An Abandoned Tunnel
Zhang Yuanqing looked around in a panic, suddenly transported to an unfamiliar environment. Anyone would feel disoriented and bewildered in such a situation.
"A tunnel? Is this the She Ling Tunnel from the urban legend?"
As a native of Songhai City, he was naturally familiar with the She Ling Tunnel, one of the city's ten great urban legends. When he was a mischievous child who refused to sleep at night, his grandmother would scare him with these tales.
But even if urban legends were just fictional stories, the real She Ling Tunnel—which Zhang Yuanqing had passed through just days ago on his way back to his hometown to pay respects to his father—looked nothing like this. It wasn't nearly this dilapidated.
"Right, this is the Spirit Realm, not the actual She Ling Tunnel."
The cramped environment made him uneasy. Zhang Yuanqing cautiously moved forward, the only sound his own solitary footsteps echoing in the silence.
As he walked, he pondered his situation and the information the voice in his head had provided.
There was no doubt he had encountered a supernatural phenomenon, been transported into an urban legend, and was now tasked with completing missions issued by a mysterious force.
"The voice gave me two missions: survive for three hours and explore the Spirit Realm. Difficulty: S-rank, single-player death type. This 'death type' part is really freaking me out."
Surviving for three hours meant facing extreme danger.
Exploring the Spirit Realm likely meant exploring this tunnel. Did that mean the tunnel itself was dangerous?
He quietly tensed his nerves, a question flashing through his mind: What reward would he receive for completing the mission?
Since it was a mission, there had to be a reward, right?
"Hmm, according to the attribute panel I saw earlier, my class is Nightwalker, but my level is 0 instead of 1. Becoming a Nightwalker must be one of the rewards. What exactly is a Nightwalker?"
"Bing Ge was right—this black card really will change my life. But I overlooked the second half of his warning: 'This thing is hard to control.' Does that refer to the level of danger?"
Zhang Yuanqing silently analyzed the information he had gathered.
Just then, the old-fashioned xenon lamp beside him flickered erratically, its unstable circuit causing the light to flicker. In the alternating flashes of light and shadow, Zhang Yuanqing glimpsed a figure wearing a miner's helmet standing beneath the lamp.
Fuck! He jumped back in fright, his train of thought instantly shattered. Like a startled deer, he bolted forward a short distance.
Glancing back, he saw the xenon lamp shining steadily, no longer flickering.
The shadowy figure in the miner's helmet seemed to have been a figment of his imagination.
Shaken by the scare, Zhang Yuanqing dared not linger in this ghostly place. He hurried toward the tunnel exit.
Clack, clack, clack. The sound of footsteps echoed through the silent tunnel. Zhang Yuanqing didn't dare stop, walking briskly for five or six minutes. The old-fashioned xenon lamps in the arched ceiling flickered again, but this time, no miner's hat-wearing figure appeared.
Didn't follow?
He felt a slight relief but didn't dare linger. Keeping his head down, he hurried forward. Suddenly, his gaze fixed on the ground, he noticed a detail that made his heart stop.
The orange xenon lamps cast his shadow long and stretched out. Beside his shadow, a dozen other shadows trailed along.
They've been following me all this time?!
A chill shot from his feet to his head, raising goosebumps all over his body. Zhang Yuanqing's face paled with terror, and he bolted into a frantic run.
Finally, the tunnel entrance loomed ahead, bathed in the cold, frosty moonlight.
Zhang Yuanqing burst out of the tunnel in one breath, clutching his knees and bending over to catch his breath.
After regaining his composure, he surveyed his surroundings. The full moon hung like a lonely disc in the night sky, its brilliance eclipsing the stars.
The dense forest bathed in moonlight cast vast, deep shadows.
He was in the middle of a desolate wilderness.
The xenon lamps in the tunnel flickered a few times and went out completely. The massive tunnel entrance now stood pitch-black and silent, like the maw of a beast waiting to devour its prey.
Get out of here now!
