Chapter 10: The Invisible Zone
This novel is translated and hosted on BCatranslation
“The fields lay so neat and straight, each row of crops stretching from their roots all the way up to their shining, golden tips. They were so bright they looked like someone had dropped handfuls of gold beads across the dark land, shining strangely against those secretive, shadowy mountains.”
Everyone listened in quiet awe as Feng Yi An described it. Could there really be such a place hidden deep in the misty hills after nightfall?
“Who would be growing crops way out there?” asked Xu Yue Ping, sounding both puzzled and curious.
Feng Yi An shook his head sadly. He explained that the Mountain Patrol had stumbled upon the fields by pure accident when they’d lost their way. They’d been too frightened to go closer. Later, they reported what they saw, and even top officials came to investigate. But no matter how hard they searched, the fields never appeared again.
Old Man Liu—over seventy now, with thick white eyebrows and hands that looked like old roots—let out a tired sigh. “Night in the deep mountains never seems to end. There’s no telling what’s lurking in those uninhabited corners. Even if the City Lord himself went in, he’d only make it so far.”
“Hey, Grandpa Liu,” said Qin Ming, shifting from one foot to the other, his voice cracking slightly in that teenage way. “Have you seen weird stuff too?”
The old man nodded, thinking back. “Not just out in the wild. There have been strange happenings right near our village.”
He told them how, when he was a boy, he and his friends had been flying kites near the village entrance. When he reeled his kite in, the string came back sticky—with blood on it.
“At our own village entrance?” Yang Yong Qing gasped, turning pale and glancing nervously through the window into the hushed darkness outside.
Qin Ming’s eyes went wide. “That’s so creepy! Couldn’t it just have been a bird? Like, maybe it got tangled in your kite or something?”
“Maybe,” Old Man Liu said quietly. “But when my grandfather saw it, his face went pale. He made me swear to keep it secret. Decades have passed since then.”
It was hard not to feel unsettled—something like that happening just outside their own homes.
“Let’s, uh, talk about something else, maybe about those mountains,” Xu Yue Ping suggested carefully, trying to steer the conversation away from that chilling memory.
Feng Yi An cleared his throat. “Have you ever heard of beasts crying at their own graves?”
“Crying beasts? At graves?” someone repeated, baffled. They were all used to trekking through wilderness, but this sounded utterly bizarre.
“Beast graves,” Feng Yi An clarified, his voice low and respectful, as if afraid something might be listening.
“Wait, you mean animals actually have their own graves?” Xu Yue Ping asked, eyebrows raised.
Feng Yi An nodded. “In those uninhabited zones, hidden under the night fog, things happen that nobody would believe if they hadn’t seen it themselves.”
He told them how the old leader of the Mountain Patrol once went deep into the mountains, worried that some strange creature might be mutating out there. If it grew strong enough, it could threaten everyone. The leader wanted to understand it, to prepare a way to protect the villages.
As he ventured deeper, the old leader heard a weird, mournful crying—something that made his heart skip a beat. He followed the sound until he saw a white-haired creature, old and ragged, weeping before a grave under the black sky. It was a sight that would make anyone’s blood run cold.
“That grave had been there for at least a thousand years,” Feng Yi An explained. “An ancient cypress tree had grown right out of it.”
The old beast bowed like a person, tears glimmering under a strange glowing rain that started to fall. The whole forest lit up softly, as if nature itself was whispering secrets.
Then more creatures appeared: a huge bird swooped down, and others crawled up from swampy ground. They gathered quietly, as if paying their respects at this ancient tomb.
Feng Yi An paused, letting the image sink in.
“So what happened next?” someone asked impatiently.
“The old leader tried to get a closer look at the white-haired beast,” Feng Yi An continued. “He wanted to identify it from the records so we’d know how to fight it if we ever had to.”
As the creature wept at the ancient grave, something changed in it—like it drew strength from its sorrow. The old leader, feeling uneasy, retreated. But on his return journey, he coughed blood, felt a terrible itching beneath his skin, and although he made it back to report what he’d seen, he soon rotted away from the inside. He died in horrible pain.
“After that, we sent troops into the mountains. It’s lucky we moved fast,” Feng Yi An said gravely. “If that white-haired beast had fully ‘awakened’ or whatever it was doing, it would’ve been unstoppable.”
They all fell silent. The world beyond their fields and homes was darker than anyone cared to admit. People like the Mountain Patrol were out there, risking their lives just to keep everyone safe.
