Chapter 12

Xu Zirong followed my gesture, and his eyes widened instantly.

“It is a stele! There are characters carved on it!” he said with certainty.

Half-hidden behind cascading green vines, the stone stood about half a meter tall, cloaked in moss that made it blend seamlessly with its surroundings. If I hadn’t happened to glance that way, we probably would’ve missed it entirely.

“What does it say?” I asked quickly.

“Too far… can’t tell,” Xu Zirong muttered—and then suddenly drew a deep breath and jumped.

Sports majors really were built differently. The creek was almost three meters wide, but he cleared it easily without even getting his pant legs wet.

Kneeling before the stele, he brushed aside the overgrown weeds and studied the surface, his brows furrowed in concentration.

“Hmm… hmm…”

He muttered for quite a while, but didn’t report back. I finally lost patience. “Well? What does it say?”

He stood up awkwardly and scratched his head. “Uh… I don’t recognize the characters.”

“…Seriously?” I said flatly.

Qiu Lu covered her face in mock shame, as if to say ‘I don’t know this man—his embarrassment isn’t my problem.’

I took a deep breath, stepped back a couple of paces, then dashed forward and leapt across the creek.

I nearly lost my balance when I landed, but Xu Zirong reacted fast, grabbing my arm before I could fall. It wasn’t as graceful as his jump, but I made it over in one piece.

I stepped up to examine the stele myself.

It was old—centuries old, probably. The moss made its surface slick and slimy to the touch. A few tiny insects clung to the carvings, scattering frantically when I got close, as though I were some predator.

Along the edges were intricate patterns—some looked like butterflies, some like phoenixes, others like stylized flowers and birds. The middle bore two vertical lines of text. They had once been painted red, but time and weather had long since stripped away the color. I frowned, studying them closely.

One line was written in a script I’d never seen before, crooked and ancient. The other was in archaic seal script, but that one I could just barely make out.

Back in college, there was an Ancient Chinese Characters Research Institute affiliated with our literature department. One of their professors had taught a semester-long elective, and my curiosity led me to sit in for half of it.

Now, I silently thanked my younger self for that decision.

“Shi…” I traced the carved strokes with my fingers, sounding out each word slowly. “Shi… Di… Shan… Jie—Shi Di Mountain?!”

The moment I said it aloud, goosebumps crawled all over my skin.

This was that place? The one the innkeeper had told me about—the legendary Shidi Mountain?

It hadn’t appeared on any map or navigation app I’d checked. And yet, we’d stumbled right into it by accident.

“That name sounds familiar…” Xu Zirong murmured.

Across the creek, Qiu Lu shouted, “Can you read it or not?”

Xu Zirong straightened, slightly embarrassed. “It’s ancient script! If not for Aze, none of you would recognize it either!”

Wen Lingyu asked, “So what does it say?”

“‘Shidi Mountain,’” Xu Zirong replied.

The sound of the creek murmured between us. Wen Lingyu’s brows knitted slightly. “Shidi Mountain… isn’t that the place A-Li mentioned?”

Qiu Lu looked puzzled. “What place? What are you talking about?”

Wen Lingyu explained, “A-Li let it slip once. She said there’s a place called Shidi Mountain—supposedly home to Miao tribes skilled in Gu poison. If I’m not mistaken, it might be where the so-called Shengmiao people live.”

Her theory matched the thought that had been forming in my own mind.

She turned, and our gazes met. I nodded in agreement, and she gave me a small smile, her cheeks faintly pink.

“What are you two saying? I can’t hear you!” Xu Zirong called out, bouncing on his heels. “Come over here and look!”

Qiu Lu pouted. “I can’t jump that far—and I don’t want to get my shoes wet.” She pointed at him and ordered, “You come carry me!”

“What am I, your personal servant?” Xu Zirong grumbled, but there was a fond smile on his face as he took off his sneakers, rolled up his pants, and waded through the water.

Qiu Lu stood primly where she was until he crouched down in front of her. Then she lazily looped her arms around his shoulders and climbed onto his back.

Wen Lingyu glanced at me, then quietly removed her own shoes and socks, rolling up her pant legs before stepping into the creek.

Qiu Lu, perched on Xu Zirong’s back, shot me a glare that could’ve burned holes through stone—like I’d committed some unforgivable sin.

Xu Zirong carried her lightly and turned his head toward me. “Aze, keep an eye on Xiaowen. The rocks are slippery—you fall once, and that’s it.”

The words had barely left his mouth when Wen Lingyu’s foot slipped on a slick stone. She wobbled dangerously, arms flailing for balance. I quickly stepped forward and offered her the tree branch I’d been holding. She caught it just in time to steady herself.

