The sun had set behind the western mountains, and tonight, the sky resembled oil-soaked paper—translucent and dotted with countless shimmering stars.
Yan Ku and Wu Boshan hurried toward the River God Temple. After escorting the villagers back, they learned that a group of passing cultivators had clashed the day before, collapsing many of the village’s houses.
They helped rescue people from the rubble and tended to the injured. Fortunately, the village houses were simple structures, and the villagers’ injuries weren’t severe. Still, the back-and-forth had taken much longer than expected.
“Whew, we’re almost there,” Yan Ku exhaled, adjusting the basket on his back filled with herbs he had gathered along the way. He planned to brew them into medicine tomorrow and bring them back to the villagers.
“Lately, more and more people have been coming to the River of Forgetfulness.”
He had hidden in this place for years and rarely encountered other cultivators. Yet, the number he’d seen in just this short period surpassed what he’d come across in over a decade.
Wu Boshan grunted in agreement, then said with certainty, “There will be even more in the future.”
He paused before adding, “Once the River God Temple is restored, it’ll be the most magnificent and grand…” His words cut off abruptly as he stumbled mid-step. His mouth fell open, and he rubbed his eyes hard, but the sight before him didn’t vanish.
“Where’s the River God Temple?! What is that?!”
Yan Ku was equally stunned, frozen in place, staring in disbelief.
The golden gate was gone. In its place was a pitch-black cloth floating eerily in the air, swaying slightly in the wind.
Even more bizarre, the moss-covered, mottled walls had turned pitch-black. Was it his imagination, or were they… moving?
From inside the walls, faint, shrill laughter occasionally drifted out, sending chills down their spines.
Wait—the sign still said “River God Temple.” How had it turned into a haunted house?!
“Baobei!” Wu Boshan snapped out of his daze and bolted toward the temple like a madman, shouting at the top of his lungs, “Baobei!”
His voice pierced the sky, startling flocks of birds into flight and causing Ye Wenshu—who had been squatting by the inner gate as a human “stone lion”—to look up in confusion.
What was that noise?
The next second, the gate was kicked open with a BANG, sending Ye Wenshu flying.
Ye Wenshu: ???
His cheek slid across the cold, luxurious spirit stone floor, and for the first time in his life, he experienced such intimate contact with so many spirit stones. Moved to tears, he let out a heated sob.
Was this the power of spirit stones?
It hurt so much!
Dazed, he lifted his head, only to be blinded by an intense light. He sucked in a sharp breath—had he damaged his brain from the fall?!
Hesitantly, he touched his head. Strangely, his first thought was: Would the River God think he’s useless now and dismiss him from gatekeeping duty?
Wait—where was the gate?!
He turned his head, and the blinding light stabbed into his eyes. Ye Wenshu froze.
“My ancestors! What is this?! Am I going blind?!”
“Wait—my ancestors! Did I damage my eyes too?!”
Unlike Ye Wenshu’s confusion, everyone else—except those who had seen the golden gate before—was awestruck by the light. Their jaws dropped so wide they could’ve fit a fist inside. No one had expected such a sight beneath that black cloth.
“Good heavens, this gate… it’s blinding!” One of Mu Chao’s servants forced his eyes open and clicked his tongue in admiration. “Is it made of gold?”
“So majestic!”
“Only a gate like this could match a spirit stone-paved ground.”
Earlier, they had scoffed at the idea of a rundown temple using spirit stones for flooring—like putting gold trim on an outhouse. Now, they realized how narrow-minded they’d been. This was a perfect match!
Mu Chao, however, grew even more uneasy. Though Sister Yuan had assured him the seed was always meant to be like this, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had caused its mutation—and that she was just being kind.
But now, seeing how extravagant her gate was, he needed to find a better thank-you gift.
The female cultivators from the Tianji Sect shared the same thought. Luo Qiushui had assumed the spirit stones they prepared were a generous enough gesture—but compared to this gate, they seemed pitifully inadequate.
Anxious, they exchanged glances and sighed inwardly.
Yuan Ji sighed too. She had expected this.
Rubbing her throbbing temples, she flicked her fingers, and the black cloth fluttered back into place, mercifully dimming the blinding light.
“System, can’t we return this gate?”
The System shook its head helplessly. “The System Mall has never accepted returns before.”
“However—” Its eyes suddenly lit up. “If you exchange for the lighthouse, this gate won’t be the brightest thing anymore!”
Ah, yes. Then the entire River of Forgetfulness would never experience night again, and the gate would indeed no longer be the brightest.
Yuan Ji gave a strained smile and muttered, “How brilliant of you.”
Shifting her attention back to the courtyard, she watched as Wu Boshan’s panic escalated and barked sharply:
“Wu Boshan, calm down!”
