing; we need to be careful." Nanshan grabbed Chu Huan, and the group cautiously circled the man, approaching him. Leaning in, Nanshan whispered to Chu Huan, "Don't ask him what happened; just reassure him that everything is not real."

Though Chu Huan found the idea a bit unreliable, for the time being, he couldn't think of a better solution.

Approaching the man, the familiar suffocating sensation resurfaced. Yet, in this solitary encounter, the tightness in the chest was somewhat subdued, and he didn't find himself gasping for breath as intensely.

Chu Huan licked his lips and, following his leader's guidance without delving into details, began his monk-like repetition, continuously saying, “It is not real.”

After countless repetitions, the four words seemed almost incomprehensible. Chu Huan's lips were sore, and the persistent buzzing induced a headache. Strangely, the man stayed silent, not uttering a single word.

Chu Huan subtly turned his head, whispering, "There's something not right here."

Luger crouched to inspect the man and advised, "Give it another shot."

"If I attempt again, it might become a restraining curse…" Chu Huan mumbled. Cautiously, he raised his hand, resting it on the man's shoulder. This time, he infused his words with emotion, saying, "It's not real.”

In an instant, a cold chuckle reached Chu Huan's ears. Bewildered, he shifted his gaze to Luger, questioning, "Patriarch Luger, what's amusing you?"

Luger wore a calmly cryptic expression, feigning confusion as he replied, "What?"

A sudden realization struck Chu Huan; if it wasn't Luger, then…

Swiftly comprehending the situation, Chu Huan retracted his hand, poised to step back.

His response was quick, akin to flipping a switch. Yet, despite the rapid reaction, it proved futile. Fire burst forth from the man's form, instantly setting ablaze the rope entwined around Chu Huan's hands.