Chapter 1: In the Mountains

The sunset bled red across the sky, while black crows cawed mournfully.

Paper money danced on the mountain breeze, gleaming like gold in the fading light. A bizarre procession crested the ridgeline: dozens of yellow weasels clad in long robes, bearing wedding plaques, carrying a flower sedan and dowry boxes. They walked on two legs like people, the two leaders at the front ceaselessly tossing paper money into the air.

Shadows flickered along both sides of the group, as if jostling to snatch something away.

Trailing behind this eerie parade was a lone man.

“Grandpa Huang, please just let me go…” Chen Ji was bound with rope, tugged along at the rear by a dark-yellow yellow weasel. The ropes weren’t even tied tightly, yet he couldn’t break free—his entire upper body was paralyzed except for his head. He flashed a fawning smile at the yellow weasel, which didn’t even reach his calf. “Can’t I walk on my own?”

The yellow weasel pulling him glanced back. Its whole body had an unhealthy dark-yellow hue, with white tips on the fur around its face, making it look advanced in years. A flicker of disdain passed through its beady black eyes. It snorted once, then turned away and kept walking.

【Oh crap, oh crap—how do you even have things like this here?!】 The system in Chen Ji’s mind was freaked out too. 【…You’re not about to die, are you?!】

【Shut up. You’re giving me a headache.】 Chen Ji told the system to pipe down.

He thought to himself: He really should have turned himself and the system over to the authorities. Even if they got sliced up for research, it’d be better than this!

No use crying over spilled milk, though.

He’d been an upstanding office drone, worn out from endless overtime at best. Then this system had dropped out of nowhere, calling itself the “8839 Cultural Relic Protection System.” It had strong-armed him into quitting his job and returning to his hometown to inherit the family business—a dilapidated mountain god temple.

The mountain god temple wasn’t much to speak of. Chen Ji’s family had served as its caretakers since his great-grandfather’s time, passing the role down like a secure lifetime gig. But when it got to his father’s generation, Dad had no interest in rotting away in these remote backwoods. He’d bolted for the big city without a backward glance. After Grandpa passed, with no one to take over, the temple had naturally fallen into ruin.

It wouldn’t have been a big deal otherwise. Chen Ji had some savings, plus a rundown apartment back in the city—enough to coast comfortably in the mountains for decades. But no sooner had he returned home, following the familiar childhood paths, than he’d spotted this procession of yellow weasels right before reaching the house. He hadn’t even had time to be scared before, in the blink of an eye, he’d been trussed up without the slightest chance to struggle.

Outrageous as this supernatural scene was, Chen Ji was helpless. He could only plead in a soft voice again: “Grandpa Huang, I’m a local too—we’re practically neighbors! If your family’s throwing a wedding feast and you’re dragging me along, I can’t show up empty-handed, right? My place is right up the mountain…”

The yellow weasels’ music—a raucous rendition of “Hundred Birds Paying Homage to the Phoenix”—swelled abruptly, drowning out his words. Chen Ji’s ears rang. God only knew how these pint-sized weasels could blast suonas so deafeningly. Wait—yellow weasels playing suonas? That was ridiculous on a whole other level!

“…Let me run back, grab some gifts, stuff a red envelope—how about that?” He pressed on, wincing through the pain.

A gleam like human cunning flashed in Old Yellow Weasel’s eyes as it stared him down. Sensing an opening, Chen Ji repeated himself: “My home’s at the Mountain Lord Temple. My grandpa’s Old Man Chen—everyone knows us, no funny business. Why would I trick you?”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than the air went deathly still. The music cut off. Every yellow weasel whipped its head around, their beady black eyes fixed unblinkingly on him. A chill crept into Chen Ji’s heart, cold sweat beading layer after layer down his back. He kept smiling. “You must know them, right? The temple keepers at the Mountain Lord Temple—I’m his grandson…”

A sudden gust whipped up, sending paper money swirling wildly. It smacked right into Chen Ji’s face. He turned his head aside, and in that instant, a massive beast face loomed before him. Jaws parted in a cavernous maw, hot foul breath washed over him, and eyes bigger than fists—lightless voids—stared him down. He could even see his own reflection in them.

The paper money rustled in the wind. Cold sweat trickled from his forehead into his eyes, stinging fiercely, but he didn’t dare blink.

As their gazes locked, weird chuckling erupted from the yellow weasels—humanlike cackles that sent shivers down his spine. The next instant: 【Aaaahhh—!】

The system’s scream snapped Chen Ji back to his senses. He bit his tongue hard; pain and the taste of blood flooded his nerves, steadying him. 【Don’t scream! Got any ideas?!】

The system was already sobbing hysterically: 【What could I do? I’m just a helpless little system that can’t fend for itself! Waaah, how is there something this terrifying here…】

Great. Chen Ji confirmed once more that this thing was useless.