A jolt of fear ran through Zhang Yuanqing's scalp as he scrambled up the rugged mountain path.
After walking a dozen steps, he glanced back again and saw a row of figures standing at the tunnel entrance. They wore miners' helmets, their clothes tattered and worn, and their heads hung low.
They stood in the shadows, where the moonlight couldn't reach, silent as if seeing him off.
Zhang Yuanqing recoiled in shock, stumbling backward several steps before turning and sprinting up the mountain path.
The path was lined with lush foliage, dappled with slivers of moonlight that provided just enough illumination for him to see the way.
But the mountain was eerily silent. No insects chirped, no birds sang, making Zhang Yuanqing's footsteps sound deafeningly loud.
Too quiet, he thought, glancing around. There's no way the mountains would be completely devoid of insect sounds at this time of year.
The full moon hung like a silver platter, casting swaying shadows through the trees. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching him from the darkness.
He walked for what felt like an eternity, until a thin sheen of sweat covered his body. Finally, he emerged from the dense forest, and the landscape opened up before him.
Moonlight flowed like water across the desolate surroundings. At the end of the rugged mountain path stood an abandoned ancient temple, its silhouette stark against the darkness.
The temple had been abandoned for countless years. The paint on its massive front gate was peeling and blackened, riddled with holes. A lantern that had once hung from the eaves lay shattered on the ground, its bamboo frame the only remnant.
The plaque still hung askew beneath the eaves, draped in cobwebs, but the dim light made it impossible to read the characters inscribed on it.
The stone steps before the temple were cracked, with weeds sprouting from the fissures.
This place was a desolate wilderness, far from any village or town. How could there be a temple here?
Wait... a temple?!
Zhang Yuanqing suddenly remembered the voice from the Spirit Realm's information:
[ "Do not enter the temple. Do not enter the temple." ]
[ "According to that strange voice, I shouldn't enter the temple. But wait, I've already escaped the tunnel. That means what I'm truly meant to explore is this dilapidated ancient temple." ]
After hesitating at the entrance for a long time, Zhang Yuanqing cautiously stepped forward, approaching the ancient temple looming in the darkness. He crossed the broken threshold.
Before him stretched a vast courtyard, waist-high weeds swaying in the breeze. A half-human-sized incense burner, weathered and decayed, lay toppled in the grass, having endured countless years of wind and rain.
Beneath his feet lay a path paved with green stone slabs, weeds sprouting from the cracks between the stones.
His gaze followed the undulating sea of withered grass to the end of the stone path, where a dilapidated main hall stood on a high foundation with six stone steps. A dim, yellowish light seeped through the latticed doors of the hall.
[ "Light?" ]
The surroundings were silent and desolate, bathed in the pale moonlight. In this desolate setting, the faint glow offered Zhang Yuanqing no warmth, only amplifying the eerie atmosphere.
Rustle, rustle.
He pressed forward through the withered grass, his senses on high alert as he approached the main hall. In the vast emptiness, his footsteps echoed with unnatural clarity.
Rustle, rustle... Suddenly, Zhang Yuanqing's ears twitched. He heard another set of footsteps behind him—something was following him.
He whirled around.
The night was like water, the weeds thick and overgrown. But there was nothing behind him.
Am I hallucinating?
Zhang Yuanqing froze, his heart pounding with fear. After a moment, he forced himself to move forward again.
Rustle, rustle, rustle...
The footsteps returned, this time unmistakable. Something was definitely behind him.
Could it really be this cursed? Encountering a ghost the moment I enter the temple? He didn't dare look back, quickening his pace.
The footsteps behind him accelerated in response.
Zhang Yuanqing's composure shattered. Goosebumps erupted across his skin as he broke into a full sprint toward the main hall.
The footsteps pursued him relentlessly, like a shadow clinging to his heels.
During the chase, Zhang Yuanqing burst through the tall grass and neared the main hall. He leaped up the six stone steps in two bounds and finally, with a thunderous crash, forced open the latticed doors of the main hall.
The footsteps behind him abruptly ceased.
