Chapter 288: The Mountain God Protects Life

Lu Yuan stared at the line of black characters on the snow for three breaths.

The black characters had no ink stains, as if a layer of scorched-black moss had grown beneath the snow. Every stroke trembled slightly, especially the last character—"you"—between whose strokes tiny red threads connected, leading deep into the Birch Forest.

"Don't step on it."

Lu Yuan raised his hand to block Xu Erxiao.

Xu Erxiao's foot had already lifted, and at the words, he quickly pulled it back.

"What's wrong?"

"The characters are a door."

Lu Yuan crouched down, picked up a pinch of white snow from the ground, and held it in his palm. The snow melted quickly, but the water droplets didn't drip down his fingers; instead, they rolled toward the line of black characters. The moment a droplet touched the character "Lu," it instantly turned into a tiny black insect and burrowed into the snow.

"It recognizes people through the characters," Lu Yuan said. "Whoever steps on it will have their name remembered by it."

"What do we do? Go around?"

"Can't go around."

"Why?"

"Look at the footprints."

Everyone looked down. That string of old cloth shoe prints had originally been heading straight toward the forest to the north, but after the black characters appeared, all the footprints had changed direction. They no longer moved forward but circled around the line of characters, as if someone wearing shoes was pacing in place continuously.

Lin Zhaoxuan probed the ground with his ink-line; the moment the thread touched the snow layer, a faint taut sound rang out.

"There's something underground."

"How many layers?" Lu Yuan asked.

"At least three layers."

Lin Zhaoxuan closed his eyes and listened for a moment. "The first layer is frozen earth, the second feels like wooden planks, and the third... has a breath."

Asheng, lying on Lu Yuan's back, suddenly opened his eyes. "That's not a breath."

"It's someone learning to breathe."

The moment he finished speaking, a sound of inhaling came from the snow. It was long, very cold, as if the entire Birch Forest had taken a breath of wind at the same time. Immediately after, a woman's voice came from underground: "Lu Yuan, come in."

The voice came from all directions, carrying a northern rural accent. "Child, it's cold outside. Come in and have some hot water. Come in and you'll see the person you want to see."

Xu Erxiao suddenly turned around. On the snowy slope behind him, a low earthen house had somehow appeared. Thick snow piled on its roof, and warm yellow lamplight shone through the window paper. Behind the window, a figure moved about, as if busy stoking a fire by the stove.

Wang Cheng'an also saw it. "When did this house appear?"

"It's been there since we came out," Lu Yuan said.

"But I didn't see it?"

"Because it didn't want you to see it just now."

Lu Yuan didn't look at the earthen house; he stared at the ground instead. "A ghost builds a house—first it builds the shadow, then it builds the door. The shadow is real; the house is fake."

Song Qinghe asked in a low voice, "And the lamp inside the house?"

"The lamp is real."

"Who lit it?"

"The people who were called inside."

The earthen house on the snowy slope suddenly pushed open its door. A woman in a blue cloth cotton-padded jacket stood at the entrance, holding a white paper lantern. Her hair was wet and plastered to her face, her feet were bare, and all ten toes were deeply buried in the snow. She looked at Lu Yuan and said softly, "Guest, please come in."

Lu Yuan glanced at her. "You're not the person inside the house."

The woman smiled. "Then who am I?"

"You're the person inside the lamp."

The smile on the woman's face instantly froze.

Song Qinghe gripped the broken lamp. "Her lantern is made of white paper, but the edges have oil stains. A supply lamp shouldn't use white paper. A white paper lamp is for leading the dead on their way."

Lu Yuan nodded. "Look at her feet."

The woman's toes twitched slightly. "Her feet point toward the house, but her footprints point outward into the forest. She's not standing at the door. She's buried upside down in the snow."

As the words fell, the woman suddenly raised her head. Her neck bent backward at an impossible angle, her mouth opened wide, and she exhaled a puff of white mist. The mist hit the ground, and the earthen house on the snowy slope instantly collapsed into sheets of black paper. The warm yellow lamp inside the house rolled into the snow, but the flame didn't go out—it rolled across the snow toward the group.

Lu Yuan drew his blade and traced a horizontal line on the snow with its tip. "The lamp shall not cross the boundary."

The lamp hit the line and immediately stood upright. The face of a young man was reflected inside the lampshade. His eyes were tightly shut, and his lips kept opening and closing. "Save me. Get me out of here. I didn't come here willingly. I just wanted to find my wife."

Song Qinghe's expression changed. "It's the owner of that string of footprints."

Lu Yuan didn't answer immediately. He tapped the lampshade three times with the back of his blade. On the first tap, the flame leaned left. On the second, it leaned right. On the third, it stood upright. "The person inside isn't dead yet. But their soul has already been replaced by the lamp."

