The Great Festival of the Yaoxian Society

Chapter 95 The Great Festival of the Yaoxian Society

Li Yuan nodded slightly, his voice calm.

"Not just trains."

"The fact that they dare to attack ordinary people in public places shows that they no longer care about being exposed."

"There must be some urgent reason behind their audacity."

"The 'Gu Child,' 'Hundred Days,' and 'Grand Sacrifice' that your senior sister mentioned..."

"I'm afraid the deadline is fast approaching."

His voice was calm to the point of being indifferent, as if he were reciting a passage of scripture that had nothing to do with him.

But each word was like a pebble thrown from a great distance, striking the hearts of the three young Miao people squarely.

The ripples spread out in concentric circles, causing something inside their chests to tremble slightly.

Wei Shufen bit her lower lip, her pearly teeth sinking into the soft flesh of her lips, almost leaving white marks.

She remembered what her master had said. Those words were spoken on a rainy night. Her master sat by the fire pit, his old fingers poking at the embers, sparks crackling and leaping upwards, casting flickering light on his wrinkled face.

Master said that the grand ceremony of the Medicine Immortal Gathering is held once every ten years and is chosen on the night of the winter solstice.

That day was the longest night of the year, when the yin energy was at its peak, and all the evil spirits returned to their source.

If you count the days, there's less than a month until the winter solstice.

One month, thirty days, seven hundred and twenty hours.

Every moment, a child could be stuffed into a jar and left to live with those poisonous insects.

"Let's go," Li Yuan said.

It consists of only two words, yet it sounds like an echo from a very deep valley, carrying an undeniable certainty.

"We'll talk about it on the way."

When I got off the train, it was already broad daylight.

Huaihua is a small city, nestled against the mountains and beside the water. Several streets and alleys meander and spread out, like ribbons that someone casually threw down, which, when blown by the wind, have become this winding shape.

The cobblestone path gleamed from the footsteps of early risers; that shine wasn't from polishing, but from the wear and tear of time, inch by inch.

Every stone slab is imprinted with countless footprints: some carrying loads, some leading oxen, some carrying baskets to the market, layer upon layer, like a wordless history book written on the ground.

The shops on both sides of the street had just opened, and as soon as the steamers for breakfast were lifted, a cloud of white steam billowed up, mingling with the aroma of rice...

The aroma of noodles and lard wafted in the morning light.

The grocer was hanging goods on the door panel: bamboo baskets, straw hats, hemp ropes, one by one, neatly arranged.

The herbal vendor had already set out his winnowing basket, which was filled with honeysuckle, wild chrysanthemum, selfheal, and some other roots and stems that he couldn't name, all emitting a bitter yet refreshing aroma.

The shop owners yawned as they removed the door panels, which were made of cedar wood and had turned black from years of use. The panels creaked as they were taken off, like the horn signaling the start of a new day.

They glanced at the group of four several times—mainly at Li Yuan.

That moon-white Taoist robe was really too eye-catching in this small Miao town.

It's not the color that's striking, but the overall vibe that's striking.

The dark patterns on the robe seemed to flow subtly in the morning light, as if they were alive, as if something was moving inside them.

As he walked by, a tabby cat curled up asleep on the street suddenly raised its head, pricked up its ears, stared at him, its pupils narrowed to slits, and made a low growling sound in its throat, whether out of wariness or awe, it was hard to tell.

An old man who was setting up a stall saw this scene. He dropped what he was holding with a "thud," muttered something in Miao language, and his face changed several times. He quickly turned his face away, not daring to look anymore.

Wei Shufen led them into a small alley.

The alley was very deep, so deep that it seemed to swallow up the entire daylight.

On both sides are high firewalls made of blue bricks with lime mortar. Over the years, most of the lime has peeled off, revealing the blue bricks underneath, and the cracks between the bricks are full of ferns and moss.

At the end of the alley is a rice noodle shop.

The storefront is small, with a few wooden tables and benches placed at the entrance. The tables are covered with oil stains left over the years, which are shiny black and look like a layer of patina.

The large pot on the stove was bubbling away, the thick, white steam carrying the rich aroma of bone broth that permeated the alley, making everyone's stomachs rumble.

Behind the stove, the proprietress was a plump, middle-aged woman with a round face, a double chin, and wearing a blue apron with a few drops of chili oil and rice paste on it.

She smiled when she saw Wei Shufen, a smile that seemed to overflow from the bottom of her heart, her eyes narrowing into slits: "Girl, you're back? Still the same as always?"

