Chapter 403: Snow Mountain |
The bus doors hissed open, and the carriage full of corpses stirred. One by one, they rose to their feet, rigid as boards.
Clutching their own funerary urns and memorial portraits, they formed a line in the aisle and disembarked, one after the other.
Qi Si followed at the rear of the procession, stepping off through the back door.
The instant his feet touched the ground, the queued dead ahead of him vanished like mist. The other vehicles he'd seen moments before were also gone, as if they had been nothing more than a mirage.
Before him stood an ancient city, its colorful prayer flags fluttering in the wind. It rested spectacularly at the foot of a snow-capped mountain, its towering walls of white brick gleaming under the unobstructed light of the sky.
Outside the city, a dense carpet of kneeling corpses—both animal and human—covered the ground. Their heads were bent at a sharp ninety-degree angle, facing the earth. Qi Si couldn't help but wonder if the dead from the bus had just joined their ranks.
Lin Chen disembarked right after Qi Si. He stood calmly amidst the sea of bones, managing to maintain the serene composure expected of a guild leader.
Lu Li and Xu Yao were the next to step off the bus. One was neither human nor ghost, the other long dead; for them, this scene was as comfortable as a homecoming.
Lu Li surveyed their surroundings and adjusted his glasses. "I used to study folklore, and I've found that the image of the dead marching in procession appears in legends all over the world. In the East, you have tales of phantom armies and corpse herding. In the West, there's the Pied Piper of Hamelin. I wonder if it's some kind of omen the Ancestral God planted in the collective subconscious of all living things... And if you include post-nineteenth-century literature, the examples are endless."
Lu Li replied eloquently, "There are many novels that touch on this theme. For example, Poe's *The Premature Burial*, or Agatha Christie's *And Then There Were None*..."
Qi Si had no patience for the two non-human creatures' idle chatter. He quickened his pace, skirting the field of bones and heading straight for the city gate.
After just a few steps, he was overcome by an intense, prickling sensation of being watched, as if thousands of eyes were fixed upon him.
He glanced back, but all the corpses were identically posed—heads bowed, their empty sockets facing the ground in silent, solemn reverence.
A man in a red kasaya stood beside the city gate. He held a prayer wheel covered in runes in his right hand and a stark white flute in his left. Ornaments crafted from various bones dangled from his body.
His frame was so gaunt he looked like skin stretched taut over a skeleton. His head was dark and gleaming, and from within his sunken sockets, a pair of black eyes swiveled slowly to fixate on Qi Si. "You have finally arrived... The Holy City has awaited you for a long time..."
Lin Chen, who had stayed by Qi Si's side, stepped forward. "Who are you? And what do you mean, you've been 'waiting for a long time'?"
"Amitabha, I am your guide..." The man grinned, revealing a set of yellowed teeth. "The Mother God delivered an oracle in a dream last night. You are the chosen ones who have answered Her call. I will lead you to the heart of the Holy City to reside and bathe in the Mother God's grace."
The Ancestral God again... After they had become her declared enemy in the *Holy City* instance, this welcome was so transparently a trap it was practically written on their faces.
Considering they knew nothing about the main quest or the world's background, Qi Si offered a polite smile. "I've heard that all who come to Shangri-La receive eternal life. Is that true? What do we need to do?"
The guide shook his head. "You need to do nothing. There is no death here. Simply stay, never leave, and you will live forever, just as we do."
His voice was exceedingly low and slow, like a monk's prophetic utterance in a monastery, inspiring a deep-seated awe that dared not be defied.
Lin Chen asked impassively, "Can those on the verge of death also attain eternal life here? And what about the dead? Are they resurrected instantly?"
He had, after all, personally heard the dead on the bus say they had traveled all this way to be buried in the cemetery. If there was no death in Shangri-La, why would there be a cemetery?
"Those unfortunate enough not to have reached Shangri-La in life may still find sanctuary here after death," the guide explained, his lips parting in a grin that revealed waxy, yellow teeth. "They need only be buried in the cemetery for seven days, and then they can live in the Holy City as they did in life."
"Seven days" sounded like the instance's time limit. But with no main quest or any prior notice, the limit was meaningless. Lin Chen glanced at Qi Si, but received no signal.
The young man's head was slightly bowed, as if he hadn't heard the guide's words at all, lost in thought. His red cloak whipped about in the fierce wind, fluttering like a banner.
"It is time to enter the city. What you see and hear may answer your questions," the guide urged before turning slowly to lead the way.
The four players followed him into the ancient town.
As they passed through the city gate, it felt as though they had crossed an invisible barrier. The street stretched out before them, bustling with activity. Monks in kasayas and tourists in colorful attire milled about, their voices creating a constant hum.
