Chapter 17: Lost

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A breath of relief escaped Zhang Hao’s lips as a faint smile curved at the corner of his mouth. Wiping the cold sweat from his forehead, his mood was exceedingly pleasant.

Comfortable. So far, everything was going smoothly.

As his mood relaxed, the tension straining Zhang Hao’s nerves began to ease, and a wave of exhaustion and fatigue washed over him.

Leaning against the sheer cliff, his gaze stretched out into the distance, a smile lingering on his lips.

In the far distance lay a vast expanse of lush, verdant forest, stretching for miles. At the foot of the mountain was Zhao Family Village, home to only a few dozen households.

Looking out like this, his heart felt an unparalleled tranquility, accompanied by a profound sense of belonging.

A mountain dweller was naturally a part of the mountains—living by the mountains, surviving through them.

After resting on the plateau for a while, feeling his strength somewhat restored, Zhang Hao attempted to follow the path he had taken earlier, beginning his return journey.

At this point, he couldn’t help but sigh.

He still needed to traverse this cliff face once again, and he had to carry the Spirit-Infused Basket.

If he were careless and lost his grip, both the basket and the Rhizoma Polygonati inside would plummet down the cliff.

All his efforts would be in vain.

After all, once the Rhizoma Polygonati fell from the basket, its spiritual energy would dissipate in an instant.

Swallowing hard, Zhang Hao tightened his nerves once more, his footsteps growing steady and cautious.

Following the path he had previously trodden, he moved with utmost care, step by step.

…

Deep within the dense forest behind the cliff.

The glaring, scorching sun spread evenly across the entire woodland.

Along a narrow forest path, several figures gradually appeared.

They wore white mourning garments, some carrying suonas, others holding gongs and drums, or bearing long banners.

The exhaustion etched on their faces was unmistakable, mingled with a growing bewilderment.

Just looking at them evoked a strange feeling, as if their spirits were dimmed.

These people remained silent, speaking not a word among themselves.

Until finally, the group arrived once more at the edge of the cliff.

“Hey, Zhang Hao is gone.”

At that moment, someone raised a hand, pointing toward the spot where Zhang Hao had been sitting, murmuring to himself.

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All eyes followed the direction, and murmurs erupted anew.

“Gone? Wait, didn’t we see him when we came here?”

“No, not at all. We didn’t see him the whole way. There’s only one path—could that kid have jumped off the cliff?”

“Impossible… right? Why would he want to jump? His fiancée is Li Siyu; isn’t that enough?”

“You guys, stop saying cold things. Let’s hurry up and check—what if he really jumped?”

“If he did jump, we should rush back to the village and get help. Ah, such a good guy—how could he just jump off?”

“Maybe he slipped by accident. We should have pulled him back earlier; otherwise, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“Enough talking! Let’s go up and see if we can find him.”

As the crowd hesitated and debated, suddenly—

“Hey, look! Someone seems to be climbing up there!”

Someone in the crowd shouted.

At once, everyone turned their attention to the cliff edge, where a figure was emerging.

It was clear the figure was struggling to climb up, hands gripping the cliff’s edge, exerting great effort. His upper body was already visible.

It was Zhang Hao.

The crowd stared, stunned as Zhang Hao climbed out from below the cliff.

They had thought he might have left or jumped.

But never had they imagined he would climb back up from beneath the cliff...

This...

They watched as Zhang Hao’s legs scrambled up the cliff, his heavy breaths audible as he collapsed onto the ground, leaning against the rock to regain his strength.

Sweat drenched his face, and his clothes were soaked through countless times.

After a long moment of catching his breath, Zhang Hao looked toward the Rhizoma Polygonati resting inside the Spirit-Infused Basket, a smile touching his lips.

At that moment,

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the funeral procession standing just ahead. All eyes were fixed on him, their gazes strange, complex, tinged with confusion and bewilderment.

Zhang Hao froze.

He had checked the time at 1 PM just before; factoring in his climb, it must be nearly 1:15 PM now.

By tradition, the funeral procession should have descended the mountain before noon, returning home ahead of midday.

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This was an old custom passed down through generations.

If the procession failed to return before noon, the spirit of the deceased might think their family was reluctant to let them go and would choose to “follow” their kin back to the world of the living.

However, by then, the deceased were no longer truly “the deceased” in the original sense. Or rather, they were no longer the same “person” they had been.

Zhang Hao remembered this rule clearly and believed the villagers knew it well, unlikely to break it casually.

So what was going on with this funeral group?

It was past noon—the time when the yang energy was strongest—and yet they had not come down. How could that be?

Could there be a second procession?

Zhang Hao took a deep breath, stood up, shouldered the Spirit-Infused Basket, donned his straw sandals, and approached the funeral group.

No matter what, it was unusual for the procession to have reached this point.

And given that they had not descended by noon, it seemed all the more peculiar.

Better to ask and find out what was happening.

As Zhang Hao drew closer, his expression grew increasingly strange.

Because, fleetingly, he seemed to glimpse some black mist hovering over the foreheads of those in the group.

But the moment passed, and the mist vanished.

He almost thought he had imagined it.

“Zhang Hao, where did you go? How did you climb up from below the cliff?”

Before Zhang Hao reached them, a tall young man who was playing the suona asked.

Zhang Hao smiled: “I went down to gather herbs.”

The tall youth was Gao Hai, the owner of the village’s small shop. Zhang Hao often bought liquor from him, so they were relatively familiar.

Then, Zhang Hao glanced at the others in the procession and asked curiously, “What’s going on with you all? It’s past noon, yet you haven’t come down the mountain. That’s not according to custom.”

At this, Gao Hai’s face twisted oddly.

Everyone nearby, including those behind him, wore expressions of subtle strangeness.

Gao Hai looked at the people behind him, then at Zhang Hao, scratching the back of his head helplessly.

“Sigh, we got lost somehow and ended up here. It’s really strange.”