Chapter 10: The Unseen Territory
This novel is translated and hosted on BCatranslation
A crowd had gathered around, all captivated by Feng Yian’s story. Could such a wondrous sight really exist, hidden within these fog-covered mountains at night?
“Who tends these fields?” Xu Yue Ping asked, his voice filled with both wonder and disbelief.
Feng Yian shook his head slowly. “A lone patrolman stumbled upon them one night. He didn’t dare get too close and reported what he saw. Even the high-ranking officials came out to see, but when they searched, the fields had vanished—like a dream fading in the mist.”
Old Liu, a man well past seventy winters, let out a deep sigh. “The night stretches on without end, and the deep mountains and swamps are filled with countless mysteries. These vast, untrodden lands are perilous. Even if the city lord himself ventured in, it would be hard to uncover what lies hidden there.”
Qin Ming, his tone light yet brimming with curiosity, jumped in, “Grandpa Liu, have you ever seen anything weird yourself?”
Old Liu nodded, his eyes distant as if recalling a memory from long ago. “Strange things don’t just happen in the wilderness, but close to where we live too.” He shared a story from his boyhood. One day, he and his friends were flying kites by the village entrance. When they reeled in their kite, it was covered in blood.
“Right by the village entrance?” Yang Yong Qing blurted out, casting a nervous glance out the window at the dark night.
Qin Ming hesitated before suggesting, “Maybe it was an injured bird that hit the kite?”
“Maybe,” Old Liu replied thoughtfully. “But when my grandpa saw that bloody kite, his face went pale. He told me never to speak of it again, and I’ve kept quiet about it for decades.”
The story left a chill in the air, a sense of unease creeping over those who heard it.
Xu Yue Ping cleared his throat. “Tell us more about the mountains, Brother Feng.”
“Have you ever heard of beasts mourning at graves?” Feng Yian spoke with care, his face caught between fear and wonder.
“What kind of graves?” someone asked, intrigued. Many had traveled through these mountains but had never seen such a sight.
“Beast graves,” Feng Yian replied, his eyes darkening as he spoke.
“Do wild beasts even have graves?” Xu Yue Ping asked, incredulous.
Feng Yian nodded. “The fog-covered, uninhabited lands inspire both dread and awe. Anything is possible there.”
He continued with a story about the patrol group’s former leader, who noticed something strange deep in the mountains. He crept closer, suspecting a new, dangerous creature was evolving—one that could cause chaos. “He wanted to learn more, to understand what kind of ‘strange insect’ or ‘notable beast’ might be growing stronger, so he could prepare a defense.”
As the old leader moved nearer, he realized the eerie sounds he heard were not just howls, but cries. And then he saw it—a large, white-haired beast weeping over a grave under the moon’s pale light. The sight sent a chill through his bones.
“The grave was old and crumbling, easily over a thousand years,” Feng Yian explained. “An ancient cypress had grown from it, and that tree must have stood for at least a millennium.”
The old leader watched as the white-furred beast lowered its head in mourning, almost like a man grieving. Around the grave, beams of silver light broke through the dense forest canopy, casting a strange glow. Soon, fierce birds descended from the night sky, and other odd creatures emerged from the marshes, all coming to pay their respects.
“What happened next?” someone asked, breaking the tense silence that had settled over the group.
“The old leader crept closer, hoping to identify the white-furred beast so he could look it up later and devise a defense against it,” Feng Yian continued.
As the white-haired beast continued its ritual of mourning, it began to change, as if the act of grieving was giving it new strength, a renewed life force.
The old leader retreated quietly, but on his way back, he started coughing up blood, and his skin itched as though covered in a thousand stinging insects. Though he managed to return to camp and report what he had seen, his flesh soon began to rot away, and he died not long after.
“A large force was sent in afterward, and a fierce battle broke out in the mountains. Thankfully, the warning came in time. If that white-furred beast had fully evolved, it would have brought disaster upon us all.”
Feng Yian’s words settled over everyone like a thick fog. Though life in the villages seemed calm enough, hidden dangers loomed just beyond the hills. Men and women silently stood guard, fighting battles unseen.
Old Liu, his hair white and face lined with the marks of time, sighed deeply. “There were more like that old leader. A dear friend of mine spent his life guarding these mountains, blocking dangerous beings. When he grew old, he vanished one day. Perhaps he died out there, alone in those dark woods.”
Feng Yian nodded. “Many of the patrol members have suffered grievous wounds. Some never even leave remains behind.”
He gave the example of the old leader’s master. “That elder was once highly skilled and respected. After losing an arm, he retired, but when he heard of a dangerous beast in the mountains, he feared his juniors couldn’t handle it. So, he took up his blade once more and went to face it himself.”
After a terrible battle, the old leader’s master managed to wound the creature severely, but he too met a grim end. All they found of him was a large bloodstain and half a broken blade.
