VESSEL - Extinction Countdown 917: Weeping Valley Tales

Weeping Valley, a vast basin cradled between rugged peaks, spans dozens of square kilometers.

Shrouded in perpetual gloom and mist, its isolation is deepened by the surrounding ridges that seal it off from the outside world. Few ever set foot here.

Long ago, it served as the burial ground for the ancestors of Touxiang Village. Due to its peculiar geography, any sound made within the valley would echo and rebound endlessly.

Mourners, weeping as custom demanded, birthed eerie tales: One cry, ten days of haunting. Fear took root, villagers trembled at the mere mention of the valley. And so the elders decreed: No one may weep upon entering or leaving this place.

Later, Touxiang Village discovered copper deposits nearby. For convenience, the locals tore down a low mountain pass and began dumping mining waste into the valley. In just a few short years, the valley’s environment deteriorated rapidly.

Though the copper veins have long since run dry—and mining ceased decades ago—the damage remains. The valley has never truly recovered.

Just beyond the entrance to the Weeping Valley lies a barren clearing, where not a single blade of grass grows. Encircling this desolate ground, layer upon layer, ring upon ring, are countless graves—large and small—arranged like the tiered seats of an ancient amphitheater.

Touxiang Village has long practiced earth burial. In this ancestral cemetery, the deeper one ventures into the valley, the newer the tombs; those near the entrance are the oldest. The graves vary greatly. Poor families mark their dead with simple wooden stakes, while the wealthy commission carved stone steles and tamp down the surrounding earth to honor the departed.

Yi Qing stepped into Weeping Valley, noting many tombs dating back to the Ming and Qing dynasties. Touxiang Village’s centuries-old history, now faded with dwindling incense and decayed morals, left her sighing.

The deeper they ventured, the more gravestones appeared. With each step, the mist receded, revealing layer upon layer of graves stretching into the distance, a spectral landscape fading into haze.

A graveyard this vast, in a valley spanning dozens of kilometers, made searching by human effort alone nearly impossible.

Yi Qing tapped the pack on Ye Shisan’s back. “Hong Lin, come out. See if there’s any way to find You Long’er and Vanilla.”

A small black cat poked out its head. “That dawn skirmish drained me. For now, I’ve got no good ideas. But if we get within a hundred zhang, I might sniff them out.”

Ye Shisan asked, “Yi Qing, check Old Pi’s notebook—did he investigate Weeping Valley?”

“I’ve been checking it the whole way. It only mentions a massive energy source here, but unmeasurable. This valley covers dozens of square kilometers. There’s no way a handful of students could survey it.”

“I think I’ve got something.” Ye Shisan shrugged off his pack, pulling out a photo frame he’d found in Lu Zhengwu’s workshed—inside was a picture of Ye Dongsheng.

Yi Qing frowned. “What’s that supposed to do?”

“There’s a poem on the back. I haven’t been here in decades, but looking at this… I think grandpa meant this place.”

He opened the frame, removed the photo, and revealed a handwritten verse:

A spiritual stream from heaven flows,

Realms break for green peaks and white cliffs.

Seek the immortals’ true realm afar,

To know it’s no mere mortal dust.

Yi Qing read it several times. “The first line—could it be referring to deity’s origin? Green peaks and white cliffs… that does sound like a description of a specific place. Did Ye Dongsheng find something in the Weeping Valley back then, but kept it secret for some reason?”

Ye Shisan couldn’t answer. He wasn’t there. And now, trying to find someone based on a poem written by his grandfather decades ago—was like searching for a needle in the ocean.

In a moment of desperation, he bellowed, “Vanilla! You Long’er!”

The mist before them seemed to be sucked away, and the sound waves drifted outward, then rebounded from all directions back to their ears. Ye Shisan’s voice, refracted countless times, grew strange and ethereal—the names of Vanilla and You Long’er echoed throughout the valley, rippling through the valley like a haunting chant.

Yi Qing scowled. “You’re being reckless! Touxiang Village hides too many secrets. The inscription on the stone tablet at the valley’s entrance—it’s not there without reason!”

Enter the vale, shed no tear; weep, and stay bound to the vale!

Ye Shisan gritted his teeth. “We don’t have time for that. If they’re inside the valley, then at least my voice will reach them—without fail.”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than a shrill voice rang out from the distance: “Uncle Shisan!”

The cry echoed through the valley, reverberating with such force that the very air seemed to tremble, and the name—those three syllables—pierced the ears like a blade.

Vanilla! Ye Shisan and Yi Qing exchanged a glance, sprinting toward the sound. One ahead, one behind, they tore through miles, wrapped in a damp, drifting fog that reduced visibility to less than ten meters.

No sign of Vanilla.

As they paused, another cry came from a different direction: “Uncle Shisan!”

No time to think. Drawing a sharp breath, they chased the sound, running until sweat soaked their backs and their legs turned to jelly. Barely had they stopped to gasp, a third call rang from yet another angle: “Uncle Shisan!”

Yi Qing yanked Ye Shisan back. “Stop! This valley is clearly not normal! And haven’t you noticed? Only Vanilla answered you. Where’s You Long’er?”

Ye Shisan paused, suddenly struck by the thought. “According to Hong Lin, You Long’er’s possessed by a Yin Beast. Of course she wouldn’t respond. But Vanilla chased her—she should’ve answered me!”

Yi Qing sighed. “Looks like my newly restored sight is about to be tested… I’m not even sure I can control it yet. Ye Shisan, shout again. Draw Vanilla’s voice out. With my Azure Eyes, I’ll see the source—whether it’s human or ghost.”

“Wait! I’ve got a better plan.” Ye Shisan shook his shoulders and turned to Hong Lin in the pack. “What’s the second stage of a Yin Beast?”

Hong Lin peeked out her little head, thinking for a moment. “First it sheds its clay shell. The second… it sheds human skin. Normally, it’ll finds a quiet, safe place and waits until the shedding’s done.”

“Quiet and safe?” Ye Shisan burst out laughing. “Then we can find You Long’er first!”

With that, he began shouting at full volume. The valley responded instantly—a thunderous wave of echoes and resonance rolled across the mountains, shaking the forest like a sieve, dust rising in wild bursts.

Yi Qing and Hong Lin couldn’t take it anymore—one human, one cat, both clamped their hands over their ears. “What are you doing?”

“Didn’t Hong Lin say the Yin Beast needs a quiet, safe place to reach stage two? Weeping Valley’s the quietest spot around Touxiang Village. But what if I make it the loudest?”

Yi Qing’s eyes lit up. “With mountains all around and one exit, the Yin Beast will flee back out, seeking another hideout!”

Hong Lin stuck out her tiny pink tongue and licked her nose. “That’s my father! Your daughter loves you so much!”

As they spoke, a strange sound erupted from somewhere—part human scream, part beastly growl. Ye Shisan pointed into the distance. “Yi Qing! Now! Use your Azure Eyes!”

Before he finished, Yi Qing had already focused her mind. A surge of fierce aura burst outward from within her, forcing the surrounding mist to retreat dozens of zhang.

Her black eyepatch was gone. A radiant cyan beam shot from her treasured eye!

“Eye Technique: Azure Dust!”