Chapter 10: The Unexpected

Following the caravan, Wang Liang walked at the very end. All the wagons were drawn by fine horses, and several attendants carried sticks or similar tools, guarding both sides. The owner of the merchant caravan sat atop the foremost wagon, flanked by two burly men wielding blades. The rest trailed alongside the wagons; some braced their courage with the sticks provided by the caravan, while others carried their own goods, either slung over their backs or balanced on poles, choosing not to arm themselves.

Wang Liang brought nothing with him, simply walking with his hands behind his back amid the group. Behind him followed two tiger hunters, one old and one young, who seemed to be surveying the surroundings. After traveling three or four li, they came upon a great tree, its bark stripped to reveal a patch of white, upon which two lines of bold characters had been written.

“Due to recent attacks by the beast at Jingyang Ridge, travelers and merchants are advised to form groups during the hours of Si, Wu, and Wei before crossing. Do not risk your lives alone!”

Perhaps because they had been on the road for some time, none paid attention to these words except Wang Liang, who scrutinized them and discovered something odd. The writing appeared to have been scrawled in blood, its color now blackened, suggesting it had been there for quite some time—contrary to the attendants' earlier claim that the man-eating tiger had only appeared in the past month or two.

This unsettling discovery made Wang Liang more cautious. He quickened his pace, edging closer to the heart of the caravan, glancing about to spot any signs of danger.

After another mile or two, they came upon a dilapidated temple to the Mountain God. The attendant leading the group called out loudly, “Everyone, pay attention—we’ve arrived at the Mountain God Temple. We’re about to enter the mountains. Don’t wander off; beware of tigers.”

The group paused before the temple, but none intended to rest inside. Their time to cross was limited; if they didn’t hurry, they wouldn’t make it through, so despite their exhaustion, stopping was not an option.

Taking advantage of his sharpened vision, Wang Liang noticed a proclamation posted on the temple door, sealed with an official stamp. It read: “Notice from Yanggu County: A newly arrived beast has taken lives on Jingyang Ridge. The village chiefs and hunters have been ordered to pursue it, but it remains uncaught. Travelers and merchants may cross the ridge only in groups during the hours of Si, Wu, and Wei. At other times, or if alone, passage is forbidden, for fear of harm. All are advised to take heed. Zhenghe…Year…Month…Day.”

The proclamation appeared ancient, though the official seal gleamed as if newly affixed. Wang Liang sensed a peculiar aura emanating from the seal—a palpable sense of authority and power. This was something he had never experienced before. Despite having served in high offices, whether civil or military, neither his official nor personal seals carried such a presence.

There was surely something amiss here.

While pondering this, Wang Liang suddenly noticed the tiger hunters at the rear slowing their pace. The youth produced a cloth bundle, about the size of a human head, blue-green in hue, with a hint of oil paper peeking from within. Its contents were unknown. The youth carried it casually, while the elder tucked his hands into his sleeves. The pair soon separated from the caravan, veering off onto another path.

A member of the caravan noticed and called out, “Where are you two heading?” But neither responded; instead, they quickened their steps.

The caravan fell into chaos. Rarely did anyone leave the group to enter the mountains alone, especially with the threat of tigers lingering for so long.

At that moment, the merchant at the front grabbed a small hammer and struck the gong heavily.

“That’s enough! Do you all want to cross the ridge or not? We haven’t time to dawdle here. Instead of worrying about others, focus on how we’ll get through safely.”

This brought everyone back to their senses, and they obediently followed the caravan along the mountain path.

Wang Liang glanced toward the direction the tiger hunters had taken, but they had already vanished into the woods.

His eyes narrowed; he sensed trouble ahead.

Just then, the attendant at the front began to beat the gong, announcing loudly, “Merchant caravan on the road—no loiterers allowed!”

The words struck Wang Liang as odd, but the others seemed used to it, falling silent and proceeding dutifully behind the wagons.

After another seven or eight li, Wang Liang suddenly heard a thunderous tiger’s roar in the distance. The sound was astonishing, followed by a gust of wind that swept towards them. Though the wind weakened as it approached, Wang Liang saw the nearby trees sway and caught a whiff of a putrid stench.

Before he could react, another roar echoed from the same direction.

“Seal the mountain! Wipe out everyone!”

Upon hearing this, the merchant on the wagon was stunned. He leapt down, gazing toward the source of the voice, and cursed aloud.

“Damn it! Can’t we just cross the ridge in peace? Everyone, retreat to the Mountain God Temple—quickly, fall back!”

As he spoke, the attendant who had been beating the gong seemed affected by something, continuing to strike the gong while striding rapidly ahead, oblivious to whether the wagons and caravan could keep up. His pace grew ever faster.

The merchant grew anxious. His confidence in leading the group rested not only on his familiarity with the route, but also on the gong, which had been instrumental in their passage. Now that the attendant was running ahead with the gong, he could no longer guarantee everyone’s safety.

“Quick, stop him! Get the gong back!” the merchant shouted desperately. The travelers grew frantic, for they had learned that their hopes of crossing safely hinged on that very gong. If it were taken away, they would be doomed.

Gripping their sticks, several rushed after the attendant. The attendant, abandoning all pretense, slung the copper gong over his back and broke into a run. The merchant tried to give chase, but lacking the stamina, he could only stamp his feet in frustration.

Wang Liang watched the scene unfold, a thought stirring within him. At that moment, a chime sounded in his ear.

[Due to an unexpected event, you have activated a side quest!]
[Side Quest 1: Monster Ridge—Jingyang Ridge. By chance, you have wandered into Monster Ridge—Jingyang Ridge. Thanks to the protection of the Magic Wine, you can resist the monster’s aura for 24 hours. Please leave Jingyang Ridge within 24 hours…]