“His last wish was to be buried outside the mountains, with his wife and children who had passed away long ago. But his soul never returned; he fell in those dark mountains,” Feng Yian sighed, shaking his head. “His wife and children had died young, killed by mountain beasts, and he never married again.”
The patrol team brought back his blood-stained broken blade and buried it beside his family’s graves.
As these tales unfolded, Qin Ming found even the fiery liquor in his cup had lost its taste. He sat quietly, lost in thought.
“Patrol members, in the end, are either injured, dead, or driven mad. They wander the mountains like wild beasts, devouring bloody, fur-covered raw meat, turning into complete monsters. Who knows what fate awaits us? Perhaps the mountains are where we will all end.” Feng Yian’s mood darkened after the last statement.
A heavy silence fell over the table. The mountains were changing, and a great sweep by the patrol seemed inevitable. None knew what lay ahead.
Feng Yian drained his cup and finally said, “Brother Xu, I’ll need your help to plant these seeds.”
He carefully took out a small wooden box from his coat. Inside were four black seeds, each no bigger than a bean.
Xu Yue Ping looked puzzled. “Should they be planted in winter?”
Feng Yian’s face grew stern. “They must go into the Flame Spring soil now. By early spring, they will grow strong. The patrol team will be at the forefront of the coming battles. Some of our brothers’ lives might soon start to count down. Even if they survive, they may be crippled. We don’t know if they’ll last until the ‘Black Moon Herb’ matures. This is a life-saving medicine for many; please, take it seriously, Old Xu!”
The Black Moon plants, when rooted in the Flame Spring soil, grew leaves like orchids, and when their buds blossomed fully, each petal resembled a crescent moon, casting a black light that swirled with a soft, white mist.
Feng Yian wiped the liquor from his thick beard and stood to leave. “Thank you for your hospitality, Brother Xu. If we survive the mountain sweep, let’s meet again.”
“With your skills, Brother Feng, I’m sure you’ll get through it safely,” Xu Yue Ping replied, his voice full of hope.
The people there saw Feng Yian off to the village entrance, watching as he vanished into the dark of night.
“The year’s harvest is poor, but the patrol team has shown consideration by bringing only four seeds. The spiritual essence drawn from the Flame Spring should be enough to handle it,” someone remarked quietly.
Patrol members not only watched over the dangers in the mountains but also protected them. Many villages willingly planted these life-saving herbs for the patrol without complaint.
By agreement, each village was to provide four to eight Black Moon Herbs every year. With just four, the strain on the fields was light.
The group began to disperse, but Old Liu stood for a moment longer, staring at the four black seeds in Xu Yue Ping’s hand. “They really managed to cultivate them…”
When Qin Ming left, he noticed that Xu Yue Ping was lost in thought, his brow furrowed as if weighed down by some unseen burden.
The village streets bustled more than usual. Men and women, young and old, carried bows, hunting forks, and nets, preparing for another day in the mountains. Yesterday, they had gathered around, talking with Qin Ming about the conditions in the wilds. Today, they were already setting off. The reason for this sudden urgency was clear: food was running low, and supplies were scarce.
“Look at this! A big haul today! We bagged two horned deer!” A group returned, their faces bright with joy, dragging their spoils through the snow.
“Seems the outer woods are still safe. As long as we don’t go too deep, we can keep hunting carefully,” someone said, his voice filled with cautious optimism.
The next day, more villagers braved the cold and went into the mountains. They returned with game aplenty, and the children, cheeks flushed red from the cold, cheered and ran through the streets, their breath visible in the crisp air like puffs of smoke. The village felt alive, almost festive.
“Uncle! Come over to our place and have some fresh venison!” Wen Rui called out excitedly to Qin Ming.
After enjoying a hearty meal of wild game at Lu Ze’s house, Qin Ming stepped outside, where he saw Xu Yue Ping returning from the village entrance. His face was troubled, his steps slow.
“Uncle Xu, did you go to see someone off?” Qin Ming asked.
“Yes, the patrol team came by, urging me to plant those Black Moon seeds,” Xu Yue Ping replied with a weary sigh.
Qin Ming thought about the patrol members and their constant battles with the unknown. Danger was their only companion, and they never knew when they might not return. Seeing the worry etched on Xu Yue Ping’s face, Qin Ming decided not to press him further.
Later that day, the last hunting party came back, causing a stir throughout the village. Many of them were bloodied and battered, and all the game they had caught was lost.
“It was close! We ran into a mutated Snow Ape! Old Chen nearly had his arm torn off!” one of the men shouted, his voice still trembling with fear.
“We were lucky. We drove it away with our bows and managed to escape. We went too deep this time, we won’t make that mistake again,” another added, relief mingling with the remnants of terror.
The thick night fog lifted as dawn approached. Despite the injuries from the day before, the villagers’ spirit was not broken. More people prepared to venture out again, including some newcomers eager to prove themselves.
However, not long after setting out, one group came back. Several were wounded, and the newcomer among them was the worst off. His left shoulder blade shattered, one leg bent awkwardly, and his chest partly caved in; blood foamed at his mouth, and no one knew if he’d survive.
