Chapter 265: Living Entrance |
The man did not turn his head, he simply raised one hand and lightly pressed down on the black altar.
The yellow cloth over the altar mouth immediately sagged by an inch, as if something inside had been pushed down by his touch.
Lu Yuan’s gaze narrowed.
This man’s technique was steady. He was not the kind of reckless worshipper from perverse ways; he looked more like someone who understood the rites properly, only that his methods and heart had gone astray.
“Who are you?”
Lu Yuan asked in a deep voice.
The man chuckled softly, almost without weight:
“The one who guards the altar.”
“You may call me Iron Abacus.”
The three words left his mouth and Lu Yuan’s brow instantly tightened.
On the old road beyond the Great Wall, Iron Abacus was rarely a personal name; it was a title.
Someone who knew grain, knew measure, knew discretion, who kept the accounts of matters in his hands.
But once such a figure sat before an evil altar, it wasn’t accounting anymore, it was reckoning fate.
Lu Yuan didn’t take the bait and simply asked:
“Whose altar are you guarding?”
Iron Abacus slowly turned the string of prayer beads in his hand, his voice even:
“An altar is an altar.”
“An offering is an offering.”
“You ask too many particulars, not good.”
Lu Yuan sneered coldly, “Afraid I’ll find out?”
Iron Abacus replied:
“Afraid you don’t understand.”
“Those who understand, bow when they enter. Those who don’t, die when they enter.”
“You being able to come this far shows you have some skill.”
“So I’ll leave you a way out.”
After saying that, he finally tilted his face a little.
His face didn’t fully turn, revealing only half a jaw and one eye.
That eye was terribly cloudy, the sclera yellowed, the pupil as thin as a needle.
A deep wrinkle ran from the eye’s corner, like the groove left by years of frowning.
He looked at Lu Yuan and said slowly:
“Leave the copper coin you have.”
“As for you, if you’re willing to retreat, I’ll let you go down the mountain in peace.”
Lu Yuan didn’t look at the others, he only stared at Iron Abacus:
“You pick well.”
“Too bad for me, I least like leaving things behind.”
Iron Abacus smiled faintly:
“Then you’ll have to trade your life for the road.”
No sooner had the words fallen than a very fine knocking sound came from inside the black altar.
As if something inside had lightly scratched the altar mouth.
Iron Abacus’s hand paused slightly, then he pushed the prayer beads more slowly, as though clamping down on the little restlessness inside the altar.
Lu Yuan immediately realized.
There was something unsettled in that altar.
Not an inanimate object.
Something being fed.
And it had nearly learned to recognize people.
He stopped wasting words on Iron Abacus. With a wrist flip, he drew a small talisman from his sleeve. With a flick of his finger, the talisman fell to the ground steadily at his feet.
“Lin Zhaoxuan, three steps left.”
“Zhou Heng, fall back to the doorway.”
“Song Qinghe, guard the lamp.”
“Wang Cheng’an, Xu Erxiao, stick to the wall, do not move.”
They followed his orders at once.
Iron Abacus’s smile slowly faded when he saw this.
“You intend to raise the altar?”
Lu Yuan snorted coldly:
“Not to raise it.”
“To dismantle your guard altar.”
Having said that, he stomped once. The talisman at his foot ignited and produced a curl of azure smoke.
As the smoke rose, Lu Yuan brought his right hand’s fingers together and pointed at his own brow, shouting in a low voice:
“I borrow heaven’s fire, not the yin lamp.”
“I borrow rightful name, not perverse offerings.”
“An altar has an altar master, a name has its root.”
“Today I ask you, who is behind the gate.”
“Urgently, urgently, as by the law’s command, shine!”
On the final word “shine,” the azure smoke suddenly twisted and surged straight at the black altar.
The three small bowls in front of the altar trembled at once; the grains of rice, salt dust, and black soil all rolled outward in a circle, as if lifted by some invisible wind.
Iron Abacus’s face finally changed.
“You dare to shine on the altar root?”
Lu Yuan’s gaze was cold and severe:
“I will not only shine, I will see what you feed it with.”
When the azure smoke hit the yellow cloth over the altar mouth, the cloth seemed to come alive and the corner bulged fiercely.
Immediately beneath the cloth came a sharp, piercing cry.
