Chapter Fifteen: For Humanity, What Is There to Fear in Death?

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However, clothes reminiscent of ancient heroes… Lin Yi frowned inwardly.

What does ancient ghosts have to do with this?

The truth was simple: Li Zhancheng was able to adorn himself with gold and silver because he had happened upon a peculiar phenomenon. On a mountainside to the north of Erlong Mountain, from time to time, there would flow a stream that resembled a rain of blood, bringing with it valuable items stained with crimson.

Jade, watches, gold necklaces, gold bracelets—these and more.

And every time such items appeared, news of disappearances at Erlong Mountain would follow.

Li Zhancheng could not help but speculate: Was there something monstrous up there, killing people, and their valuables then washed down with the blood?

Besides those treasures, there would occasionally be fragments of clothing—a detail that made Li Zhancheng fearful.

Until one day, when Li Zhancheng gazed upward, he caught sight of a face with only half a skull, gray-white eyes staring back. That sight convinced him completely: ghosts and monsters dwelled on the mountain!

Li Zhancheng was terrified—he fled in utter panic.

But as the saying goes, poverty is the greatest fear.

So Li Zhancheng reasoned: he hadn’t killed anyone himself. Whatever monsters were up there, so long as he could profit, it was worth it—a fortune awaited him.

In the end, greed triumphed over reason and fear; Li Zhancheng returned.

He thought, as long as he didn’t climb the mountain, he wouldn’t die.

Such was the origin of Li Zhancheng’s riches.

It was also the reason for his wealth.

Li Zhancheng’s conduct—concealing what he knew—was shameful.

Yet, from another perspective, while he had violated morals, he had not killed anyone. At most, he was guilty of withholding information.

Unless Lin Yi learned that Li Zhancheng had truly committed evil, abetted the monster—brought people for the tiger ghost to kill.

If that happened, Lin Yi would not spare him.

He would… kill him.

…

Holding the various gold ornaments and jade rings acquired from Li Zhancheng, Lin Yi reckoned these could fetch over a million yuan.

Not a bad haul.

He need not worry about food or drink.

Due to his cultivation, he had been ravenous that morning—eating too much, spending too much, and without money, survival was impossible.

As for Li Zhancheng, Lin Yi did not concern himself further.

Allowing Li Zhancheng to sob and plead, Lin Yi instructed him to remain, warning that if he tried to escape, death would be certain, then he left the vehicle.

It was not an idle threat—Lin Yi would truly do it… should Li Zhancheng run, he would suffer.

Once far from Li Zhancheng, Lin Yi stored the valuables in the space of the “God-Slaying Canon.”

Erlong Mountain was picturesque, and with its legend, tourists were plentiful.

Thanks to Li Zhancheng’s account, Lin Yi understood the situation.

Yet Lin Yi still harbored doubts about what Li Zhancheng had said.

His tale was too fantastical.

Perhaps plausible in ancient times, but in the modern era, without red mists or so many supernatural events, Lin Yi found it unlikely.

But as he thought of the word “ancient,” Lin Yi suddenly felt his mind stirred.

Strangely, images of people dressed in ancient attire began to appear.

Though fragmented, they made Lin Yi frown.

Normally, such images should not exist in his mind.

If they did, Lin Yi thought carefully—the origin was likely from Huang Jiu, the Lady of the Ninth.

Memories—scenes from ancient China across various dynasties.

And Lin Yi remembered: Huang Jiu had lived over a thousand years.

A millennium—a living history.

So, for Huang Jiu’s memories to occasionally contain ancient scenes was only natural.

Yet what puzzled Lin Yi was why these memories surfaced only after he arrived at Erlong Mountain.

Not before, not after—now.

It was not mere coincidence.

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Thinking it through, Lin Yi realized: the ghost demon was merely a fragment of Huang Jiu, so even if he had killed her, her memories of the Lady were limited.

She was not the complete Huang Jiu.

So… it was understandable that some previously blurred memories now surfaced.

Some of Huang Jiu’s memories were set in the Great Black Mountain.

It was as though there, in the place where Huang Jiu’s true form resided, there was a region where people wore ancient clothing, and the buildings were in the old style.

“Clatter, clatter…”

The memories grew clearer.

Lin Yi was surprised to discover that some were of Erlong Mountain.

…

Thunder rumbled overhead!

On Erlong Mountain, a fierce battle was raging.