A believer wrapped entirely in sackcloth knelt in the middle of the road, prostrating himself toward the snow mountain, his forehead striking the ground with a loud "thud" each time.
The road was lined with two-story wooden buildings. The ground floors housed businesses—restaurants, silversmiths, and, most numerous of all, shops selling Buddhist artifacts. A quick glance revealed prayer wheels, Buddha statues, and many other dark, unidentifiable objects.
The second floors were likely residences. Their windows were shut tight, but multicolored flowers squeezed through the cracks, cascading down the exterior walls. Colorful prayer flags were strung between the rooftops on either side, stretching across the sky above the street and fluttering like butterflies in the breeze.
The scene was clearly in motion, and the air was filled with noise, yet Qi Si found it strangely, unnervingly quiet. It felt like a cemetery on Memorial Day—no matter how many people came to pay their respects, an unshakable, chilling silence prevailed.
Listening more closely, he realized that no one, neither monk nor tourist, was speaking a single meaningful word. They were all chanting scriptures, the words indistinct, their voices low and hurried. The rhythms were chaotic and overlapping, creating a disquieting and oppressive drone that grew more unsettling the longer one listened.
From the moment he'd set foot in this land, Qi Si had been shrouded in an indefinable sense of unease. After meeting the guide, that feeling had sharpened, as if everything he saw was a lingering manifestation of the Ancestral God, a vengeful specter that refused to depart.
He faintly heard footsteps trailing him, always maintaining a distance of two paces, a persistent, shuffling sound that never ceased.
When he looked back, however, it was just a devout pilgrim, prostrating himself on the ground with each step. The feeling, it seemed, was just his own paranoia getting the better of him.
After another ten minutes of walking, a massive snow mountain appeared before them, stretching infinitely to either side.
The pure white of the snow filled his vision, momentarily wiping his mind blank. It became difficult to grasp his previous train of thought; all chaotic notions and impure desires were cleansed by nature's pristine creation.
At the foot of the mountain sat an inn-like wooden building, its architecture distinctly Tibetan. It had red pillars, yellow walls, and a white roof, with eaves painted in brilliant shades of blue and green, as vibrant as an oil painting.
The guide pointed a long finger toward the building, his voice filled with delight. "This is the place. You just need to stay here. They arrived long ago; you were the only ones missing."
Lu Li asked, "Who are 'they'? Other travelers? The four of us came together, and we don't know anyone else. Have you mistaken us for someone else?"
The guide only shook his head vigorously, a strange "heh heh" laugh escaping his lips, but offered no answer.
Qi Si led the way into the inn. As he stepped through the door, perhaps from the breeze he created, a white wind chime hanging above him began to swing wildly, emitting a dull clanging over his head. Lu Li spoke at that moment. "I'm suddenly reminded of a superstition. They say if you make a wind chime from the bones of the dead and hang it over a door, it will ring whenever a spirit passes by..."
The offhand comment seemed to carry an ominous weight. "Lu Li," Qi Si cut in, his voice flat, "I'm suddenly finding you a bit loud."
Lu Li chuckled and said no more. Beside him, Xu Yao murmured in disappointment, "I was actually quite curious to hear the rest of it..."
The guide led the four of them into the main hall where the other travelers were gathered. As promised, many people were already waiting. The room was full, men and women occupying the wooden sofas, creating a lively scene, as if they were all genuine tourists.
Most were strangers, but a few faces were familiar. Fu Jue and Say Dream sat together, and on another side was Jiang Junjue, his skin tinged with a faint green.
Fu Jue's face was pale with a trace of exhaustion, whether it was a lingering aftereffect of the *Holy City* instance or simply the result of running himself ragged in the real world these past few days.
He stared straight ahead, offering Qi Si and Lin Chen a slight nod of acknowledgment. He said nothing, remaining perfectly still, like a machine on standby or a silent statue.
Say Dream held a cigarette, seemingly debating whether to smoke it. When he saw Qi Si approach, he awkwardly put it away and sprayed a bit of cologne on his face.
Jiang Junjue, however, had already lit his cigarette. He puffed away without a care in the world, the smoke curling around him as he blinked rapidly, as if trying to soothe his nerves.
Qi Si's gaze fell on him, and two seconds later, a line of text materialized over his face: [This player has used the item "Water Mirror Mask." As this is not your first encounter with this player, their true appearance is being displayed to you.]
Qi Si understood. Jiang Junjue had most likely survived the *Red Maple Boarding School* instance through some less-than-legitimate means, forcing him to appear in public under a different identity.
However, given the properties of the Water Mirror Mask, the fact that he was still alive was probably no secret to the upper echelons of the Kyushu and Listening Wind guilds. This whole charade was likely just to fool the general public.
