Author: 年终 / Nian Zhong

Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/

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Chapter 137: Before the Calamity

The sky gradually brightened. The mountain fire burned fiercer, smoke rolling thick through the air.

After a full night of turmoil, the disaster victims were groggy with exhaustion. The less particular ones found an empty patch of ground and curled up, falling asleep quickly. Those with more dignity crowded near Zhuang Guiqu’s tent, hoping to catch a glimpse of the living immortal.

Zhuang Guiqu still didn’t appear. Zhuang Feng led the soldiers in distributing food, water, and medicine. People bowed repeatedly toward the elegant tent, faces streaked with dirt and tears.

A’Shou quietly slipped into a corner, faint ghost flames flickering between her fingers. Her expression shifted from focused to grave, and at last she closed her eyes in frustration.

The Immortal Encounter E really lived up to the name of “encountering an Immortal”. Its power surpassed even hers by a margin. A’Shou tried testing the surroundings in secret but she couldn’t even connect to the Underworld from here.

In other words, even if Fang Xiu died here as a sacrifice, she, a ghost immortal, couldn’t escape of her own will.

Now she finally understood why this thing had been locked inside the Dust Sealed E’s and sealed for five hundred years. The previous warden must have thought an ordinary Underworld envoy couldn’t handle it, but they had no idea it was this dangerous.

“I can’t find a way to forcibly exit,” she whispered to Fang Xiu. “This place is nearly identical to a real-world ritual. We’d better move farther away…”

Fang Xiu nodded lightly, but didn’t leave. Instead, he narrowed his eyes at the spreading fire.

The air was damp, yet the wildfire moved far too fast. The wind blew straight into the depths of the mountains, and the smoke and flames blotted out the sky. Birds and beasts fled in panic. Villagers sobbed and cursed on the land that had once been their home.

“With this, you are all truly free now.” Not far off, Zhuang Feng was handing out sweet soup. “There’s no need for grief. Your fallen homes will fulfill merit. Those who passed can be reunited with in death.”

“Master will pray and bless you. Once the fire is out, the land will be more fertile. Next year’s harvest will be bountiful.”

His demeanor was calm, his voice utterly sincere. The survivors bowed again to the beautiful tent, grateful tears cutting clean lines through mud-covered cheeks.

The black Taoist finally passed the child in his arms to a village elder, then scooped up a bowl of sweet soup. Blowing on the steam, he downed most of it in one go.

“Ahh, that hits the spot!” he sighed, wiping his mouth roughly. He craned his neck toward Fang Xiu. “Brother, got any more of those pastries?”

“Where are you headed next?” Fang Xiu asked as he handed him two more pastries, watching as the Taoist scarfed them down.

“We’ll see. This place’s no good anymore. Have to find somewhere new,” the man replied. “Once we’ve sorted everything, we’ll head down the mountain together.”

“Yeah, this place isn’t fit for living. It’ll take years to recover. It burned too badly,” Fang Xiu agreed warmly.

“Exactly. We only stayed because of the temple. To be honest, ordinary folks just want to survive. Now the temple’s smashed and the fire’s done, it’s all up to us.”

The Taoist showed a crooked smile, his teeth jagged and uneven.

“Speaking of the fire… When the wishes stopped working, someone lit a fire before, but nothing this big or in this spot.”

A’Shou frowned deeply as she listened. She glanced over the survivors. They now had enough food and water and were basking in the sunrise. Some had already switched the suona to a more cheerful tune, trying to restore a hopeful atmosphere.

Only the charred trees remained stuck in cracked earth, resembling corpses. The flames crawled away, and a strange tranquility filled the air. The sound of burning overwhelmed the wind, making the ruins seem peaceful.

Like the calm before the storm.

“This fire burned for forty-nine days. I’ve heard the God of Calamity descended three days after it started. Nearly no one survived.” A’Shou added in a low voice, “All nearby spirits were destroyed. No human word reached outside. No one knows how it acts… I didn’t expect Zhuang Guiqu himself to be here.”

Fang Xiu gave a soft hum and stared at the tent for a long time.

…From beginning to end, Zhuang Guiqu never showed himself.

With the endless incense and grateful followers, that collapsed shrine no longer felt like a sacred place. The tent had taken its role instead.

The rest of the day passed in busy work. Some villagers dug for buried valuables; others held funerals. One body after another was recovered. The smoky scent of scorched vegetation never left the air. The rescued child kept crying in hoarse sobs between short naps.

After unearthing another corpse, the black Taoist wiped his brow.

He broke off a twig and wove it into a grasshopper for the child, who blinked at it and finally calmed down for a moment.

