Chapter 89: The Snowy Mountain Has a “Spirit.”

Chapter 89 The Mountain Has a "Spirit"

"A great High Being?"

Chen Hui paused momentarily, then scoffed, "You mean those divine beings?"

"After reaching an A-rank dungeon, who hasn't seen a few divine beings? Forget about the gods' pets and lackeys—even if—"

He abruptly stopped himself, choking back "the gods themselves" that had risen to his throat, then snorted, "There's nothing to fear. We'll clear it regardless."

The girl, still covering her eyes, shook her head in silent frustration.

That kind of talk, if spoken by a truly strategic and determined powerhouse, might have been considered ambitious and bold.

But coming from someone like Chen Hui—all brawn no brain—it only revealed his arrogance and thoughtlessness.

However, Lena soon wondered:

Given Chen Hui's shown smarts and skills, was it possible that someone had said or done something in front of him, subtly planting the idea that gods and divine beings were "nothing special"?

Surely no near-god-level powerhouse would actually take a liking to such a dumb loudmouth and accept him as a disciple, right?

Thinking this, Lena slightly parted her fingers, peeking between her fingers to glance quickly at Chen Hui...

Good, confirmed—this was the face of mere cannon fodder.

Reassured, she closed her eyes again and murmured softly, "Why did the system pair me with such an idiot..."

The two found no common ground and went their separate ways unhappily.

Chen Hui continued idly kicking at the snow, though his ears remained attuned to the conversation between Yi Fengchu—likely an important NPC—and the others.

The scholar, clearly well-educated, spoke with precision and conciseness, quickly summarizing the information Zhang Ming had previously shared to Yi Fengchu.

"Uncle Zhang has been missing for so many years?" Yi Fengchu showed a look of surprise. "No wonder I never saw him again. I always thought he might have moved away for work or something."

"Mr. Yi, do you have any impressions of Zhang's father?" the scholar asked. "Understanding his personality and habits better might aid our investigation."

Yi Fengchu pondered for a moment before answering, "Uncle Zhang was a quiet middle-aged man, very tall and thin..." He paused, glancing at Zhang Ming. "May I speak freely?"

The portly man, as ever, put on a cheerful front: "We've been neighbors for so many years—we're practically family! Speak your mind, no need to hold back!"

Thus, Yi Fengchu spoke candidly: "Uncle Zhang was actually quite eccentric."

"In my memories, when I was playing in the yard as a child, he would silently watch me from behind the fence. Sometimes I’d greet him, but he wouldn’t respond—instead, he’d quickly turn and leave... To this day, I still don’t know what he was looking at."

"Then, on a particularly stormy day, he suddenly rushed into our yard, dug his fingers into my shoulders with tremendous force, and said a lot of strange things to me..."

Closing his eyes, Yi Fengchu could still vividly recall that scene—

Dark clouds blotted out the sun, and raindrops like bullets pelted down, stinging like needles against skin.

Little Yi Fengchu looked up, and in his eyes reflected the man's contorted face—far more terrifying and sinister than the stormy sky beyond.

"Tell me! Tell me... how did you do it?"

A pair of hands clamped onto Yi Fengchu's shoulders with bruising force, clearly meant to prevent escape. But soon, those hands began shaking him wildly, as if trying to rattle the answers straight from his mind.

"Tell me, how did you make her survive?!"

Zhang's father had once been a dignified university professor, but in that moment, his features were contorted beyond recognition. Dark circles hollowed his eyes, and his damp black hair clung to his deathly pale skin like a vengeful spirit clawing its way from a river before the storm.

In that distant memory, Zhang's father shrieked hysterically: "Please, save me—I want to live too!!"

"I don’t want to die!!"

Yi Fengchu came back to himself, the echoes of those desperate cries still lingering stubbornly in his ears after over a decade.

Leaving out some inconvenient details, he summarized:

"I don’t remember exactly what Uncle Zhang said—just vague impressions. Something about begging me to save him, that he didn’t want to die?"

"......"

The answer stunned everyone into silence.

After a long pause, Eurus finally spoke slowly: "That’s... messed up."

"Given that Mr. Zhang’s father disappeared over a decade ago, you must've been under ten at the time, right? Why would anyone plead with a child, repeatedly insisting they didn’t want to die?"

"That, I don’t know."

Yi Fengchu shrugged. "My mom found out about it soon after. She beefed up security around the fence and forbade me from interacting with Uncle Zhang further."

As the group pondered this, Zhang Ming—silent until now—suddenly removed his backpack, pressing a small dent into the snow.

The heavyset man half-knelt in the snow, laboriously fishing out a slightly yellowed, curled A4 sheet from his bag. "Regarding this... I might have some thoughts."

Under everyone’s gaze, he unfolded the paper, shaking it in the wind to display its contents—

It was a detailed medical report, signed in the corner by "Zhang Tianyu," Zhang Ming’s father.

Sharp-eyed Eurus located the diagnosis section and read aloud:

"Malignant brain tumor... with signs of metastasis?"

"Yes," Zhang Ming nodded gravely, his voice thick with grief. "At the time, my father was unfortunately diagnosed with a severe illness. The immense mental strain might have driven him to behave in such irrational ways..."

Brain tumor.

