VESSEL - Extinction Countdown 922: Spirit Mountain’s Slaughter Realm

After breaking free from Pang Niu’s blockade, Yi Qing and Ye Thirteen had to circle far and wide before finally returning to the main road. The delay had cost them—by the time they made it back, night had fully fallen.

The Mercedes’ doors were bashed in, left headlight dead. With only the right beam flickering, they wobbled into the mountains.

After nightfall, the mountain road was swallowed in darkness. Even the faint remnants of twilight were blocked out by the looming peaks, casting the world into a deep, inky blue.

There’s only one narrow, treacherous path led to Touxiang Village, twisting through eighteen bends. Even in good conditions, it would take more than two hours to reach the village.

With visibility near zero and the road twisting unpredictably, Yi Qing eased off the accelerator, driving with utmost caution, terrified that one wrong move might send both car and driver plunging into the ravine below.

She focused ahead, time slipping by unnoticed.

As endless sweep of dark mountains and ink-black forests flashed past, Ye Shisan frowned. “Yi Qing, how long have we been driving? We’re still not there?”

Yi Qing also sensed something off. “Two and a half hours. I’m sure I’ve been driving faster than last time. We should’ve arrived by now.”

Ye Shisan pointed ahead. “Look!”

Following his gaze, Yi Qing glanced ahead and spotted a red warning sign by the roadside—a sharp-turn caution marker. The road had a dozen such signs, but this one stood out. Behind it, carved into the mountainside, was a small stone niche.

The niche was empty. Whatever deity had once been enshrined there had long since been uprooted in some bygone purge.

Ye Shisan’s expression grew grim. “I remember there were only two stone niches along the mountain road out of the village. As kids, we used to call them ‘Mountain Grandpa.’ Back when there were no cars, the adults would rest by the niches while carrying goods in and out of the mountains.”

He paused, voice low. “But… I just counted. We’ve passed at least three.”

Yi Qing’s foot eased off the pedal, slowing the car. “You’re saying… Ghost wall?”

As they spoke, another sharp turn loomed ahead. Yi Qing tapped the brake and brought the car to a halt.

About ten meters in front, another red warning sign stood. Behind its metal pole, a dull gray, hollow Stone Niche stared back, eerie in the silent, engineless night.

They stepped out, inspecting closely. It was the same niche as before.

Yi Qing frowned. “Counting the three you mentioned and the one you pointed at, this is the fifth.”

A chill wind sliced through, making Yi Qing shiver. It was ghost wall, no doubt.

Damn it! If I still had my eye! She clenched her jaw in frustration. With the power of her azure eye, a ghost wall like this would’ve been child’s play.

But now, she didn’t dare drive any farther. The best way to break a ghost wall was to stay put—wait until dawn. Once the sun rose, the illusion would dissolve.

If she kept driving blindly, she might plunge into a bottomless ravine, or worse—crash into something unclean.

According to the intel Yi Qing had gathered during her time with the Fireseed Corps, ghost walls came in three types.

The first type was the most common: regardless of terrain, the lost traveler would always circle back to the same spot. This kind of ghost wall was especially persistent in sunless mountain regions, sometimes lasting a full day—or even several. There were rare case reports of victims entering shallow caves only to die of starvation inside. The cave, in those cases, was barely ten meters deep.

But such outcomes were extreme. Most first-type ghost walls were merely tricks played by mountain spirits or forest sprites. Fatalities were exceedingly rare.

The second type of ghost wall was more commonly found in open terrain. It typically dissolved on its own after sunrise. Scientific explanations referred to it as the “spiral tendency.” The principle was simple: once a person entered darkness, their senses became severely impaired. Unable to see the path ahead, fear took hold. And because no two feet step with perfect symmetry, a blindfolded person walking forward would naturally trace a circle—even while believing they were walking in a straight line.