“Let’s head down,” the Taoist said to a fellow villager. “There’s a spot farther down with good fengshui and sheltered from wind. We can get there by midday.”

“Master Zhuang said we can’t leave!” The villager quickly shook his head. “He’s praying for us three days and nights. If we leave, it’ll ruin the whole thing.”

The Taoist paused, blurting out, “This… Can’t we pray somewhere else?”

Even if the God of Calamity didn’t attack again, this mud-covered place was filthy and unsafe. Dirty water, rotting corpses, suffocating air—none of it bearable. He wasn’t a proper cultivator, but even he knew prayers should be done somewhere safe.

It was odd. Staying in this place for three days of prayer felt as off as burying bodies before they were cold.

“They’ve already started the rituals. If we leave now, it’ll ruin the merit.” The villager’s wife chimed in. “That’s a living immortal we’re talking about. Someone you might never meet again in your life.”

“Exactly. He even set up a tent here. We’ll be fine.”

The reasoning was persuasive. The Taoist fell silent.

Several other elders who’d shared his doubts also gave up on leaving once they heard about Zhuang Guiqu’s blessings.

Bai Shuangying remained silent, quietly observing the soot-smeared survivors. His pale eyes didn’t blink once.

Soon, night fell again.

Spells lit a ring of candles around Zhuang Guiqu’s tent. Their glow filtered through the smoke, soft and sacred. The mountain fire still burned in the distance like a shattered sun.

Fang Xiu tugged Bai Shuangying into a secluded corner for a “feeding” session involving lips and tongue. He ran his fingers gently through Bai Shuangying’s hair while the ghost tightly embraced his human’s waist. A’Shou flatly refused to watch, stalking off alone to fume by the fire.

After about ten minutes, Fang Xiu was the one to end the kiss. Bai Shuangying, usually eager and intense during these moments, had been uncharacteristically calm today, so calm it didn’t feel like him.

“Something on your mind?” Fang Xiu asked.

Instead of the usual “hm?” Bai Shuangying just looked at him in silence.

“This.” Fang Xiu tapped his own lips, half-joking. “You’re eating distractedly. As your personal chef, I’m hurt.”

Bai Shuangying reflexively squeezed his arms tighter, eliciting a groan from Fang Xiu.

He didn’t know how to say, “We’re about to deal with an attack from ‘me’.” The honest words reached his lips, but he couldn’t speak them.

The way to freedom was simple—just keep the secret. If he didn’t reveal it, everything would be fine. He could secretly help his human. Fang Xiu wasn’t in mortal danger yet and didn’t understand the full situation. Every reason justified keeping it secret.

But he couldn’t understand this urge to confess.

He even had the foolish thought, “Maybe if I tell him, it’ll give him a clue.” Something must be wrong with his brain for his mouth to want to run off on its own.

Eventually, Bai Shuangying forced out a reply. “I was just thinking we still haven’t figured out the Immortal Encounter E’s taboo.”

Fang Xiu blinked. “Mm. I do have some ideas.”

Bai Shuangying slightly tilted his head. “?”

“For the Immortal Encounter E’s story, following the script leads to ruin. Running away physically doesn’t mean much either. The key is to find a way to control the story. If we let it go wild, there’s no chance of a good ending.”

Fang Xiu didn’t let go of his ghost. “As for its taboo, I have a little hunch.”

For the next two days, Fang Xiu loitered in the ruins.

He shared pastries with the villagers and kept a polite distance from Zhuang Feng and company, presenting himself as a passing merchant with some spiritual knowledge. The pastries were tasty, but not as alluring as the Guishan Sect. During Zhuang Guiqu’s three days of “prayer”, Zhuang Feng had already started preaching.

With their dead buried and food and water secured, the villagers had no work to do. Every day they gathered outside the tent to listen to Zhuang Feng talk about “living souls returning to the mountain” and “completing karma”. Their eyes glowed with faith.

Fang Xiu blended in calmly, sipping a few bowls of sweet soup daily.

As the fire burned farther away and the villagers settled down, the black Taoist only grew more uneasy. Fang Xiu could tell he’d tried to leave a few times but stayed out of concern for his fellow villagers.

“Brother, don’t you believe?” Fang Xiu asked casually.

“Master Zhuang is powerful,” the Taoist admitted. “But if I trusted everything completely, I wouldn’t be a black Taoist. Dangerous is dangerous. Defying the heavens always carries a price.”

A’Shou couldn’t hold back. “The emperor is useless, the borders are crumbling, and food’s scarce. Zhuang Guiqu, that old bastard, still plays the sage here with elite troops. He’s the one defying the heavens.”

