The three men, father and sons, worked together to lift the felt-wrapped corpse onto the cart.
Chen Dashan carefully checked it, confirming no blood had seeped out, then covered it with several bundles of dry firewood and old sacks, disguising it as a load of firewood.
“Let’s go.”
Chen Dashan whispered, pushing the cart himself.
Chen Shisheng and Chen Lin, one on each side, firmly held the shafts.
Chen Qingfeng followed behind, vigilantly scanning the village path swallowed by the dense darkness.
The cartwheels rumbled over the frozen, hard earth road, emitting a monotonous and grating “creak” that was exceptionally clear in the dead of night, each sound striking Chen Lin’s heart.
He held the cold cart shaft, each step like treading on knife points.
The wind was like countless tiny ice needles, piercing his thin cotton clothes.
The burning sensation in his chest did not subside with the cold; instead, it pulsed heavily beneath his skin.
The scroll in his embrace seemed to have come alive, emitting a faint, imperceptible warmth through his clothes.
He didn’t recognize a single ancient seal character on the scroll, yet at this moment, it was as if invisible threads were trying to brand some information directly into his mind.
Some vague, fragmented notions about “Qi sense,” “Cosmic Orbit,” and “Spirit Contract” surged into his mind.
And the burning in his chest was the strongest response and… craving for these notions?
He involuntarily pressed his chest, his fingers touching a slightly raised outline through his clothes—
It was a mark, known only to himself, hidden beneath his skin, shaped like an ancient three-legged Cauldron.
For fifteen years, it had been like a dead, unmoving stone.
But now, it was awake!
Because of this relic from the Immortal!
Did it activate the scroll?
Or did the scroll awaken it?
Chen Lin’s mind was a tangled mess, fear, excitement, and intense curiosity about unknown power intertwined and clashed.
“Silence!”
Chen Dashan, walking at the front, suddenly lowered his voice and stopped abruptly, the cart emitting a harsh screech.
Chen Lin was startled, breaking free from his chaotic thoughts, his heart instantly leaping to his throat.
He saw a faint yellow light swaying over from the bend in the village path ahead, accompanied by indistinct humming and stumbling footsteps.
It was the village’s old drunkard, Sun the Lame!
At this hour, he must have just returned from the neighboring village’s widow he was fond of, having guzzled a bellyful of cheap wine.
The four men, father and sons, instantly froze, even holding their breath.
The cart stood in the middle of the road, like a huge, inexplicable target in the darkness.
Chen Qingfeng’s hand had silently moved to the hatchet tucked into his lower back, his eyes glinting like a wolf’s in the dark.
The veins on the back of Chen Dashan’s hand, gripping the cart handle, bulged, his body slightly lowered, like a taut bow.
The faint yellow light drew closer, and Sun the Lame’s wobbly figure appeared in the swaying light of the lantern.
He had his head down, still humming an off-key, melancholic tune, seemingly oblivious to the cart close by and the few shadowy figures beside it, as if facing a great enemy.
The strong smell of cheap wine drifted over with the wind.
One step, two steps… Sun the Lame swayed, almost bumping into the cart.
Chen Dashan’s hand slowly moved to the hilt of the long saber at his waist.
Just as Sun the Lame’s shoulder was about to brush against the dry firewood covered by the old sacks, he seemed to trip over a stone on the ground, letting out an “ouch” and stumbling, falling sideways.
The broken lantern in his hand flew out, landing on the ground with a “thud,” the oil lamp wick inside struggled a few times, then extinguished.
Darkness instantly swallowed that small patch of light.
“Bad… bad luck…”
Sun the Lame mumbled, fumbling on the cold ground for a few moments; perhaps he didn’t find the lantern, or the alcohol had fully taken hold, so he simply gave up.
He grumbled as he got up, walking unsteadily, continuing to stumble towards his broken shack in the west end of the village, soon disappearing into the thick darkness, his off-key humming gradually fading away.
Only when the sound was completely inaudible did the four men, father and sons, let out a long, silent sigh of relief, as if utterly exhausted.
