577: Shocking Night_1
The rugged mountains were treacherous, and the scenery was eerily beautiful.
Fallen leaves had accumulated in thick layers, becoming soft and spongy as they rotted and merged with the soil.
A pale yellow miasma floated between the mountains.
Milky white mist shrouded the forest.
The babbling streams, originating from nowhere in particular, moistened the rugged rocks and disappeared without a trace.
Mo Hua had taken a Miasma Repelling Pill, dispelling the miasma within his body, released his Divine Sense, and, while guarding against the Monster Beasts in the forest, carefully walked northward along the rough mountain path.
...
After walking for the better part of the day, until the sun had set and twilight enveloped the mountains and the forest grew darker and deeper.
Mo Hua looked up and saw that the night was deep and foggy, the miasma thick, obstructing his Divine Sense.
The range of his Divine Sense was less than half of what it was during the day.
The Monster Qi in the mountains also thickened gradually.
Some Monster Beasts, which were “lively at night and sleepy during the day,” seemed to be waking up, emitting strange, indescribable growls within the desolate night, resonating deeply through the mountains.
Mo Hua frowned slightly.
It seemed he could no longer travel by night…
He remembered the old temple mentioned by the elder, so he released his Divine Sense, chose a direction, and headed towards a hidden mountain path.
After passing through a stretch of woods and climbing over a giant boulder, another half an hour brought him to an old temple halfway up the mountain.
The temple was dilapidated but showed signs that people sometimes passed by, perhaps Cultivators resting there.
The Monster Qi and miasma nearby were also lighter.
In front of the decaying temple, there was a flight of stone steps, rough and steep.
Mo Hua ascended the steps with agility, as fluid as water, and in no time reached the gate of the old temple.
One of the temple doors was missing, and the other, weathered by sun and rain, was mottled and in terrible shape.
Upon entering, the walls let in the wind, and the place was dirty and messy.
Melancholic moonlight shone through the roof, casting onto a clay statue at the center that reflected a ghastly light.
The face of the mud statue was long and narrow with human features, yet none at all.
The eyes, illuminated by the moonlight, revealed a sinister gleam that pierced the dark night, staring at Mo Hua in a human yet Non-Human manner.
Mo Hua was unafraid, staring back at the mud statue with wide open eyes.
After locking gazes for a while, perhaps due to the shifting moonlight, the statue’s gaze seemed to silently wander away…
Mo Hua, however, did not look away and continued to approach the statue, eyes intense as he gazed at it.
The mud statue promptly remained still and well-behaved.
Mo Hua stepped onto the offering stage and examined the statue closely, muttering,
“That’s not right, why is there nothing?”
“There should be something…”
“I couldn’t have seen it wrong…”
Mo Hua was puzzled.
The light had gone out from the statue’s eyes, which now seemed eager to close.
Mo Hua licked his lips, “Such a shame…”
He then jumped off the offering stage, cleared a spot on the ground, and using Divine Consciousness Control Ink, drew a Warm Fire Formation.
As the Warm Fire Formation lit up, an orange flame arose, dispelling the night within the temple and the chill of the mountains outside.
Wrapped in a small blanket and seated by the fire, Mo Hua felt very warm.
As the warmth rose, Mo Hua suddenly felt hungry, so he took out some mountain yams and dried meat from his Storage Bag and roasted them over the Warm Fire Formation.
Sitting by the fire, eating the fragrant and sticky mountain yams, chewing on spicy beef jerky, and drinking the sweet fruit wine brewed by his mother,
Mo Hua shook his head and swayed, completely content.
After eating his fill, Mo Hua extinguished the Warm Fire Formation, wrapped himself up tightly in the blanket, and, taking advantage of the residual warmth on the ground, drifted into sleep.
All was quiet again within the old temple.
The cold moonlight shone down once more, illuminating the eyes of the clay statue on the offering stage.
The statue’s icy gaze slowly lowered to rest upon Mo Hua, who, wrapped up like a “little dumpling” and fast asleep, oblivious to the world.
The statue’s gaze flickered, as if it were pondering something.
For the duration of brewing a pot of tea, a faint white glow emerged from the statue.
This glow, seemingly real and yet illusory, was indistinct and obscure.