Chapter 85: Divine Concealment

Yang Baibai reached an arm out from the back seat, his fingers scooping toward the passenger seat like a claw. “Hand over the chicken. Live poultry blood breaks illusions. It’s not a black-feathered chicken, but it’ll still do the trick.”

Ye Chan clutched the Golden Crow to her chest and shrank away to the side. She didn’t dare shout, so she could only grit her teeth and growl under her breath. “Yang Baibai, are you ignoring everything I’m saying? This is a bird! A pet!”

Seeing that Yang Baibai had no intention of stopping, Gu Xianwang seized his wrist in a tight grip. “You Yang family members haven’t learned a thing after all these years. Planning to pull the same stunt a few more times? Poultry blood and human blood aren’t all that different. If you’re so eager to dispel the illusion, why not cut yourself open?”

Her words had barely fallen when the Fat Bird shot its neck out long, its broad triangular beak stabbing viciously into Yang Baibai’s palm. Apparently one bite wasn’t enough to vent its anger; it reared back at once for a second go.

Yang Baibai yanked his hand back with lightning reflexes. A hole gaped in his plastic glove, and he hissed through his teeth. “Gu, that bird you’ve raised has the exact same nasty temper as you.”

The Wrangler was already wedged at the roadside, with half its body suspended over the ditch. After the three of them tussled back and forth, the undercarriage started creaking again. Ye Chan glanced at the rearview mirror, but the angle was all wrong now—she couldn’t make out whether any Ghost Soldier shadows still lingered on the road behind them.

“How about I… crack open a window to check things out? If those ghost shadows have cleared off on their own, we can shove the car back into place.”

Yang Baibai scoffed. “Check what? They’re all fake. We’ve stumbled into a Ghost Camp.”

Ye Chan wasn’t convinced. She pressed the window down just a crack anyway. Damp air flooded into the car at once, thick with the stench of wet mud and decaying leaves. The fog almost seemed alive—a visible tendril of white smoke slithered in like a snake’s probing head, drifting languidly toward them. “What’s a Ghost Camp?”

“You don’t even know what a Ghost Camp is, so what are you doing here?” Despite his sharp words, Yang Baibai explained. “You ever read Zi Bu Yu? There’s a story in it called the Three-Headed Man. It’s about a living person who strays off the path and wanders into a Ghost Camp, stumbling into another world. The Japanese call it… kami kakushi? Anyway, it means the Ghost Camp has taken the person away to another realm.”

Gu Xianwang listened for a moment, then spoke up suddenly. “Peach Blossom Spring?”

Ye Chan got it in a flash. “Holy shit, so we’re in another world right now? Th-then this place won’t turn into Silent Hill on us, will it? You know, where the fog spits out a horde of remorseless monsters at the stroke of some hour?”

“Silent Hill? Never heard of that mountain. Which province is it in?” Yang Baibai wrinkled his brow and snorted. He hunched forward, rummaging deep in his clothes for a long moment before hissing in pain as he drew something out. He shoved it toward the front. “Hey, open the window wider. Smear the blood on the outside of the glass.”

Ye Chan gaped at the blood-soaked gauze he offered. She was dumbfounded. “You… is your head really…”

Yang Baibai’s tone turned deadly serious. “Do it quick. I don’t know what kind of monsters lurk in your Silent Hill, but a Ghost Camp is all unknowns. This world runs by its own rules. One misstep, and none of us are going home.”

His warning spooked Ye Chan enough that she wavered. She glanced at Gu Xianwang, who gave a firm nod of approval. Swallowing her disgust, Ye Chan snatched the gauze. She dropped the window halfway and smeared the blood on the exterior as fast as if plunging her hand into boiling oil—

But before she could pull back inside, the Golden Crow in her arms made a sudden leap. Its claws dug into her arm for purchase, then it beat its wings and flew right out. A stray golden feather stuck up from Ye Chan’s hair like an antenna; she stood there frozen in shock before scrambling to lean out and peer around. Only then did she notice the Ghost Soldiers seemed to have vanished from both the road ahead and behind.