The enormous yellow weasel stepped back. Chen Ji no longer had to face that fetid blast head-on. He mustered another placating smile. “You know my grandpa’s got tons of good stuff. With your family celebrating, let me go back and grab a couple things to bring you some extra luck…”

The white whiskers around the yellow weasel’s muzzle twitched. Chen Ji wasn’t sure what it meant but pressed on, racking his brain for Grandpa’s items. As temple keepers, they had all sorts. He recalled how villagers with strange illnesses, untreatable by doctors, would come to Grandpa, who could call souls and exorcise ghosts…

“Right! Remember? Grandpa’s got this Soul Summoning Bell—works like a charm. Every time a village kid lost their spirit, he’d ring it, and they’d wake right up. What do you think of that?” Chen Ji wheedled. “If that’s not good enough, he’s got his prayer beads, blessed with incense offerings. Perfect for warding off evil…”

He knew he’d messed up the moment the words were out. What was this thing in front of him? Evil! The very evil to be warded off! Before he could backpedal, the yellow weasel’s lips curled into a savage grin. One glance at that nightmare fuel was enough to haunt anyone’s dreams. Chen Ji barked inwardly: 【Don’t you dare scream!】

The system’s wail choked off in its nonexistent throat.

Chen Ji’s heart clenched. He blurted, “Take whatever you like! Take it all!”

The yellow weasel held that creepy, horrifying expression, as if poised to rip him to shreds. Chen Ji flashed a pitiful, servile smile. “Grandpa Huang, I don’t know these things—which one’s good? Untie me, let me fetch them. Whatever there is, I’ll bring it all! If I go myself, the Mountain Lord won’t mind, right?”

Yellow weasels could turn into spirits and try to eat him—why couldn’t the mountain god temple house a real mountain god? Whether it was there or not, Chen Ji pulled that tiger-skin flag anyway. Use it now, deal with consequences later!

The eerie chuckles kept coming, the yellow weasel spirit either laughing in fury or satisfaction—Chen Ji couldn’t tell which. Suddenly, it gaped its bloody maw and lunged at his head!

Chen Ji squeezed his eyes shut on instinct. No pain came. Instead, a piercing shriek—like countless beasts wailing in agony—rang out. Something gave way, and the suffocating dread vanished in a heartbeat. Chen Ji twisted aside and tumbled to the ground. A metallic clang whooshed past him with vicious force!

“Ding—!”

It all happened in a flash. Only now did Chen Ji realize he shouldn’t have closed his eyes. He snapped them open to a blinding cold gleam that stabbed his vision, sharp and icy even under the bloodred sunset. He stared dazedly at the light until tears streamed down his cheeks, oblivious.

“Ah—!” In the next instant, Chen Ji bolted upright in bed, drenched in cold sweat, staring wide-eyed at the familiar yet alien bedroom. His heart hammered wildly in his ears as he gulped air. His hand fumbled for his glasses beside the phone.

Warm light flickered on. Chen Ji steadied himself and checked the phone: 3:30 a.m.

【Yaaawn—】 The system yawned hugely in his mind. 【Chen Ji, nightmare? Your heart rate’s at 160—watch out for a heart attack~】

Chen Ji wiped sweat from his brow with the bedsheet. He was soaked through like he’d been dumped in water. 【You were sleeping just now?】

He figured it was probably a dream. Yellow weasels with a wedding procession? One turning two meters tall? Even recalling that grin made his hands shake. He popped a pill under his tongue, bitterness spreading through his mouth.

【What else?】 The system drawled lazily. 【You’re twenty-six now—still scared of nightmares? Don’t worry, go back to sleep. Big day tomorrow…】

Something heavy thudded into Chen Ji’s lap. He gaped like he’d seen a ghost at the sudden yellow-and-white tabby cat. The system’s voice trailed off: 【Whatever, just hug me tight and sleep… So sleepy…】

Chen Ji went quiet for a beat, then flipped the big tabby over by its paw and inspected it closely. Classic orange tabby markings, yellow patches by the mouth—looked hefty.

He wordlessly tucked the big tabby into his arms and hugged it close.

That dream had been too terrifying.

He resolved in his heart: Tomorrow… tomorrow he absolutely had to…

The next day.

Chen Ji set out freshly brewed milk tea, delicious cream-filled buns, and a steaming bowl of self-heating hot pot from Haidilao on the weathered altar table. He lit three sticks of incense and knelt before the Mountain Lord statue, kowtowing devoutly.

Grandpa Mountain Lord, please protect me. He’d had nightmares before, but nothing like last night’s. Never again.

He looked up at the statue’s mottled face, picked up the battered moon blocks beside it, and voiced his question three times, hands clasped in prayer before tossing them down.

One upright, one inverted: a holy block.

Chen Ji let out a long breath and murmured, “You like Xiang Piaopiao, huh? I’ll buy two more cases—every flavor for you to try…”

These mountains were so remote and deserted.

Otherwise, he’d have to get Grandpa Mountain Lord a couple avocado-almond milkshakes to sample.