— Source of the Black Mist —
The morning air was thick with cursed black mist as the group ventured once more into the blighted lands.
Though thinner than the night before, the fog still veiled the world in cold silence.
At the mist's heart lay a deathly quiet village. Dilapidated eaves swayed faintly in the wind, whispering mournful secrets.
To the west ran a river, black as ink. Across it stretched a newly built wooden bridge, its scaffolding not yet fully removed.
The bridge pulsed with a dark red glow—as if blood coursed through its wooden veins.
Black vapors seeped from its seams, drifting with the river's flow to feed the endless sea of mist.
This was the source. The origin of all the black mist.
"Lung... please stop..."
A trembling voice, soft as a weeping melody, cut through the mist.
She wore her hair in a Lung, dark braid, typical of mountain girls. Her face was pale as parchment, yet she radiated a vitality starkly out of place in this land of death.
Most peculiarly, the black mist recoiled from her, refusing to come within ten meters.
"Lung, you've had your vengeance. Why involve the innocent?" Tears streamed from her red, swollen eyes. "This only deepens your sins, condemns you to eternal suffering..."
She spoke sometimes to the bridge, sometimes to the black water, as if addressing a presence unseen.
"I know you can hear me... You killed everyone in the village, yet spared only me. I'd rather have joined them than endure this heartache..."
The river churned, the mist swirled, but no answer came.
"Lung... I can't go on living..." She suddenly wiped her tears and leaped toward the ink-black, bottomless river.
A silver thread shot through the air, wrapping around her falling form. The line tightened, pulling her back, and she landed softly in Eren's arms.
"Who... Who are you? Why save me?" the girl stammered, panic in her eyes.
Eren gently set her down. "The Lung you mentioned... is it Lung Pan?"
The girl stared blankly at the group, then met Eren's gaze and gave a slight nod.
Even with some forewarning, Eren sucked in a sharp breath, his voice trembling. "What... what happened to him? I'm Eren, Lung Pan's university classmate."
Tears burst forth anew from the girl. She pointed a trembling finger toward the central bridge pier.
"Lung... he... the villagers used him as a Living Pile!"
"Living Pile! They buried him alive beneath the bridge—to appease the river's wrath?!" Johan gasped, horrified.
The group exchanged stunned, disbelieving looks.
Aveline stepped forward, placing a comforting hand on the girl's shoulder. "Little sister, what's your name? Can you tell us what happened?"
The girl wiped her tears with her sleeve, gazed silently at the nearby village for a Lung moment, and finally spoke. "My name is Feng. I grew up with Lung..."
As her trembling voice wove through the mist, the past began to take form before their eyes...
— Kindness Devoured by Greed —
"Lung! You're back?"
"Did you strike it rich?"
"Heavens, look at all that money!"
The village in her memory was filled with joyous excitement. Villagers crowded in layers, their eyes burning with fervor, fixed on the center.
There stood Lung Pan, glasses making him look scholarly, yet his entire being radiated a sunny, dynamic energy. At his feet lay an open suitcase, packed tight with stacks of hundred-yuan bills.
"Fellow villagers," Lung Pan's voice rang clear, "as the only university student from our village, I swore I would come back with wealth to help everyone live better lives." He lifted a stack of cash. "Now, I can provide funds for fish farms, poultry, livestock, fruit trees, tea bushes... As we're willing to work hard, I believe soon we'll all be prosperous, living in fine houses!"
He paused, then pointed at the dark river. "But first, we must solve the travel problem. This river forces us to detour for four hours just to get out! I plan to build a bridge here. With a bridge, a round trip will take an hour at most."
"I've brought back ten million. Part will build the bridge and roads, the rest will be invested in village projects. I, Lung Pan, will make every promise I ever made come true!"
Lung Pan was born in this remote, poor mountain village on the Tibetan Plateau. His father had drowned trying to take a shortcut across the river. His mother, overworked and heartbroken, followed soon after, leaving him an orphan raised by the villagers' charity. He had sworn to earn ten million and return to help his hometown.
Now, he had done it.
"Good! Good! Good!" The old village chief patted Lung Pan's shoulder, beaming. "The whole village supports you! Do whatever you need to do!"
Lung Pan left to find a construction crew.
The villagers stared at the suitcase of money, voices rising.
"Why build a bridge? Let's split the money and go live in the city!"
"Exactly! Nothing worth staying for in this wretched place!"
"I heard Lung Pan has ten million!"
Feng, with her Lung braid, couldn't stay silent. "Everyone, Lung's money is meant for the whole village's benefit. We must think of the bigger picture and support him fully!"
Reluctantly, grumbling, the crowd dispersed.
Back home, the chief's son,
Cleaver Zhang—a butcher—locked the door. "Dad, we need to get our hands on some of that money! Enough for an apartment in the city, and a wife!"
The chief exhaled a cloud of smoke, his face darkening in the haze. "Patience. The bridge needs permits, materials, labor... There are many opportunities here."
---
Amidst the crackle of firecrackers, the bridge construction began in earnest.
Lung Pan withdrew all his savings. In this backward village without even internet, cash was king.