Huff, huff...
Gasping for breath, Zhang Yuanqing finally dared to turn around. Moonlight streamed like water across the courtyard, illuminating the overgrown weeds and stone-paved path. The silence was unnerving, but there was nothing there.
Thank goodness it didn't follow.
After catching his breath, Zhang Yuanqing gently closed the main hall's doors, as if sealing his fear outside.
He surveyed the interior. Atop a high stone pedestal stood a statue of a Goddess draped in a fur cloak and adorned in magnificent robes. Her round face and slender eyes radiated benevolence.
The Goddess held a whisk in one hand, while the other was posed in a grasping gesture, as if she had once held something that was now missing.
Flanking her were statues of sword-bearing boys and book-carrying maidens.
Before the pedestal lay a dust-covered offering table, upon which stood a candlestick holding a twenty-centimeter-long candle, as thick as a baby's forearm, burning steadily.
The candlelight banished the darkness and seemed to dispel Zhang Yuanqing's fear, stabilizing his emotions.
On the left wall hung two faded, cracked wooden plaques, their surfaces covered in meticulously carved regular script.
Zhang Yuanqing strolled to the wall and, by the dim candlelight, peered at the inscriptions. The classical Chinese style of the script was evident.
His grasp of classical Chinese was decent. Through a combination of guesswork and careful reading, he gained a clear understanding of his surroundings.
The mountain was called Sandaoshan, and the mountain deity enshrined in the temple was known as the Goddess of Sandaoshan.
This goddess had been a native of Song Prefecture during the early Ming Dynasty. She cultivated her spiritual practice on Sandaoshan, mastering talismanic arts and alchemy. She could summon rain, exorcise ghosts, and ensure favorable weather and prosperity for the region, earning the reverence of the people as a divine being.
After her ascension, the local government erected this temple on Sandaoshan, naming it the "Temple of the Goddess of Sandaoshan." The goddess's spiritual successors managed the incense offerings and served as temple priests.
"A temple from the early Ming Dynasty... that's five or six centuries old," Zhang Yuanqing muttered.
At that moment, his gaze inadvertently swept beneath the offering table, and his heart jolted.
A dark figure lay in the shadows beneath the table.
His earlier panic and the dim candlelight had prevented him from noticing it immediately.
Forcing himself closer, Zhang Yuanqing peered intently. It was a skeleton, the remains of a corpse.
Amidst his fear, Zhang Yuanqing felt a wave of relief. Compared to the eerie mountain temple, the skeleton seemed almost less terrifying.
Taking a few more steps, he examined the tattered clothing clinging to the bones under the faint candlelight. It was a dust-covered work uniform.
Workers?
"This must be the construction crew from back then," Zhang Yuanqing thought. "So I really have entered the world of urban legends."
Just as he formed this hypothesis, an even more chilling possibility occurred to him: perhaps the construction crew, like him, had mistakenly stumbled into this place.
That would explain why the urban legend persisted.
If the former were true, this so-called Spirit Realm would be generating scenarios based on urban legends.
But if the latter were true, it would mean the ancient temple had always existed, and both the construction crew and he himself were victims.
Based on the historical background of the Mountain God Temple, Zhang Yuanqing leaned toward the latter.
"An entire construction crew died in this temple, with only one survivor. This place really does kill people. Now that I've entered this temple, I could face unknown dangers at any moment."
Hiss— He gasped, his nerves tightening again as he instinctively scanned his surroundings.
Then, he suddenly realized a detail that sent a chill down his spine.
This ancient temple dated back to the Ming Dynasty, yet the candles were still burning. Who was replacing the candles in the main hall?
The more he thought about it, the more terrifying it became. Even the benevolent-looking statues seemed to radiate an eerie, sinister aura in the flickering candlelight.
Though covered in dust, the three clay sculptures were remarkably lifelike, every detail carved with vivid realism, especially their eyes.
Perched on their pedestals, they stared down at Zhang Yuanqing from above, their gazes piercing through the twilight and candlelight.