Wang Cheng'an frowned. "What do you mean, 'replaced by the lamp'?"

"The person is still in the forest; the lamp has borrowed their shadow."

Lu Yuan took a sheet of yellow paper from his bosom and drew a small figure on it. The figure's head had no facial features; there was only a single black dot on its chest. He folded the yellow paper into a paper armor and pressed it against the lampshade. With his left hand, he formed the "Restrain Shadow Seal," pressing his thumb against the root of his ring finger, while his index and middle fingers joined together and pointed at the flame. With his right hand, he used the blade's tip to draw a triangle on the ground.

"A person has three souls; a shadow has three gates. If the gate does not belong to the lamp, the shadow does not borrow the fire. Wherever you came from, return to that place. I do not restrain souls; I only restrain stray shadows. Return!"

The man inside the lampshade suddenly opened his eyes. His eyeballs were entirely white, and patterns like frost cracks spread across his face. "Don't send me back! Going back means death! There's fire here, and food, and someone to keep me company!"

Lu Yuan stared at that face. "What's your name?"

The man didn't answer.

"What's your name?"

"I..."

The flame began to shake violently.

"My name is..."

A black hand from inside covered the mouth of that face. The black hand had five long, slender fingers, and the gaps between its nails were filled with incense ash.

Lu Yuan pressed a copper coin onto the top of the lamp and hooked the paper armor with his blade's tip. "If you won't speak your name, the shadow won't return. If you want to live, say your name yourself."

Black tears flowed from the man's eyes. "My name... is Zhao Shun."

The black hand tightened abruptly.

"Say it again."

"My name is Zhao Shun!"

The flame blazed white. The black hand was burned through by the white light; green smoke rose from all five fingers.

Lu Yuan raised his hand and changed the seal, curling his index and middle fingers, pressing his thumb over the joints of those two fingers, with the palm of his left hand facing outward. "The name returns to the person; the shadow returns to the body. Paper serves as proof; coins serve as the pass. Borrowing the road from fire, returning the form beneath the snow. Zhao Shun, return!"

The lampshade cracked open with a sound. A black shadow flew out of the lamp and landed on the snow, quickly forming into a curled-up man. He wore a tattered cotton jacket, his hands were purple from cold, and there were traces of smoke-blackening from incense on his chest.

At the same time, a scream came from deep within the Birch Forest. It was the voice of the woman in the blue cloth jacket: "You gave him back to me! He's already been offered for three nights! His shadow is mine!"

Lu Yuan peeled the paper armor off the lampshade, folded it into a paper crane, and pressed it onto Zhao Shun's chest. "Don't let him fall asleep yet."

He gave Lin Zhaoxuan a meaningful look.

Lin Zhaoxuan immediately crouched down and used the ink-line to draw a small circle around Zhao Shun. "Inside the circle protects the yang; outside the circle repels the yin. Brother Zhao, don't close your eyes."

Zhao Shun was shaking all over. "My wife is in the forest. Her name is Li Guilan. She went into the mountains to find me three days ago and never came back."

"Was that woman just now her?" Song Qinghe asked.

Zhao Shun shook his head, tears frozen on his eyelashes. "No. Guilan has a black mole on her foot. That woman didn't."

Lu Yuan looked into the forest. Among the birch trunks, white paper lamps hung faintly one after another. The light wasn't bright, but it illuminated a grayish-white path across the snow. At the end of the path stood seven or eight people. They wore clothes from different eras—hunters, cart drivers, and even a scholar in a long gown from within the passes. Everyone held a lantern, their faces all turned in the same direction, their backs to the group.

Zhou Heng lowered his voice. "Are they all dead?"

"Some are dead, some alive," Lu Yuan said.

"How can you tell?"

"Look at the lamp shadows."

Everyone looked. The shadows of those people all cast forward; only the person at the very end had no shadow. That person wore a floral cotton jacket and had a blue cloth scarf wrapped around their head.

When Zhao Shun saw them, he struggled to stand up. "Guilan!"

The woman in the floral cotton jacket slowly turned her head. It was indeed Li Guilan. Her face was pale, her lips were blue from cold, and one of her shoes had fallen off her right foot, revealing a black rope coiled around her ankle.

"Zhao Shun?" Her voice was very soft.

Zhao Shun wanted to rush over but was held down by Lu Yuan. "Don't call her a second time."

"Why?"

"She's already heard you."

In the forest, all the lantern-holders simultaneously turned half their faces. Their eyes had no whites, only rings of red lamp wicks.

Li Guilan reached out toward Zhao Shun. "Come get me."

Zhao Shun choked up. "Guilan, I'm coming right now."

Lu Yuan raised his blade and placed it horizontally in front of him. "There's a rope on her foot. First break the rope, then fetch the person."