Wei Shufen nodded with a smile, a smile that conveyed the relaxation of being back home: "Give me a few more bowls, I have friends."

The proprietress's gaze lingered on Li Yuan for a moment.

There was curiosity, scrutiny, and a simple reverence unique to mountain people in his eyes.

She saw the dark patterns on the robe, the steps that didn't seem to tread on the ground, and the face whose age was hard to discern—neither young nor old, like a stone that had been washed by a river for too long, its edges gone, leaving only a rounded, weighty presence.

Her lips moved as if she wanted to say something, but in the end she just nodded and turned to get back to work.

Soon, several bowls of steaming hot rice noodles were served.

The bowl was an old-fashioned, coarse porcelain bowl with a few chips on the rim. The soup was thick and white, like milk.

A layer of bright red chili oil floated on top, and the aroma of pickled bamboo shoots wafted straight into my nose. The smell was so strong that it instantly masked all the other smells in the alley.

A few peanuts, a pinch of chopped green onions, and a few sprigs of cilantro—the red, white, and green colors are so appealing they make your mouth water.

Wei Shufen picked up the bowl and took a big gulp of soup. It was so hot that she hissed and gasped for breath, but she still couldn't bear to spit it out. She rolled it in her mouth a couple of times, swallowed it with a gulp, and sighed contentedly, "Every time I eat this, I feel like everything is fine."

She used her chopsticks to pick at the rice noodles in the bowl. The rice noodles were very slippery, twisting and turning between the chopsticks like strands of white...

Loach.

She looked up at Li Yuan, a hint of cautious anticipation in her eyes.

"Are you really not going to eat? The vegetarian noodles here are also very delicious."

Li Yuan shook his head slightly, the movement so small it was almost imperceptible.

He simply held a cup of tea and sipped it slowly.

The tea paused at his lips for a moment, then tilted slightly before entering his mouth silently.

Awang and Amu buried their heads in their food, slurping loudly.

Their cheeks were bulging high, and their mouths were smeared with red oil. Their eating manners were not exactly graceful, but they had a kind of exhilarating satisfaction from surviving a disaster.

It's as if they want to chew up, swallow, and digest all the fear and exhaustion from last night, leaving nothing behind.

Amu ate until he was covered in sweat, his hair sticking wetly to his forehead.

He looked up, hastily wiped his face with his sleeve, and noticed that Li Yuan hadn't touched the rice noodles in front of him. He hesitated for a moment, then asked softly, "Daozi, are you really not going to eat?"

"The rice noodles here are really delicious. I've been eating here since I was a child. The owner recognizes me and always gives me an extra spoonful of pickled cowpeas."

"No need." Li Yuan put down his teacup, the movement so light that it made no sound.

"You eat, we still have a long way to go after you finish eating."

Amu dared not persuade him any further and lowered his head to continue eating.

But he ate noticeably slower. When he picked up rice noodles with his chopsticks, he would always subconsciously glance at Li Yuan, as if to confirm whether that moon-white figure was still there.

Wei Shufen, however, ate absentmindedly.

The chopsticks stirred the rice noodles in the bowl, turning them into a tangled mess. It took a long time to pick up a single strand, put it in his mouth, and chew for ages without swallowing it.

She would glance up at Li Yuan every now and then, then quickly lower her head again, as if she had something to say but didn't know where to begin.

Li Yuan saw her expression.

In those eyes, there was something he had seen many times before: the hesitation of words being swallowed back, the trepidation of wanting to entrust something but fearing rejection, and the desperate gamble of placing all hope on a stranger.

He didn't ask any further questions, but just sat quietly, listening to the sounds outside the alley gradually increase: the shouts of vendors carrying loads, the ringing of bicycle bells, the laughter of children, the tofu seller tapping his bamboo tube as he walked by, and two women chatting loudly in Miao language at the alley entrance, their laughter sharp and cheerful.

The small town is awakening, bustling yet peaceful.

And they are about to leave this peace and go deeper into the mountains, to places where the light cannot be seen.

Sunlight streamed in slantingly from the alley entrance, illuminating the bluestone pavement, the ferns on the firewalls, and Wei Shufen's blue pleated skirt.

But when the light reached Li Yuan's feet, it seemed to be blocked by something invisible. Within three feet of him, the light became softer, as if covered by a thin veil.

Wei Shufen finally put down her chopsticks.

