Volume 1, Chapter 4 – Journey into the Unknown

  ***

  Morning Preparations

  The first rays of sunlight filtered through the window, casting a soft glow across the room. Ling Wu Ji squinted as he slowly sat up, the blanket already pushed to the side. A faint chill from the night still lingered in the air. Stretching, he ran a hand over his face, brushing away the remnants of sleep.

  On the other side of the room, Mo Yun was already awake, though still lazily sprawled on his bed, yawning and staring at the ceiling. In contrast, Lian was full of energy—he had already washed up and was now tightening the bandage on his arm.

  "Get up already," Lian said, glancing at Ling Wu Ji.

  "Yeah, yeah, I’m getting up," he muttered, making his way to the washbasin.

  A loud thud followed—a muffled impact as Lian mercilessly kicked the blanket off Mo Yun. The latter mumbled something incoherent, curling up into a ball.

  "Just five more minutes..." he croaked, eyes still shut.

  "YOU EITHER WAKE UP NOW OR YOU DIE. I’M NOT JOKING!" Lian raised his foot, ready to deliver a final blow.

  "Alright, alright!" Mo Yun shot up, his hair disheveled and his swollen face making him look as if he had just returned from another dimension. "I’m awake..."

  Ling Wu Ji struggled to hold back a laugh at the sight. After all, Lian really could kill him—not that it would matter, since Mo Yun would just revive anyway.

  With the morning chaos settling, they moved on to their usual routine.

  Cold water chased away the last traces of drowsiness. Feeling refreshed, Ling Wu Ji changed into a thick shirt, comfortable trousers, and a light cloak to shield him from the wind. Soon, he made his way to the kitchen, where the sounds of cooking could already be heard.

  Lian, ever the responsible one, was stirring a simple porridge with a wooden spoon.

  "You cook in the mornings?" Ling Wu Ji asked, raising an eyebrow.

  "Of course. Someone has to feed you two, or you’ll starve to death," Lian grumbled.

  "Oh, the great chef Lian," Mo Yun yawned as he took a seat. "I just hope you don’t poison us with this stuff."

  "If you don’t shut up, I’ll throw it in your face," Lian retorted coldly, ladling the porridge into bowls.

  "Here," he placed a clay bowl of steaming food in front of Ling Wu Ji.

  "Thanks," Ling Wu Ji picked up his spoon, the warmth of the meal spreading through his body as he ate.

  A few minutes later, they were all eating in silence.

  "Wow, this actually tastes decent," Mo Yun admitted.

  "Of course it does. I’m not you," Lian scoffed.

  ***

  Departure

  After breakfast, they began preparing for the journey. Ling Wu Ji checked the straps on his bag and ensured his water flask was full. Lian took a small map of the area, while Mo Yun... did nothing. Instead, he sat on his bed, staring at the ceiling.

  "What are you doing?" Lian asked suspiciously.

  "Mentally preparing myself."

  "How have I not killed you after all these years..."

  "Do you have everything?" Ling Wu Ji asked, ignoring their bickering.

  "Yeah," Lian nodded, fastening a dagger to his belt.

  "Alright then, let’s move out," Ling Wu Ji said as he stepped through the doorway.

  The bright sun hung high in the sky, promising a long day ahead. The unknown awaited them, but they were ready.

  ***

  The Journey Begins

  The journey had barely begun when, ten minutes in, Mo Yun started complaining.

  "Why are we walking? Where are the horses? The carriage? I didn’t sign up for this."

  Lian rolled his eyes.

  "Would you like a throne carried by servants too, Your Highness?"

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  "Actually, yeah. And a few attendants with fans would be nice," Mo Yun smirked.

  Lian smacked him across the back of the head.

  "Ow—! Lian, is your fist made of iron?!"

  "No, you’re just weak," Lian replied calmly.

  Ling Wu Ji chuckled, watching their exchange.

  "Alright, enough fooling around. We’ve got a long way to go."

  The path led them through a dense forest, where towering trees stretched toward the sky, their leaves rustling in the gentle wind.

  The morning air was fresh, filled with the scent of damp earth and greenery. Sunlight filtered through the thick canopy, creating shifting patterns of light and shadow along the narrow trail.

  "Onward to adventure!" Lian declared enthusiastically.

  "You’re way too cheerful for someone who just threatened murder this morning," Mo Yun muttered, stifling a yawn.

  "That was caring," Lian huffed.

