Of Mountains and Rivers 75

Chu Huan approached with caution, his gaze scrutinizing the middle-aged man before him. After a moment of contemplation, he cautiously inquired, "Are you Ji…"

He had encountered this middle-aged man in a dream near the Sacred Spring before and had briefly discussed him with the Elder. However, the Elder's knowledge seemed limited, providing only scant details. With his emotions still reeling from recent events, Chu Huan struggled to recall the man's name. Vaguely, he remembered it sounding similar to "chicken wing" in pronunciation, causing him some embarrassment in his hesitation.¹.

Upon hearing Chu Huan's voice, the middle-aged man turned around, offering a gentle smile. "No, I'm not," he replied. "The person you mentioned was the last Mountain Keeper I encountered. He has since passed away. I have assumed his appearance to meet you by the Sacred Spring before, do you recall?"

Chu Huan's pupils contracted slightly as he gripped the short knife in his hand. Though his expression remained unchanged, his muscles tensed in readiness. It wasn't just the man's words that unsettled him; it was also what he observed the man wiping—a long human thigh bone.

This person was the one Chu Huan had seen in his dreams, the one who had labeled him as "Kindling." Did he have a hand in the inscriptions on the stone and the markings on Chu Huan's hand?

Who exactly was he?

Filled with suspicion, Chu Huan hesitated to trust the man. The doubts swirled within him, leaving him uncertain of the man's intentions. He remained silent for a moment.

The middle-aged man, seemingly unperturbed, took the initiative to explain. "I am the one who inscribed messages along your journey. I guided you near the Sunken Star Island. You must be wondering who I am…"

He paused, his expression tinged with a hint of nostalgia. "I used to be a Patriarch of the Gatekeepers."

Chu Huan, prone to paranoid delusions, harbored strong suspicions towards the middle-aged man from the outset. Unconvinced by the man's words, he remained on high alert. "I recall the Patriarch of the Gatekeepers resembling a water ghost, named Luger," he remarked.

The middle-aged man showed no offense, holding the thigh bone politely as he responded, "Luger was my successor. Please, child, take a seat and allow me to elucidate."

A subtle smirk played across Chu Huan's lips, devoid of warmth or friendliness. He couldn't shake an indescribable sense of aversion and wariness towards the man, regarding him as some form of adversary, especially amidst his tumultuous state of mind.

Without shifting his gaze, Chu Huan regarded the middle-aged man, his eyelids lightly lowered. "Go on," he urged.

"I assumed this form to meet you, not to deceive you… This is my true form now," the middle-aged man explained, gesturing towards the thigh bone in his hand. "I have become a skeleton, a formless consciousness. I no longer recall my appearance from the past. Though I was indeed once the Patriarch of the Gatekeepers, that was eons ago. Your friend Luger hadn't even been born, and the concept of a 'Mountain Keeper' didn't exist in those times."

Chu Huan's eyes flickered at this revelation.

The middle-aged man, seemingly perceptive to Chu Huan's thoughts, sighed lightly. "Yes, you're correct. The individuals you encountered below—the bones—they were once Gatekeepers. And you are… Chu Huan, if I'm not mistaken? I apologize if I got that wrong. Allow me to elucidate everything from the beginning."

Chu Huan felt a strange sense of familiarity with the seawater mountain, yet he couldn't quite pinpoint its source. Despite racking his brain, he failed to identify the origin of this peculiar sensation. Though the mountain felt uncannily familiar, he was certain he had never encountered one formed from condensed seawater before.

"The divine mountain consists of two layers of Mountain Gates: inner and outer. Each year, the outer gate closes while the inner one opens. This grants the Gatekeepers a brief respite—surely you've glimpsed the inner gate already. Passing through it leads to another world, your world."

As the middle-aged man spoke, Chu Huan's memory stirred. He recalled the time when monsters besieged the mountain, and the Mountain Gate abruptly shut. Led by Luger, they navigated a narrow mountain cave to reach a vast crystal. Legend claimed that crossing it would lead to the inner gate on their side.

Standing atop that crystal, the solid ground appeared to ripple, resembling a pond crafted from… mountain rocks.

Mountain-made water, water-made mountain—was there a special connection between them?

"There is," affirmed the middle-aged man, nodding.

Chu Huan maintained a confident demeanor before this enigmatic figure, concealing his emotions. He was certain his thoughts hadn't betrayed him. Yet, how did this person consistently guess his inner musings?