As if she had made up her mind, she took a deep breath. "Michiko..."

"There's something I didn't have time to say last night."

Li Yuan looked at her.

Those eyes were as calm as a stagnant pool, but Wei Shufen knew that something was watching beneath that stagnant pool.

The feeling was strange, like being watched by a pair of eyes from a great distance, or like being reflected in an extremely clear mirror, where nothing could be hidden.

She bit her lip, took out a cloth bag from her bosom, and slowly and carefully unwrapped it layer by layer.

The last layer of cloth was opened.

Inside was a wooden plaque about the size of a palm. The plaque had turned black, as if it had been soaked in blood and dried repeatedly to achieve that color.

The wooden plaque is engraved with patterns of snakes, centipedes, scorpions, spiders, and toads.

The Five Poisons.

The snake was carved with lifelike detail, its body winding and twisting, its scales carved one by one, and two small eyes carved on its triangular head. The eyes were slanted upwards, giving off a cold, malevolent, and fierce light.

The centipede's legs were arranged in two dense rows, each leg as thin as a hair, yet clearly defined, as if it might crawl out of the wooden sign at any moment.

The scorpion's tail is raised high, and its stinger at the end is as sharp as a thorn, as if it would pierce the flesh with the slightest touch.

The spider's legs were long and thin, with fine lines etched at the joints, and its abdomen was round and bulging, as if filled with something unidentifiable.

Something shaped like a dome.

The toad squatted there, its eyes bulging and its mouth slightly open, as if it were swallowing or spitting out something unseen.

Surrounded by five poisonous creatures, in the center is a crooked human figure.

The humanoid figure was in a strange posture, with its arms and legs outstretched, as if it were struggling or dancing.

It is said to be struggling because the twisted angle of its limbs reveals pain, and its joints look as if they have been broken and pieced back together.

It is said to dance because its posture has a strange rhythm, like the movements in some ancient, forgotten ritual.

The humanoid figure had no facial features, only a vague outline, but that outline conveyed an indescribable feeling, as if it were empty, yet also as if there was something inside.

When Awang and Amu saw the wooden sign, their expressions changed.

Amu's chopsticks fell onto the table with a "clatter." He didn't pick them up; his eyes were fixed on the wooden plaque, his pupils slightly contracting.

Awang gripped the chopsticks tightly, and the veins on the back of his hand bulged out.

Wei Shufen's voice went even lower, so low it sounded like she was talking to herself.

As she spoke, her gaze never left the wooden plaque, as if she were afraid that if she looked away, the things on it would come to life.

"This was delivered by our people outside the Medicine Immortal Gathering at great personal risk."

"He stayed inside for three months, and after three months, this is the only thing that came out."

"After it was sent out, he—and then we never heard from him again."

Wei Shufen paused for a moment, her fingers gently tracing the edge of the wooden sign.

He said this was the "offering order" for this grand ceremony.

'

"The number of chosen Gu children is engraved on it."

She pointed to the five poisonous creatures pattern, pausing her fingertip on each one.

"Each type of poisonous insect represents ten children. The five poisonous insects make fifty children."

The alley suddenly fell silent.

Even the noise from the distant streets seemed to be blocked by something, as if an invisible wall had fallen down, separating this small rice noodle shop from the entire city of Huaihua.

The large pot on the stove was still bubbling and steaming, but the sound seemed to be coming from a very, very far place, indistinct and barely audible.

Amu's face was deathly pale, his lips trembled, he wanted to say something but couldn't, and a series of indistinct sounds came from his throat.

Awang did not speak.

He just stared at the wooden sign, his eyes unblinking.

Li Yuan stared at the wooden plaque for a long time.

His gaze slowly moved across the patterns of poisonous insects, finally settling on the human figure.

He had seen that humanoid posture before.

In those fragments of scrolls recording Miao witchcraft, this humanoid figure represents "sacrifice".

Offering living people to the Gu, and nurturing the Gu into gods.

It wasn't murder, it was "feeding".

The fear, pain, and despair of the living are the best nourishment.

When the Gu worms devour flesh, every scream and struggle of the host becomes nourishment for the Gu.

It is becoming more and more powerful, getting closer and closer to the realm of "god".

"Only fifty?"

Wei Shufen shook her head and said, "This is only the first batch."

"My master said that the grand ceremony of the Medicine Immortal Society requires eighty-one Gu children."

"Eighty-one, not one less."