  Ling Wu Ji simply smiled, listening to their banter. Surprisingly, the journey was peaceful—no ambushes, no assassins leaping from the bushes, not even a hint of an anomaly.

  "Suspicious," Ling Wu Ji remarked.

  "What is?" Mo Yun asked.

  "Everything is going too smoothly."

  "Maybe, for once, luck is on our side?" Lian suggested.

  "Or it’s just waiting for the perfect moment to punch us in the gut," Ling Wu Ji countered.

  "Hey, look! A river!" Mo Yun pointed ahead. "Let’s take a break."

  "We just started walking!" Lian protested.

  "So what? We need to maintain our strength," Mo Yun declared importantly.

  Lian raised his foot, ready to kick him again, but Ling Wu Ji stopped him.

  "Fine. A short break, but don’t take too long."

  They sat by the river, refilling their flasks and pulling out some rations.

  "By the way," Lian said between bites of dry bread, "have you heard the legend about this forest?"

  "Oh no, not another one of your stories," Mo Yun groaned.

  "They say there’s a hidden city here. Whoever finds it... never leaves."

  Lian scoffed.

  "If it really existed, someone would’ve found it and told the tale."

  "Or maybe someone did find it... and never got the chance to leave," Ling Wu Ji mused.

  Mo Yun shuddered.

  "Okay, now I really don’t want to stop here. Let’s keep moving."

  They packed up and resumed their journey. The deeper they went, the denser the forest became, its atmosphere growing more mysterious.

  "I hope that city is just a myth," Mo Yun muttered.

  ***

  After walking a few more kilometers, they stumbled upon an old bridge spanning a narrow river. The wooden planks creaked beneath their feet but, thankfully, held firm.

  "Want to hear a joke?" Mo Yun suddenly asked.

  "Not if it’s one of your jokes," Lian groaned.

  "What if this isn’t actually a bridge, but just a really long, broken floor?"

  Silence.

  "Mo Yun," Lian said slowly, "I will throw you into the river."

  "Oh, come on," Mo Yun laughed.

  Beyond the bridge, the forest thinned, revealing an unexpected sight—a small village.

  But something was wrong.

  "Are those... people?" Ling Wu Ji asked, pointing at the villagers.

  They were indeed people, but they looked off. Their faces were blank, devoid of expression, their movements mechanical, as if acting out a routine they no longer understood. Some repaired rooftops, others chopped wood, while a few simply stood motionless.

  "This isn’t normal," Mo Yun whispered.

  "Let’s find out where we are before jumping to conclusions," Ling Wu Ji suggested.

  As they stepped deeper into the village, a suffocating sense of unease settled over them.

  Something was very, very wrong.

  The village looked like an ordinary settlement, but the longer they stayed, the stronger the feeling of wrongness grew.

  "I don’t like this place," Lian whispered, clenching his fist.

  "You always say that when no one is trying to kill us," Mo Yun smirked.

  "No. Usually, in places like this, we’re already fighting for our lives. But here... it’s too quiet."

  Ling Wu Ji stepped forward, observing the villagers. They moved sluggishly, their faces blank, like broken dolls following a preprogrammed routine.

  "Excuse me," he addressed a woman standing by the well. "Where are we?"

  She turned her head slowly. Her gaze was empty, yet deep within her eyes, something flickered—like a memory just beyond reach.

  "We are here," she answered in a monotone voice.

  "Yes, I understand that. But where exactly is 'here'? What is this place called?"

  The woman fell silent. Her lips parted slightly as if she were trying to remember. Then her face twitched, and she murmured:

  "I... don’t know."

  "Have you always lived here?"

  "I... don’t remember."

  She turned away and walked off, as if the conversation had never happened.

  Mo Yun exhaled sharply. "Alright, this is officially creepy."

  Ling Wu Ji frowned in thought. "They’ve lost their memories. Not just forgotten their past... They have no past at all."

  Lian leaned against the wall of a nearby house. The wood was old, cracked—but upon closer inspection, it bore no real signs of time.

  "This place..." He ran his fingers along the planks. "It’s lost its history, too."

  Mo Yun scowled. "You’re saying they didn’t just forget—they never had a past?"

  Lian nodded.

  "Look around. The houses seem like they’ve been here for ages, yet... there are no real signs of life. No writings. No soot marks from fires. No carvings on the walls. Even the ground by the doorsteps isn’t worn down like it should be."

