Chapter 38: Mourning Mountain, Part Two

Chapter 38: Mount Mourning, Part II

As they climbed, Zhang Sanlu couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. Although Mount Mourning had no official path to its summit, the trail they were following was noticeably easier to traverse than the surrounding terrain. Rather than attributing this to Old Yao's keen eye for choosing a convenient ascent, it seemed more likely that a small path had once existed here, now overgrown from years of neglect. Yet, wasn't the Cursed Cave forbidden long ago? If this was an old mountain path, who had been coming and going here in the past? Could it be that so many people had once wandered into the cave and lost their way that a trail had been worn into the earth?

Despite the presence of this makeshift path, their progress remained slow. By the time the group reached the mid-mountain cave, more than an hour had passed.

Outside the Cursed Cave, a stone ledge jutted out, providing a foothold for the travelers. Descending from the mountainside into the cave was steeper than the climb up, but there were still places to grip and step. Yet, it was far more treacherous than before—a single misstep could have dire consequences. Old Yao sought a suitable spot to anchor ropes, intending to lower everyone down.

Old Yao seemed the kind of man who always planned for contingencies. He anchored two ropes downward; should one come loose, the other would still offer a way back up. Each rope was strong enough to bear the weight of a person, a precaution that could mean the difference between safety and disaster.

Given the unknown dangers lurking in the cave below, Guo Qi suggested that the Immortal should descend first. Zhang Sanlu considered, then volunteered to go down on the rope ahead of the others, leaving Zheng Ji to watch the ropes and descend last. The cave wasn't far from the mountaintop, and though it looked steep and perilous, the descent passed without incident. Everyone entered the cave, faces grim, even the three dogs were lowered on ropes.

When they had begun their descent from the platform, the sky was still a clear blue. Yet, halfway down, clouds began to gather quietly at the horizon, darkening and growing heavy. A cool breeze swept through, setting the leaves rustling. Then, a few tentative raindrops fell, tapping gently against the earth, a soft prelude to the coming storm.

"It looks like this rain won't be light. Mountain weather changes quickly—it may last for a long time," Old Yao observed as he glanced outside before entering the cave.

Sure enough, the rain soon intensified, weaving a dense curtain that shrouded the world in mist. The sound of rainfall grew louder, shifting from a light patter to a steady downpour, arriving with startling speed.

Outside, the landscape blurred; distant mountains and nearby trees vanished into the rain and fog. Before long, the downpour reached its peak, and the world beyond the cave seemed to be veiled by a shimmering wall of water, with droplets streaming and splashing as far as the eye could see.

By then, everyone had made it inside. The cave was surprisingly spacious, with a ceiling four or five meters high, and the entrance chamber alone spanned over a hundred square meters. By torchlight, they could see, at the far end of the cave opposite the entrance, a black tunnel yawned in the stone—a passage within the cave, promising further mysteries within.

There was nothing extraordinary about this place at first glance. It was dry, almost remarkably so; the scattered boulders on the floor were clean, showing no traces of dampness, rot, or erosion. It appeared an ordinary limestone grotto, not at all the fearful lair one might expect from the tales spread by the village chief and the locals.

Puzzled, Zhang Sanlu looked at Old Yao and the others, only to find his companions equally at a loss. The cave was cleaner than any of them had anticipated—no obstacles, not a trace of anything evil or supernatural. It was simply an unremarkable cave.

"Perhaps the Immortal's power has frightened the evil spirits away?" one of the men ventured.

"Or maybe the spirits have retreated deeper inside, beyond that inner tunnel?" another suggested, lowering his voice.

Their whispers grew, all eyes eventually turning to Zhang Sanlu, waiting for him to decide their next move.

"Let's go further in and take a look," Zhang Sanlu replied, feeling both relieved and a little frustrated. He had no real answers himself, but he was loath to have come all this way for nothing—especially since Huiniang's mother's fate was still unresolved.

Just then, Zhang Sanlu heard a low mutter beside him. "Strange indeed."

He turned; it was Old Yao speaking. "This cave is far too dry."

"What do you know?" Guo Qi interrupted, dismissive. "This cave is tucked into the mountainside, out of the wind and rain. What's so strange about it being dry? Stop making a fuss just because you led us here."

Old Yao fell silent.

Zhang Sanlu, however, pressed him, "Old Yao, do you sense something amiss?"

Glancing at Guo Qi, Old Yao hesitated, then spoke, "Immortal, gentlemen, have you noticed? It's not just dry here—there are no bats, which are common in caves. And look, there's not a patch of moss or a single weed on the ground. To find a stone cave this 'clean' on Mount Mourning is highly unusual." He paused, then added, "And haven't you noticed? The dogs haven't made a sound."

Only then did everyone realize something was wrong. The usually lively dogs, so energetic in the woods, were now silent. All three—Little Black included—had curled up in the corner since coming in, trembling uncontrollably. Their tails were clamped so tightly between their legs as to nearly scrape the ground, betraying their terror and unease.

Little Black's eyes were wide with fear, ears pressed flat against his head as if trying to make himself invisible. The three dogs occasionally let out low whimpers, but none dared bark, as if afraid of drawing attention to themselves. Even when they moved, their limbs were stiff, poised as if ready to flee, yet paralyzed by fear.

Guo Qi, annoyed, gave his wolfdog "Gold Standard" a kick, as though blaming the animal for embarrassing him.

"We're here now, let's just proceed with caution," Zhang Sanlu said. They left most of their unnecessary gear behind, ready for any eventuality, and took only essential weapons and provisions. Passing through the boulders, Zhang Sanlu followed Guo Wang into the tunnel.

Whatever the others felt, Zhang Sanlu couldn't shake a sense of unease. Perhaps the constant warnings about the Cursed Cave and the forbidden ground from the villagers had planted a seed of dread in his mind.

To him, the place felt lifeless, stagnant, devoid of vitality. Who knew what awaited them at the end of the passage?

The tunnel was a natural limestone corridor, about a meter and a half wide, winding deeper into the darkness. The group advanced single file, their footsteps the only sound in the cave's eerie silence. By torchlight, the occasional stone column jutted from the floor or ceiling.

The passage rose and fell unevenly—sometimes climbing, sometimes descending—forcing them to concentrate on their footing and balance with each step.