The bridge neared completion.
But fate's turn often comes when things seem smoothest.
— The Bridge Built on Blood —
The design required a massive central concrete pier to support the bridge's weight. The budget allowed for eight hundred cubic meters.
But as the concrete was poured into the foundation hole, it vanished like stones into the sea. Eight hundred cubic meters, a thousand, two thousand... The riverbed seemed a bottomless abyss, greedily swallowing everything. Inspection equipment showed no leaks. Where had all the concrete gone?
"We're in trouble... big trouble," the portly site manager muttered, face pale and clammy with sweat.
Lung Pan, informed of the situation, went to see the village chief.
"Lung, this Blackwater River... it's evil," the chief said, pipe in mouth, expression grave. "People drown every year upstream and down. Your construction has disturbed the River God. If we don't appease its wrath with a life—a Living Pile—not only the bridge, but the whole village will be cursed!"
Lung Pan's brow furrowed at the term "Living Pile." He remained silent. Harm an innocent for his own goal? He would never.
Seeing his hesitation, the chief blew a smoke ring and pointed to the distant, mist-shrouded mountain to the south. "Think I'm joking? See that mountain? A demon is sealed beneath it! This river flows from its foothills. Those who die each year are the demon's tribute! If we don't sacrifice properly, and it wakes to feed on the village, it'll be the end! It's just a matter of money. Give me a million, I'll find a 'willing' sacrifice, and we—"
"Enough, Chief!" Lung Pan cut him off sharply. "It's illegal! Absolutely not! Even if someone were willing, NO!"
The chief shook his head, sighed, and walked away. Lung Pan stood alone, staring at the half-finished pier, his mind in turmoil.
"Lung, don't lose heart." Feng approached, her smile clean and warm. "You're so capable. I know you'll find a way."
Her smile dispelled the gloom in his heart. He took her hand, half-joking, half-serious. "Feng, once the bridge is built, I'll marry you. Okay?"
Feng's face flushed instantly. She looked down, uttering a barely audible "Mm." The affection of a lifetime spent together blossomed quietly in that moment.
They didn't know a carefully laid plot was brewing in the night.
That evening, in the chief's house, all the villagers except Lung Pan and Feng gathered, the atmosphere sinister.
"The situation is clear to all," the chief tapped his pipe. "Either we abandon it, wasting all our effort, or... we fill the hole with a life."
"What if one life isn't enough?"
"We never should have built this bridge!"
"If we'd just split the money earlier, we wouldn't be in this mess!"
Complaints rose, all targeting Lung Pan.
"Quiet!" the chief raised his voice, his authoritative gaze sweeping the room. "The bridge is half-built. Abandoning it means greater losses! And once it's done, it benefits everyone. Reason dictates we must finish it!"
"But aside from a Living Pile, there's no other way!"
"Then we use one!" the chief's voice was icy steel.
The crowd hesitated. "But... who's willing? And Lung Pan doesn't agree!"
Behind the smoke, the chief's face twisted grotesquely. "Since he doesn't agree... then we use him as the sacrifice!"
Dead silence filled the room. Then, a mad consensus grew in the quiet.
"I agree! The bridge was his obsession. His life should pay for it!"
"Right! He angered the River God!"
"I agree!"
"Me too!"
Greed devoured conscience. The unspoken understanding was clear—with Lung Pan dead, the fortune he brought would be theirs for the taking.
"After it's done," the chief's eyes were cold, "I only want two million. The rest, you divide among yourselves."
The fire of greed burned in every eye.
The plan was quickly set: a fake feast, get Lung Pan drunk.
Soon, Lung Pan was warmly invited to the chief's house. Seeing the table laden with food, he felt pained. "Chief, this is too wasteful!"
"You've worked hard for the village, it's the least we can do!" The chief insisted, pulling him to the table, toasting him relentlessly.
He was soon dead drunk.
Seeing him slumped over, cold, triumphant smiles appeared on the villagers' faces. They swiftly bound him with ropes and carried him toward the river like a beast to slaughter.
"What are you doing? Let Lung go!" Feng rushed out, only to be pinned down by two villagers. When she saw them tying stones to Lung Pan's body, she understood.
"Heavens! You're making a Living Pile?! Are you even human?!" Feng screamed, tears streaming. "He spent everything to build your bridge and roads, to make you rich, and you betray him?! Where is your conscience?! Aren't you afraid of divine punishment?! Please, stop! Let him go!"
Her cries couldn't awaken their stone hearts. A rag was stuffed into her mouth, ropes bound her body. She could only watch, helpless, as Lung Pan, laden with stones, was carried onto a small boat and rowed toward the central pier.
The icy water jolted Lung Pan awake. Seeing his predicament, shock struck him like lightning.
"Hate! I hate this!"
"I treated them with utter sincerity! Why did they do this to me?!"
Lung Pan's eyes nearly burst, bloody tears streaming down his face. With overwhelming venom, he seared every ugly face on the shore into his soul.
Splash—!
He sank into the icy darkness, filled with boundless resentment and hatred.