  "A village without a past..." Ling Wu Ji whispered.

  A heavy silence settled over them.

  A faint breeze whispered through the empty streets, carrying with it unintelligible murmurs.

  "Something is very wrong here," Lian finally said.

  Mo Yun smirked. "Did you think we were on vacation?"

  At that moment, a nearby door creaked open.

  A boy, no older than ten, stood in the doorway.

  Unlike the others, his eyes were alive.

  He stared at them intently.

  And then he spoke.

  "You’re outsiders. You’re not like them."

  Ling Wu Ji immediately asked, "Do you remember your name?"

  The boy hesitated, then nodded.

  "Yes. My name is..."

  He stopped. His expression twisted, as if he were struggling against something deep within himself.

  "My name is..."

  At that moment, the entire village froze.

  The villagers—who had been moving like puppets—stopped.

  All of them. At once.

  Their heads slowly turned toward the boy.

  Ling Wu Ji didn’t take his eyes off the villagers. "Lian."

  "Yeah?"

  "If I say 'run,' you know what to do."

  Lian gave a sharp nod.

  "Boy, keep going," Ling Wu Ji urged.

  The boy’s breathing grew unsteady. His hands trembled.

  And then, in a breaking voice, he said:

  "My name is... Jin."

  Silence.

  The villagers remained motionless.

  And then, as one, they opened their mouths.

  A single voice, emerging from countless throats, spoke in unison:

  "You were not supposed to remember."

  "RUN!" Ling Wu Ji roared.

  They bolted.

  Behind them, a chorus of synchronized footsteps thundered against the ground.

  The darkened streets twisted like a maze. The stone pavement beneath their feet echoed every step, amplifying the chase.

  "Why are they moving so fast?!" Mo Yun shouted, glancing back.

  "Did you expect them to politely stroll after us?!" Lian snapped, vaulting over a wooden crate.

  Ling Wu Ji didn’t answer. He was analyzing. These people—whatever they were—showed no emotion. No anger. No shouts. Only the relentless, synchronized pounding of hundreds of feet.

  "Right turn!" Ling Wu Ji yelled, darting into a narrow alley.

  They barely made the turn when a mechanical chorus of voices echoed behind them:

  "You were not supposed to remember."

  The boy they carried was gasping for breath, his small hands shaking.

  "What’s happening? Who are they?" he whispered.

  "I wish I knew!" Mo Yun, without breaking stride, kicked over a barrel to slow their pursuers. The figures didn’t even try to avoid it—they collapsed, only to rise again, like puppets on invisible strings.

  "We need to get out of the village!" Ling Wu Ji shouted. "If this place is controlling them, maybe outside its boundaries, they’ll stop."

  "Assuming there is an outside," Lian muttered.

  Ling Wu Ji suddenly stopped. His eyes scanned the surroundings.

  Every house looked the same. Every street stretched endlessly.

  They had been running for minutes, but—

  The village wasn’t ending.

  It was looping.

  "Lian," Ling Wu Ji said quietly.

  "What?"

  "How many times have we passed that broken cart?"

  Lian’s face darkened.

  He looked around.

  "Damn it."

  Mo Yun noticed it too.

  The village wasn’t letting them leave.

  "This isn’t just a place," Ling Wu Ji murmured. "It’s a trap."

  The footsteps behind them continued, growing louder.

  "If we don’t escape, they’ll catch us," Mo Yun said.

  "And if they catch us..." Ling Wu Ji’s voice was grim. "We’ll become like them."

  "We need to break through," Lian said, cracking his knuckles.

  "That’s our only chance."

  They turned toward the nearest house.

  Lian struck first, his fist slamming into the wooden wall. The planks splintered, but didn’t fully break.

  "Help me!"

  Mo Yun unsheathed his sword and slashed.

  Ling Wu Ji joined in.

  Together, they tore at the wall, breaking through just as the chorus of voices neared.

  And then, finally—

  The wood gave way.

  Beyond the broken wall… was nothing.

  Not darkness. Not light.

  Just an endless, formless void.

  "What the hell—" Mo Yun started, but never finished.

  A voice, slow and chilling, echoed from behind them:

  "You were not supposed to leave."

  "LIKE HELL WE WON’T!" Lian roared.

  Without hesitation, he grabbed the boy and leapt into the void.

  Mo Yun and Ling Wu Ji followed.

  They plunged into the abyss.

  And the village—

  Vanished.