Chapter 258 Night of Sacrifice
The next day, the four people arrived in front of the black door.
They had calculated the time accurately and had already been standing quietly before the black door for a long time by now.
Subsequently, Han Yu raised his hand and pushed lightly. That black door, which was as difficult to ascend to heaven to open from the outside, slid open a crack silently at this moment.
A breeze carrying the clear fragrance of grass and trees surged in, blowing away the turbidity deposited inside the cave.
"Let's go."
Han Yu turned sideways to make way, his gaze falling on Lu Xiaoluo's neck. That jade pendant had already been returned to its original owner by him; right now, it was quietly pressing against her chest, emitting a warm and moist luster. Lu Xiaoluo sensed his line of sight. Her fingers unconsciously stroked the jade pendant, and a trace of determination flashed in her eyes.
The four people passed through the crack in the door one by one. Before leaving, they invariably looked back at that Immortal Tomb.
Glimmering light passed through the crack in the door, plating a layer of white edging onto those ancient tombstones. From Lu Xiaoluo's father's letter, they already knew that these Primordial Immortals had mostly fallen for the great cause of protecting the common people.
"They are worthy of a bow."
Han Yu said in a low voice. The four people bowed in unison, performing a solemn salutation. As for that empty crooked-neck tree tomb, it had long been leveled by them in passing, and even the residual roots were burned into ashes.
The black door closed silently behind them.
There was no one outside the door.
This was within expectations. The villagers during the day were muddled and ignorant, acting out the drama of a peach blossom spring; only when night fell would they reveal their ferocious features. At this moment, the setting sun was sinking in the west, exactly the time when day and night alternated.
The four people quickly swam out from the bottom of the lake following the cave.
"It is getting dark." On the shore, Jiang Che narrowed his eyes and looked toward the horizon, where the last ray of sunlight was struggling within the clouds.
Lu Xiaoluo—now that she had retrieved her father, she naturally also retrieved her own surname. She said softly: "The sacrifice is about to begin."
The mountain wind rose suddenly, rolling up the faint sound of copper bells from the distance.
The four people glanced at each other and strode toward the source of the sound.
The shadows of the trees lengthened on the ground, gradually melting into a patch of thick blackness that could not be dissolved.
...
Scarlet moonlight spilled onto the Kunlun Mountain Range, dyeing the winding mountain path into a wriggling intestine of blood.
Looking down from a high place, dozens of fire dragons were slowly wriggling along the mountain ridges. Those were lanterns held by the villagers of various villages, flickering in the night wind, looking extremely like ghost fires drifting on the Road to the Yellow Springs.
"Clang—"
The sound of a bronze bell came from the deep mountains, startling the jackdaws roosting at night.
The first team had already arrived at the mountain pass. The Elder in the lead wore a wooden Nuo mask with a green face and fangs, shaking a bell in his hand.
The villagers behind him were all dressed in plain clothes. Their complexions were pale as paper, but their lips were painted bright red like blood.
They took steps mechanically. The lanterns swayed regularly in their hands, reflecting shadows on their faces that constantly changed, sometimes benevolent and kind, sometimes ferocious like ghosts.
"Three bows and nine kowtows—enter the Sacred Mountain—"
The priest suddenly shrieked. The villagers knelt down in unison, their foreheads pressing tightly against the ground.
The lanterns were held high above their heads. Within the warm yellow halo, one could see twisted tree-shaped totems drawn with blood on every lampshade.
The night wind rolled up paper ashes and spiraled upward, forming a blurred human face in midair, then suddenly dissipating.
In the mountain col deeper in, more teams were gathering.
There were women carrying sleeping children on their backs, and tree root-shaped black patterns were faintly visible on the back of those children's necks. There were old men coughing while walking, and the bloody phlegm they spat onto the ground actually grew tiny root hairs.
Their lives had actually already stopped at the moment they obtained the 'blessing'.
They walked silently, and only a 'rustling' sound came from beneath their feet. That was the sound of hundreds of pairs of cloth shoes crushing various vegetation on the ground.
The blood moon was gradually swallowed by dark clouds.
When the last bit of moonlight vanished, all the lanterns suddenly turned into a seeping emerald green at the same time.
A muffled 'thump' came from the deep mountains, like the sound of a giant tree taking root, or like someone beating a large drum.
The villagers issued a wailing sound that was neither weeping nor laughing in unison. The sound waves startled the crows all over the mountain into flight. Those black-feathered birds gathered into the shape of a tree crown in the air, not dispersing for a long time.
