Author: 年终 / Nian Zhong

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

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Chapter 142: Unpredictable

In ancient times, when the heavens were high and the land vast, information always arrived a beat too late.

The news of the shrine creating miracles reached the county magistrate and continued to travel upward. The emperor, making a rare inspection, happened to arrive during a flood.

The accompanying officials instantly broke out in cold sweat. They immediately blamed the chaotic villagers, claiming their offense had provoked divine punishment. After all, the area had seen more than a decade of favorable weather, and all the wishes made had come true. This was no mere rumor.

The emperor looked like a strong man and didn’t seem too concerned. He personally offered incense at the shrine and then ordered his several hundred attendants down to the mountain’s base.

These hundreds had been transported by wooden carts—robust men, each wearing shackles, with features noticeably different from the villagers’. They knelt in rows at the foot of the mountain, hatred burning in their eyes.

A’Shou was the first to react. “These are barbarians from the borderlands. They are going to perform a human sacrifice.”

After a brief calculation, she added, “This man must be the fourth-to-last emperor of the Kui Dynasty. At that time, a small border kingdom rebelled, and he decided to send troops to suppress them.”

But the later years of the Kui Dynasty were chaotic. That single campaign dragged on for more than a hundred years. Even by the fall of the dynasty, the conflict hadn’t ended. The borders continued to be gradually eroded.

Fang Xiu wasn’t surprised. This shrine had been performing miracles for years, and the emperor only now showed up. Clearly, something had gone wrong elsewhere, forcing him to seek an “auspicious sign”.

The weather that day was remarkably fine with not a cloud in the sky.

At the foot of the mountains, the executioners raised their blades and beheaded one after another. Blood flowed in torrents. The herbal scent on the wind was overwhelmed by the stench of iron. Hot blood seeped into the soil as the bodies toppled in neat rows.

Elderly Daoists in special robes came and went, sticking burning incense into the bloodied earth.

What had started as crude porcelain figurines had become golden statues. Now the sacrifices were living humans.

Amid this carnage, the emperor personally recited the prayer, asking god to bless the Kui Dynasty with prosperity and military victory. When the ceremony ended, there were cheers coming from all sides.

Even Fang Xiu, accustomed to bloodshed and horror, couldn’t help but frown at this crude ritual. In his head, Bai Shuangying was clearly just as displeased.

[So many dead. It’s filthy and noisy.]

[This request is even more troublesome than the last. Why dirty my land and still expect favors in return?]

But at this point, his thinking remained simple.

[Humans demand too much. This time I will reject them directly. That should save trouble.]

The corpses on the ground began to twitch and rise. They broke the incense sticks before them, then spread their limbs and crawled like insects. Severed heads still dripping blood were stuck to their backs. 

In the pool of blood, their limbs grew thin and sharp, and with heads firmly affixed, they resembled spiders missing their legs. Hundreds of grotesque corpses began crawling away from the altar along the path they came.

The cheers fell silent in an instant. Cultivators rushed to shield the emperor, and commoners fled in panic. The emperor, to his credit, remained relatively calm. He drew his sword, pointed at Xushan, and shouted, “Monster!”

What followed was chaos. The cultivators nearly fought each other on the spot. Some claimed this was an ominous sign and urged the emperor to kill all witnesses to prevent leaks. Others insisted it was merely a demonic disturbance and that the emperor, being Heaven’s chosen, had not been harmed.

Some even praised it loudly, calling it an auspicious omen—the heavens had judged the barbarians harshly, transforming them into vermin unworthy of peace, even in death.

Amid the confusion, a plump woman quietly picked up a toddler who couldn’t yet speak. Her back basket was filled to the brim as she crept toward the mountain mist.

Clumsily, she crossed jagged rocks and rushing streams, stumbling into the deep mountains. But more than ten years had passed. People were now used to worshipping at the mountain’s base. No matter how hard she searched, she couldn’t find the old stone used for sacrifice.

So she found a clearing and placed her offerings there—sweet fruit, sugar cakes, and a familiar small porcelain figure. The village had become much wealthier; this time, the offerings were richer.

She carefully brushed grass clippings from her clothes, then solemnly knelt. The child beside her knelt clumsily as well.

“This is my fourth child. If not for Your help years ago, I wouldn’t be alive today.”

The girl from before, now a grown woman, bowed her head and prayed, murmuring, “Swapping a porcelain figurine for a life was never fair. If God had truly grown tired of humans, it wouldn’t have helped me in the first place.”

[……]

“For over ten years, You have brought us peace. Now everyone has meat to eat and clothes to wear. The recent flood was just a natural disaster, but people blame You instead of the Thunder God and Mother Lightning. That’s unfair.”

“I don’t know whether You are angry or meditating. I just hope You are safe and well. Whether we meet again or part ways, thank you for all you’ve done over the years. Thank you.”

She kept talking softly, palms pressed together in sincere prayer. When she opened her eyes occasionally, there was no hatred in them, only resignation and quiet sadness.

It felt like saying goodbye to an old friend.