Resignedly, the middle-aged man smiled. "I can sense your consciousness indeed. That's why I cautioned you on the Sunken Star Island against excessive contemplation. Rest assured, I harbor no ill intent towards you."

Despite his disbelief, Chu Huan refrained from voicing his suspicions of foul play.

Observing Chu Huan's skepticism, the middle-aged man refrained from elaborating further. Instead, he continued, "The seawater mountain you see here is akin to the inner gate of the divine mountain—a portal connecting to another world when traversed."

This revelation left Chu Huan considerably astonished.

However, Chu Huan swiftly regained his composure. The Mountain Keepers often referred to the biannual migration between the two worlds as the "reversal of the Mountain Gate." Thus, if there indeed existed a divine mountain and a Mountain Gate in this realm, the man's assertions appeared plausible.

A glimmer flickered in the middle-aged man's eyes, reminiscent of someone lost in distant memories. He spoke softly, "You see, our clan has long been revered as mountain deities, receiving homage from all corners. Yet, when I chanced upon traveling merchants mentioning fishermen stumbling upon Sunken Star Island and sighting another 'divine mountain' underwater, a disquiet stirred within me. Over time, unwarranted fears began to take root."

Though not particularly attuned to beauty, Chu Huan was quick to discern the undertones of unease. "You fear that the existence of another 'divine mountain' might threaten your standing," he surmised.

The middle-aged man sighed heavily. "Originally, there existed no distinction between Mountain Keepers and Gatekeepers. We were the true offspring of the divine mountain, born from its essence—ageless and immortal. Each year, we would traverse to your realm during the reversal of the Mountain Gate. At that time, your realm lay barren, devoid of inhabitants, yet brimming with vitality and spiritual essence…"

Chu Huan interjected abruptly, cutting short the man's reminiscences. "Your concern stemmed from the apprehension that the underwater divine mountain might also harbor Gatekeepers, possess the ability to open portals to other worlds, and thus challenge your status," he asserted.

The middle-aged man closed his eyes momentarily, as if still haunted by his past actions. "Driven by selfish desires, I led a faction to disrupt the equilibrium," he confessed. "Gatekeepers are bound to the divine mountain; it is a tenet of our clan. As Patriarch, I betrayed our sacred duty… Our warriors were ensnared, and in its wrath, the divine mountain entombed our clan beneath its mass, reclaiming its essence. It then used the sacred waters to fashion a new generation of mortal Gatekeepers, capable of communing with the Sacred Spring through bloodlines."

The prospect of being entombed alive failed to unsettle Chu Huan. Cutting to the crux of the matter, he inquired, "But all this transpired after your departure. How do you possess such knowledge?"

The middle-aged man offered a bitter smile. "For I became one with this realm, consumed by it. With its power at my disposal, I can perceive every corner of the world."

Chu Huan straightened, visibly intrigued. "And what exactly is this 'it'?" he pressed.

The middle-aged man's response exceeded Chu Huan's expectations once again. "It is a seed," he revealed.

Chu Huan was dumbfounded. "A seed?"

"Do not be so astounded, young man. Every world begins with an ambitious seed." 

Chu Huan sensed the profound implications behind the man's words. While he pondered, the middle-aged man continued his narrative.

"After a lengthy voyage, we finally reached this place and spent several years scouring the coastline until we stumbled upon Sunken Star Island. There, we beheld the underwater divine mountain, whose sealed gate was activated by the bloodline of our divine lineage. It opened a portal to another realm. On that side, there was no sunlight, only an enigmatic darkness akin to creeping vines, yearning to breach the Mountain Gate. It then dispatched a seed—what you see atop the mountain."

"We initially contemplated incinerating this enigmatic plant," the middle-aged man recounted, "but can you fathom what occurred next?"

Chu Huan paused momentarily. "You experienced an inexplicable sense of elation," he ventured.

The Elder's words echoed in his mind, "The most powerful beings seldom remain ensnared in their nadirs."

"A seed, bearing but a mere sprout, imbued with the infectious joy of nascent life. Could such a thing truly harbor malevolence?" the middle-aged man queried softly. "Moreover, its resemblance to our engagement stone, so pristine…"

Chu Huan found himself at a loss for words. Were not anxiety, dread, trepidation, and fury all birthed from joy?

This realm defied logical explanation, yet there seemed to be a kernel of truth within it.

Regaining his focus, Chu Huan inquired, "So, it ensnared you all with illusions and confined you here?"

