Chapter 435: The Gods (VII) Baima

Si Qi straddled a yak, leading the mighty herd of cattle down the mountain with Jin Yusheng, Shuo Meng, and Jiang Junjue.

Jiang Junjue subtly inquired about the whereabouts of “Lin Crow.” This mysterious president of the Unnamed Guild had made a huge splash recently but had silently faded from view after the final instance ended, which was truly strange.

Si Qi just smiled without speaking. When pressed, he countered, “You Listening Wind Guild members are so curious about the internal arrangements of our Unnamed Guild. Are you perhaps planning to share the whereabouts of your former president, Xiao Fengchao?”

Jiang Junjue stopped asking questions.

Jin Yusheng, however, knew Lin Chen’s fate. He had personally watched that young man become completely assimilated by the strangeness, leading hordes of ghosts across the mountains and into the deep wilderness.

Seeing Si Qi’s attitude and hearing his tone now, could it be that Lin Chen and Lin Crow truly weren’t the same person?

The intricacies of the situation were impossible to know.

When they reached the halfway point of the mountain, signs of human habitation became strikingly obvious. Clusters of tents were set up, with colorful prayer flags draped from the tops, the other ends secured to the ground by pegs. The colorful flags fluttered loudly in the wind.

Scattered footprints had compacted the ice and snow, making the ground beneath their feet as hard as iron. Two herdsmen darted out of a tent. After seeing the yak herd, they exchanged a look, and when their gaze returned to the group, it was full of hostility.

One man stepped forward and muttered something unintelligible.

Without the translation provided by the Sinister Game, the four naturally couldn’t understand the Tibetan language. Shuo Meng jumped off his yak, smiling broadly, and gesticulated wildly at the herdsman—a complete failure in communication.

The herdsman chattered angrily for a bit longer, then stomped back into the tent. When he reappeared, he was holding a hunting rifle, pointing the muzzle fiercely at Shuo Meng.

After a difficult round of communication, the group finally realized that the yak herd belonged to the herdsmen.

The night before, the herdsman had been resting in his tent when he suddenly heard the mournful cries of yaks outside, one after another, exceedingly shrill. The hearts of those living in the snowy mountains were no purer than those outside; petty theft still occurred. The herdsman immediately suspected cattle rustlers, grabbed his hunting rifle, and rushed out of the tent.

Then he witnessed an unforgettable scene: yaks of all sizes stood upright like humans, prostrating themselves toward the mountaintop, their forelegs raised in front of them, as if praying to the gods in heaven. He thought he was dreaming and rubbed his eyes, but in that instant, the kneeling yaks vanished completely, as if they had never existed.

Yes, the Sinister Game, in poor taste, had simply used local resources, then dusted its hands and left after the final instance, leaving a mess for the players to deal with.

Although the herdsman sensed something strange behind the incident, the yak herd was his life. Even if the players were demons or monsters with three heads and six arms, he still had to get his yaks back.

What’s more, the group had been instantly knocked back to the level of ordinary humans, and due to acclimatization issues, they were already suffering from severe altitude sickness, visibly weak and swaying precariously.

The group returned the yak herd to the herdsmen. They gesticulated and fabricated a story about coincidentally finding the herd and kindly driving them back to the camp, successfully borrowing oxygen tanks from the herdsmen, which alleviated their immediate crisis.

The four rode goats for another stretch down the mountain, only to encounter another group of herdsmen demanding their animals back. Fortunately, they had reached the foot of the mountain by then and could see the colorful and bustling Shangri-La Town in the distance.

Unlike the grotesque horror presented in the Sinister Game instance, the real Shangri-La Town was just a typical tourist town. Visitors in brightly colored clothes filled the streets, laughter drifted out from the shops, young men and women took photos with their phones, and guides held red flags, talking about “check-in spots” and “internet-famous attractions.”

Occasionally, people would glance furtively at the four who had just descended from the snowy mountains. With blood-stained shirts, ill-fitting warm Tibetan robes, and filthy, disheveled appearances, these survivors of a life-or-death adventure were completely out of place in this peaceful and serene scenic area.