"But that's my wife!"

"Exactly because she's your wife, I can't let you go over there."

Behind Li Guilan, the white paper lamps all shook at once. Seven or eight lamps, seven or eight voices, echoed together from the forest: "Husband and wife welcome each other, yin and yang unite. Blood kin recognize each other, names return to the offering altar. Come. Just walk under the lamp, and she will be able to go back."

Zhao Shun's body clearly leaned forward. Lu Yuan pressed his palm against the back of his neck. "Zhao Shun, listen to me. If your wife really wanted you to come over, she wouldn't ask you to walk under the lamp. She would tell you to stand outside it."

Two streams of black tears suddenly flowed down Li Guilan's face. "Zhao Shun, don't come over."

She only said this one sentence, and the black rope around her ankle instantly tightened. A trail of blood climbed from her ankle up to her calf.

Zhao Shun finally understood. He covered his mouth, not daring to call out anymore.

Lu Yuan looked at the black rope. One end of the black rope was tied to Li Guilan's foot; the other end disappeared into the forest. Every foot along the rope, a small wooden plaque was attached. The plaques didn't have names written on them, but the character "wish" on each one.

"A Wish-Offering Rope," Song Qinghe said. "It even uses the thought of husband and wife recognizing each other to nourish the lamp."

Lu Yuan nodded. "As long as Zhao Shun calls out one more time, one more knot will be added to her rope."

"Then how do we save her?" Xu Erxiao asked.

"First, make her withdraw her foot herself."

Lu Yuan called out loudly into the forest, "Li Guilan, can you hear me?"

Li Guilan didn't look at him. "I can hear you."

"Do you still recognize Zhao Shun?"

"I do."

"Do you want him to come get you?"

Li Guilan was silent for a long time. "Yes."

Another wooden plaque immediately appeared on the Wish-Offering Rope.

Zhao Shun's face turned ashen. But Lu Yuan didn't blame her. "Wanting him to come is your wish. But you need to say first: are you willing to let this rope decide for you?"

Li Guilan raised her head. The lamps behind her began to contract, like countless eyes staring at her. "I'm not willing."

Her voice trembled. "But I have no strength left."

"Strength doesn't come from wishes." Lu Yuan raised his left hand, fingers together, thumb pressed against his palm, and formed the "Summon Yang Seal" with his right hand. "People walk the yang path; feet step on solid ground. The rope binds skin and bone, not the original heart. Li Guilan, withdraw your foot."

Li Guilan bit her lip. The foot entangled by the black rope slowly pulled back an inch. The black rope immediately tightened, and all seven or eight lamps in the forest let out a sharp shriek. Black shadows pounced from under the lamps, like a group of paper men wearing human skin, pressing down on Li Guilan.

"Zhaoxuan!" Lu Yuan shouted.

Lin Zhaoxuan had already prepared the ink-line. He swung the ink-line in a circle through the air; the thread head, stained with cinnabar, landed on the ground forming a red arc. "Ink divides yin and yang; the line sets the four directions! Heaven's gate closes; earth's door hides. With the white birch as witness, snow and earth as walls. Whoever has a shadow returns to their person; those without a shadow must retreat!"

The red line vibrated through the air. Those paper men were blocked outside the arc, all of them smashing into it with twisted forms.

Zhou Heng took the opportunity to charge into the forest, his short blade slashing at the Wish-Offering Rope. The moment the blade touched the rope, it was repelled by a burst of yin force. His tiger's mouth split open, and he stumbled back three full steps.

"There are nails on the rope!"

"Where are they nailed?"

"Behind every wooden plaque!"

Lu Yuan pulled out three split black nails and handed them to Xu Erxiao and Wang Cheng'an. "Erxiao, three on the left. Cheng'an, three on the right. Zhou Heng, break the middle."

Xu Erxiao and Wang Cheng'an each took the black nails and rushed toward the trees on either side. They didn't cut the rope; instead, they nailed the black nails into the snow beside it.

Wang Cheng'an was stunned. "Brother Lu, what's this for?"

"Nails to draw nails. The nails on the Wish-Offering Rope recognize the Malevolent Deity; the nails in your hands recognize the Life-Severing Stele. Only when the qi of the two types of nails clash will the rope loosen."

Xu Erxiao drove the first black nail into the snow, forming the "Break the Gate Seal": "The nail has its master; the rope has its head. Evil nails return to evil; wish nails return to wishes. Today, borrowing the broken nails, I break through the old gate!"

The moment the black nail landed, the Wish-Offering Rope trembled violently. The three wooden plaques on the left simultaneously emitted cracking sounds.