Cold sweat soaked Chen Lin’s undershirt, clinging to his skin, bringing a bone-chilling coldness.
For a moment just now, he almost thought there would be bloodshed again.
“Hurry up!”
Chen Dashan’s voice carried a hint of imperceptible hoarseness as he pushed the cart, moving a few degrees faster than before.
The rest of the journey was suffocatingly silent.
Only the “creak” of the wheels over the frozen earth intertwined with the four men’s heavy, suppressed breathing.
After passing through the desolate village, they entered the mountain forest behind it.
The snow underfoot let out a “crunch, crunch” groan, and dry branches whimpered in the wind.
Unidentified night owls let out mournful cries nearby, adding to the eerie atmosphere.
After an unknown period of walking, the terrain began to steepen.
Wild Wolf Gully was reached.
This was a deep, narrow mountain hollow, where sunlight never reached, and the bottom was piled with years of decaying leaves and jagged rocks; even in the daytime, it was gloomy and terrifying, and at night, it was even more ghostly.
Cold winds howled through the ravines, like the wailing of countless wronged souls.
Chen Dashan chose a hollow backed by a cliff, half-hidden by several large rocks.
The snow here was exceptionally deep, almost reaching their knees.
“Here.” He put down the cart, concise and to the point.
There were no superfluous words.
The four men, father and sons, like silent worker ants, began to dig frantically.
Hatchet, dagger, even using their hands to break open the biting cold frozen earth and snow.
The mud mixed with snowmelt, chilling to the bone.
Chen Lin’s fingertips quickly became numb, and he didn’t even notice when they were cut by sharp broken stones.
The pit was dug very deep, almost over their heads.
The corpse, wrapped in old felt, was pushed down, and Chen Dashan expressionlessly threw in a frozen wild rabbit he had hunted during the day—
In case there were any keen-nosed beasts, this bloody smell could confuse them.
Then, it was time to fill it back in.
Cold mud and snow chunks thumped dully onto the felt, gradually burying that patch of green completely.
Finally, Chen Dashan and Chen Shisheng worked together to push a heavy stone, as large as a millstone, onto the fresh earth.
Chen Qingfeng then moved many dead branches and snow to cover it, trying to erase the traces.
After all this, the four men stood by the deep pit, panting.
The cold wind, carrying snow particles, lashed at their tired faces.
Beneath the fresh earth at their feet lay the secret of their Immortal-slaying and treasure-taking, and also the starting point to an unknown, perilous, yet potentially opportunity-filled world.
“Let’s go.”
Chen Dashan’s voice was tired and hoarse, yet carried a sense of resolve from having unburdened himself.
The return journey was even more silent.
Everyone was utterly exhausted, physically and mentally drained.
When they pushed open the door, the faint embers in the stove emitted the last bit of warmth.
Lin Xiu and Yun Niang were both awake, sitting under the dim oil lamp; seeing them return, they visibly sighed in relief but dared not ask too many questions.
Chen Dashan waved his hand: “Everyone go to sleep.”
Chen Lin returned to his small, cold side room and bolted the door from inside.
He didn’t light the oil lamp, sliding down to the floor, leaning against the cold mud wall.
In the darkness, he gasped violently, his body trembling slightly from the cold and exhaustion.
He fumbled, pulling out the beast-skin scroll from his embrace.
As his fingertips touched the peculiar leather, the burning mark on his chest suddenly pulsed, clearer and hotter than ever!
A faint but exceptionally pure warm current actually seeped out from the scroll, flowing along the meridians of his arm, thread by thread, towards his chest!
“Ugh…” Chen Lin grunted, this sensation was incredibly strange, carrying an indescribable allure.
Just then, a voice, like an ancient grand bell, boomed directly in the deepest part of his consciousness!
“Boy…”
The voice carried a weariness and scrutiny that seemed to have traversed countless ages.
“Bearing the Origin mark of this one… to have fallen to such a barren and desolate place…”
“Slaying an Immortal and seizing their Dao… Though the methods are crude, it shows some courage…”
The voice paused, as if savoring, or perhaps mocking.