Chapter 87: Misty Mirage

“How did you get in here?”

“Huh? That message really wasn’t—” The words were on the tip of Ye Chan’s tongue when her mind suddenly made a sharp turn. She coughed a few times and continued, “Well, we came out of the gas station and drove to… uh, the coordinate point Third Sister gave us. We were on our way to pick you up, but then late at night on that mountain ridge, a thick fog rolled in. Next thing we knew, we spotted a troop of Ghost Soldiers.”

Third Sister’s coordinate point? Long Li’s eyebrow arched slightly as she picked up on the strange detail. She reached into the inner pocket of her pants, her eyes flickering with sudden change, though her tone remained steady. “Ghost Soldiers passing through, huh… So how did you make it through the Mist Forest afterward and find this Log Cabin?”

Gu Xianwang noticed her fumbling for something and, worried she might aggravate her wound, leaned over to help lift the backpack onto the wooden bed. But as her hand stretched out halfway, Long Li’s fingers snatched it from the air. Long Li’s skin felt dry and slightly cool, the patterns on her fingertips standing out sharply as they brushed through Gu Xianwang’s, sending a faint itch across her skin.

With a quick glance, Gu Xianwang saw Long Li shake her head and haul the backpack aside on her own, putting some distance between them. That’s when it clicked for Gu Xianwang—no wonder she’d picked such a big hiking pack. It was to carry that Bronze Sword inside, wasn’t it?

Yang Baibai eyed them suspiciously. “Don’t just grill us about our story. How did you get in here? If they say they followed coordinates from the Rat-Walkers to find this place, then what’s the point of the ones you’ve got?”

“Now that everyone has their own copy of the Long Family Human Skin Map, what do you think those coordinates are for?”

Long Li let out a knowing chuckle, swiftly confirming nothing was missing from the pack before slinging its dozens of pounds over one shoulder. She scanned every corner inside and out of the Log Cabin, her expression unchanging on the surface but a thread of anxiety tightening within. Brushing past Yang Baibai, she headed straight for the door. “Let’s check out the surroundings first.”

The three of them had developed strong rapport after their ordeal at the Yelang Altar. When Long Li said to scout the area, it instantly became priority one. Yang Baibai alone couldn’t wrap his head around it. Sure, her skills might be a cut above, but hadn’t she ended up trapped in this Ghost Camp too—and wounded, no less? What gave her the right to act all high and mighty? Just because she was one of the Rat-Walkers’ inner circle, did that automatically promote her to boss the second she woke up?

He’d already scoped out the outside earlier anyway. Grumbling, he said, “A couple more loops around, and even a dumpster diver would’ve come back empty-handed. Besides the riverbed cliffs and the Ghost Forest, there’s just one little path snaking up the mountain. What’s there to discover?”

“And you claim this isn’t the Ghost Camp but some Mist Mirage. If you know it so well, how’d you end up stuck here yourself?”

Ye Chan eyed him sidelong as they walked, suddenly getting a read on Yang Baibai’s true nature. The guy was still a kid at heart, plain and simple. Challenge his pride, and he’d trail after you nagging endlessly until you talked him around—then rinse and repeat with the next question. A bottomless pit of whys. One thing was clear: the brat needed a good thrashing.

Long Li ran her fingers over the knife-carved lines etched into the Log Cabin’s outer wall planks. The cryptic diagram stretched all the way to the back wall. Fog had scattered what little light there was, and the dampness had swollen the rough wood, bulging the gaps and distorting the weathered cuts. She pondered for a moment, then turned toward the cliff face, mostly shrouded in misty shadows.

Gu Xianwang stuck close and recognized the carving right away—it was identical to the photo Long Li had sent from her phone. But from her expression now, it didn’t look like she knew it.

“I don’t think this Log Cabin’s owner will be back anytime soon, but our time’s running short. We can’t stick around.” With that, Long Li kicked off the windowsill and vaulted onto the cabin’s sloped roof, surveying the surrounding terrain. Looking down, she asked, “You set Taigong ropes along the edge of the Mist Barrier?”

“Hmph.” Yang Baibai jammed his hands in his pockets and jiggled his leg. “Of course I did. Without them, you lot on foot? We’d be wandering this place forever.”