Wang Cheng'an, following the positions Lu Yuan had specified, drove his three black nails into the ground one by one. His technique didn't follow Daoist rules, but he clamped his broken abacus frame under his armpit and recited his own mantra in his mouth: "Accounts come in; accounts go out. Who owes whom can't be muddled. This black rope has miscalculated the accounts—today, we wipe the slate clean!"

All three black nails sank into the snow at once. The wooden plaques on the right side of the rope flipped over in large numbers, revealing bloody characters on their backs. "Husband's wish: live together, die together. Wife's wish: grow old together. God's wish: both return to the altar."

When Lu Yuan saw the last four characters, his eyes darkened. "Zhou Heng!"

Zhou Heng had already charged to the center of the rope. He gripped his blade with both hands, and instead of cutting the rope, the blade slashed at the largest wooden plaque on it.

With a crack, the wooden plaque was split open. Inside the plaque, there was no wood core, only a tangle of human hair. Woven into the strands of hair were two copper marriage certificates, on which were written the names Zhao Shun and Li Guilan. The black hair instantly coiled around Zhou Heng's blade.

Just as Zhou Heng was about to put force into it, all the paper men in the forest pounced at once.

Song Qinghe pressed the fragments of the broken lamp onto the ground, interlaced her ten fingers, and formed the "Lamp Flower Seal." "The lamp has no oil, but the fire does not die. The person has no gate, but the soul has a path. With my three fires, I borrow the snow's light. Shine!"

Her brow, throat, and heart-center simultaneously lit up with three tiny glimmers of light. The glimmers connected into a single line and fell onto the broken lamp. Though the lamp vessel was shattered, it rekindled a wisp of greenish-white flame. Under the light of the flame, the charging paper men all revealed their true forms. They weren't people, but paper shells folded from offering paper. The paper shells were stuffed with hair, fingernails, and incense ash, and the same character was written on every chest: "Wish."

"Zhou Heng, burn the hair!" Lu Yuan shouted.

Zhou Heng immediately let go of his blade, grabbed a handful of snow, and covered the roots of the hair. Lin Zhaoxuan looped the ink-line around the hilt and yanked hard. The hair was snapped off by the ink-line, and Song Qinghe's greenish-white flame fell onto it. When the hair burned, there was no flame, only wisps of blue smoke rising. The voices of the husband and wife came from within the blue smoke: "Wish to live together. Wish to die together."

Zhao Shun cried out, "Guilan, don't believe it! You need to go back; we'll go back together!"

Li Guilan suddenly raised her head. "Zhao Shun, do you still remember our wedding day?"

Zhao Shun was taken aback. "I do."

"What did you say then?"

"I said..." Zhao Shun's voice trembled. "I said from now on, if there's one bite of food, we'll split it half and half."

"And then?"

"I said I'd patch the window for you in winter and fix the shed for you in summer."

Li Guilan smiled a little, and her tears finally fell. "You didn't say 'live together, die together.'"

"That was something it added for us."

"Yes."

Lu Yuan looked at that line of bloody characters. "The thing the Malevolent Deity is best at is turning people's small wishes into great vows. If people just want to look out for each other, it changes it to 'live together, die together.' If people just want one full meal, it changes it to a lifelong sacrifice. Once a wish has characters added to it, it's no longer the person's wish."

Li Guilan raised both hands and formed an extremely clumsy gesture. She pressed her thumb against her palm, and her remaining four fingers spread slightly, as if holding an invisible lamp. "I, Li Guilan, do not consent to dying together. I only wish to go home alive with Zhao Shun. Even if there's no home to go back to, we'll still walk there alive."

As her words fell, the black characters on the Wish-Offering Rope peeled off in large pieces.

Zhou Heng's blade cut through the last section of the rope with one slash.

The moment the black rope snapped, all seven or eight white paper lamps in the forest exploded simultaneously. Pieces of black paper ash flew out from the lamps and landed on the ground, forming countless mouths that snapped at the group.

Lu Yuan pressed the tip of his blade into the ground and stepped into the Yu Steps. On the first step, he landed in the Kan position. "Water retreats from the yin gate." On the second step, he landed in the Li position. "Fire illuminates the human path." On the third step, he landed in the Gen position. "The mountain stops evil practices." On the fourth step, he landed in the Qian position. "Heaven is clear; earth is tranquil."

He turned both hands over, his left hand forming the "Jade Purity Seal" and his right hand raised in the "Thunder Finger." The four steps combined into a single compass orientation. "Heaven is clear, earth is spirit. Within the paper there is no bone; within the ash there is no name. Whoever borrows human wishes, today retreat your form. Retreat!"

The black mouths on the snow closed in unison, turning into a layer of black ash.

But the black ash did not scatter. It reformed on the snow into a massive face. That face did not have seven eyes—only one. In that eye was reflected the three offering altars in the distance. "You broke the first lamp. But the people beneath the lamp will still light a second. You saved Zhao Shun and Li Guilan, but what about the wishes of everyone else in the stockade?"