The long dragon of lanterns continued to wriggle toward the mountain belly, with new teams constantly joining along the way.
...
The four people lurked on a cliff, using the twilight to overlook the winding mountain path below.
Teams gathered from all directions like swimming fire snakes.
The villagers held green paper lanterns, their faces numb, and their footsteps strangely uniform. The night wind carried low chanting sounds, echoing within the valley like some ancient summons.
"Look over there." Han Yu lowered his voice and pointed at a team that was obviously not from Cold Brook Village and had fewer people. "Follow them."
The four people quietly descended the mountain. Using the cover of the bushes, they quietly tailed behind that team. Jiang Che took out a few sets of coarse hemp clothes from his robes and distributed them to everyone: "Put these on."
Chen Xingcai shook open the clothes, surprised to find that the coarse cloth was actually stained with mud and grass clippings, looking exactly like they were just stripped off some villager. She could not help but ask in a low voice: "Where did you get these..."
Jiang Che grinned, made a shushing gesture with his finger at his lips, and fished out several boxes of paint from his sleeve. Borrowing the faint moonlight, he skillfully sketched winding black patterns on everyone's exposed skin. Those patterns were identical to those on the villagers, imitating even the minute bark-like cracks vividly.
"What did you do before?" Lu Xiaoluo could not help but ask in a low voice.
Jiang Che blinked: "Jianghu tricks, not worth mentioning."
After the disguise was completed, the four people looked at each other. They actually bore seventy to eighty percent resemblance to those villagers. Han Yu checked one last time and said in a low voice: "Remember, no matter what happens, do not act rashly."
The night grew deeper.
The four people mixed into the rear of the team. Imitating the villagers in front, they lowered their heads and took steps mechanically.
The green paper lanterns swayed gently in their hands. The cast light and shadow made their expressions appear indeterminate.
In the distance, a blood moon was slowly rising, enveloping the entire Kunlun Mountain in a patch of demonic red light.
The four people walked for a long time. Suddenly, a team of a dozen or so people turned out from the blind spot of a fork in the road ahead.
The leader was a middle-aged man with a pale and green complexion. His eyeballs were turbid, as if covered by a layer of gray film.
The black patterns on his neck were exceptionally dense, like countless tiny tree roots wriggling under the skin.
The two sides met abruptly, and the four people went stiff all over.
However, under the shroud of the blood-colored moonlight, their stiff expressions appeared exactly the same as those parasitized villagers.
Han Yu quickly signaled Jiang Che and Chen Xingcai with his eyes. The three tensed their muscles, True Qi surging secretly, ready to erupt and attack at any moment.
The middle-aged man dragged his feet closer, his joints making strange clicking sounds. He tilted his head and asked in a tone so hoarse it did not sound human: "Which village... are you from... why are you scattered here..."
Lu Xiaoluo secretly gritted her teeth, then lowered her head and took a step forward, imitating that mechanical intonation of the villagers: "We... are from Cold Brook Village... and became separated... from the team..."
The middle-aged man's nose suddenly twitched strangely twice, as if he had smelled something.
He slowly leaned close to Lu Xiaoluo's face, his turbid eyeballs almost pressing against her face.
The four people could clearly see something wriggling beneath his skin, like tiny root hairs crawling subcutaneously.
"Cold Brook Village..." he repeated in a murmur.
Time seemed to freeze.
Subsequently, the middle-aged man suddenly straightened his body: "Then you... follow behind us..."
The four people secretly breathed a sigh of relief and quietly mixed into the rear of the team.
Borrowing the glimmer of the lanterns, they exchanged a look—the intellect of these parasitized people was actually even duller than imagined.
Han Yu tilted his head slightly and asked Jiang Che silently with the shape of his mouth: "How did you do it?"
The corners of Jiang Che's mouth pulled into a strange smile, and he likewise answered silently with the shape of his mouth: "What did you think... the patterns on your faces... were painted with?"
His lips curled with a trace of bad taste. His fingertips still retained some sticky black liquid, which was slowly dripping down through the gaps of his fingers at this moment.
The four people were startled, then immediately reacted at the same time.
The tactile sensation and smell of those "paints"...
Lu Xiaoluo covered her mouth abruptly, Chen Xingcai's face turned ghastly pale, and Han Yu's Adam's apple rolled up and down.
They raised their hands coincidentally, wanting to wipe off the "disguise" on their faces, but forcibly stopped their movements. Ahead, that middle-aged man was turning his head back in a twisted posture. His gray ey
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