At last, a beautiful hand emerged from the earth and took the porcelain figurine.

As it passed the child, it hesitated, then took a sugar cake and gave it to the curious child.

The child, unafraid, laughed and happily took a bite.

“You really are a God.”

The woman smiled, eyes glistening.

She watched the hand vanish, then stood with a sigh of relief, holding the child’s hand as they walked down the mountain.

…This should have been a proper farewell, Fang Xiu thought.

But when the woman reached the village, the emperor’s cultivators had made their decision.

The world was unstable, war was on the horizon, and this omen was bad. The rumor could hurt the court. Since the village had already suffered, it was best to eliminate it entirely.

The woman died before the child finished his sugar cake. He clutched the treat in confusion, watching as the soldier’s blade descended.

In the bloodied blade’s reflection, he saw Xushan.

The emperor’s elite troops were brutally efficient. From the elderly to infants, the entire village was wiped out in less than a day.

The villagers’ bodies were buried in a remote area at the mountain’s base. A once-thriving village became desolate overnight.

Newly made tools were still in their courtyards. A coffin-in-progress lay in the carpenter’s home.

They hadn’t even finished burying the flood victims before they, too, perished.

Officials gave a polished statement to the public—the emperor had prayed in person, and the Immortal had responded with a divine omen. The villagers had all become immortals, preparing to join the war effort.

[Now it’s quiet. Even if people come again, I can simply ignore them.]

[…]

[But I took the figurine. I didn’t give that child a proper farewell.]

…After that, the wishes made in the shrine have changed.

The tale of the divine omen spread quickly, drawing people to the now-empty village. They still prayed at the shrine, and, shockingly, “god” answered again.

Pray for healing, and you might get better—only to fall fatally ill later. Pray to never be separated, and the next day, both lovers would turn into hairless bird-creatures, cuddling until they froze to death in the winter.

Those who prayed for wealth tripped and cracked their skulls on expensive jade. Those seeking longevity drowned in ice-cold water, frozen for eternity beneath blocks that would never melt.

The wishes were either ignored or granted in twisted ways, with the wisher’s life as the price.

Fewer and fewer dared to pray. The shrine decayed and became increasingly ominous. But since it still “worked”, no one dared tear it down.

Strangely, though the visitors dwindled, there were always a few desperate enough to try their luck.

So the village, once called a place blessed by the gods, became known as a land of unpredictability*.

*This is the title of the chapter (神鬼莫测). It is an idiom referring to being so unpredictable that even the ghosts and gods can’t foresee it, which application is quite apt in the literal sense, since these wishes are, ironically, granted by a “god” and “ghost”.

…People say a mountain god lived there, kindhearted and wise.

…People say a mountain god lived there, granting good harvests and longevity.

…People say a mountain god lived there, and He turns the villagers into immortals, led to victories on the border, and those in the village had ascended to heaven.

…People say a mountain ghost lived there, full of wicked schemes.

…People say a mountain ghost lived there, taking lives without mercy after fulfilling their wish.

…People say a mountain ghost lived there, watching the world, waiting for disaster to descend upon the Dynasty, bringing about chaos and suffering.

Whether god or ghost, it depended on if the years were prosperous or hard. People wrote what they wanted to believe.

But atop the highest peak of Xushan, rings of porcelain figures remained clean and white, gleaming in the sunlight.

Fang Xiu couldn’t help rubbing his forehead.

With what he knew of Bai Shuangying, his ghost was simply sulking. It was just, ghosts have a lifespan much too long, and their tantrums lasted just as long.

Bai Shuangying probably didn’t care about the woman’s death, but he couldn’t forget the final figurine he received, the one for which he had failed to keep his promise.

He didn’t want a forced parting by death. He wanted a “good ending” where both sides knew and agreed it was time to part.

……

A hundred years passed in the blink of an eye. Constant warfare pushed the Kui Dynasty to the brink.

The borders were crumbling. Rebellions broke out across the land. Monsters and ghosts appeared more frequently. The emperor was young and powerless to control anything.

By comparison, Xushan’s surroundings remained relatively calm. But as the world descended into chaos, even fewer people came to make wishes.

People struggled to survive, let alone hope for blessings. No one would risk a journey to a cursed village.

[At last, I will have peace. It took a little longer than expected.]

[A century of chaos begins. I can finally sleep again. Life and death are just like this. I’ve seen enough.]

[From now on, I don’t want to deal with humans again.]

However—

A sharp cry pierced Fang Xiu’s ears. His feet were soaked in mud, the air reeking of corpses. In the distance, the sound of a funeral horn drifted, eerie and broken, enough to raise goosebumps.

…Huh?

The scene before him felt familiar, but something was subtly different.

“Why did they kill my parents!”

At Fang Xiu’s feet, a half-buried child screamed, “We escaped already… wuwu…”

Two arms lifted the crying child.

The black Taoist who should have died reappeared. This time, he didn’t help the soldiers with disaster relief but stood squarely in their way.

“This is a sin,” he said, eyes fixed on them. “This is not what we agreed upon.”

“There is no Great God of Calamity here!”

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