Below the black face, the black ash quickly manifested many small figures. There were mothers holding children, old people leaning on canes, and cart drivers leading horses. They knelt before the offering altars, holding incense in their hands, and chanted the same phrase: "As long as the child lives, I will offer anything."

Zhao Shun looked at those people and asked in a low voice, "Are they all willing?"

"Some are," Lu Yuan said. "But willing doesn't mean they understand. They just want their children to live; they don't know whose life force the Malevolent Deity will use to fill the void."

Asheng suddenly coughed on Lu Yuan's back. He opened his eyes and looked at the figures in the black ash. "The next one is Xiaoman Stockade. There's an old well there. There's no water in the well, but every day someone can hear a child crying. They burn their children's old clothes to the Malevolent Deity, begging it to protect the children as they grow."

Lu Yuan looked up toward the east. The edge of the sky had already taken on an extremely faint grayish white. The first night was almost over. But the smell of incense ash in the north wind was only getting heavier.

Wang Cheng'an put away his broken abacus frame. "Should we send this couple out first, then go to Xiaoman Stockade?"

"No," Lu Yuan said. "Go to the old well first."

"Why?"

"Even though the first lamp is broken, the supply lines aren't completely severed." Lu Yuan picked up the half section of the Wish-Offering Rope from the snow. The end of the rope was still dripping black water toward the north. "It set the lamp in the Birch Forest to block us. The real supply line borrows the stockade's well. The lamp in the Birch Forest was just an eye at the entrance."

Song Qinghe looked at the now-extinguished broken lamp. "Then what about the thing inside this lamp?"

Lu Yuan removed the wick, wrapped it in yellow paper, and put it away. "Bring it with us. The lamp's fire is out, but it has seen the offering altar. With it, we can recognize the real supply line."

Li Guilan staggered over to Zhao Shun's side. Zhao Shun reached out to support her, but didn't dare to call her name again.

Lu Yuan glanced at them. "From now on, whoever calls you in the forest, don't answer. Even if the voice sounds like the other person. To recognize someone, only three things count: they have a shadow under their feet, they breathe with qi, and they say their own name themselves."

Zhao Shun nodded. "Then can we go with you?"

Lu Yuan didn't answer immediately.

Wang Cheng'an said, "The forest isn't clean yet; leaving them here is more dangerous."

"Bring them," Lu Yuan said. "But have them walk in the middle. Since the supply line borrowed the wish of husband and wife, it will try to borrow their eyes later on."

Everyone reformed their positions. Lu Yuan walked in the very front carrying Asheng on his back. Xu Erxiao guarded the left with his sword; Wang Cheng'an guarded the right with his abacus. Lin Zhaoxuan took the rear, Song Qinghe carried the half-broken lamp, and Zhou Heng protected the flanks of Zhao Shun and Li Guilan.

As they were about to leave the Birch Forest, the sound of horse bells came from afar. An old-style large cart slowly approached from beneath the snowy slope. The cart was covered with gray cloth, and the driver wore a dogskin hat, his face completely hidden by a scarf. The cart tracks left only two ruts, but the horseshoe prints had four rows.

Xu Erxiao said in a low voice, "This cart is wrong."

"What's wrong?" Wang Cheng'an asked.

"It looks like it's carrying four horses on the cart."

Lu Yuan raised his hand, signaling everyone to stop.

The cart driver called out through the snowy curtain, "Hey, folks, want a ride? Just ahead is Xiaoman Stockade. We can get there before dawn."

From inside the carriage came the sound of a child crying. One cry. Two cries. Three cries.

Asheng suddenly grabbed Lu Yuan's collar from behind. "Don't get on the cart."

"Are there children inside the cart?" Lu Yuan asked.

"Not children." Asheng stared at the cart, his face growing paler and paler. "It's the crying from inside the well."

The cart driver lifted the curtain. Inside the carriage was completely empty, except for a small black well, the size of a palm, placed in the center of the floorboards. The mouth of the well faced upward, and three sticks of incense were inserted along its rim. The smoke from the incense didn't rise; instead, it bent toward the outside of the carriage, pointing at Lu Yuan.

The cart driver smiled. "Get on. There's a seat inside. And there's a place for the child, too."

Lu Yuan raised his blade, pointing it at the wheel. "Cart driver, show your face."

"Guest, are you afraid of me?"

"I'm afraid you don't dare to show yourself."

The cart driver slowly lowered his scarf. Beneath the scarf was not a face, but a wooden plaque engraved densely with characters. In the center of the wooden plaque were written three characters: "Life-Protecting Cart."