Gu Xianwang blinked in surprise. “Where’s the Golden Crow?”

Ye Chan turned back, blinking rapidly. “Looks like… it flew up onto the roof.”

Gu Xianwang unbuckled her seatbelt and murmured, “You two stay put in the car. I’ll try jumping out the door on this side.”

“You’re asking to die out there? Have any idea what kind of energy field is waiting outside?” Yang Baibai threw up his hands in exasperation. “What the hell kind of disciple did Shang Ruyun even train? The Eye Technique hates water vapor more than anything. You get that, right?”

The Eye Technique gathered light into focus, while rising steam scattered it—its perfect counter. Her master had drilled that into her on the very first day of training. But what did it matter? The Golden Crow had emerged from the Yelang Sinkhole alongside Long Li. This divine beast possessed its own innate wisdom. Gu Xianwang hadn’t grasped Long Li’s intentions before, but now one possibility clicked into place. Could Long Li have fallen into this same “world” too?

So she had been completely cut off from the outside world, only able to send that single coordinate point at the fleeting boundary between this realm and the present one. If she followed this line of thinking, then since Long Li was trapped here—and she herself had come at the Rat-Walkers’ bequest to check on Master and his group—could it be that Master and the others had likewise been swallowed up by this Ghost Camp?

If that was the case, then in this Fallen Soul Ground that even Master hadn’t been able to see through, the Golden Crow’s importance likely far outweighed her Eye Technique. She absolutely could not lose track of it here.

As she frowned in deep thought, Ye Chan suddenly shrank back, whispering timidly, “Did you guys… hear any sounds?”

Yang Baibai, who might have torn open his wound again while ripping off the gauze earlier, was hunched over with his back curled. He grumbled in a muffled voice, “Ignore it. In two hours, the sun will be up. No matter what ghostly noises are out there, just don’t look and don’t listen. We’ll deal with anything after sunrise.”

Gu Xianwang noticed his pallor wasn’t right and glanced at the rearview mirror from the driver’s seat. From this angle, she had a clear view of a strange figure slowly emerging from the fog behind the car. The man wasn’t tall, skinny like he was malnourished. What made him odd was his outfit: a striped shirt hanging loosely on his upper body, paired with tight beach shorts below. On his feet were a pair of old leather shoes with the heels half-worn off, clacking with every step.

If they were truly inside the Ghost Camp right now, where had this man come from?

Could he be one of Master’s group?

The moment Ye Chan heard they only had two hours until dawn, she decided to play it safe and started to roll up the window. But Gu Xianwang suddenly grabbed her hand.

“Wait—that man might be—”

In that split-second distraction, a head popped up right outside Ye Chan’s window. The man was covered in a thick beard, his skin caked with grime, reeking of someone who hadn’t bathed in ages. His body lagged behind, his neck bent at a full ninety degrees in a way no normal person could manage, as he peered into the car.

But he was alive—Ye Chan was certain of it. The hot breath snorting from his nostrils was splashing right onto her arm. In that instant, her scalp nearly exploded; a scream lodged in her throat.

Before Gu Xianwang could react, the man suddenly grinned at them. His thick lips were an unnatural purple-red, and the smile split them open like a pitahaya, grotesquely revealing two rows of pitch-black teeth that turned his whole face into a demon’s mask.

Ye Chan finally lost it and bellowed, “Begone, you little ghost!” She hurled Yang Baibai’s blood-soaked gauze right at him.

The man seemed startled too. He bolted upright and dashed into the woods on the side, legs flying. He might have gotten away with it, but the Golden Crow on the car roof apparently mistook him for something else. With a flash of its fat silhouette, it too shot into the Mist Forest and vanished in the blink of an eye.