The term rolled through Yi Fengchu’s mind, standing out.

Because before meeting him, his own mom had been diagnosed with the same condition.

Could that really be a coincidence?

Recalling how Zhang’s father had desperately clung to him after falling ill, a suspicion arose in Yi Fengchu’s heart:

Had Zhang’s father somehow learned about his mom’s miraculous recovery and mistaken him for some miracle cure?

But Yi Fengchu had only been around nine years old at the time!

From what he remembered, he’d just been a kid who spent his afternoons playing in the dirt, drawing, and watching children’s shows!

If Zhang’s father had truly lost all reason, pinning his hopes entirely on a child... that was completely unhinged.

His expression darkened.

Who knew his supposedly normal childhood held so many dark secrets buried there...

His curiosity grew about the truth behind Zhang's father's disappearance and the events of the past.

...

After discussion, everyone agreed to rest at the foot of the mountain for half an hour before starting the ascent before noon.

If all went well, they would reach the first public campsite before sunset, set up camp, and prepare to spend their first night on the snowy mountain.

The suggestion for a half-hour break was first proposed by Zhang Ming.

He pretended to be interested in the local customs of the village at the foot of the mountain, but it was obvious to everyone—he was actually planning to take the opportunity to shake off Yi Fengchu and didn’t want to enter the mountains with him.

Yi Fengchu, of course, could see this too.

But when Yi Fengchu chose not to take social cues, he became the most stubborn and socially inept person in the world.

Despite Zhang Ming’s repeated hints, Yi Fengchu simply acted as if he didn’t hear or understand, making Zhang Ming’s usual warm smile stiffen awkwardly.

The chubby man’s upturned lips and a snot bubble formed from the cold hung in midair, his face flushed with anger. Yet he didn’t dare say anything harsh to Yi Fengchu, nearly making himself sick with suppressed anger.

"Our employer here is really afraid—or should I say, wary—of Mr. Yi," Eurus remarked, watching the contrasting figures of the two men, one plump and the other lean. She casually slung an arm over the scholar’s shoulder. "What's your read on that NPC? People from the Truth Domain are usually good at gathering information. Can you tell what his background is?"

The scholar frowned slightly, clearly uncomfortable with Eurus’ overly familiar attitude. "I can't tell. And I’m not planning to act recklessly until I’m sure."

"Not even a sixth-tier Truth Domain member can get any intel?" Eurus nodded. "Then he must be at least a demigod, if not higher."

"Thanks, that's still useful information," she said with a grin, making the scholar’s frown deepen.

The scholar unceremoniously brushed off the hand resting on his shoulder and said coolly, "Enough of this. Use this half-hour and gather as much intel as you can about this mountain."

As he spoke, he turned his head toward a certain direction, his tone softening with approval. "Look at Lena—she’s already started."

Indeed, Lena had already used her charming appearance to win over a crowd of locals at the foot of the mountain.

The young girl leaned against the counter of a homestay, playfully pushing the owner’s arm with both hands, her twin braids swaying with the movement.

The ends of her hair seemed to charm the owner, making her laugh nonstop and unusually forthcoming, answering every question Lena asked.

Seizing the opportunity, Lena inquired, "Auntie, winter should be the peak season for tourism around the snowy mountains, right? Why don’t I see many climbers?"

"Our mountain here is different from others," the owner replied, patting Lena’s head. "This snowy mountain has a special kind of 'spirit'."

"Spirit?" Lena’s eyes lit up, and she asked eagerly, "What does that mean?"

"Our snowy mountain has a particular tradition—you can only stand at its base and look up, praying for blessings. It’s not meant to be climbed."

Sure enough, as a local, the owner easily revealed information the players didn’t know:

"Praying to the snowy mountain is famously effective. Especially for those who are sincere and reverent—they tend to have exceptional fortune."

"They say there was once a man about to go bankrupt who came here planning to jump off a cliff. But after kneeling and praying to the mountain, he just slept for a while, and his company miraculously recovered."

"So many people arrive in despair and leave triumphant."

"Of course, there are also those with impure motives or disrespect. After coming to this mountain, they end up plagued by misfortune, everything going wrong… It’s all their own bad karma, divine retribution."

Lena listened intently, nodding in agreement. "No wonder I saw so many people outside closing their eyes and praying to the mountain… But why the rule against climbing?"

The owner hesitated for a moment before lowering her voice. "What I’m about to say next are just some superstitious tales. Take it as entertainment, little girl, and don’t take it seriously."

She took a sip of water to wet her throat. "Legend says climbing the mountain angers the mountain spirit, making people see things they shouldn’t."

"A couple of years ago, there was a climbing team. No matter how much we warned them, they insisted on going up. That very night, they were so terrified they fled back down."

"When we called the rescue team, they were still muttering about ghosts and illusions."

"Some said they saw duplicates of themselves on the mountain—sometimes a teammate would enter a tent, only for an identical person to walk over from afar. When they counted their group mid-hike, they realized extra people had somehow joined the group."

"Others screamed about seeing ghosts, claiming they spotted the dead who had been buried years ago. Who knows if it was just their frightened minds playing tricks on them?"

The owner sighed. "Whether there are really ghosts or not, we can’t say. We only know to respect the mountain and not approach it lightly..."