“What happened out there?”
“We ran into a Blood Bear!” someone stammered, their lips trembling with the memory.
The Blood Bear was a beast even seasoned hunters would struggle against—a fearsome mutated creature with fur as red as blood, violent and relentless.
“Where’s Brother Lu?” Qin Ming asked urgently, heading towards the neighboring yard.
“He went into the mountains,” Liang Wan Qing replied, her voice thick with worry as the news sank in.
“I’m going to find him!” Qin Ming declared, turning on his heel and setting off without another word.
Upon hearing that a group had not returned, Xu Yue Ping grew anxious and called for all the newcomers to head into the mountains to help. Qin Ming led the way, his feet pounding the snow, sending it flying to either side. Xu Yue Ping, closest behind him, was taken aback by his speed. The rest were quickly left far behind, out of sight.
As they neared the forest’s edge, Qin Ming stopped abruptly, his eyes narrowing. He saw a group stumbling out of the trees, weary and bloodied.
He immediately spotted Lu Ze being carried by another villager.
“Brother Lu!” he shouted, rushing over.
Lu Ze’s face was pale as paper, his eyes closed, his clothes torn and stained with blood. His chest and abdomen bore the worst injuries, with at least three ribs broken.
Nearby, the sound of weeping filled the cold air. Two of the severely injured had already breathed their last breaths.
“Was it the Blood Bear that got you all?” Qin Ming asked, his voice low but urgent.
One of the men, still shaken, nodded. “Aye, if it weren’t for the patrol members showing up when they did, more of us would’ve died.”
Qin Ming stared into the dark forest, his hand tightening around his short blade.
Xu Yue Ping caught up and grabbed his arm, “Don’t take risks. Let’s head back!”
When Liang Wan Qing saw Lu Ze being carried back, her face went white as snow. She stumbled as she ran over, her two children bursting into tears.
“Sister-in-law, Brother Lu is only unconscious,” Qin Ming said gently, trying to calm her. He had already checked Lu Ze’s injuries; though his ribs were broken, they hadn’t pierced any organs. If they were set properly and the wounds treated well, he would recover.
Many were injured this time, and the streets echoed with the cries of both young and old. The village was heavy with dread, and Xu Yue Ping soon issued a strict order: No one was to enter the mountains from now on.
Qin Ming stepped into Xu Yue Ping’s courtyard and found Old Liu and Yang Yong Qing already there.
Inside the house, Xu Yue Ping looked troubled. “Are you thinking of going after the Blood Bear?”
Qin Ming spoke quietly, “The claw marks on Brother Lu were from a bear, but the broken ribs—those looked more like they were smashed by a fist.”
“You noticed that too,” Xu Yue Ping said, standing up suddenly, his face dark with anger. “Then it’s likely man-made. Some folks have gone too far!”
Qin Ming had already begun to suspect this. Ever since Xu Yue Ping had received the four seeds, he’d seemed preoccupied.
“But why?” Qin Ming asked. He had his guesses, but it was hard to accept.
Xu Yue Ping’s voice was grim. “The patrol group pressured me to plant those Black Moon seeds right away. I refused. I didn’t think they’d stoop to this.”
Old Liu chimed in, “Those seeds are no good. They’re likely mutated and will drain the Flame Spring’s spirit essence too much, hurting the flame fields. We could be looking at a famine next year.”
Qin Ming felt a surge of anger. Feng Yian had told such bold stories about the patrol’s past, tales that had stirred everyone’s hearts. Yet, could they truly do something like this?
Yang Yong Qing added, “What Feng Yian shared were real stories, but they’ve got nothing to do with the current main members of the group!”
Qin Ming remembered what he had heard before: some patrol members are very responsible. At the time, he sensed Yang Yong Qing implied that not all were so diligent—his words had been careful and deliberate.
Old Liu lowered his voice. “This group has hunted a Blood Bear before. I reckon someone’s wearing that bear hide to commit these crimes.”
Hearing this, Qin Ming’s blood boiled. The patrol was meant to protect these lands and the people, to be a shield against the wilds. But what were they doing? Acting all noble and honorable on the surface while secretly tainting their hands with blood. What had happened to their sense of duty?
“Brother Xu, are you at home?” Feng Yian’s voice called out as he led four patrol members into the courtyard.
“It’s our fault. We failed this time and couldn’t protect the villagers,” Feng Yian said, his face downcast in apparent shame. He promised they would immediately hunt down the Blood Bear.
Xu Yue Ping’s hand clenched tightly inside his sleeve, his knuckles turning white. He wanted to lash out but knew he had to keep his composure.
He felt a deep, gnawing distress; these patrol members had blood on their hands and now stood there pretending to be ashamed. It felt like a cruel joke, a mockery that cut deep.
Qin Ming sat still, his fingers twitching near his blade, holding back the urge to draw it and end this pretense.