Behind the black wooden plaque, countless fine roots extended out, coiling around the carriage shafts. The small well inside the carriage began to shake. The voices of countless children came from within the well: "Save me. Take me away. I don't want to die."

Zhao Shun and Li Guilan both took a step forward at the same time.

Lu Yuan shouted in a low, commanding voice, "Stop!"

Both of them halted, their faces full of pain. "Is this voice real?" Zhao Shun asked.

"It is real."

"Then why can't we save them?"

"Because it wants you to carry the well away on your backs."

Lu Yuan looked at the small well on the cart. "The children's cries are real, but the children aren't in the well. The well only contains the crying, waiting for someone to claim it. Whoever claims it becomes the new offering person."

The cart driver suddenly cracked his whip. The tip of the whip didn't strike the horse; instead, it lashed toward Lu Yuan. Lu Yuan raised his blade and parried, the blade's edge severing the whip tip. The severed whip landed and turned into a black snake, darting straight for Asheng.

Xu Erxiao leaped forward to block, sweeping his sword horizontally and pinning the black snake into the snow. "Brother, go first!"

"You all retreat to the slope."

Lu Yuan handed Asheng to Song Qinghe. "Keep an eye on him."

Song Qinghe took Asheng, formed a protective lamp seal with both hands, and pressed the broken lamp against his chest.

Lu Yuan walked alone toward the large cart. The snow beside the wheels cracked open silently, and dozens of pale hands emerged from underground, grabbing his ankles. He didn't draw his blade; instead, he bent down, grabbed a handful of snow, and smeared it on his brow. "Snow is the mountain's bone; the king is the human world. The hands beneath the ground shall not cross the line. The Kun gate closes, the __ seals. Descend!"

He pressed his right palm onto the ground. A muffled rumble sounded from beneath the snow layer, and all the pale hands simultaneously retracted into the earth.

The cart driver's wooden plaque face turned to the side. "You're using mountain techniques. You don't carry the mountain's name on you. Who taught you?"

"The mountain doesn't need to teach people," Lu Yuan said. "It only looks at who is stealing its things."

He stepped onto the carriage shaft and slashed at the small well inside the carriage with his blade. Before the blade fell, a small hand suddenly reached out from within the well, a red string tied around its wrist. That hand caught the back of the blade.

Lu Yuan's gaze turned heavy. "There really is a child."

"Of course there is," the cart driver's wooden plaque face split open with a crack. "The god protects life; life protects the god. If you save one, you have to offer one. If you don't save, they'll die right now."

Lu Yuan stared at that small hand. The gaps under the small hand's fingernails were full of mud, but the red string on its wrist had a small wooden plaque tied to it. On the wooden plaque was written: "Life Sacrifice."

Lu Yuan extended his left hand and pressed it down on the small hand on the back of the blade. "Child, look at me."

The crying in the well stopped abruptly.

"What's your name?"

The small hand didn't answer.

"What's your name?"

The wooden plaque began to heat up; the red string tightened more and more. Lu Yuan pressed his thumb against the back of the blade, forming the "Untie the Name Seal": "The name is not on the plaque; life is not on the string. A child not yet of age first returns to their original surname. Ignorance is not a crime; no wish, no sacrifice. Whoever carved its name shall receive the retribution. Untie!"

The two characters "Life Sacrifice" on the wooden plaque burst apart simultaneously. The small hand in the well abruptly withdrew, and a weak, thin cry came from within: "My name... is Xiaomei."

Lu Yuan immediately said, "Say it again."

"My name is Xiaomei!"

"Where is your home?"

"The stockade to the south."

"Who is waiting for you at home?"

"My mother."

"Then go back."

Lu Yuan pressed both fingertips onto the knot of the red string on her wrist. "The person has a home; the name has a root. The red string retreats; the yin carriage stops. Return!"

The red string snapped with a pop. A trail of blood immediately appeared on Xiaomei's wrist, but that hand was no longer ice-cold.

The black well inside the carriage began to collapse; all three sticks of incense around its mouth fell simultaneously. The cart driver's wooden plaque face let out a sharp shriek. "How dare you break my cart!"

"This isn't your cart."

Lu Yuan grabbed the black well in the carriage; a layer of black frost instantly froze onto his palm. Gritting his teeth, he pulled the small well out of the floorboards. The bottom of the well seemed to connect to the entire mountain, so heavy it didn't feel like a single object.

Wang Cheng'an rushed back from the slope and bit down on one end of his broken abacus frame. "Brother Lu, I'll help you!"

Xu Erxiao also leaped onto the carriage shaft. "Brother, I'll help too!"

Lin Zhaoxuan looped the ink-line around the well's mouth, and Zhou Heng pressed down on the carriage shaft from the other side. Song Qinghe raised the broken lamp, and the three points of human fire burned once more. All six exerted force at the same time.