The Taigong Rope was an ancestral Earth Instrument of the Yang Family. These so-called Earth Instruments were crafted by artisans using the essence of earthly treasures. Though not as precious as true Heavenly Materials and Earthly Treasures, they were still exceedingly rare artifacts. This craft had died out a few generations back in the Yang Family. According to the ancient book, preparing Taigong Rope required the blood of Crimson Perch—and not just any Crimson Perch, but the females that developed a moon pouch on their foreheads during their annual migration. These fish would swim thousands of miles upstream, defying the current to return to their birthplace and spawn. Only the blood within their moon pouches during this time was the true treasure.

Taigong Rope made from such Crimson Perch blood could dispel all illusions and malevolence. Even in the Fallen Soul Ground, where all electronics failed, cutting off a small section and placing it in living water would make it point north automatically—the birthplace of every Crimson Perch.

Gu Xianwang had just been pondering the hidden photographer’s motives when Long Li suddenly leaped onto the rooftop. Carrying dozens of pounds of gear, she moved across it as effortlessly as if it were flat ground. Did she show even a hint of the severe injuries from moments ago, when she had needed help just to drink water?

Ye Chan had listened to Sister Gu’s description of Sister Long’s wounds and figured she was already halfway through Ghost Gate Pass. Seeing her suddenly spring up like that startled Ye Chan into a jolt. “No, no, hey, Long—uh, whatever, Big Sis Bai—come down first! Aren’t you still hurt?”

Yang Baibai burst out laughing at that. “You two are a riot. Worrying about the Rat-Walkers’ crew? This is their job—injuries are just part of the deal.”

What the hell does he know? Ye Chan shot him a glare. “What does a little punk like you know about humanitarian concern? Go park yourself over there!”

“No problem.” Long Li shook her head and pointed toward the Red Rope Chaos Array at the distant forest’s edge. “Taigong Rope is useless against Mist Mirage.”

Yang Baibai froze, squinting intently in that direction before blurting out in surprise, “The Silver Bells didn’t ring—how’d the array get scrambled?”

Gu Xianwang leaned over for a look. The red cords were tangled in a bizarre way, nothing like human workmanship. The disorder evoked crumpling a sheet of white paper into a ball and then smoothing it out—the crisscrossing creases matched perfectly. If those ghostly children from the fog earlier had done it, Yang Baibai’s skills meant he couldn’t have overlooked it, and the Yang Family Silver Bells were no pushovers.

“Space folding?” Ye Chan ventured.

Yang Baibai blinked. “What?”

“Uh,” Ye Chan scratched her head, “if you haven’t seen Silent Hill, it’s tough to explain. The place we’re in has an inner world and an outer world. From a bird’s-eye view, they’re in the same space, but they can’t interact—like two parallel sheets of paper. When we slip from the outer to the inner world, it’s like those sheets twisting together, creating a passage.”

Yang Baibai’s face twisted in bafflement. “Yin and yang realms can’t overlap like that. You two must’ve read too many cockamamie novels. If ghosts were swarming everywhere, folks in our line of work would’ve been wiped out ages ago.”

“Ha?” Ye Chan stared, dumbfounded and at a loss for words. She racked her brain and tried again. “Just picture that Ghost Camp you mentioned. When you cinch the tent shut, doesn’t it get folds?”

Yang Baibai: “Ghost Camp’s just a figure of speech.”

Ye Chan jumped up and down. “So’s mine!!!”

Her head buzzed with frustration. She fanned her face with her hand and griped, “Why hasn’t this godforsaken sky lightened up yet?”

Hurry up and dawn so we can bail. I can’t hang with this old-school relic for another minute.

Gu Xianwang glanced at the sky too. By her rough estimate, even with the thick fog, daylight should’ve shifted the brightness by now. But nothing had changed—everything looked identical to when they’d entered the dense woods.

As far as the eye could see, there was only dimness.

“The time here… seems wrong,” Gu Xianwang said coldly, dropping a spine-chilling theory. Her eyes stayed locked on Long Li, who had deliberately turned her back atop the eaves. “The Mist Mirage you mentioned isn’t your run-of-the-mill Sea Mirage. Real things exist here, and they shift frequently, which means someone’s been coming and going through it. If there’s truly some parallel space like that, at this rate, it couldn’t have stayed hidden from two generations of people for long.”

