Of Mountains and Rivers 74

As the entire mountain of seawater slowly became enveloped by vines as hard as iron, the sky dimmed completely. Not a trace of light could penetrate, and even the relentless pursuit of shadows melded into the thick darkness, as if returning to a chaotic world of complete obscurity.

Only the wind remained in this eerie place.

Even the seawater ceased its flow. In this place that could incite intense fear in anyone, unexpectedly, only the wind persisted.

Strictly speaking, it was a stream of air, gentle yet forceful. It forcefully squeezed through a narrow gap in the seemingly impenetrable vines, accompanying them slowly, giving the illusion of someone always by your side.

In reality, Chu Huan was the sole inhabitant left in this world. The space he could move in had finally been reduced to this narrow gap leading to the unknown.

Were those moments that made the heart pound, as well as the relentless pursuit of so-called vitality and hope, really just like this, forever hanging by a single thread?

From the moment the poisonous snake, Little Green, was born, it had always wandered aimlessly through the mountains and wilderness. However, for the first time, it was entrusted with such a significant task by the Patriarch of the Mountain Keeper. It didn’t swim fast and seemed torn between going back and carrying out its duty. Its verdant green figure shimmered like jade under the glow of the Patriarch’s staff, emitting a translucent and lustrous brilliance.

Suddenly, a hand reached out and took the staff from its mouth.

The so-called "staff" was now only the length of a finger, resembling the delicate fire starters used in period TV dramas.

Little Green retracted its snake tail and affectionately coiled itself around Chu Huan’s body while nuzzling against him, indecisive.

It was already a large snake, and though its appearance still held a measure of elegance compared to other snakes its size, it was still a ferocious cold-blooded creature. Acting cute seemed somewhat out of place.

The blow Chu Huan received from Nanshan wasn't severe, and he woke up after only a moment.

But… perhaps in a person's life, there would be moments of radical change.

Chu Huan spoke in a hushed tone amidst the silent surroundings, "Did he leave both you and me here?"

Little Green hissed softly, its snake scales brushing against his cheek. Perhaps due to drinking from the water from the Sacred Spring, it lacked the distinct foul odor of wild animals, only giving him a slight tickling sensation.

"Shh," Chu Huan gently removed it from his face, glanced at the staff in his hand that had almost turned into a real piece of wood, and then, seemingly determined, continued swimming towards the mountaintop by following the narrow crevice formed by the staff against the air current.

He said to Little Green, “Quiet down. We need to go to the mountaintop to find the large white stone that records all secrets.”

His words were clear and precise, avoiding any mention of Nanshan or Yuan Ping. It seemed as though he was progressing methodically, as if in full control, yet a hint of bewilderment lingered in his eyes.

"Go up the mountaintop, then find the life-saving large white stone before the staff burns out, and then what?"

Chu Huan seemed determined to focus solely on the immediate task. Instinctively, he pushed aside all other thoughts, leaving only the keywords "mountaintop" and "giant stone" echoing in his mind.

A cold gust of wind swept down from the mountaintop into the passage below. The flames on the staff danced chaotically, prompting Chu Huan to instinctively shield them from the wind, pressing the fragile yet precious flames against his chest.

The dancing flames were partially absorbed by the small walnut hanging from his chest.

As the burning flames made contact with Chu Huan's skin, a charred smell filled the air. It was as though the almost extinguished flames injected a strange vitality into his flesh, numbing him to the pain. Despite the burns, he made no sound of distress, pressing forward against the wind.

"Perhaps I'll perish in these flames before reaching the summit," the thought crossed Chu Huan's mind fleetingly, yet he remained undeterred. Fear failed to take hold as he focused solely on the task at hand.

Fortunately, it seemed that whatever malevolent force haunted this place had exhausted its arsenal. As Chu Huan ascended towards the mountaintop, the eerie wind subsided.

The staff now dwindled to the size of a lighter.

Chu Huan, his chest bloodied from the burns, was occasionally grazed by seawater, stinging like salt on an open wound. Yet, he seemed impervious, as if the flames had seared his nerve endings into oblivion.

Unbeknownst to him, the small walnut hanging on his chest emitted a warm red glow, unnoticed by Chu Huan but observed by Little Green. The snake rested its head on Chu Huan’s shoulder, fixated on the walnut rising and falling with his breath, like a predator stalking its prey.

They could now glimpse the summit of the seawater mountain.

Chu Huan's head was enveloped in the tough, dark gray vines parted by Nanshan. Below stretched an endless expanse of seemingly solidified seawater. At the pinnacle of the seawater mountain sat a giant white stone, as pure as an egg, reminiscent of the stone Nanshan had sworn upon with him… no, even larger.

The giant white stone towered four to five meters tall, a surreal anomaly against the backdrop of the seawater mountain, as if lifting the entire mass. It stood illuminated by the surrounding stars, resembling a moonlit sentinel.

As Chu Huan ascended toward the mountaintop, he noticed his steps gradually landing on solid ground. In the vicinity of the white stone, a small, desolate area devoid of seawater caught his eye.