The black well slowly left the floorboards. A huge piece of offering paper was revealed beneath the carriage. On it was drawn the terrain of Xiaoman Stockade: the old well, the ancestral hall, the granary, and every household, all connected by red lines. The red lines finally converged at a blurry "life" character in the center of the paper.

"This is the supply line master plan," Lin Zhaoxuan said.

"It's not the master plan," Lu Yuan said, panting. "It's a Life-Harvesting Chart. Whenever a child is born, falls gravely ill, goes missing, or dies young, it gets recorded on here. This cart isn't delivering children. It's transporting everyone's will to survive back to the Main Cave."

The cart driver's wooden plaque face suddenly went silent.

The next instant, the black shadow under the wheels transformed into two thick, massive arms, abruptly wrapping around Lu Yuan and Wang Cheng'an. The wooden plaque face cracked open a slit. "You've already seen it. So stay here and help it finish drawing the chart."

The black hands tightened. The old wound on Lu Yuan's chest split open again, blood soaking through his clothes. Wang Cheng'an grunted, and the broken abacus frame creaked under the pressure. "Brother Lu, this abacus of mine is about to break!"

"The abacus won't break."

"Why?"

"You haven't finished your accounting yet."

Lu Yuan reached up and grabbed a corner of that offering paper. "Cheng'an, remember. The supply line isn't a line; it's an account. An account has a beginning, and it also has an ending."

Wang Cheng'an's eyes lit up. "Then find its ending!"

He pressed the broken abacus frame against the offering paper, his fingers rapidly flicking the broken beads.

Snap.

With each flick, one red line on the offering paper lit up. "The old well starts the account. The ancestral hall records it. Every household adds to it. Finally..."

He suddenly stopped.

"Finally, there's no ending. The account has been going all the way into the mountain!"

"It's not that there's no ending," Lu Yuan said. "The ending is hidden in the person who first offered to it."

The black-faced wooden plaque let out a cold laugh. "The first person died a long time ago. His bones were buried in the mountain."

Lu Yuan looked at the black well on the cart. "You kept his bones inside the well. You didn't dare let him be buried."

The wooden plaque face showed panic for the first time.

The black well shook violently. From beneath the well's mouth came the sound of an ancient, aged cough. "Who... is calling me?"

The voice was hoarse, like an old tree grinding against itself.

Lu Yuan pressed the bone fragment against the well wall. The white light on the fragment rapidly spread outward. The black frost peeled off layer by layer, revealing a curled-up old man's skeleton at the bottom of the well. The skeleton's hands clutched a stone, on which was carved an extremely tiny "life" character.

The cart driver's wooden plaque face finally screamed, "Don't touch him! He is my first lamp!"

Lu Yuan understood. "You weren't born from the mountain. You grew from the thought of a person who refused to die. He was the first to beg for life, and he became your root. Later, when everyone begged for life, you claimed it as your own grace."

The wooden plaque face shook wildly. "I saved him! I let him live for seventy years! He should have died long ago! Living requires repaying a debt—that is heavenly justice!"

Lu Yuan looked at the old man's skeleton at the bottom of the well. "Living is not a debt. What you extended for him wasn't life; it was making him guard the offering altar for you. Even after he died, he couldn't be buried. You call this grace?"

The old man's skeleton's fingers moved slowly. "I want... to go home."

Lu Yuan drove his blade into the well's mouth and formed the "Return the Bones Seal" with both hands. With his left thumb pressing against the root of his index finger, his right palm facing down and five fingers slightly curled: "Bones return to the earth; the name returns to the ancestors. Old wishes repay wishes; old debts repay debts. The human world does not keep masterless bones; the evil altar does not raise unburied souls. With snow as the coffin, with earth as the gate. Open!"

A surge of black water suddenly gushed from the bottom of the well. The black water rolled around the old man's skeleton, trying to drag it back into the well.

Lu Yuan grabbed the skeleton's wrist; the veins on the back of his hand bulged. "Erxiao, protect the bones!"

Xu Erxiao drove his short sword into the well's rim. "Brother, which way do I send the bones?"

"To the south."

"South is the stockade!"

"That's where his home is."

"But there's no one left at his home."

"The earth is still there."

Xu Erxiao immediately formed the "Summon Soul Seal" toward the south. "South Li is fire; shine the gate for the returning person. Old bones, heed the summons; do not cling to the yin root. Fire does not burn the soul; light only guides the path. Return!"

A faint red light flew from his fingertips and landed between the old man's skeleton's brows.

Wang Cheng'an flicked his abacus, pressing down on the red line on the offering paper that led southward. "This entry, recorded as returning to the south!"

Lin Zhaoxuan threw out the ink-line; the thread end coiled around the skeleton's waist bone. Zhou Heng planted his feet against the carriage shaft and yanked backward with all his strength.