“Thanks,” she said softly once she reached the shore.

I waved it off and guided her closer to the stele.

Her brows furrowed as she studied it. “This stele must date back to the Ming or Qing dynasty. The carvings are faint—but this pattern… I’m sure I’ve seen it somewhere in a book before.”

Qiu Lu clapped her hands. “Our little Yu is amazing!”

Xu Zirong chimed in, “Aze, you didn’t let us guys lose face! You and Xiao Wen working together—you’ve figured out what’s written on that stone and even guessed when it was made.”

“Humph.” Qiu Lu shot him a glare, folding her arms and going quiet.

Wen Lingyu, though praised, didn’t look pleased. “An Pu warned us before—Shidi Mountain is dangerous. People have died here before, and even the rescue teams never found their bodies…”

Her words instantly snuffed out the teasing mood between Qiu Lu and Xu Zirong. The sun slipped behind a drifting cloud, plunging the forest into sudden gloom. The air cooled sharply; a chill seeped through the shadows like invisible fingers brushing against our skin.

I shivered, a prickly unease creeping up my spine—as if unseen eyes were watching us from the depths of the forest. My gaze darted through the trees, scanning the layers of ferns and undergrowth. Everything was still. Too still.

Qiu Lu hugged herself and rubbed her arms briskly. “Let’s go back. I’m getting scared.”

Wen Lingyu nodded. “We’ve got enough water. We should leave. It’s not safe to stay here.”

So we turned back the way we came.

To keep from getting lost, Xu Zirong—who walked last—used his outdoor knife to carve “X”-shaped marks on nearby trunks as we went. His movements were quick and practiced, each slash leaving a neat scar on the bark.

I took the lead, probing the path ahead with a stick while following the marks. No one spoke; the only sounds were our labored breathing and the crunch of leaves underfoot.

After a while, something felt off.

We hadn’t gone far when fetching water—half an hour, tops. Last night, we’d heard frogs croaking from the roadside, which meant the creek couldn’t have been far from the road. Yet now, after nearly an hour of walking, we were still buried deep beneath the forest canopy.

“Something’s wrong,” I said, stopping. “There’s no way we’ve been walking this long.”

Wen Lingyu panted, hands on her hips. “I feel it too. We’ve been going forever. Why aren’t we out yet?”

Qiu Lu’s head tilted. “Wait… I hear running water up ahead!”

We pushed through a patch of brush, following the sound—and froze.

We were back at the same creek.

The stele stood across the water exactly as before, silent and unmoving. A few fresh footprints by the bank confirmed what we didn’t want to believe: we had somehow walked in a circle.

“How is that possible?!” Xu Zirong exclaimed, spinning around to check the surroundings. But there was no denying it.

“This doesn’t make sense! We followed the marks—I watched you carve them!” Qiu Lu’s voice trembled with panic.

Could it be ghostly misdirection? But it was broad daylight—what kind of ghost could trap us?

Still, something about this was deeply wrong.

“Maybe we got turned around somehow,” Wen Lingyu said, forcing a shaky smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Let’s pick one direction and keep going straight. We’ll get out eventually.”

She was right—now wasn’t the time to panic.

“Let’s try again,” I said. “Maybe I wasn’t careful enough leading the way just now.”

Qiu Lu and Xu Zirong exchanged uneasy looks but nodded.

We set off once more from the creek.

This time, I was extra cautious, pausing at every marked tree to double-check our direction.

Ten minutes passed. Fifteen. The monotony of pushing branches aside lulled my senses—until suddenly, the stick in my hand jabbed something soft.

My body reacted before my brain did—I stumbled back two steps just as a sharp hiss split the air.

A jet-black snake, nearly two meters long, shot up from the underbrush where I’d just prodded!

“Ahhh!” Wen Lingyu screamed, her voice slicing through the forest air.

Qiu Lu shrieked and darted behind Xu Zirong. “Snake! It’s a snake!”

Xu Zirong instinctively shielded her, though his own legs were trembling.

None of us were used to seeing snakes outside of books or nature videos—and now one was right in front of us, alive and angry.

The snake reared halfway upright, its scarlet tongue flicking out, its black scales gleaming faintly. Those beady eyes locked on me, and its body coiled tight like a spring.

An attack stance.

My palms were slick with sweat. My heart pounded against my ribs so hard it hurt; my temples throbbed.

I knew you were supposed to strike a snake at seven inches from the head—but in the panic, I had no idea where that was.

Please, I thought desperately, let it not be venomous. Or at least, not too venomous.

Then, just as I braced myself, the snake froze. Its body loosened, dropped back to the ground, and with a sinuous ripple, it slithered away into the shadows.

Had it been scared off by our noise?