This mountain, seemingly sculpted from seawater, appeared to have a solid core, with the giant white stone at its heart.

Under normal circumstances, Chu Huan would have meticulously inspected the ground beneath him before approaching. Yet, at this moment, his mind was foggy, his gaze fixated on the almost mystical giant stone.

This was the Sacred Text.

Chu Huan's stride faltered as he neared. He was about to dash forward when, perhaps due to mental strain or prolonged immersion in water, his knees buckled, sending him crashing to the ground.

To entrust the fate of an entire world to a stone—had someone told Chu Huan this a little over a year ago, he would have scoffed. Yet, in this moment, he was ensnared by a belief, clutching at this object as a lifeline.

Before the staff could reach the ground, Little Green deftly snapped back, seizing the short handle. Chu Huan sighed, regaining his composure, and retrieved the small torch. The staff had become too unwieldy for him, reduced to a mere splinter between his fingers.

"After all our time spent fleeing or fighting, I hope I haven't forgotten everything the old goat taught me," Chu Huan muttered, unsure if he addressed the snake or merely himself. In the flickering firelight, the back of the white stone gleamed like jade, reminiscent of an engagement stone. He turned towards the stone's front, ready to decipher its inscriptions.

But his words caught in his throat.

The stone's front—remained blank.

No, it possessed no discernible front or back. How could an ordinary mountain stone be delineated thus?

It was merely a stone, shaped and smoothed by the relentless erosion of water. Even if it gleamed like polished sheep fat, it held no intrinsic significance beyond its aesthetic appeal.

This can’t be!

How can the Sacred Text have no words at all?

Chu Huan teetered on the brink of despair, frantically scouring the icy surface of the giant stone in search of its elusive "mystery."

Yet, the stone remained flawless, devoid of even the slightest blemish.

Chu Huan's pupils widened abruptly as he muttered, "At the mountain's end, in the water's pinnacle, the heart of stone… yes, the heart of stone…"

It seemed he had stumbled upon a crucial insight as he swiftly drew the short knife from its strap at his leg, almost frenziedly hacking at the giant white stone.

A resounding "clang" shattered the silence of the seawater mountain as his blade met the stone, sending sparks flying between the two. Chu Huan's wrist throbbed from the impact, a bloodied gash forming between his thumb and index finger. Yet, the giant white stone, composed of an enigmatic material, remained impervious. The knife, touted to slice through the wind, left naught but a faint mark upon it.

The short knife bestowed by Nanshan now lay bent.

Chu Huan stared in disbelief at the warped blade, his fingers trembling uncontrollably. In that moment, amidst the haze of his mind, memories surged forth—the rundown guest house in the border town, the figure with flowing locks, exquisite features, and a foreign beauty, speaking broken Mandarin, bidding him farewell with a simple, "Take care, my friend."

His recollection, coupled with a jolt of realization, shattered the facade of self-deception he had clung to throughout his journey.

They had traversed treacherous paths, faced death's embrace countless times, all to lead him to this culmination, only to be met with a blank stone… The harsh truth lay bare before him, unmasked.

The Divine Mountain, Sacred Spring, his companions with whom language was a barrier, the irksome child, the aloof Gatekeeper, the childhood friend turned adversary, and Nanshan… his Nanshan.

One by one, they departed, leaving him as the sole inhabitant of this world, to confront its cruelest joke at its end.

Chu Huan gripped the white stone tightly, his fingers leaving bloody streaks across its pristine surface, a ghastly sight.

Slowly, he sank to his knees.

Initially breathless, he suddenly erupted into soft laughter, as if possessed by a malevolent spirit.

Yes, what was the point of ascending further, knowing this island's true nature? Did he anticipate the Sacred Text to materialize atop his head?

Birth and death, mere illusions. In the grand scheme, all miracles were but fleeting strokes of luck.

There was no hope… It was all an illusion crafted by his naive Patriarch.

Once again, they pinned their hopes on him, and once again, he faltered in his mission. But this time, there was no three-year respite, no chance for redemption.

The staff finally dwindled to embers. The flames licked at Chu Huan's fingertips, and he released them with a half-hearted gesture, allowing them to fall upon the icy ground at the foot of the white stone.

Shadows lurking in the darkness crept closer, like cunning demons seizing an opportunity. They began to envelop Chu Huan as the flames waned.

The sensation was eerie, difficult to articulate—as if an external force conveyed its emotions. The shadows harbored not pain or anger, but an inexplicable joy—a twisted delight.

As Chu Huan's heartbeat quickened, a serene calm settled over him, accompanied by a soothing melody akin to gentle rain washing away the dust under the sunshine—a wave of sensations gently and irresistibly enveloped him.

Nanshan's words echoed in his mind: when one knows they're being swallowed, awareness should prevail, resisting the plunge into despair.

In this moment, Chu Huan's mind remained crystal clear, akin to a polished mirror. Yet, he willingly surrendered, allowing that strange euphoria to permeate every fiber of his being. Within it, he, like an addict, summoned memories from his life that evoked genuine smiles—

He recalled waking in the shabby guest house, catching Xiao Fang's inexplicable glare and Nanshan humming a merry tune.

