VESSEL - Extinction Countdown 950: Clay Buddha’s Strange Shadow

Touxiang Village’s chief, Dong Laosan, third son as his name implies, now lives with just his daughter-in-law and granddaughter. Five years ago, his son, Dong Qiang, left for work in the south and never returned.

Dong Laosan, an honest rural man, holds an unwanted post. In Touxiang, a poor village, folks are too busy surviving to care for others’ woes. No one wants the chief’s job.

He’s been at it eighteen years, nearing eighty, yet sturdy. Years of toil bent his back but spared him grave illness.

Led by Dong Laosan, the group surveyed the village. It’s well-preserved—adobe and stone houses bear century-old marks.

Nestled in mountains, ringed by peaks and forests, the air’s crisp, heavy with moisture. A stream threads the village, lending rustic charm.

Yet decay’s stark. Of a hundred households, most stand empty. Only twenty-some remain, with elders or children. The strongest adult? Dong’s daughter-in-law, Qian Dani.

Walking on, Ye Shisan halted at a house, gazing inside.

Vanilla gripped his hand: “Uncle Shisan, your old home?”

Ye Shisan nodded, pushing the gate.

His hand brushed the gate, and with a crack, the door toppled—yet, strangely, it fell without clamor, cradled by the overgrown weeds and wildflowers of the forsaken courtyard, leaning askew in their grasp.

The yard’s two adobe rooms had half-crumpled, roof pierced by daylight, odd plants scaling the remaining walls.

Dong Laosan shuffled over: “This place… once a famed barefoot doctor’s. Must’ve done wrong to birth a Freak.”

His words stunned them. Ye Shisan pressed: “Freak? Chief Dong, what’s the story?”

“You don’t know, but it was big here, or so I heard. They say the newborn killed the family’s pigs and chickens that first night!”

You Long’er cut in: “A baby? Killing livestock? Sounds like baseless rumors!”

“Baseless rumors?” Dong Laosan shook his head. “My cousin saw it—one of the first at the Ye yard. A palm-wide adobe wall, sliced like tofu, crushed two pigs and the chicken coop!”

Yi Qing probed: “That dangerous? Wasn’t the village at risk?”

Dong Laosan squinted at the ruins, sifting memories: “The head here was Ye Dongsheng, from a healer line. Somehow, he fixed that Freak. Folks respected him, and as the kid grew without trouble, the talk died down.”

Ye Shisan pressed: “So, Ye Dongsheng was a miracle doctor? Where is he?”

“Miracle doctor, sure. Before the town clinic, everyone sought Ye Dongsheng for ailments—even epilepsy, hysteria… Curious, boss?”

Yi Qing jumped in: “Chief Dong, a friend’s got a strange illness. If he’s around, we’d seek his help.”

Dong Laosan shook his head: “Pity, he's gone decades ago.”

The group sighed, trailing Dong Laosan.

Yi Qing hissed at Ye Shisan: “Recon’s about knowing the lay first, not charging in! Keep this up, don’t blame me if we find nothing!”

Ye Shisan, seeing her ire, reflected. He was truly hopeless at dealing with people.

Vanilla whispered: “Uncle Shisan, no rush. We’ve got days to scour this house.”

You Long’er chimed: “Right! I packed every tool. If that formula’s here, we’ll dig deep to find it!”

Talking, they reached a strange ravine.

Two tall hillocks, topped with jagged rocks, flanked a deep hollow, backed by a mountain—like a tiger’s face.

“Folks, this is Touxiang’s gem. Once a copper mine, Tiger Copper. After digging the Clay Buddha, they built a temple halfway up.”

Dong Laosan pointed three or four hundred meters off, up a tens-meter slope, to a small, crumbling temple.

Ravaged by old campaigns, it was half-ruined, its front charred. The Clay Buddha lay exposed, weathered, cloaked in lichen.

Ye Shisan, a kid here once, knew it well. With the mine dry and superstition banned, few locals came—only elders offered incense.

Seeing no interest in the mine or temple, Dong Laosan said: “If you folks skip the mine, I’ll share tales. Some out-of-towners loved this one.”

Those “out-of-towners” were YiQueen’s scouts, probing Ye Shisan’s past.

Unaware, Dong Laosan recounted the tale vividly: “I saw this myself, five or six, trailing adults for copper scraps. Word spread of a Clay Buddha. I went to look.”

“At the mine’s mouth, a crowd—miners, porters, men, women—bolted out. They’d found the Clay Buddha, but it spoke!”

“Few near it heard. Then every kerosene lamp snuffed out. Panic hit—they ran, others followed. Some fell, bones broke after being trampled.”

“They heard two words: ‘Where’s he?’ A gust swept through, killing the lamps. Pitch darkness—creepy, isn’t it? Later, brave ones retrieved the Clay Buddha. Its pit held an empty space for another, identical one.”

“Two Buddhas, meant to be together. Why only one? Heaven knows.”

Dong Laosan’s tale piqued Yi Qing. An Fireseed veteran, she was sharp for oddities.

“Uncle Dong, you saw the Clay Buddha brought up?”

“Sure did! Young, but I’ll never forget its carved patterns, bright colors—stunning! An old uncle, east village, long dead, swore it blinked at him.”

“What before?”

“Before?”

Dong Laosan, puzzled, eyed Yi Qing.

She grinned: “That strange gust.”

Dong Laosan’s face shifted.