Old Man Liu sighed deeply, his face lined with regret. “The old leader wasn’t the only one. Back when I was young, a close friend of mine stayed behind in the mountains to fight some beast. He never returned. Even now, I don’t know if his bones lie out there or if he ever made it out alive.”
Feng Yi An nodded somberly. “Most Mountain Patrol members get hurt eventually. Some never get a proper burial. They might just vanish in those endless forests.”
He told them of the old leader’s mentor—an extraordinary fighter, highly respected. This mentor had retired after losing an arm, but when news of a dangerous mountain monster spread, he went back in, worried the younger patrol members wouldn’t stand a chance without him. He didn’t want anyone else to die on his watch.
He fought bravely, wounding the beast, but he, too, fell. They only found his bloodstained, broken blade. His last wish was to rest beside his wife and children outside the mountain’s shadow, but he never got that peace. The Patrol brought back his broken blade and placed it near his family’s grave instead.
Qin Ming gulped hard, feeling as if the strong liquor he’d tasted earlier had turned to water. He said nothing. What could he say?
Feng Yi An’s mood was grim. “In the end, most of us either end up injured, dead, or driven mad. Some patrolmen even go wild, living off raw meat in the mountains like beasts themselves. Who knows how any of us will end up? Maybe we’ll never leave those dark hills once we enter.”
The heaviness in the room pressed down on everyone. It felt like a storm was brewing, and soon they might have to head into those cursed mountains themselves. Who knew what would happen then?
Feng Yi An drained his cup and set it down with a firm clink. “Brother Xu,” he said to Xu Yue Ping, “I need your help planting these seeds.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small wooden box. Inside were four black seeds about the size of broad beans.
Xu Yue Ping’s eyes widened. “You plan to plant them now, in winter?”
Feng Yi An nodded. “Put them into the Fire Spring right away. By spring, they’ll be thriving. When we head back into the mountains, we’ll need Black Moon plants for healing. Some of us might never return without them. Brother Xu, everyone is counting on you.”
The Black Moon plants, once rooted in the Fire Spring, would spread leaves like orchids. Their buds would bloom with a gentle glow, each petal shaped like a crescent moon. Healing would be possible, maybe saving a few lives.
Feng Yi An brushed a drop of spilled drink from his beard and stood. “Thanks for your hospitality, Brother Xu. If we come back after dealing with whatever’s stirring in those mountains, I hope we can share another drink.”
“With your skills, Brother Feng, you’ll make it back,” Xu Yue Ping replied, though his voice carried worry beneath the polite words.
They walked Feng Yi An to the village entrance and watched him disappear into the starless night.
“The Mountain Patrol gave us four seeds. Our Fire Spring should be able to handle it,” someone said quietly after he’d gone.
It wasn’t unusual. Each village supported the Patrol by growing a few healing herbs for them. Four seeds wasn’t too great a burden. But still, something about it felt heavy.
As everyone drifted off, Old Man Liu remained behind, looking thoughtfully at the black seeds in his hand. “They actually managed to cultivate these,” he murmured.
Qin Ming noticed Xu Yue Ping’s troubled expression before heading home. He didn’t say anything; what could he say?
…
The next few days, the village grew livelier. People headed into the forest’s outskirts, carrying bows and spears, to hunt for meat. After all, they needed food—running low at this time of year was always risky.
“Great news! We brought back two blade-horned deer!” a group announced, triumphantly returning one afternoon.
With that success, others tried their luck. Careful not to go too far, they still managed decent hunts. The mood in the village brightened. Children ran around, cheeks pink in the cold air, laughing as if it were a holiday.
“Hey, Uncle Qin Ming!” called Wen Rui, waving enthusiastically. “Come over later! We’re cooking up fresh musk deer tonight!” Wen Rui’s smile was big and warm.
Qin Ming, who’d just finished eating at Lu Ze’s place, stepped outside into the crisp air. He spotted Xu Yue Ping near the village entrance, looking troubled again.
“Uncle Xu,” Qin Ming said, trying to sound casual, “did you see someone off?”
“Yes,” Xu Yue Ping replied, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “The Mountain Patrol came by again. They want those Black Moon seeds planted right now.”
Qin Ming frowned, thinking how hard the Patrol’s job was. He guessed they felt they had no choice but to hurry. Yet Xu Yue Ping still looked upset, so Qin Ming just shrugged and moved on, deciding not to make it worse.
Later that day, cries of alarm rose from the edge of the forest. The last group to return had run into trouble—some were badly injured, their hard-won prey lost.