Understanding dawned on Chu Huan, a smile playing at his lips as he embraced the illusion, knowing he'd be ensnared until his last breath.

He envisioned Nanshan approaching, donning that peculiar yet endearing suit vest, his shy smile melting Chu Huan's heart. Nanshan's calloused hands lifted Chu Huan's chin, a gentle kiss bestowed upon his forehead, accompanied by reassuring words: "It'll be okay soon. Don't be afraid."

In that moment, Nanshan's closed eyes cradled the moment as if it were the most precious treasure, his fluttering eyelashes a gentle caress, anchoring Chu Huan's soul.

Just as Chu Huan was about to affirm his trust, a ring of fire shattered the illusion.

His eyes snapped open to find himself beneath the absurd seawater mountain, the ludicrous white stone looming above. The staff extinguished, he puzzled over the sudden appearance of fire.

Lowering his gaze, he beheld Little Green, the giant python, clutching the last flicker of the staff's flame in its maw—a supernatural feat reminiscent of its consumption of the flames atop the Divine Mountain.

Little Green coiled around Chu Huan, engulfing him while bearing the flame. From tail to head, it ignited, each tremor a testament to its agony, its body transforming into a fiery dragon, smoke and burnt flesh scent wafting.

Only its head remained unscathed, a curious anomaly.

Upon completing its transformation, Little Green spat out its tongue, nudging Chu Huan's knees with a desperate urgency.

Chu Huan felt the intense heat, pondering Little Green's sacrifice— It was burned alive. Was it painful? Did it suffer?

Though it must have endured excruciating agony, its scaled countenance betrayed no emotion, save for the flicker of its tongue. As a creature devoid of understanding, it lacked the capacity for such sentiments.

So why did it partake of the Sacred Spring?

Chu Huan extended his stiffened palm, gently cradling the snake's head lying on the ground. Suddenly, an urge gripped him to question the snake's motives for drinking from the Sacred Spring. Why couldn't it have remained a simple creature, content with stealing bird eggs? Wasn't a life of blissful ignorance—of merely eating and drinking until satiated—sufficient?

And why did it sacrifice itself as a source of fire?

Even a snake fought on his behalf, yet no guidance came forth at this critical juncture.

Little Green shook its head faintly, a trace of coquettishness lingering even in the face of impending death, yet its strength waned.

Defying its nature, it maintained its rigid posture until movement ceased altogether.

The flames continued to consume its lifeless form.

Kneeling beside it, Chu Huan kept his hand on the snake's head. The burning serpent injected him with a final surge of adrenaline, igniting his focus as he desperately recalled every speculation and scrap of information about "it."

The existence of Sunken Star Island confirmed Chu Huan's initial suspicion: "It" bore striking resemblance to the Wangsi Flower. Thus, he speculated that "it" shared a botanical essence akin to a unique vine or plant.

How did they combat the Wangsi Flower initially?

Chu Huan furrowed his brow, pondering deeply—yes, they incinerated it with fire. Yet, ordinary flames… even the Patriarch's staff failed to affect "it" in any significant way. The shadows merely receded momentarily within the firelight's reach but couldn't be eradicated.

So, what sort of fire was required?

The wizard they encountered referred to it as "Kindling," though the description remained vague. Initially, Chu Huan assumed it referred to the Patriarch's staff. However, he recalled the Mountain Keeper Elder, who never regarded Nanshan's staff as fire. The Sacred Fire he mentioned was…

Chu Huan's realization struck him like a thunderbolt—the walnut adorning his chest!

A faint warmth emanated from the walnut. In an instant, Chu Huan had an epiphany.

As life transitioned to ash in an instant, apart from the charred head, nearly every part of Little Green turned to charcoal. The flame engulfing its body faltered once more, snuffed out.

At the fire's edge lingered the shadow of life. Darkness encroached upon Chu Huan once more, and once again, he felt the alien joy and happiness beckoning.

This time, Chu Huan resisted.

Suppressing his emotions, he fixed his gaze on his fingertips, relinquishing all joy and sorrow. He awaited the pivotal moment when the shadows would consume him entirely.

As the last spark vanished from the snake's body, the shadows began to encroach upon Chu Huan's fingertips. Sensing the pivotal moment approaching, he knew he had to act swiftly, seizing the opportunity before being consumed by darkness.

With his energy already heightened, Chu Huan braced himself. At the precipice of the crucial moment, he summoned his consciousness and declared, "I wish to enter the Sacred Fire."

In an instant, his vision blurred, and the pervasive shadows seemed to dissipate. After a turbulent transition, Chu Huan found himself in an unfamiliar realm.

Here, mountains and water stretched before him, reminiscent of the divine mountain inhabited by the Mountain Keepers. Yet, there were no village houses or stone huts in sight.

By the riverside, a man sat with his back to Chu Huan, as if wiping something.