Without hesitation, Gu Xianwang shoved open the car door and leaped into the roadside underbrush. She swiftly grabbed her backpack from the trunk and strapped her Dog Head Knife to her waist. “I’m going after them. Stay in the car and don’t move.”

“Ah? Wait, hold on for me!” Ye Chan snatched up her own pre-packed bag and scurried after her. “Sister Gu! Hey, why are we chasing him?”

Gu Xianwang didn’t break stride, her eyes sharp as a hawk’s, piercing through layers of mist to lock onto the Fat Bird’s golden afterimage. She couldn’t afford to look away for even a moment, lest she lose the Golden Crow. “That man carries a scent on him.”

Ye Chan had smelled it too—the stench, right? But that wasn’t reason enough to chase and beat someone just for being filthy, was it?

“Uh… I think maybe…”

“It’s the woody fragrance from Long Li.”

“Uh—huh?” Ye Chan blinked in shock. “You can tell that?!”

Every three trees, Gu Xianwang carved a bold mark into the trunk with her knife. They pursued for what felt like miles, and when she silently counted about thirty marks, the path back had vanished from sight. By now, it had to be nearing five in the morning, yet the fog in the forest wasn’t thinning—it was thickening, dense as a solid mass. The moisture clung heavily to their bodies.

They were getting farther and farther from the car. For some inexplicable reason, unease began to stir in her heart. “Stay close to me.”

Ever since fusing more deeply with the God Eye, Ye Chan’s physical condition had improved by leaps and bounds. Jogging alongside Sister Gu’s steady pace, she wasn’t even short of breath. A smug sense of satisfaction bubbled up inside her, boosting her courage in tandem. It’s just a big fog, she thought. She’d seen plenty of it back in the Sinkhole. As long as whatever emerged from it was alive, there was nothing to fear.

Sister Long’s scent—she had a vague impression of it. Hiss… faint and subtle. Ye Chan sniffed the air all around her, sensing that something deep in the heart of this forest felt terribly familiar. Terribly… alluring.

It was the kind of pull like the fragrance blooming from flowers in full season, scattered solely to draw insects in for pollination. A scent through and through, but this one smelled so comforting.

The footsteps trailing behind her grew erratic. Gu Xianwang whipped around, only to see Ye Chan drifting hazily off in another direction. Luckily, she hadn’t gone far. Just as Gu Xianwang opened her mouth to call out, a short figure materialized from the thick fog, no more than four or five meters from Ye Chan. A chill shot down her spine. Her hand clamped onto the hilt of the Dog Head Knife as she crouched low, tiptoeing swiftly into the shelter of the tree shadows off to the side.

“Heh heh heh… Haha—”

Before Gu Xianwang could get a good look at the shadow, a peal of childish laughter burst out right behind her. It was so vibrant and lively, exactly like the piercing giggles of kids at play that you’d hear every time you passed a kindergarten. Soon enough, the eerie sounds echoed from several other directions, as if a pack of tiny imps was circling them in a game of hide-and-seek.

In an instant, every hair on her body stood on end. It felt even more unsettling than witnessing Ghost Soldiers marching past.

Right then, Ye Chan halted abruptly. Her hands groped blindly at the empty air, as if she’d been struck sightless by some spirit. Growing truly anxious, Gu Xianwang gritted her teeth and bellowed to shatter the spell: “Ye Chan, you disobedient little dummy, where the hell do you think you’re going!?”

Any kid raised in the countryside knew the old folks’ warnings for cases like this: never slap the person or call their name alone. You couldn’t be sure if their soul was fully intact. If it wasn’t, shouting their name might scare it even farther away, lost forever. The surefire fix was to yell curses at their back—hit them with whatever they feared most, and the harsher the better to jolt them awake. It was a rustic trick Senior Brother had taught her ages ago.