Not a human cry.
Like a child or a bird.
All the round mirrors in the empty chamber trembled at once. The reflections in the mirrors began to recoil as if startled.
Iron Abacus leapt to his feet, flicked his sleeve, and slapped the prayer beads onto the altar rim with a sharp crack.
“Contain!”
At that command, the red cords around the black altar snapped taut, the copper bells on the wooden frames began to ring in a chaotic, piercing clatter, as if trying to cut the listeners’ ears.
Lu Yuan did not retreat but advanced. He tossed the copper coin he held, aiming at the black soil in the three bowls before the altar.
“Ting!”
The black soil fractured in a thin puff of smoke.
At the same time, the yellow cloth over the altar mouth was suddenly forced up a corner, revealing a strip of ghastly white—
like a finger.
Like a knuckle.
But it only showed for an instant before Iron Abacus pressed it back with a single motion.
Lu Yuan’s expression immediately deepened.
“The altar is not feeding a god.”
“It’s feeding a thing.”
“A living thing.”
Iron Abacus’s face was ashen. He stared at him hard:
“Now that you’ve seen it, don’t expect to walk out whole.”
Lu Yuan didn’t reply. He signaled behind him with his hand and barked:
“Keep the lamps steady, don’t let them go out!”
Song Qinghe immediately lifted the oil lamp higher; Zhou Heng hurried to shield the drafts.
Lin Zhaoxuan stepped forward two paces, the Thunderclap Token in his hand charged and ready.
At that moment, the mirror that had been watching quietly behind the black altar unexpectedly lit up.
What the mirror reflected was not the empty chamber.
It showed a deeper, longer mountain path.
At the end of the path stood a half-ruined old temple, its gate crooked.
The layers of altars, cellars, doors, mirrors, and ropes in the mountain were all fed from the same source; every thread only led toward the Malevolent Deity, never anywhere else.
He drew his sight back and stared at the black altar, his voice controlled and steady:
“A reflection from the mirror isn’t the root.”
“The root lies under this altar.”
Iron Abacus, who had already slightly turned his face, now turned a bit further back, as if watching Lu Yuan and the altar behind him at the same time.
“You see clearly,” he croaked.
“But seeing clearly is useless.”
“What is being offered here is not something you can dismantle.”
Lu Yuan scoffed and asked:
“What is being offered?”
Iron Abacus was silent for two breaths, then he smiled, a smile without warmth:
“You come through the gate and still ask for the god’s name?”
“The moment the god’s name is spoken, you acknowledge the road.”
Lu Yuan’s gaze didn’t waver:
“Since the road is acknowledged, you should be clearer.”
As he spoke, he casually pulled out three more small talismans from his pouch, pinched them between his fingers, and with a light shake let them fall in a triangular arrangement in front of the black altar.
Lin Zhaoxuan understood his intention at once. He stepped left, clenched the token to suppress evil, ready to respond.
Zhou Heng and Song Qinghe held their breath. Wang Cheng’an and Xu Erxiao stayed glued to the wall, their eyes fixed on the scene, not daring to interfere.
Seeing Lu Yuan adopt a posture to suppress the altar, Iron Abacus’s face darkened further.
“You really intend to overturn this altar?”
Lu Yuan raised his chin slightly:
“I intend to cut off its offerings.”
Iron Abacus’s voice dropped lower:
“You can cut it off?”
“This mountain, this road, these cellars, these mirrors have long been fed and ripened.”
“You may sever it for a while today, but tomorrow someone else will come to renew it.”
Lu Yuan replied coldly:
“Then we’ll sever all possible renewals at once.”
He finished speaking and had already formed a seal with his left hand. His right hand pressed the copper coin sharply to the ground.
The moment the coin touched the floor, the wooden floor of the chamber seemed to twitch.
All the copper bells hung on the wooden frames erupted into a chaotic chorus. The red cords snapped tight, and the figures in the round mirrors wavered in an instant.
Iron Abacus finally changed his expression and barked:
“Rise!”
Before his voice finished, the rice, salt, and black soil in the three small bowls around the black altar simultaneously gave off a thin layer of smoke.
The smoke was pale but tinged with bluish-black, like the chill air rummaged up from a tomb.