She couldn’t find an escape and couldn’t forcefully alter the “script” either. With the God of Calamity’s arrival looming, she was furious.

Hearing this, the Taoist grew somber. “His Majesty must have his reasons…”

Thinking of what was to come, A’Shou wanted to roll her eyes, but these were just characters in a story. She turned back to Fang Xiu with a tense expression.

“I thought of four or five routes yesterday. None worked. How about you? Have you found a carriage to go down the mountain?” she asked cryptically.

Fang Xiu glanced at the Taoist. “This is a new place. I have to learn the map first.”

In the next moment, day turned to night.

The surroundings dimmed instantly. Sweat formed in Fang Xiu’s palms, and his lips tingled with tension.

The rumored descent of the God of Calamity had begun.

The dark sky and the charred wasteland merged into one, leaving only flickering firelight like a glowing crack in the world. A crushing pressure pressed from all directions. The air grew as heavy as lead.

The villagers panicked, but when they saw Zhuang Guiqu’s tent standing firm, they settled. The soldiers calmly tidied the camp, as if nothing strange was happening.

By the tent, Zhuang Feng poured himself sweet soup and drank leisurely.

The Taoist was panicking. He knew something was terribly wrong. But with everyone else so calm, like sheep, he had no idea how to react. He didn’t believe Zhuang Feng’s preaching, but Zhuang Guiqu’s power was real.

He debated inwardly, then simply held the child he rescued tightly.

But Fang Xiu knew their fate.

Everyone except Zhuang Feng would die. These people were just characters, voices in a story. The climax was near and soon it would all end.

Bai Shuangying stayed glued to Fang Xiu. A’Shou remained alert, ready to forcibly flee at a moment’s notice.

In a way, it was strangely reassuring.

Fang Xiu turned from the Taoist and looked out at the fire in the mountains.

According to A’Shou, a massive catastrophe was about to unfold.

They could try fleeing again by leaving the “script zone”, but the next story would be entirely unpredictable.

Fang Xiu had never liked running.

Soon, after the raging darkness descended, the first anomaly appeared.

A soldier closest to the mountain staggered to his feet and walked toward the scorched hills. His movements were unnatural, limbs stiff like a shadow puppet. He shambled to a charred tree and began to climb.

His body twisted like rubber, merging into the dead branches. His teeth lodged in the bark. His armor cracked and became tree bark. In a few heartbeats, he had fully transformed into the dead tree.

The tree regained its shape, but without its original green leaves. The trunk looked duller. Blood ran down the dirt. As the skull twisted, a few teeth fell to the ground.

He turned into a tree.

Different from Skinny Monkey’s case, this one was complete. Only by staring intently could Fang Xiu see the red underneath the black “tree” letters covering it.

When he looked away, more trees had appeared in the ruins.

Two.

A dozen.

Hundreds.

Had the forest always been this dense?

Below the trees grew lovely bushes with red tips. The ground was dusted in white fragments. On closer look, they were teeth. Scattered around the roots, they resembled shattered porcelain from the divine statue.

No one screamed. No one ran. People simply rose, moved forward, and gathered like ants.

The villagers wavered into the darkness. Their faces were still streaked with dirt, unwashed and indistinct. Only Zhuang Guiqu’s tent still glowed.

Zhuang Feng was nowhere to be seen. Only people and trees remained, then just trees. The sound of flesh being crushed echoed endlessly. Blood appeared and vanished, wiped clean like by an overzealous servant.

Teeth fell, clacking to the ground. Hair drifted, scattering. The newborn forest was silent, as though the wildfire had never occurred.

Fang Xiu suddenly thought being a tree wasn’t so bad.

The dark sky became a cozy blanket. The distant fire lulled him to sleep. Trees didn’t need plans, didn’t need endless lies, didn’t have to fight.

A tree just needs to stand forever and live for a long time. 

Let go of everything, and it would all be easier.

Do you want this life? That could be your wish. If you pray…

Wish

Wish?

“I’ll do it myself, thanks.”

Fang Xiu grabbed Bai Shuangying and stared firmly at his ghost. Facing those familiar features, the strange thoughts quickly faded. He let out a breath of relief.

The wind blew through the branches, carrying a faint wailing.

The black Taoist, still holding the child, stumbled toward the forest. His hands trembled uncontrollably. His pupils darted in fear. He moved slower than the rest.

Seeing Fang Xiu successfully resist, he turned to him in desperate plea.

“Help…” His lips moved and he could barely hold the child.

The child’s crying weakened. His body curled up stiffened, like a dry branch.

“Help… us… please…”

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