The peaks were soaked in blood—every tree and blade of grass stained scarlet.

Most of the blood was bright red.

Across the grass and trees, human limbs hung.

Figures moved amid the chaos, dwindling in number, as monsters and ghosts filled the land.

“Kill, kill, kill… you monsters, die, die, die…”

“Hahaha… kill… I fight for humanity, what fear have I of death?”

…

A spear pierced a black feline the size of a calf.

The beast lashed with a paw, a torrent of shadow, ripping the armored warrior open, entrails spilled upon the earth.

Yet even in death, the dark-faced man uttered not a sound.

The battle raged on.

Soon, countless humans fell.

Tragedy and heroism filled the air!

Suddenly, a figure in Taoist robes appeared—a wounded elder, his face pale as death.

“Fiend, meet your end! With my blood, I summon wind and thunder!”

He spat a mouthful of blood.

Above, black clouds gathered at the mountain’s summit, lightning clustering thickly.

The next moment, thunder crashed down!

On the ground, screams echoed.

Huge rats with fleshy wings died!

Horned yellow cattle, their heads still attached, died!

Armies of weasels died!

A tide of red ants—passing over a man and instantly reducing him to a skeleton—were crushed, died!

But then—a sharp, furious cry!

“Filthy priest, you seek death, harm my descendants—I’ll forsake this avatar to destroy you!”

Boom!

Yellow mist engulfed the mountain, a stench overwhelming, “whoosh, whoosh, whoosh”—countless yellow hairs, threads, ropes, bundles, infiltrated every pore, burrowing into everyone’s bodies…

…

Huang Jiu, the Lady, had been here!

In that war, humanity suffered terrible losses.

Yet the heroic, unyielding spirit of those warriors stirred Lin Yi’s blood.

At the same time, he felt both hatred and fury toward Huang Jiu.

Unconsciously, Lin Yi’s eyes were wet.

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“Damn… A great battle happened here! So many humans died… This world… the world before… its history… could it be…”

He wiped his tears.

Lin Yi’s mind raced!

Now he was convinced—the history of this world was anything but simple!

That war, those monsters, the sacrifice of humanity, all reminded Lin Yi: terrifying demons like Huang Jiu, human warriors as powerful as celestial immortals, had all truly existed!

Scenes from fantasy novels might well be real!

Much of history differed from what was in textbooks!

Yet all had truly happened!

Gritting his teeth, Lin Yi looked toward Erlong Mountain.

If there truly was a tiger ghost here, he would see it destroyed!

Strange, indeed.

Where once the sun shone bright, the skies clear—a perfect summer outing—when Lin Yi reached the northern flank of Erlong Mountain, he found no sunlight at all.

All around, it was chillingly cold.

This was less a peak of Erlong Mountain than a segment of its sprawling range.

The name “Erlong Mountain” arose from the legend of two massive dragons descending from the sky and entwining, so the two ranges crisscrossed with many junctions.

This northern side was one such junction.

Erlong Mountain’s fame was built on its steepness; yet here, despite its reputation, few people ventured.

Arriving, Lin Yi understood why so many turned back—this place was far too cold.

Even on the outskirts, there was a sense of northern lands frozen, snow drifting for miles.

Ordinary folk would shiver here.

The cold was a penetrating chill, unlike normal northern cold.

In the north, with enough clothing, one could keep warm.

Here, it was more like the southern cold—a spiritual attack.

It was understandable why few came.

With no visitors, few died.

This, perhaps, explained why the matter had not grown and attracted special agents like An Miaoyi.

Lin Yi himself wore only a thin T-shirt, shorts, and sneakers—nothing else.

The rest was stored in the space of the “God-Slaying Canon.”

Such cold penetrated his skin, reaching his innermost organs.

But with his cultivation to protect him, the chill was nothing more than drizzle.

Step by step, Lin Yi ascended the narrow mountain path.

…

At the summit.

A black mist spread.

In broad daylight, it unsettled the soul.

“That man… is… a threat… This man… is a threat… Output the memory of the slave ghost… Lin Changsheng… Illusion creation… Relic, unleash our power…”

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh…

A wild wind arose.

The black fog dissipated.

Growing thinner, yet the air grew more oppressive.

In the blink of an eye, the faint black mist permeated the entire peak.

At the foot, the air turned black, thickening.

…

Ascending the mountain.

Lin Yi saw, beside some bushes, several things resembling blackened charcoal.