When the azure smoke surged out, a damp, sweet, metallic stench filled the empty chamber.
Lu Yuan did not retreat but advanced, intoning low:
“The altar has an altar bone, the qi has a gate.”
“If the bone is twisted, the qi cannot dwell.”
“I take copper as bone, talismans as gate.”
“I borrow a breath of your yin wind to send you back to the tomb.”
On the words “send you back to the tomb,” the three talismans ignited simultaneously.
The flame was small yet blue-white, like burning paper, like glowing bone.
When the azure flames flared, they licked the rim of the black altar. The circle of white hemp rope on the altar rattled in a very fine sizzling sound, as if being scalded, pulling back.
Seeing this, Iron Abacus suddenly reached out and pressed down on the altar mouth, while his other hand swiftly drew a handful of black glutinous rice from his sleeve and tossed it toward Lu Yuan’s face.
Lu Yuan had already anticipated the move and dodged to the side. The glutinous rice brushed past his ear and struck the round mirror, exploding into a string of tiny sparks.
“You’ve been offering too long, even your techniques have gone moldy,” Lu Yuan said coldly.
A twitch moved Iron Abacus’s face, but he said nothing. He abruptly stamped his foot on the ground.
With that stomp, the two wooden frames in the chamber’s corners slid forward as if they had been released from some catch.
When the frames moved, the paper banners hanging from them unfurled with a rustle. The reverse sides of the banners all bore the same pattern.
Not talismans, not deity portraits.
A single massive eye.
Its tail was long and narrow, the pupil dark at the center, as if it was staring and yet the entire chamber itself was its eyelid.
Lu Yuan saw the pattern clearly. His expression grew ever colder.
“Eye offering.”
He murmured low:
“They use mirrors, banners, bells, and cords to nurture an eye.”
Hearing this, Lin Zhaoxuan flung his suppression talisman and slapped it onto the nearest round mirror. The figure inside the mirror convulsed; a low wailing sob issued from it.
Song Qinghe’s face went white with fright, but she steadied the oil lamp, not daring let the flame die.
At that moment, the faint scratching sound from inside the black altar that had been suppressed earlier suddenly rose again.
Thud.
Like something inside was knocking, slowly striking through thick layers of wood and earth.
Iron Abacus’s pupils constricted and he hissed:
“Don’t let it wake!”
Lu Yuan’s gaze sharpened like a knife as he looked at the yellow cloth covering the altar mouth.
The cloth bulged even more violently, and the edge of the cloth showed a little wet sheen, not like water but like sweat.
The altar wasn’t holding a dead thing.
It held a living entrance.
And that living entrance was nearly pushing itself out.
Lu Yuan no longer hesitated. He abruptly drew the final earth-subduing talisman from his sleeve with his right hand, pinched the copper coin with his left, stepped half a pace forward, and shouted:
“The altar mouth has a mouth, I seal your mouth first.”
“The altar heart has a heart, I sever your heart first.”
“You borrow the human body, I borrow a heavenly nail.”
“If you’re to be born, you’ll pass over my life first!”
He flung the earth-subduing talisman and stuck it directly on the yellow cloth covering the altar mouth.
“Smack!”
The moment the talisman landed, an ear-piercing screech issued from beneath the yellow cloth.
The sound did not seem to come from the altar itself, but from even deeper— from within the mountain’s belly, the vein, the lowest parts of the yin channels— a shriek so sharp it made the bones in one’s ear ache.
All the round mirrors in the empty chamber went dark at once.
Iron Abacus’s face turned completely gray. He lunged toward the altar rim, pressing his hands down hard and grit his teeth as he shouted in a changed voice:
“It’s not time yet!”
Lu Yuan looked at him, his eyes cold and devoid of warmth:
“So you do know what’s inside.”
Iron Abacus lifted his head. For the first time, a flash of panic showed in his cloudy eyes:
“What use is knowing?”
“Do you think you’re fighting me?”
“You’re fighting the last breath of this place.”
Lu Yuan no longer paid attention to Iron Abacus. He pointed to the four corners of the chamber.
“Lin Zhaoxuan, sever the cords.”
“Zhou Heng, seal the mirrors.”
“Song Qinghe, guard the lamp.”
“Wang Cheng’an, Xu Erxiao, go to the back and move those three basins aside, don’t let it regain breath.”
