Chapter 13: The Illusionary God of Shengqiu Forest

“The original world?”

Hu Junan’s eyes widened suddenly.

“Old Man, do you perhaps have a way…?”

Before Hu Junan could finish his question, the Old Man promptly dashed his hopes.

“No.”

“Hmph, then what was the point of asking? You just got my hopes up for nothing.”

“I was merely asking if you wished to,” Lang Shuhuai said, shrugging.

“If you do, I could point you in a direction, though it might not necessarily work.”

“What way?”

“Don’t rush. First, tell me, how did you arrive in this world?”

“To be frank with you, the situation at the time was quite chaotic, and I can’t recall too many details.

I only remember losing my footing and falling into a strange cave, after which I lost consciousness. When I awoke again, I was already on a beach.”

Lang Shuhuai stroked his beard, a frown creasing his brow as he asked, “Where was the cave located? Was it Saxi?”

“Yes, yes, Saxi! Could it be, Old Man, that you…?”

“Saxi, it truly is Saxi… This place is problematic!”

“What’s the problem?”

“If my suspicions are correct, the one who transported us to this otherworld is none other than Yunzhao, the Illusionary God hidden within the Shengqiu Forest.”

“Yunzhao?”

“According to the ‘Records of Ten Thousand Nations’ from Huangxia, this continent we inhabit is named Ardland.

Each cardinal direction—east, west, north, south, and the center—is guarded by an Illusionary Beast, ensuring the prosperity and stability of the various tribes. Yunzhao is one of the Illusionary Gods who protects the central forest of the continent.”

“What does it look like?”

“The texts describe that wherever it travels, a wondrous, colorful spiritual light envelops it. Its form can shift between a beast, a deer, and a human. It can transform into a pitiful small animal or a majestic, graceful Qilin beast.”

Hu Junan, upon hearing the description, immediately thought of the ‘Four-Unlike’ creature that had attacked him.

He muttered softly, ‘It might actually be that creature…’

“Yunzhao is certainly a key factor. If we can find it in Shengqiu Forest, we might just discover a way back to Donghua!”

“That’s wonderful!” Hu Junan’s expression brightened with joy.

“Old Man, what are we waiting for? Let’s hurry to that forest…”

In his excitement, he inadvertently pulled at his wound, and a sharp pain instantly coursed through his entire body.

“Ah—ouch, ouch, ouch…”

“Do not get excited; calm yourself. I have something to show you.”

With that, the Old Man rose and strode behind a medicine cabinet, returning shortly with a scroll heavily stained with dust.

“What is this?”

“You’ll see,” Lang Shuhuai said, unrolling the scroll before him and revealing the various terrains depicted on it to Hu Junan.

“This map, ‘The Comprehensive Atlas of Ardland’s Ten Thousand Nations,’ took me nearly thirty years to compile, drawing from countless documents and the oral accounts of travelers, a true culmination of diverse knowledge.”

Upon seeing the map, Hu Junan’s heart swelled with awe, causing his eyes to widen involuntarily.

“How magnificent…”

Although the map’s material was coarse, every stroke upon it was incredibly fine, resembling the precise marks left by surgical instruments.

Sprawling mountain ranges, surging rivers, and towns succeeding one another…

Viewed from different angles, the flat world on the paper seemed to transform into a three-dimensional landscape, clearly demonstrating the immense effort Old Man Lang had invested in crafting such a vibrant and lifelike map.

“This spot marks Mòxuān Market Town, our current location, situated within the Huangnan Prefecture of the Huangxia Empire, serving as a vital transportation hub.”

The Old Man pointed to a town marker, then indicated an area to the north.

“Look closely; this is Shengqiu Forest, where the god Yunzhao has been sighted. It lies at the very heart of Ardland, fortified by mountains on three sides and bordered by a lake on one, truly a natural fortress.”

“It looks… not very far.”

“Not very far?” Lang Shuhuai raised an eyebrow.

“Look closely: starting from our current location, it takes three days and three nights of continuous travel to reach Tianyu City, the imperial capital of Huangxia.

From Tianyu City, another three days and three nights of uninterrupted travel are required to reach Dragon’s Maw City, the formidable fortress of the Northern Frontier.

This land journey alone demands six days and six nights, and that’s assuming continuous riding with no delays whatsoever.”

“It looks like such a short distance on the map; I never imagined it would be this far. It’s truly inconceivable.”

“After leaving Dragon’s Maw City and crossing the border, you will enter the most perilous leg of the journey.

You must find a way to traverse the territory of the Kingdom of Bylovis, then scale the northern Chúshān Mountain Range, before finally entering the domain of the Holy Kingdom of Noah—which is, of course, the legendary Shengqiu Forest.”

“My goodness… that sounds like at least a month’s journey, wouldn’t it?”

“A month is far too optimistic,” the Old Man said, shaking his head with a frown.

“Just crossing the Bylovis border is dangerous enough, let alone entering the Holy Kingdom of Noah’s territory and searching for the Illusionary God’s trace deep within the dense forest.”

“Who rules the Kingdom of Bylovis? Can they be reasoned with? Is it very dangerous to cross their border?”

“Reason with them?” Lang Shuhuai shrugged.

“Don’t even think about it. If they catch you, they’ll likely throw you into some mine and make you toil until you die.”

“The Bylovians are that ruthless?”

“They are all golden-haired, blue-eyed Hermans, with prominent noses, deep-set eyes, and very fair skin, exactly like the Cisseans from our world.”

“What about the people of the Holy Kingdom of Noah?”