Standing next to Jiang Junjue was a female player in camouflage gear with a buzz cut. Qi Si had seen her at the guild assembly and remembered her name was Li Yunyang, the holder of the [Immortal Witch Priest] card. She had spent some time at the top of the newcomer rankings but had always kept a low profile.
A quick count revealed four identity card holders in the inn: two from the Unnamed Guild and two from the Kyushu and Listening Wind alliance. The numbers seemed balanced.
But if you included sub-cards... aside from the four newcomers, the dozen or so other people in the inn were all from Kyushu and Listening Wind.
It made sense, he mused. Cards like [Fallen Savior] and [Immortal Witch Priest] sounded like they would come with a host of lesser cards...
The guide left after bringing them in, and the four found seats.
A girl with a ponytail and freckles saw Lu Li and became agitated. "Lu Li? Aren't you dead? What the hell is going on?"
She started to rise from the sofa, but Li Yunyang held her down. Her expression remained indignant. "You really fooled all of us... Kyushu's reputation started going downhill because of you!"
Lu Li had once been a prominent member of Kyushu, so it was no surprise he was attracting attention.
Before Lu Li could answer, Qi Si looked at Jiang Junjue and smiled. "The Final Instance never said the dead weren't allowed to participate. If there's some rule I'm unaware of, feel free to clarify it now."
Fu Jue replied coolly, "There's no such rule."
But the girl was a loudmouth, seemingly deaf to Fu Jue's subtext. She continued to blabber on, "What are you trying to say? Is your Unnamed Guild openly siding with the Sila Guild now? That whole business in the *Hopeless Sea* instance, don't tell me you staged it yourselves?"
Fu Jue and Qi Si's cooperation was clandestine. On the surface, the Kyushu and Unnamed guilds had only recently reached a truce and were still in a fragile, post-conflict phase. Open hostility was not entirely out of place.
But every player who made it to the Final Instance was a handpicked elite. Even the most socially inept among them wouldn't be foolish enough to bypass their own leader and immediately antagonize another guild.
Lin Chen didn't know if this confrontation was orchestrated solely by Fu Jue or if it was something he and Qi Si had tacitly agreed upon. Regardless, as the president of his guild, he had to respond now that the fire was at his doorstep.
He glanced at the female player who had started the trouble, a faint, unreadable smile on his lips. "I've always found that how one judges a situation without knowing the full picture says a lot about their own perspective. Why couldn't it be that we're answering the call for unity, burying the hatchet with a former rival?"
His gaze shifted to Fu Jue, who sat composed on the wooden sofa. The message couldn't have been clearer: the peace talks at the Sunset Ruins had happened in full view of everyone. It made no sense to turn on each other the moment they entered an instance.
Some in the room knew more of the hidden truths, while others, though less informed, could sense the complex undercurrents. The atmosphere in the hall instantly grew heavy.
It was only their first day in Shangri-La, all of them brought here under the guise of travelers. No one was certain what cards the others held, or how much of their power remained.
Lin Chen and Qi Si's fearless attitude was a mix of bluff and confidence, making it impossible to read. For the moment, no one dared to press the issue further.
"President Lin, Vice President Si Qi, long time no see, haha! Have you eaten this morning?" Say Dream broke the silence, clumsily changing the subject. "Ah, well, I haven't either. I just blinked and ended up in the instance. Pretty sudden, huh?"
"We arrived about ten minutes before you. We'd just gone to sleep last night and woke up on a bus today, then got driven all the way here."
"Was it the same for you? Looks like most everyone is here. How about we pool our clues?"
Lin Chen replied evenly, "Our situation was much the same. The guide told us on the way that the dead can gain eternal life by being buried in the cemetery for seven days."
"We heard that too," Say Dream confirmed with a nod. "The dead from all over the world come here to be buried in the snow mountain. They say if you look at the mountain at dawn, you can see a blanket of little black dots, which are all the bodies buried underneath."
Lin Chen nodded and said no more. As curious as he was about the main quest, he wasn't about to make the foolish mistake of asking about it publicly and exposing his own lack of information.
But Say Dream unwittingly continued, "By the way, do you know what the main quest is? We haven't seen any sign of a system interface since we got here. You?"
"Same for us," Qi Si said. "Let's stay here for the night and search the rooms on the second floor. Something new might turn up after dark."
"Makes sense," Jiang Junjue chimed in. "I reckon all the outside travelers are meant to stay at this inn. If we search carefully tonight, we might find some relics—or ghosts—of previous guests."
As if to confirm his words, the sky outside, once bright, began to dim. Perhaps because of the high altitude, Qi Si felt that night fell unusually early here, and the days were unnervingly short.
An old man in traditional Tibetan clothing emerged from behind the counter carrying a basin of rice. He placed it on a low table in the center of the hall, his toothless mouth opening and closing. "Time to eat. Everyone, help yourselves."