C3 Chapter 3

“Get the hell out when I tell you to! Quit running your mouth! I’m not so desperate I’ve gotta eat some punk kid!” the ghost suddenly snapped.

“What?” That set me off too. “Listen up, you old bastard. If you don’t eat me today, then one day when I get stronger, I’ll kill you!”

The ghost snorted. “Get out.”

“What? Are you kidding me? A measly five-hundred-year-old runt is gonna talk to me like that? Get your ass out here, you hear me? Get out here! I’ll fight you right now!” I yelled, furious.

No answer. It really seemed like it left.

“Damn.” I dropped onto the ground. Tonight nearly worked me to death...

“Wait—no. I’ve still gotta get moving!” I scrambled back up. I might not die spending all night trading blows with that thing, but if my dad found out I was late on day one, he’d kill me for real.

I cursed that nasty ghost a hundred thousand times in my head, hitched up my pack, and hurried off.

What I didn’t know was that after I left, a familiar figure appeared where I’d been standing.

It was my dad.

And behind him, a shadowy spirit drifted back and forth.

The spirit spoke. “This kid’s got something. He’s got grit.”

Dad shook his head. “Still not quite there. Otherwise he wouldn’t have mistaken you—a ten-thousand-year-old demon—for some five-hundred-year-old nobody.”

The spirit froze for a beat, then it and my dad burst out laughing together.

As I hurried down the road, I suddenly felt this creepy, sleazy vibe crawling up my back and couldn’t help turning around. Weird—why did it sound like my dad laughing?

“Whatever. I’ve gotta keep moving. Otherwise I really will die by my own dad’s hand!” I waved it off and took off down the mountain.

By the time I reached town, it was 11:45 a.m. I sprinted like crazy and finally managed to hop on the bus at the last second. After it got to the terminal, I rode around the county in circles a couple times before I finally found the train station. Once I bought my ticket and got on the train, I could finally catch my breath.

This place is tiny, and I still managed to get turned around so badly I thought I’d die. How am I supposed to survive in a big city? I couldn’t help worrying about my terrible sense of direction. Back in the mountains, you never really follow roads—you just walk, and a path happens. But in the city, it’s different. There are rules everywhere, and they box you in.

I sighed and slumped back in my seat, staring off into space. Right before the train pulled out, a young woman sat down across from me. She was dressed easy and confident, but it was more than that—her whole vibe didn’t match the people here at all. She looked like someone who’d come from somewhere else to visit an old family place from who-knows-how-many generations back. She just stared at me without moving, and it got so awkward I didn’t know what to do. Wait—was she into me? No way. I’m still young. I can’t be dating.

I rubbed my nose and asked, “Why are you staring at me?”

She blinked, then laughed. “What, a big tough guy scared of being looked at?”

“Getting looked at by regular people is fine,” I said with a shrug. “Getting stared down by a pretty girl? That’s nerve-racking.”

“Hmph. Creep,” she snapped, turning her head away.

I was speechless. I just complimented you—was that really that bad?

After a long while, she slowly turned back, leaned in like she was sharing a secret, and asked, “You’re from around here, aren’t you?”

I blinked and thought for a second. “Yeah.”

“I knew it!” she said, suddenly excited.

“How’d you know?” I asked.

“Look at what you’re wearing—you look like you just walked out of the mountains,” she said, pointing at me like she’d found proof. “These days you hardly ever see handmade sandals and those rough linen pants. And that jacket—look, it’s still got mud and leaves on it…”

Me: “……”

She suddenly covered her mouth and hurried to add, “I didn’t mean that as an insult. I’m just curious about this place.”

I waved it off. “What’s so interesting about mountain folks and their land?”

“Who says it isn’t?” she pressed on. “From what I’ve researched, there had to be a lost ancient capital here. I don’t have any solid evidence—nothing that really proves it—but I know my gut isn’t wrong. There’s a past here nobody knows about. Next summer, I’m going to figure it out,” she said, firm as a rock.

Oh, now I get it. She really was an outsider—here to check out the local history! But as someone who grew up here, I honestly wanted to tell her there’s nothing here, really, except for a few mountains... Then again, if mountains count as history, I guess this place does have deep roots. Back where I’m from, there are who-knows-how-many dark, sprawling ranges—so deep nobody’s ever gone all the way in...

A little while later, she suddenly asked me, “What’s your name?”

“Wu Xiaogang,” I answered flatly. To be honest, after traveling for so long, I was exhausted. Even with a really beautiful girl sitting right in front of me, when a guy’s that tired, he’s at his weakest. That was me. I had zero interest in making conversation, but out of habit I still blurted out, “What about you—what’s your name?”