The third type was exactly what they were facing now—a ghost wall on a single, enclosed route in non-open terrain. Yi Qing had once read a case study: a man driving home from a night shift on the elevated ring road outside Xiedi City. The trip should’ve taken thirty minutes. Instead, he drove for five hours, trapped on the same stretch of highway until just before dawn, when he crashed into a guardrail and died on impact.

This type was the worst. Whether driving or walking, human senses and instincts were completely overridden. What you saw might be pure illusion—a cliff ahead mistaken for flat ground, a wall perceived as an open road.

Looking back now, Yi Qing feared they were facing the deadliest scenario. There was something in these mountains—something that wanted them dead.

Suddenly, a memory surfaced. “Ye Shisan, do you remember what Qian Dani, the daughter-in-law of Village Chief Dong, once said?”

“Touxiang Village, after sunset—you can enter, but no exit.”

“Exactly! But we’re entering the village now. Why’s this happening?”

As they pondered, Hong Lin, the black cat, let out a chilling cackle.

“Congrats, father! This is good news!”

Hong Lin was usually sweet and clingy, but sometimes her words had a weird, sarcastic edge. Ye Shisan scowled. “What’s going on?”

“Daughter just sensed it,” Hong Lin purred. “There’s a strange formation in these mountains. Feels like it’s trying to capture the Pseudo-Spirit father mentioned. Now the path in and out is sealed, it must’ve locked on.”

Yi Qing’s was even more puzzled. “Locked on? But the only Pseudo-Spirit in Touxiang Village is Zhuqiu inside Ye Shisan. What do you mean by ‘locked on’?”

Hong Lin let out another eerie laugh. “Daughter thinks—in the past three thousand years, someone found Zhuqiu’s physical body but couldn’t subdue it. So they built a formation to cage him. Problem is, the villagers accidentally dug up Clay Buddha and lopped off its head. As a result, Zhuqiu’s body stayed trapped, but his soul roamed free!”

Yi Qing and Ye Shisan locked eyes, pieces falling into place.

What if—Touxiang’s formation wasn’t just built to trap Zhu Qiu’s body, but his soul too?

Somehow, under a rare and specific condition, Zhuqiu’s soul merged with Ye Shisan at age seven, forming the Pseudo-Spirit. That’s why, when Ye Shisan left, the formation didn’t trigger.

But precisely because of this, the formation sensed the absence of Zhuqiu’s soul and began to search frantically—thus giving rise to the legend that after sunset, Touxiang Village allows entry, but no exit.

The only breakthrough in this tangled mess was You Long’er, who had gone to the back hills in search of the Clay Buddha’s missing head. Had she found it, triggering the formation to mistake her for Zhuqiu?

If so, the lockdown was the least of it. You Long’er, caught in the formation, might already be in mortal danger.

Sure, You Long’er could be a spoiled brat—bossy, arrogant, always throwing fits. But for Ye Shisan to stand by and watch her die? That was something he could never do.

He didn’t hesitate. “Hong Lin! Can you get us through?”

The black cat giggled, leaping into Ye Shisan's arms. “Father above, Hong Lin can do anything! But this formation’s weird—built like Immortal’s work from Zhou tales, but the spell’s a little off… Let daughter try something!”

No sooner had she spoken than the black cat in Ye Shisan’s arms fell silent. Her small, furry belly began to collapse— visibly shrinking, until all that remained was a cold, lifeless feline corpse.

In the pitch-black forest, the drifting fireflies seemed to stir— blinking softly, then gathering like a river of stars before the group.

Soon, wisps of phosphorescence in shades of blue, green, and red began to converge. And then, right in front of Ye Shisan, a young girl appeared.

She wore flowing white robes, her figure delicate, her black hair cascading down to her knees.

She didn’t open her eyes. Instead, she reached out, her fingers tracing languid circles across Ye Shisan’s face.

“Father,” she whispered, “for you… I’d do anything.”

A chill ran down Ye Shisan’s spine. He instinctively stepped back. Hong Lin turned with a faint smile, facing the empty mountain path ahead. Her voice rang out, clear and commanding:

“Celestial Art: Array Breach!!!”