"You misunderstand," the middle-aged man corrected with a melancholic smile. "'It' does not resort to crude illusions akin to those of lesser entities. It subtly projects its emotions onto you, ensnaring you unawares. Gradually, you succumb, conjuring illusions of your own accord, thus becoming an integral part of it. Under its dominion, you are nurtured into compliance, forever bereft of autonomy."

"You see, its primary form has been slowly, painstakingly growing. Yet, despite the passage of countless years, its progress remains minimal. It seeks to impose its dominion across all realms, but relying solely on its intrinsic power proves insufficient. Hence, it has resorted to consuming those in its vicinity—both humans and animals alike. Upon assimilation, their consciousness becomes akin to its tendrils, manifesting as the shadows that perpetually prey upon others. You are astute; you should have discerned this by now," the middle-aged man remarked.

Chu Huan nodded sagely. "So, those who retain their consciousness remain immune to becoming its tendrils and meet their demise…"

"A demise bereft of corporeal form, leaving naught but a heap of ash," the middle-aged man murmured softly.

Why did the person in front of him manage to stay conscious while being reduced to a pile of bones? And why hadn't he perished outright? How could he transform to engage in nonsensical conversation?

Chu Huan's earlier guard, momentarily lowered, now surged back. He interrupted the middle-aged man's musings with a stoic visage. "Then what exactly are you? Weren't you consumed?" 

The middle-aged man emitted an odd chuckle. "You're sharp indeed—yes, you've hit the nail on the head. Over the years, I've been grappling with it, merging with it. In the end, I neither died nor truly lived. I've become 'it.' From your standpoint, I am 'it,' and 'it' is me."

Chu Huan lapsed into silence.

This revelation marked the third jolt of astonishment. He had pondered whether the all-consuming 'it' constituted a singular consciousness or a conglomerate of entities. Now, his interlocutor had laid it bare—it was a fractured personality.

No wonder he harbored an inexplicable repulsion. No wonder he struggled to summon any goodwill toward this individual.

"I am 'it,' yet not entirely 'it.' For some inexplicable reason, I retained my memories as a Gatekeeper. Over time… guilt consumed me. I understand the futility of regret, yet I've sought an opportunity to slay 'it'… to extinguish myself."

Chu Huan stood in silence for a beat, gathering his thoughts. He ventured boldly once more, "So, the tales of the Fallen Land, the whispers of the Sacred Text, the myriad monsters—all of your creation."

It made sense. The monsters' intricate ties to the Fallen Land, their dread of shadows, the tailored remedies for their afflictions—all of it pointed to a deliberate design.

The middle-aged man's voice dropped. "I am confined, unable to reach the world beyond. I craft these monsters on the periphery of the Fallen Land, offering clues through the mouths of the flattened ones…"

Chu Huan's sharp laughter cut through. "I beg to differ. Those monsters possess combat prowess beyond the capacity of your descendants, let alone ordinary folk. Are you truly aiding them, or is it death you're dealing? These monsters arise at the land's fringes, driven to madness as the shadow spreads. They claim those unable to flee in time. The deceased lack consciousness, and 'it' cannot devour human consciousness. Thus, the spread is contained, isn't it?"

The middle-aged man regarded him with an odd expression for a moment. Eventually, he let out a soft sigh but offered no denial.

Chu Huan had no interest in moral debates with him; he pressed on aggressively. "Then what am I? Why haven't I solidified? Why do I hear those voices? How were you able to inscribe me in the Sacred Text? And why am I here?"

"When I fabricated the myth of the Sacred Text and disseminated it through the flattened ones, I had no knowledge of beings on the opposite shore," the middle-aged man paused, reflecting, "I merely hinted at 'it' emerging from the waters, from another realm. But oral tales always warp with time. Unwittingly, that legend morphed into what it is now."

"In my quest to eradicate 'it,' I exhausted every avenue. I discovered Gatekeepers utilizing Mutayi's brain marrow as a remedy for external wounds. Thus, I spent close to a millennium stealthily evading 'its' gaze, extracting my marrow and concealing it within the brain marrow of numerous Mutayi, hoping they'd chance upon it."

Chu Huan's gaze settled on the thigh bone held by the middle-aged man. "Your marrow?"

"I hailed from the divine mountain, the Patriarch. My marrow embodies the mountain's purest essence, distinct from Luger and the second-generation Gatekeepers born of the Sacred Spring," the middle-aged man elucidated, "It's the mountain's true essence. When fused with an ordinary person's form, it establishes a link with the divine mountain and the Sacred Spring, enabling communion with the stone heart. It's the sole antidote against 'it'."

