Uncle Liu had no idea what Chen Ji was up to. He watched as the young man dragged his sickly body into the kitchen, refused all offers of help, and pulled out a white bone that had been tossed in the corner. It looked vaguely like a snake bone, but not quite—no matter how he stared at it, the thing just seemed utterly eerie.
Chen Ji rinsed the bone under cold water, coated it in egg batter, dusted it with flour, and dropped it into a pot of sizzling oil. That bone-chilling white remnant emerged crispy and fragrant. A sprinkle of pepper salt, and the aroma was downright intoxicating. Uncle Liu, Xiao Wang, Xiao Zhang, and the others, who had gathered at the door to watch the spectacle, were left drooling.
Xiao Wang figured it was meant for them and stepped forward to lend a hand, but Chen Ji waved him off. “No need. I’ve got to handle this myself.”
The next moment, Chen Ji carried the plate of pepper salt crispy ribs into the main hall and offered it up to Grandpa Mountain Lord.
The chill that had only just ebbed away slithered back up from the soles of their feet.
Uncle Liu swallowed hard. “Xiao Chen, what… what is this?”
In the days since, Uncle Liu and the others had learned that Chen Ji’s offerings to Grandpa Mountain Lord were usually whatever he himself planned to eat that day. This was the first time he’d gone out of his way to cook something special for the deity.
Speaking in a feeble voice, Chen Ji replied, “It ought to be offered to Grandpa Mountain Lord. That way, he might stop messing with me day in and day out.”
Uncle Liu and the rest swallowed in unison, not daring to utter a single extra word. Even Xiao Wang and Xiao Zhang, who had been peeking curiously at the plate, yanked their gazes away. Chen Ji added, “It’s nothing major, Uncle Liu. You all keep at your work. I can’t manage lunch, so let’s just have something simple, all right?”
“Sure, sure!” Uncle Liu jumped in at once. “Why don’t we have Xiao Wang fix it for you? You’re under the weather—no sense in you cooking!”
Chen Ji nodded. “That works. Everything’s in the fridge. Just whip something up.”
He turned to leave but paused and glanced back. “Oh, right—Xiao Wang.”
“Yeah? What’s up, Brother Chen?” Xiao Wang turned to him.
“Help me out with something,” Chen Ji said. “Toss every pot, pan, bowl, and utensil in the kitchen that’s touched that bone. We can’t use them anymore.”
Xiao Wang hesitated, then whispered, “Should I grab some gloves?”
“Nah, just don’t eat off them. Too much bad juju.”
“That’s all? Don’t worry about it—go get some rest.” Uncle Liu shooed Chen Ji off right away. After thanking them again, Chen Ji headed back to his room. The clothes he’d worn while cooking carried the scent of pepper salt shrimp. He licked his lips, dumped the garments into the laundry hamper, scrubbed his hands raw with liquid soap, and finally collapsed onto the bed.
The System Cat leaped onto Chen Ji’s chest, tucking its paws under its body. 【Chen Ji, this can’t go on! I’ve scoured the web for every metaphysics hack out there. If you can’t sleep, flip through them—at least you won’t drop dead by accident.】
Chen Ji wasn’t asleep yet. He lay there with his phone, rampaging through a shopping app—peach wood swords, thunderstruck wood, Zhong Kui seals, all tumbled into his cart before he hit purchase with one tap. He murmured a low acknowledgment, but his fingers kept scrolling. The System Cat’s plump paw pad smooshed against his face as it said earnestly, 【How about we pause the mission for now? We could relocate. It doesn’t have to be your hometown—this place is way too spooky. If we can’t beat it, we can always run, right?】
【There’s an old saying in Hua Nation: ‘The wise man knows when to bide his time…’】
Chen Ji couldn’t hold back. He turned his head and burst out laughing. “You… cut out the fake Japanese accent…”
He really ought to ship the System Cat off to some country where that accent was native for a study abroad stint. What a waste of talent otherwise.
The System Cat swatted him indignantly. 【I’m being serious!】
Once his laughter subsided, Chen Ji looked back with a chill settling into his features. In a tone laced with mockery, he said, “Run where? If my home has them, you think other places don’t? Unless we ditch your mission entirely, it’ll be the same anywhere.”
“At least here, I’m a local with Grandpa Mountain Lord’s protection. I’ve come through a few scrapes unscathed.” Chen Ji’s voice dropped to a murmur. “Once I find a way…”
The System Cat didn’t catch the rest. Something felt off about Chen Ji’s refusal to leave—it sensed there was more to the story. Still, it knew better than to think it could sway him easily. With a hefty sigh, the little cat flopped across Chen Ji’s chest. 【Fine, I’ll think of something else…】
Chen Ji ruffled its big head. Its thick ears wriggled in his palm, tickling lightly. Suddenly, one ear twitched, poking out from between his fingers. 【Oh! I got it!】
A soft hum escaped Chen Ji’s throat. “Mm?”
The System Cat jerked its head up, eyes sparkling. 【I’ve got tons of side quests with ancient book rewards! Let me filter through them—maybe there’s one for weird spirits or gods. Who knows, it might have a solution!】
Chen Ji chuckled softly and tweaked its ear. “Sounds good… nothing too complicated, though.”