Wang Cheng’an and Xu Erxiao immediately obeyed and hurried around to the side and rear, honestly going to move the three black earthen basins.
They did not seek credit or add chaos; they simply did the peripheral work, exactly what Lu Yuan wanted.
Lin Zhaoxuan had already clenched a short blade and leaned forward to cut the nearest red cord.
When the red cord was severed, the bells on the wooden frame instantly lost some of their momentum, the bell tones dissipating halfway.
Zhou Heng grabbed the remaining yellow papers from his bag and quickly plastered them over the surface of a round mirror.
Once the person in the mirror was suppressed, the oppressive feeling of “being watched” in the chamber immediately lessened.
Lu Yuan seized the opening. He planted his foot hard on the copper coin embedded in the floor. Borrowing the tremor transmitted through the coin, he let out a low, resounding shout:
“Evil deities eat offerings; first they eat the road.”
“Cut the road, the offering is cut.”
“Cut the offering, the altar flips.”
“When the altar flips, the one hiding below must be exposed!”
On the final word “exposed,” the black altar convulsed violently.
The yellow cloth bulged high from an inner force. The thing beneath the cloth finally pushed itself open half an inch.
A pale, thin finger shot out, its knuckles wrapped in blackened red cord. The nail was long, thin, and blade-like, clawing straight toward Lu Yuan.
Lu Yuan’s gaze sharpened. With his right hand he slashed the copper coin horizontally.
“Ting!”
The coin struck that finger.
With a crisp sound, the hand withdrew violently, and the altar emitted a restrained, angry panting, as if something inside had been hurt and enraged.
Iron Abacus gripped the altar rim hard, his voice altered:
“You woke it!”
Lu Yuan stood his ground, his expression even steadier:
“Good that it woke.”
“I came here to meet it.”
He looked up at the black altar and slowly breathed:
“This road you feed ends today.”
The black altar did not reply immediately.
But the whole underground chamber began to emit an even deeper chill, as if something down below was rolling over.
This time, it wasn’t only the altar guard and gatekeepers present.
The one truly being fed had heard him.
After Lu Yuan’s words fell, the churning cold from the altar did not dissipate but seemed to deepen at being challenged by his “ends today.”
The pale finger that had earlier probed out had withdrawn, but the white hemp ropes around the altar began to tighten one by one, the knots giving faint creaks.
It sounded like something inside slowly rolling over, its palm bones pushing to press on the cloth layer.
Iron Abacus’s face grew ashen. His hands still pressed on the altar rim, and his voice was low and urgent:
“If it wakes fully, no one can hold it down here.”
Lu Yuan looked at the altar mouth, his gaze steady:
“Then don’t let it wake fully.”
He turned his head and surveyed the scene.
Lin Zhaoxuan had already cut two red cords, Zhou Heng had half-covered the mirrors, Song Qinghe steadied the oil lamp; the flame flickered but did not go out.
“Cheng’an, Erxiao.”
He said in a low voice:
“You two, one on each side, press down the rims of those two basins.”
“Remember, don’t touch the water in the basin, only press the rim.”
“If the basin lifts, the breath will rise.”
Wang Cheng’an and Xu Erxiao immediately nodded, their movements decisive, without hesitation.
Wang Cheng’an squatted first on the left and placed his hand on the rim of the black earthen basin. The moment his palm landed, a cold draft shot up his wrist.
He frowned but did not groan. He breathed low:
“The bottom of the basin is giving off breath.”
Lu Yuan immediately ordered:
“Press it down.”
Xu Erxiao squatted on the right. Just as his hand touched the basin rim, his face paled noticeably.
“Brother Lu, should I move the basin a little so it won’t eat the breath from the basin mouth?”
Lu Yuan said:
“You can’t move it.”
“If you move it, it becomes an opening.”
“Just press down with your whole weight. Don’t give it a gasp.”
The words were blunt, but they steadied Xu Erxiao.
He sank his shoulders and forced his weight down, forcibly suppressing the upward thrust from the basin bottom.
Wang Cheng’an glanced at the yellow cloth in front of the altar and lowered his voice:
“Brother Lu, the thing in that altar isn’t a dead object, it’s a living mouth?”
“I just heard someone inside gasping.”