As she spoke, Gu Xianwang reached out to Long Li. Her expression and words conveyed two distinct messages:

First, it was time to come down.

Second, they were still somewhere between Golden Hook Town and Huima Ridge—just concealed.

Long Li turned around and bowed her head. Seeing Gu Xianwang’s expression, the corners of her eyes curved upward. She obediently shifted half a step to the side and leaped down. Long Li had calculated her landing spot perfectly, but she hadn’t anticipated that Gu Xianwang would adjust her position with pinpoint precision. In an instant, Gu Xianwang shifted half a step as well and kept her arm extended toward her.

This time, Long Li had no choice. To steady her balance, she placed her palm against Gu Xianwang’s inner elbow. Gu Xianwang couldn’t tell if that moment of pain was genuine or feigned, but the instant they landed, she clearly felt Long Li’s waist and abdomen go limp, her center of gravity tilting right into her embrace.

The embrace was firm. As their bodies collided, their long hair flew and tangled together. Gu Xianwang didn’t notice the fleeting glint of forbearance that flashed across Long Li’s face.

The backpack on Long Li’s back was too heavy, carrying tremendous inertia. Afraid of hurting her, Long Li had deliberately pulled back her waist strength at the moment of landing. But in the ensuing tug, something went wrong. It was a raw, bloody wound after all—a slight pull made it feel like her internal organs were shifting. Seizing the moment, Long Li wiped the cold sweat from her temple and stepped back as if nothing had happened. She smoothed her clothes and said, “Thank you.”

The faint scent of wood lingered only briefly before fading. Gu Xianwang’s brows furrowed slightly. Her instincts told her something was off about Long Li’s behavior.

But it wasn’t the right moment to press her on it, so she steered the conversation back. “So, this mist mirage you mentioned—what exactly is it?”

Long Li replied calmly, “Take sea mirages as an example. Wherever these light-bending illusions appear, it’s always in one of three places: over the ocean, in the desert, or deep in the mountains and forests. The conditions are the same three as well: temperature, moisture, and light. At its core, a sea mirage is just the most ordinary kind of mist mirage.”

Ye Chan got it right away, but she puzzled over it. “But this place we’re in doesn’t seem like it’s all just light refraction, does it?”

“Exactly—where there’s illusion, there’s also reality,” Long Li nodded. “A sea mirage is a mist mirage in the broad sense. But in the narrow sense, a mist mirage is also known as a yin vortex. In other words, the fog here is alive.”

Yang Baibai frowned. “Alive? You’re joking, right?”

Ye Chan didn’t argue, but she couldn’t help muttering to herself. Fog was just water vapor condensing—how could it possibly be alive?

Gu Xianwang’s eyes lit up with sudden insight. “So this place is like a living labyrinth?”

She stared thoughtfully at the distant red rope chaos array. One of the thin cords was shifting with an excruciatingly slow, almost imperceptible amplitude—a subtle pulsation that moved in tandem with the visible white mist. Ordinary people wouldn’t notice it at all. Even using the eye technique, one had to stare without blinking for a long time to detect that faint anomaly.

No wonder Long Li called the fog alive. Her “alive” didn’t refer to a creature with flesh and blood, but to the fog’s behavioral patterns, which seemed to possess an almost intelligent logic.

Long Li smiled. “Close enough. I suspect the cliffs, river channels, and buildings here are all real, existing in the present world. But the paths leading to them are entirely arranged by the mist mirage—like a jigsaw puzzle. Only when all the pieces fall into place does this place reveal itself.”

Ye Chan was astonished. “In that case, what about those ghost soldiers we saw earlier? I thought we’d really stumbled into a ghost camp and run into some ancient army from who-knows-when.”

Following Long Li’s line of thinking, Gu Xianwang ventured, “Lightning photography?”

“Ah.” Ye Chan caught on. “What are the odds?”

Could it be that this army had entered the mist mirage on a stormy night, and that one passing moment had been electromagnetically preserved in the living fog? So every time the mist mirage reconfigured and the path opened, that so-called troop of ghost soldiers would appear on the road.

“Mm,” Long Li confirmed. “Ghost camps or soul falls speak to illusion realms, where the problem lies with the people. But a mist mirage yin vortex is a real realm, where the problem isn’t with you or me—it’s with the environment itself.”

This mountain range was fundamentally wrong.