As the middle-aged man spoke, his gaze flicked to the "walnut" pendant adorning Chu Huan's neck. He shook his head. "I've waited eons for my Gatekeepers and Mountain Keepers to ensnare those Mutayi, anticipating the emergence of the individual in possession of the mountain's essence, capable of communing with the stone heart… I anticipated a descendant of my lineage, not you."

When Chu Huan first encountered Nanshan, he bore two gunshot wounds. Nanshan had treated them with an unfamiliar substance, later revealed to be crafted from Mutayi's brain marrow, prompting Chu Huan's prolonged, secretive purging… Little did he realize that the remedy applied by Nanshan was the elusive "essence of the mountain" hidden within.

Chu Huan breathed a sigh of relief upon this revelation. It seemed he wasn't burdened with convoluted lineage; he was merely an ordinary child taken in by Chu Aiguo.

The middle-aged man regarded Chu Huan intently. After a pause, he sighed, "The rumours that have endured seem to have manifested into reality. Truly, I'm at a loss…"

The middle-aged man's final words were tinged with a bitter smile. Standing up, he left his final mark on this world—Chu Huan. This young man seemed a continuation of his own life. Despite Chu Huan's hand poised on a short knife, poised to strike at any moment, the middle-aged man appeared to want to caress Chu Huan's head. Yet, faced with Chu Huan's murderous glare, he reluctantly refrained, his raised hand hesitating before gently settling on Chu Huan's arm, offering a tender pat.

"As for your notion of 'solidifying,'" the middle-aged man spoke through his bitter smile, "I believe it's perhaps the divine mountain's design. Through our ignorance, we inadvertently opened the door, allowing this seed of disaster to enter. The divine mountain likely seeks to avert this possibility, thus imposing restrictions on the Mountain Gate's other side, wouldn't you say?"

With that, he knelt before Chu Huan, raising his bone above his head, bowing deeply, and began to murmur.

This aspect was familiar to Chu Huan. The old goat had educated him in the ancient ritual language, enabling him to grasp the middle-aged man's words: a plea for the divine mountain's mercy, for forgiveness of sins, and for blessings.

Unaware of any taboos, Chu Huan neither dodged nor avoided. He observed as the middle-aged man repeated the prayer, at first faint but steadily growing clearer. The voice seemed to emanate from all directions, converging into one and entering Chu Huan's ears. Strangely, it wasn't cacophonous.

The walnut pendant on his chest emitted a gentle glow, akin to a serene flame in the quiet night, gradually brightening without scorching. Its warmth enveloped him.

"My Kindling," the middle-aged man sighed, "my Kindling…"

Chu Huan found himself compelled to join in, softly intoning the ancient tones of the divine mountain along with the middle-aged man.

Raising his head, the kneeling man smiled faintly at Chu Huan.

The flame ignited by the "walnut" expanded, engulfing Chu Huan completely. The middle-aged man tenderly brushed his head against the flames, reminiscent of a long-lost teenager returning home after years, feeling a blend of infatuation, dependence, nostalgia, and regret…

Countless emotions, like a hundred feelings intertwined.

Then, before Chu Huan's eyes, the middle-aged man transformed into a luminous orb, slipping into the flames, leaving behind only a solitary leg bone. The fire seemed to surge with newfound vigor, spreading outward from Chu Huan.

Chu Huan's mind went blank as he allowed the fiery blaze to engulf him completely. All illusions dissolved effortlessly in the flames, revealing once more the dark seawater mountain, the resilient vines, and the genesis of it all—the ambitious and eager seed.

Amidst a deafening roar, Chu Huan's ears momentarily dulled, and the earth quaked beneath him. The stagnant seawater mountain ascended amidst towering waves, while the vines writhed, churning the sea into a turbulent brew.

In contrast, the towering flame, once tall as a person, now seemed diminutive amidst the tempest, akin to a mere cluster of fireflies.

Yet, Chu Huan sensed the fear emanating from 'it.'

Propelled by the roaring sea, Chu Huan ascended to greater heights, piercing the sky, transcending towering peaks until he beheld an endless expanse below.

In that boundless plain, Chu Huan perceived every individual they had awakened, whether by design or chance, as tiny flickers amid the vast shadow. Unbeknownst to them, they were interconnected by threads of light, weaving a vast network of fire, echoing his presence from afar.

In that single glance, Chu Huan comprehended the essence of "Kindling."

He understood that this Kindling would eventually fade in the darkness, yet strangely, he felt a profound calm within.

Living wasn't solitary, dying wasn't solitary.

In that moment, he realized he harbored no further desires in this world.