“Close call!” shouted one hunter, shaken. “We bumped into a mutated snow ape. Old Chen nearly lost his arm!”
“At least we’re alive,” another said, still pale. “We had to use every arrow to keep it at bay. Next time, we shouldn’t go that deep.”
But people kept venturing out. They had little choice—everyone had to eat. And this time, a newly awakened man joined them. Yet soon they came back, bloodied and terrified. The newcomer was hurt so badly that his shoulder and leg were twisted and his chest crushed. He clung to life by a thread.
“What did you run into?” someone gasped, horrified.
“A blood bear!” a trembling voice replied. These beasts were infamous—fur as red as fresh blood, terrifyingly strong. Even a trained fighter might not survive.
“Where’s Lu Ze?” Qin Ming blurted out, his heart pounding. He rushed over to Lu Ze’s home.
“He’s still in the mountains,” Liang Wan Qing said, her face paper-white with fear.
“I’m going after him!” Qin Ming declared, his voice cracking but determined, more bravado than he truly felt.
Before Qin Ming could dash off, Xu Yue Ping rallied the awakened villagers. He, Qin Ming, and a group rushed out to search. Snow crunched beneath Qin Ming’s boots as he sped ahead, surprising everyone with his speed. Xu Yue Ping did his best to keep up, the rest struggling far behind.
As they reached the forest’s edge, Qin Ming stopped short, heart hammering. A group was staggering out, carrying people. Among them was Lu Ze, limp and pale, his clothes torn and bloody.
“Lu Ze!” Qin Ming cried, running over, voice cracking with worry. He looked down at his friend’s injuries—bad cuts, broken ribs. But at least he was breathing.
Some of the others weren’t so lucky. The survivors’ eyes shone with tears as they explained that the Mountain Patrol had shown up just in time, or none of them would have made it out.
Qin Ming scowled, staring into the dark trees and gripping his short blade. He wanted revenge, wanted to find the thing that did this—but Xu Yue Ping stopped him gently.
“Don’t,” he said quietly. “We have to go back. Lu Ze needs help.”
Liang Wan Qing nearly collapsed when she saw her husband carried into the village. She sobbed, children crying beside her, but Qin Ming calmed her. “He’s tough,” Qin Ming said, trying to sound confident. “He’ll pull through. You’ll see.”
The whole village was shaken. The cries of children and frightened whispers of elders filled the streets as people tried to tend the wounded. Xu Yue Ping ordered everyone to stay out of the mountains until they knew what was going on.
Later, in Xu Yue Ping’s courtyard, Qin Ming found Old Man Liu and Yang Yong Qing waiting. Inside, Xu Yue Ping faced Qin Ming, his eyes narrowed.
“Are you thinking of hunting down that blood bear?” he asked.
Qin Ming’s lips twisted into a scowl. “That’s the thing, Uncle Xu… Lu Ze’s ribs weren’t smashed by any animal. They look like they were hit by a…a fist.” He spoke in a teenager’s blunt, nervous tone. “Like, this wasn’t just some random beast attack.”
Xu Yue Ping’s gaze hardened. “You noticed that too. Then we’re not imagining things. Someone’s behind this.”
Qin Ming’s anger simmered. “Wait—seriously? The Mountain Patrol forced you to plant those seeds, right? And you said no. Are they punishing us for that?”
Old Man Liu spoke quietly, “The seeds will drain the Fire Spring. They’ll ruin our fields, maybe cause a famine next year. I think they want us to give in without a fight.”
Qin Ming’s face flushed hot with fury. Just hours ago, Feng Yi An had sounded so honest and sympathetic—was he part of this trickery? It felt like a betrayal. “No way! They’re supposed to protect us!”
Yang Yong Qing said gently, “Not all of them are bad. But some…some will do anything to get what they want.”
Old Man Liu lowered his voice. “They know how to harvest skins and disguise themselves. A blood bear could just be a cover.”
Qin Ming’s chest tightened. He had respected the Patrol, even admired their courage. But now, how could he trust them?
Just then, Feng Yi An entered the courtyard with four other patrolmen. He looked regretful, saying softly, “Brother Xu, it’s our fault. We weren’t able to keep everyone safe this time. We’ll go after that blood bear immediately.”
Xu Yue Ping’s fists clenched inside his sleeves, but he kept his expression calm. He had to be respectful. These men were dangerous, and the whole village depended on peace—at least for now.
Qin Ming said nothing, struggling to keep still. He wanted to shout at Feng Yi An, to demand answers, to show his anger—but he bit his tongue.