Shuo Meng calmly sprayed some perfume on himself, not forgetting to flash a smile at the girl who had been observing him the longest, scaring her into quickly jogging a few steps and disappearing into the crowd.

After pondering for a moment, he suddenly frowned and mused, “Speaking of which, did any of you bring a phone? No phone, no cash—how are we supposed to get home?”

Jiang Junjue spread his hands. “I hope they have face-recognition payment here. If not, I’ll just sell this old face of mine, sit on the street corner with a broken bowl…”

Shuo Meng looked touched. “Old Jiang, whether I make it home successfully depends on you!”

On the snowy mountains, the biting cold wind and heavy snow obscured the paths of arrival and departure, easily making one realize their insignificance and generating a loneliness of finding no kin between heaven and earth.

Now, back among people, there was a sudden feeling of having returned from another life. It was as if the ashamed had been granted a second life by the gods; everything that happened on the snowy mountain quickly faded, seeming like nothing more than an absurd nightmare.

Although the massive crowd they had arrived with had scattered, leaving only the four of them, who belonged to different factions yet were brought together by chance, Shuo Meng and Jiang Junjue still simultaneously felt the relief of surviving a catastrophe.

It was over. Although they didn’t know what chaos the outside world was in, at least here in Shangri-La Town, far from the mundane, they were carefree, their worries gone, having stolen a night of peace.

Jin Yusheng counted on his fingers for a while, his eyelids twitching wildly. “You two, Si Qi, shouldn’t we quickly find a bus and sneak onto it, making a run for it before that woman named ‘White Crow’ realizes what’s happening? I have a feeling this isn’t over yet…”

“Where would we run to?” Si Qi shook his head. “If White Crow won in the end, she undoubtedly gained the great power of the Ancestral God. Even if we ran back to Jiangcheng, she could still kill us. If Fu Jue won in the end, we wouldn’t need to run, right?”

Jin Yusheng clicked his tongue. “That’s true, but just lying down and waiting for death doesn’t feel right…”

“I’m tired. I’m so tired I just want to find a hotel and rest properly; I don’t want to travel anymore.” Si Qi turned his head to look directly into Jin Yusheng’s eyes, flashing a mouthful of white teeth. “If you insist on leaving here, you might die of exhaustion on the road before White Crow even makes a move.”

The young man’s words carried unconcealed malice. Jin Yusheng keenly sensed it, shivered inwardly, and immediately raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Si Qi, I’ll listen to you! I’m also exhausted like a dead dog. Let’s find a hotel together, settle down, and recuperate!”

The two reached an agreement, and Shuo Meng and Jiang Junjue naturally had no objections. The four hit it off instantly and walked along the street looking for a hotel with empty rooms, unknowingly reaching the end of the long street.

A solitary storefront bearing the sign 【Mountaineering Preparation Office】 stood there. Nearby was a two-story wooden building with red pillars, yellow walls, and a white roof. The eaves were painted blue and green, and rows of bone-white wind chimes hung below.

It was clearly the inn where the players had stayed during the instance.

Having circled back to their original spot, even the most outwardly carefree of these veteran players—who were all ranked—were fundamentally cautious. The current situation felt like a predetermined omen, forcing them to be wary.

Jiang Junjue narrowed his eyes, suspicion visible in them. “Do you guys think we really left the final instance? Something feels wrong no matter how I look at it. What trick is the Sinister Game playing now?”

“Why don’t we go in and find out?” Si Qi laughed, stepping directly into the inn. His movement stirred a breeze that caused the wind chimes above to ring crisply.

He turned his head to look at the Mountaineering Preparation Office nearby. A young woman sat in the dimly lit doorway, wearing a red and blue Tibetan robe and several colorful strings of beads around her neck. It was Baima from the final instance.

She clearly remembered Si Qi, nodding to him from afar and raising the mirror in her hand to reflect him.

In a moment of distraction, he saw colorful mist blooming in the mirror: turquoise, orange-yellow, purplish-red, indigo… various silks and light gauzes spread out in magnificent and exotic colors, as if all the light and color in the world had been gathered there.

Si Qi withdrew his attention, pretending he had seen nothing. He smiled and said to Jin Yusheng, who was lingering two steps behind him, “Come in. There’s no danger in the inn.”