Chapter 5 - The Ancient Temple
An Abandoned Tunnel
Zhang Yuanqing looked around in panic, suddenly thrust into an unfamiliar environment. Anyone would be disoriented in such a situation.
"A tunnel? Is this the Sheling Tunnel from the ghost stories?"
As a native of Songhai City, he was all too familiar with the Sheling Tunnel, one of the top ten ghost stories used by his grandma to scare him into sleep as a mischievous child.
But setting aside the fact that ghost stories are nothing more than fabrications, the real Sheling Tunnel, which Zhang Yuanqing had passed just a few days ago on his way to pay respects to his father, was nothing like this. Could it really have been this dilapidated?
"Right, this is the Spirit Realm, not the actual Sheling Tunnel."
The cramped space was unsettling. Zhang Yuanqing cautiously moved forward, accompanied only by the lonely sound of his footsteps.
As he walked, he pondered his situation and the information provided by the voice in his head.
Without a doubt, he was experiencing a supernatural phenomenon, taken into the world of ghost stories to complete a task set by mysterious forces.
"That voice gave me two tasks: survive for three hours and explore the Spirit Realm. Both are S-Level difficulty, and it's a solo death type mission. Death type...that's unsettling."
Surviving for three hours implied great danger.
Exploring the Spirit Realm probably meant navigating this tunnel. Was it suggesting the tunnel was dangerous?
His nerves tightened discretely, and a question flashed through his mind: what reward would completing the task bring?
There must be a reward for a task.
"Hmm, according to the attribute panel just now, my profession or class is a Nighthaunt, but my Level is 0, not 1. Becoming a Nighthaunt must be part of the reward, right? But what exactly is a Nighthaunt?"
"Brother Bing was right; this black card really can change one's life, but I overlooked the second part of what he said: 'It's difficult to control.' Does that refer to the level of danger?"
Zhang Yuanqing quietly conducted his analysis, piecing together the information he had.
Just then, an old xenon lamp beside him flickered as if its circuit was unstable. Amidst the fluctuating light, Zhang Yuanqing caught a glimpse of a figure standing under the lamp, wearing a miner's cap.
Damn. He jumped in fright, his train of thought abruptly shattered, and he bolted forward like a startled deer for a short distance.
Looking back, the xenon lamp was steady again, no longer flickering.
The shadow with the miner's cap seemed to have been an illusion.
Shaken by the scare, Zhang Yuanqing dared not linger in this haunted place and hurried towards the tunnel exit.
The echo of his footsteps in the quiet tunnel was the only sound as he refused to stop, rushing for five or six minutes until the old dome-shaped xenon lamps flickered again. But this time, there was no figure wearing a miner's cap.
"Nothing followed?"
He felt a slight relief but didn't dare to pause, continuing to walk briskly with his head down. Suddenly, he noticed a detail on the ground that made his heart skip a beat.
The orange glow of the xenon lamp cast a long shadow of him on the ground, and beside his shadow, there were a dozen others.
Have they been following me all this time?!
A chill ran from his feet to his head, his skin crawling with goosebumps. Zhang Yuanqing's face turned pale as he broke into a frantic run.
Finally, the end of the tunnel came into view, with the cool, frost-like moonlight spilling in from outside.
Zhang Yuanqing burst out of the tunnel, leaning on his knees and gasping for breath.
Once his breathing steadied, he surveyed his surroundings. The moon hung large and solitary in the night sky, its brilliance making the stars seem dim.
The lush forest basked in the moonlight, casting dense shadows all around.
He found himself amidst desolate hills and ridges.
The xenon lights in the tunnel flickered a few times and then went out completely. The vast tunnel entrance was pitch black and eerily silent, like the maw of a beast ready to devour.
"Better leave quickly."
Zhang Yuanqing's scalp tingled, and he started to climb up the rugged mountain path.
After taking a dozen steps, he looked back again and saw a line of figures standing at the entrance of the tunnel, all wearing miner's caps, dressed in ragged clothes, heads hanging low.
They stood in the shadows where the moonlight could not reach, silent as if seeing him off.
Zhang Yuanqing was so startled that he stumbled backward before turning and running up the mountain.
Lush branches and leaves lined the mountain path, sprinkling down broken moonlight, just enough for Zhang Yuanqing to see clearly where he was going.
But the mountain was eerily quiet, with no sound of insects or birds in the woods, making Zhang Yuanqing's footsteps seem unusually loud.
"It's too quiet. There's no way the mountains could be devoid of insect sounds at this time of year."
He looked around, the full moon hung like a disc, the shadows of the trees danced, and he always felt something in the dark was watching him.
He did not know how long he had walked until a fine sweat coated his body, and finally, Zhang Yuanqing emerged from the dense woods, and his view suddenly widened.
The moonlight was like water, the surroundings deathly still, and at the end of the rugged mountain road stood an abandoned ancient temple.
It stood quietly in the darkness.
This ancient temple had been deserted for many years, its front doors mottled and blackened with peeling paint and riddled with holes. The lanterns under the eaves had fallen to the ground, leaving only the bamboo frame.
The plaque was still there, covered in cobwebs, hanging crookedly under the eaves---too dark to make out what was written on it.
The stairs in front of the temple were cracked, with weeds growing out of the crevices.
This was a wild mountain ridge, with no villages in front or shops behind. Why was there a temple here?
Wait, a temple?!
Zhang Yuanqing suddenly realized, and it seemed as if the voice from the Spirit Realm's information guide echoed in his ears:
"Do not enter the temple, do not enter the temple."
"According to that strange voice's hint, I shouldn't enter the temple. No, I've already come out of the tunnel, which means that what I truly need to explore is this dilapidated ancient temple."