Sure enough, Ye Chan let out an “Ow!” and the tinkling of Silver Bells rang out ahead. She toppled straight backward, landing flat on her rear with the sound. At the same moment, the childlike shadow nearby flopped to the ground. By the time Gu Xianwang rushed over, the only things there were weeds and scattered leaves—no sign of any child. Just a single red thread strung taut between two trees.

The Silver Bells tied along it looked strikingly familiar.

“Tsk.” Yang Baibai shuffled out from behind the bushes, scratching the back of his head in his flip-flops. “Gave you a direction cue. No more begging today—how about that Turtle Pearl?”

Gu Xianwang hauled Ye Chan to her feet and pinched her philtrum hard. Glancing back at him, she had to admit Yang Baibai had some real chops these days—leaps ahead of the kid he used to be.

“As I said, the Turtle Pearl waits until Golden Hook Town.”

“Pfft.” Yang Baibai brushed past her, hands jammed in his pockets, striding straight ahead. “This fog’s like a funhouse mirror. You think your markers are behind you? They’re actually off to the side. Without rigging a solid rope trail, you’ll be stuck in here till you rot.”

Ye Chan stayed dazed for a while. It took Gu Xianwang half-dragging her along before she snapped out of it. She remembered the earlier events, but her body had felt completely out of her control. She’d gotten a clear look at the kid in the white mist, though—judging by the height, maybe seven or eight years old, head shrouded in a white cloth with two ragged eyeholes poked through. At first glance, it was like a little ghost.

But then the Silver Bells had rung out sharply, her vision had gone black, and the imp was gone.

In her fogged state, she’d half-heard Sister Gu and Yang Baibai talking, but her brain wasn’t processing—in one ear and out the other. Something about the air here shifting unpredictably, like a labyrinth. She wasn’t thinking at all, yet her mouth had chattered on freely in response. For fleeting instants, it felt like her soul had floated free, watching herself recount to Sister Gu how she’d been bewitched.

Unbeknownst to them, they emerged from the vast expanse of the Mist Forest. A sheer cliff loomed before them, a river snaking lazily below. On this bank of the river stood a solitary Log Cabin, long abandoned to the elements.

The mist barrier thinned slightly, and as the night wind from the open clearing blew over her, Ye Chan shivered and sobered up a bit. She said uneasily, “Oh my god, this is way too weird, right? That little log cabin at the end of the Mist Forest looks just like one of those haunted spots in horror movies no matter how you slice it. Bird Lord doesn’t seem to be here either. We, we shouldn’t get any closer, okay? As long as we don’t look, the ghost can’t hurt us!”

Gu Xianwang frowned, her eyes staring fixedly at the log door. Pretending this log cabin’s position wasn’t eerie would be a lie—it was practically an obvious trap laid out in plain sight. Yet the brightness and atmosphere all around somehow stirred a nagging sense of familiarity in her intuition.

“I’ll go in and take a look.”

Yang Baibai shot her a glance, as if long accustomed to her irrational impulses. “Tsk, curiosity killed the cat. I’m only waiting one minute for you.”

Gu Xianwang gave Ye Chan a meaningful look, signaling her to keep an eye on Yang Baibai from outside the door. She tiptoed closer herself. The bark on the outer walls of the log cabin had long since rotted away, exposing the damp wood grain beneath. She focused her gaze intently—the nearer she drew, the more convinced she became that her intuition hadn’t steered her wrong.

In the next moment, she drew the Dog Head Knife and pressed her lithe form lightly against the edge of the log door. She slid the flat of the blade into the door seam and pried—the long-rusted lock snapped cleanly in two with a creak, and the door swung slowly open—

The room was piled high on all sides with all sorts of junk, and an indescribable stench hit her like a wall. Pushed against the far wall was a narrow bed cobbled together from wooden slats, and on it… lay a person.

The instant she saw her, heat welled up in Gu Xianwang’s eyes, and a dull, sawing pain ripped through her heart—as if hot coals had been pressed right through it, sour ache and raw hurt twisting together.