The command was like a bucket of ice water dumped over his head. Wu Boshan snapped back to his senses, the forming demonic energy around him instantly dissipating.
“River God! Where—where’s Baobei?”
“Boshan, I’m here.” Fang Mingzhu hurried over from the backyard. “You’re back—are you hurt?”
Seeing her safe and sound, Wu Boshan finally relaxed, gripping her tightly as if she might vanish if he let go. The affectionate display made the gentle Fang Mingzhu blush, and she lightly patted his arm before quickly explaining what had happened. “Why did it take you so long?”
Yuan Ji also wanted to know what had delayed them. Her scrutinizing gaze bore into them.
Wu Boshan had been tainted by demonic energy.
“River God, let me explain.” Yan Ku, calmer than Wu Boshan, recounted the events in the village.
As soon as he finished, Mu Dezhong, an elder of the Mu family, shot to his feet, his voice trembling.
“Tell me—was one of them one-eyed and thin?”
Yan Ku thought back to the villagers’ descriptions. “Most villagers hid in their cellars, too afraid to watch. They only glimpsed a group chasing one person.”
Mu Dezhong fell silent for a long moment before swallowing hard. “Thank you.”
“Uncle Zhong… do you think it was Xiao Chuan?” Mu Chao’s voice was hoarse.
The cryptic exchange left Yan Ku puzzled. “Do you two believe one of those cultivators was your ‘Xiao Chuan’?”
Mu Dezhong nodded. After a moment’s hesitation—and noticing Yuan Ji’s expectant gaze—he finally confessed, “Xiao Chuan is my adopted son, Yue Tianchuan.”
“The poor boy lost an eye as a child when he fell into a beast’s den. His parents died on a mission, so I took him in.”
“He came with me this time, but we were ambushed. He led the assassins away and never came back…”
His voice grew quieter, his frame shrinking as if aged a decade in moments.
A somber mood settled over the courtyard.
Yuan Ji tapped the stone table with her fingers. “Ye Wenshu.”
“Yes! I’m here!” Ye Wenshu scrambled to respond. “What does the River God command?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Find out where—” She glanced at Mu Dezhong, prompting him.
“Xiao Chuan! Yue Tianchuan! His name is Yue Tianchuan!” Mu Dezhong’s throat tightened, his heartbeat deafening. He stared at Yuan Ji with desperate hope.
“Find Yue Tianchuan’s location. You can do that, can’t you?” Yuan Ji’s smile was faint, but it sent a shiver down Ye Wenshu’s spine.
“I won’t disappoint you, River God!” Ye Wenshu declared confidently. As a living compass, tracking a person was child’s play.
He closed his eyes and performed a quick divination. Under the eager gazes of the group, he grinned. “No need to worry, River God. Yue Tianchuan will arrive at the temple by midnight tonight.”
“Really?!” Mu Dezhong’s face lit up. He grabbed Ye Wenshu’s hands, too moved to speak.
“Of course! I’m the Divine Calculator!” Ye Wenshu boasted shamelessly.
Amused, Yuan Ji leaned back in her bamboo chair, casually twirling a spirit stone between her fingers. She arched a brow at the group. “Go rest.”
With that, she closed her eyes, seemingly dozing off. The dappled shadows of the trees played across her face, easing the tension in the air.
Huang Li was the first to react, swiftly claiming the spot closest to Yuan Ji to meditate.
One by one, the others followed—except for Mu Dezhong, who remained outside, keeping watch. Soon, the small courtyard was packed, though everyone kept a wary distance from the “walls.”
No one wanted to wake up missing a limb to a hungry fence.
Silence enveloped the River God Temple. Thanks to the walls, not even insects dared to chirp.
The wind rustled the trees, and the night deepened.
Yue Tianchuan clutched his bleeding arm, teeth gritted as he sprinted toward the River God Temple. In the darkness, an intense light shone in the distance—perhaps his adoptive father was there.
Was it a mirage? He could’ve sworn he saw him.
Yue Tianchuan dashed forward, and to his shock, Mu Dezhong embraced him with equal joy.
“Xiao Chuan!”
“Father!”
Mu Dezhong was overjoyed. The River God’s subordinate had been right!
He hurriedly ushered Yue Tianchuan inside, careful not to disturb the black cloth, whispering updates along the way.
Neither noticed the shadowy figures silently trailing behind them.
Inside the temple, Yuan Ji’s eyes snapped open. She pocketed the spirit stone she’d been toying with, a smirk playing on her lips.
The show was about to begin.
The quiet walls suddenly shot upward, countless branches stretching high. Their leaves glinted ominously in the dark.
Then—screams erupted, one after another.