Hesitating for a long time at the temple entrance, Zhang Yuanqing cautiously took a step forward, heading towards the ancient temple standing in the darkness, crossing the broken threshold.
What came into view was a vast front courtyard filled with waist-high wild grass, and a rotten incense burner, half as tall as a man, toppled among the weeds, weathered by years of wind and rain.
Beneath his feet was a path paved with bluestone slabs, with clumps of wild grass growing between the cracks.
His gaze followed the undulating weeds to the end of the bluestone path, where there stood a decrepit Main Hall with a high foundation and six steps leading up to it. A dim light shone through the lattice doors of the Main Hall.
"Is there light?"
All around was silent, desolate, and the bright moonlight shed no warmth in such a setting---it felt even more terrifying.
Rustle, rustle.
Advancing over clumps of dry yellow grass, he remained alert as he moved towards the Main Hall. In the empty environment, the sound of his footsteps was especially clear.
Rustle, rustle, rustle. Suddenly, Zhang Yuanqing's ears twitched as he heard an additional set of footsteps behind him, something was following him.
He swiftly turned around.
The night was like water, the wild grass thriving, but there was nothing behind him.
"An illusion?"
Zhang Yuanqing paused, his heart pounding, then resumed walking.
"Rustle, rustle, rustle."
The footsteps came again, this time he heard them very clearly, something really was following him.
Could it be this sinister so soon after entering the temple? He didn't dare look back and quickened his pace.
The footsteps behind him hastened as well.
Unable to hold back his panic, with goosebumps all over, Zhang Yuanqing broke into a run, charging towards the Main Hall.
The footsteps behind him shadowed him closely.
During the chase, Zhang Yuanqing quickly left the wild grass behind and approached the Main Hall, leaping up the six steps in two bounds, and finally, with a loud crash, burst through the Main Hall's lattice doors.
The footsteps behind him stopped abruptly.
"Huff, puff, huff, puff."
He panted heavily, finally daring to look back. The moonlight spilled over the courtyard like water, illuminating the overgrown grass and stone pathway, eerily silent to the point of being frightening. But there was nothing there.
"Thankfully, it didn't follow."
After catching his breath, Zhang Yuanqing gently closed the door of the Main Hall, as if to shut his fear outside.
He then surveyed the interior of the Main Hall. On a tall stone pedestal, a goddess was enshrined, draped in a fur cloak and dressed in exquisite garments. Her face was round and full, her eyes narrow and long, exuding a sense of benevolence.
One hand of the goddess held a whisk, while the other was in a grasping gesture, as if it once held something, but now was empty.
To the left and right stood clay statues of a boy holding a sword and a maidservant with a book.
In front of the pedestal, there was an offering table covered in dust, upon which stood a candlestick with a candle as thick as a baby's arm and twenty centimeters tall, burning quietly.
The candlelight dispersed the darkness and seemed to scatter Zhang Yuanqing's fear as well. He felt his emotions stabilize significantly.
On the left wall hung two faded and cracked wooden plaques, crowded with characters in regular script.
Zhang Yuanqing strolled over to the wall and peered into the dim candlelight, recognizing the style of the characters as Classical Chinese.
His proficiency in the language was not bad. By half-guessing and half-reading, he gained a clear understanding of his surroundings.
This mountain was called Sandao Mountain, and the deity worshipped in the temple was The Goddess of Sandao Mountain.
The Goddess of Sandao Mountain was a person of Songfu from the early Ming Dynasty, who practiced on Sandao Mountain. She was adept in talismans and alchemy, could summon rain and dispel ghosts, and protected the local region, ensuring good weather for the crops. Thus, she was revered as a divine figure by the people.
After she ascended, the local authorities built this temple on Sandao Mountain and named it The Goddess Temple of Sandao Mountain. It was managed by the goddess's disciples, who tended to the temple's affairs.
"A temple from the early Ming Dynasty, that's five or six hundred years ago," Zhang Yuanqing muttered to himself.
It was then that his gaze inadvertently swept under the offering table, and a chill ran through him.
A dark shadow lay in the shadow beneath the table.
His mind had been too panicked before, and the candlelight too dim, to notice it at first.
Zhang Yuanqing steeled himself and moved closer, only to realize it was a skeleton, clothed only in bones.
His fear subsided somewhat; compared to the eerie Mountain God Temple, the skeleton seemed less terrifying.
Taking a few steps closer, he examined the skeleton in the faint candlelight and saw the dust-covered work clothes it wore.
A worker?
"Was this the construction team from back then? So, I really have entered the world of those strange tales."
No sooner had Zhang Yuanqing speculated this than another, more startling possibility occurred to him---perhaps the construction team, like him, had inadvertently entered this place.
Hence the urban legend.
If it was the former, this so-called Spirit Realm might be a scene created from the strange tales.
But if it was the latter, it meant that the ancient temple had always existed, and the construction team, like him now, were all victims.
Given the historical background of the Mountain God Temple, Zhang Yuanqing leaned more towards the latter possibility.
"An entire construction team died in the temple, with only one survivor. This place really can be deadly, and now I've entered this temple and could face unknown dangers at any time."
He sucked in a cold breath, his emotions tensing again as he instinctively looked around.
Then, he realized a detail that was dreadfully terrifying.
This ancient temple dated back to the Ming Dynasty, with a long history---how could the candles still be burning? Who was changing the candles in the Main Hall?
The more he thought about it, the more horrified he became, and the benevolent-looking clay statue in the candlelight seemed to take on a sinister and ominous appearance.
The three clay statues, though covered in dust, were lifelike, with every detail carved so vividly and realistically, especially the eyes.
They stood on the pedestal, looking down at Zhang Yuanqing from their high position in the twilight candlelight.