Song Qinghe raised the broken lamp high, shining the last bit of human fire into the black well.

Lu Yuan used every ounce of his strength to drag the old man's skeleton out of the well.

The moment the skeleton left the well, the entire Life-Protecting Cart collapsed with a roar. The cart driver's wooden plaque split in half, and a lump of black fetal flesh fell out from inside. The fetal flesh writhed constantly, and countless densely packed eyes opened on its surface before it flew toward the mountain belly in the north.

"It's trying to escape!" Zhou Heng shouted.

"Let it escape," Lu Yuan said.

He placed the old man's skeleton on the snow, turned around, and slashed at the offering paper with his broken blade. The offering paper wasn't cut open; instead, it let out a piercing, mournful cry. Every household depicted on the map lit up with a red glow. In the direction of Xiaoman Stockade, dozens of lamps lit up simultaneously.

Someone inside a house was chanting scriptures. Someone was striking a wooden fish. Someone was burning paper. The children's cries cut through the wind and snow, merging into a low, surging tide. "The mountain god protects life. The mountain god protects life. The mountain god protects life."

That lump of black fetal flesh stopped in midair, as if invisible threads had reconnected it.

Lu Yuan looked up at it, finally understanding why the Malevolent Deity had placed the first lamp in the mountains. It wasn't guarding the offering altar. It was waiting for someone to break the well inside the cart, then detonate everyone's fear of survival at once. The supply line hadn't been severed—it had merely changed direction.

All the red lights converged on Xiaoman Stockade.

"It's going to turn the entire stockade into a new offering altar."

Asheng lifted his head from Song Qinghe's arms and looked at the distant village. "The old well has opened. The people inside the well have all woken up."

Lu Yuan carried Asheng on his back and picked up the bone fragment buried in the snow. "Let's go."

Wang Cheng'an asked, "Are we still saving this old man?"

"Send him to the south first."

"And Xiaoman Stockade?"

"We have to go there even more." Lu Yuan looked toward the gradually brightening village. "That isn't the next lamp. That is the body the Malevolent Deity is preparing to change into for itself."

Everyone helped the old man's skeleton up and hurried southward through the gradually brightening sky. None of them noticed that behind them, on the snow, the wooden plaque that had split in half was slowly closing again. In the gap of the wooden plaque, a tiny black eye opened. It watched Lu Yuan's retreating back and uttered a nearly inaudible sound: "Lu Yuan. If you save everyone in the stockade, you'll have to carry all their lives on your back. If you don't save them, you'll watch with your own eyes as they offer themselves to me. This time, you don't have six people to merge into a single shadow."

The black eye blinked. A new line of characters surfaced on the snow: "The second lamp is at the old well in Xiaoman Stockade."

In the distance, the first rays of morning light crossed the Birch Forest. But the sky above Xiaoman Stockade did not brighten. An extremely thin layer of black cloud pressed down above the village, and dozens of red lines hung down from the clouds, like an inverted blood-red net. At the end of each red line was the roof of a household. And beside the old well in the center of the village, people were already standing. They faced the well mouth, hands clasped together.

An old man wearing a black straw rain cape stood at the very front, holding a bronze lamp in his hand. Beneath the lamp were three offerings: a bowl of white rice, a child's old cotton jacket, and a straight razor. The old man raised his head, as if seeing Lu Yuan through the wind and snow. "Outsider. You've finally arrived."

Lu Yuan stopped at the village entrance. "You know me?"

The old man smiled. "The Malevolent Deity doesn't know you. It's this well that knows you."

The sound of a child crying came from within the well.

At the same time, Asheng, lying on Lu Yuan's back, suddenly covered his ears tightly. "Brother Lu. The well is calling my name."

Lu Yuan looked toward the old well. On the rim of the well, a line of wet black characters slowly surfaced: "Asheng returns to the well; ten thousand households gain life."

The villagers turned around in unison. There was no malice in their eyes—only the last trace of exhausted hope after enduring a famine. Some held children. Some supported the elderly. Some still carried freshly cooked rice porridge in their hands.

The old man in the straw rain cape raised the bronze lamp, his voice carrying across the village entrance: "Outsider, give that child to the well. The well devours one person, and it protects the entire stockade. This is a rule passed down from our ancestors."

Lu Yuan hitched Asheng up higher on his back. "Who made this rule?"

The old man looked at him, the corners of his mouth slowly curling open. "The dead made it."

Inside the old well, the flame of the bronze lamp suddenly turned black. All the red lines on the roofs of Xiaoman Stockade tightened at the same time.

Lu Yuan gripped his blade's handle and stepped his first foot into the village entrance. "Then let the dead come out. I'll ask him face to face if this rule still counts."