They chatted a bit more. Seeing Chen Ji growing drowsy, the System Cat hopped off without further fuss and slipped out the door to play. Sure, Chen Ji was sick, but it sure wasn’t! Time to head to the pond behind the temple and fish with its tail!
Chen Ji drifted into a hazy sleep. In his half-dreaming state, he seemed to hear light, ethereal footsteps. Thinking the System Cat had returned, he murmured its name. The mattress dipped behind him as something settled in at his back.
An icy breath ghosted over his ear, making Chen Ji shudder instinctively. Beneath the thin blanket, some alien form slithered in, abruptly outlining a serpentine shape. In his dream, Chen Ji mumbled and reached out, grasping only empty air.
Something cold and slick coiled around his wrist, inching upward bit by bit. It slipped through the gaps in his sleepwear, enveloping him completely.
The young man frowned in his slumber, shivering from the chill. As the cold breath kept brushing past, goosebumps prickled the skin behind his ear. In the next instant, a black vine emerged from his collar—or what looked like a vine, though closer inspection revealed it was merely wisps of black mist.
His hem was tugged up, baring a stretch of pale, flawless skin.
It was as if someone chuckled. The black mist coalesced into a humanoid shape and pressed against his abdomen. The misty figure scooped the young man up; his head lolled to the side with the motion, muscles tensing to reveal the elegant line of his shoulder and neck.
The black mist figure lowered its head. Two crimson blooms erupted on the snow-white skin, bright blood welling up only to vanish soundlessly. The young man’s face paled further, then flushed with an unnatural tint. He stirred instinctively, struggling, but black misty tendrils bound him, delivering him into the figure’s grasp.
“Let… let go…”
The black mist figure rasped two words: “Chen… Ji.”
Chen Ji fell utterly silent, dragged fully into slumber with no further response.
…
When Chen Ji woke again, he checked in the bathroom. Sure enough, fresh “Fire Dragon Waist Entwine” marks had appeared—not just on his waist and legs now, but snaking across his wrists and ankles too. They crisscrossed the fading old ones; anyone unfamiliar might think he’d been roughed up.
He stared at his reflection. Two red marks marred the side of his neck—scars, really, like wounds half-healed. If it was a mosquito bite, that mosquito must have stood eight feet tall.
He stripped off his sweat-soaked clothes, ignoring the bloodstains, and tossed them straight into the laundry hamper. Then he hopped onto the shopping app to order new sleepwear.
Against something that could track him down and harm him even in the Mountain Lord Temple, Chen Ji had no defenses at present. So he played dumb and acted like he knew nothing.
Those who knew too much tended to die fast.
The next few days passed with Chen Ji nursing his energy and poring over books. After three straight days of ginseng-stewed chicken, blood trickled from his nose. Pinching it shut, he figured that was enough. Just then, Uncle Liu took advantage of the sunlight to hang the freshly repaired wall plastering. It needed two days to dry, so Chen Ji tagged along down the mountain with them.
A bunch of his packages had arrived. Perfect chance to pick them up, stroll through the village, greet the neighbors, and grab some chickens, ducks, or geese to raise.
Uncle Liu and the crew were all for it. Heading down together made it safer.
Chen Ji could feel it growing warmer the lower they went—not the air temperature, but something else entirely.
Uncle Liu eyed his pallor and couldn’t resist. “Xiao Chen, why don’t you move down to the village? Worst case, you come up daily to make offerings to Grandpa Mountain Lord. The mountain’s too devoid of life. You’ve only been up there a few days, and you’re already ashen-faced. You’re a local—plenty of empty houses in the village. Few hundred bucks gets you a year’s rent.”
It was a solid idea, but some gut feeling told Chen Ji not to.
He couldn’t say why, but his instincts screamed no.
Those instincts had saved him plenty of times before. With a smile, he said, “I’m fine. It’s just the mountain chill plus overwork making me look peaky. Once things settle, a good rest will fix it.”
Uncle Liu tried persuading him a couple more times but dropped it when it didn’t take. After all, a temple warden was supposed to live in the Mountain Lord Temple to tend to Grandpa Mountain Lord—what kind of warden would that make him otherwise?
Once they reached the village, that cozy warmth intensified. Chen Ji felt like he was soaking in a warm bath, color returning to his cheeks. It was afternoon; plenty of elders still toiled in the fields. Only a gaggle of kids too young for school scampered about with the family dogs—the big yellows and big blacks— their laughter, shrieks, and parental scoldings blending into lively chaos.
Chen Ji usually hated the racket, but today it didn’t grate.
He was about to ask Uncle Liu where the village shop and express station were when an old man hurried over two steps at a time, face etched with worry. “Hey! Liu Er! What are you still doing here? Your mom’s so sick she can’t get out of bed! Hurry home and check on her!”
Uncle Liu thanked him and bolted toward home. Xiao Wang and Xiao Zhang, who worked under him, followed suit. Chen Ji trailed along to see if he could lend a hand.
The village was tiny. In under two minutes, they reached the house. The front gate hung open, wails echoing from inside. Uncle Liu dashed in, nearly tripping over the threshold. “Hua’er! What’s wrong with Mom?!”