“The Holy Kingdom of Noah is the land of the Mans people. They have guarded Shengqiu Forest for generations and harbor an innate hostility towards outsiders. However, they are much better than the Hermans; at least the Mans won’t try to kill you on sight.”

“Sigh—after all that, I still have no way to return, do I?”

“There are plenty of ways,” the Old Man said, seemingly prepared, as he pointed to a port northwest of Mòxuān.

“You could spend five days traveling to Ruòcháo Port in Huangxi Prefecture. From there, a ten-day sea voyage would take you to the Agamund Tribal Alliance.

That nation is a confederation of various demi-human and beastkin tribes, so they bear no hostility towards outsiders.

From there, traversing their territory by land would take approximately three months to reach Shengqiu Forest on foot.”

“Three months of travel?”

Hu Junan was deterred by the figure.

“And that’s just a conservative estimate. If you struggle with the local climate, or encounter various unforeseen incidents, it could easily stretch to over half a year.”

“That’s far too difficult…”

At that moment, Lang Shuhuai rolled up the map and changed the subject.

“By the way, Junan, I wanted to ask you something: are the Red Armbands of Donghua still active?”

“Red Armbands?” Hu Junan swallowed hard.

“You’re not talking about the Great Cultural Revolution, are you…?”

“Yes, yes, them! What happened to the movement later?”

“It raged for several years back then, but it ended a long time ago. It’s heavily criticized in textbooks.”

“It ended?” An incredulous light shone in the Old Man’s eyes.

“It should have ended, it should have ended indeed. All of it should have ended long ago… I truly wonder how many people were harmed, all told. Alas—”

“After the Great Cultural Revolution concluded, many who were persecuted were exonerated. I suppose that offered some closure to the innocent, didn’t it?”

“What good is exoneration? Homes were lost, lives were ruined, lives were taken. Born into the wrong era, only sorrow remains…”

As he spoke, Lang Shuhuai’s eyes welled up.

He couldn’t help but recall the events of those years…

***

Lang Shuhuai hailed from an intellectual family.

In his younger years, he studied abroad with his parents, achieving excellent academic results.

The era of domestic strife and fragmentation was long gone, replaced by a new Donghua nation rising proudly in the East.

A wise leader called upon the youth to build their homeland together, and the response was overwhelming.

Tens of thousands of accomplished scholars abroad sparked a wave of returns, each carrying a patriotic heart, eager to dedicate their utmost energy to the new Donghua.

Lang Shuhuai was one of them.

However, his fate was not as smooth as others’. Even on his job search, he encountered obstacles everywhere.

Initially, he struggled to find stable employment, resorting to writing historical manuscripts and translating foreign classics at home to earn some income from publishers.

Gradually, he gained a certain reputation in literary circles, and the talent evident in his writing was highly sought after by many scholars, including Yang Mo, a literature professor at Donghua’s top university.

Before long, Professor Yang personally visited Lang Shuhuai, not only offering him several excellent literary positions but also painstakingly introducing him to the principal, recommending him for a professorship in the history department.

Alas, good times were fleeting.

Just as stable days began to settle, a sudden catastrophe shattered everyone’s peaceful lives…

On one utterly ordinary morning, a group of youths wearing red armbands surrounded Lang Shuhuai’s home, ferociously shouting slogans like, “If the enemy doesn’t surrender, let them perish!”

What they didn’t know, however, was that the occupants of the house had already caught wind of their coming and had fled the chaotic capital overnight.

To evade the pursuit of the fanatics, the two frail scholars journeyed all the way to the sparsely populated Great Southwest, believing it wouldn’t be too late to return home once the fervor had subsided.

Yet, they never anticipated that the fervent youths of the Great Southwest, like jackals and tigers scenting meat, would discover their tracks with little effort.

On the very night Yang Mo and Lang Shuhuai arrived in the Saxi Autonomous Region, the fanatics gathered, storming into the inn like bandits, arbitrarily swinging axes to smash things, hoping to create enough commotion to force them out.

Yang Mo and Lang Shuhuai were already like birds startled by a bowstring.

The moment they heard a disturbance, they sprang from their beds like frightened rabbits.

“This is bad!”

‘It must be them…’

Yang Mo, quick-witted and agile, moved the bedside table to barricade the door, but what good would that do?

“A bunch of restless spirits, there’s no escaping them no matter where we go. We might as well fight them!”

“Brother Lang, you and I are mere scholars, utterly defenseless. Why throw our lives away needlessly?”

Yang Mo glanced around, and in a flash of desperation, conceived a plan of escape.

“Heaven never seals off all paths. We’re on the second floor; there’s still a glimmer of hope if we jump from the window.”

“Brother Yang, though it’s only the second floor, jumping down is bound to be…”

Yang Mo grinned, patting the soft mattress on the bed.

“Don’t we have a mattress right here?”

“Right, how could I not have thought of that? You’re so clever!”

“There’s no time to lose, we must quickly…”

Before he could finish, the zealous youths outside began to pound furiously on the door, blow after blow, making the two occupants inside break out in cold sweat.

“Brother Yang, you go first; I’ll follow you!”

“Oh, why bother with who goes first in a situation like this? You take the lead; I’ll just quickly gather a few things and follow right behind!”

“Alright,” Lang Shuhuai agreed, given the dire circumstances, without a second thought.

He pushed open the window and tossed out the mattress, then, aiming carefully, he leaped down, landing steadily on the soft padding.

Without even pausing to catch his breath, he scrambled off the mattress and looked up, shouting towards the second floor of the inn, “Brother Yang, quickly—!”

To his surprise, Yang Mo did not jump.

Instead, he threw down a full satchel of books, then waved his hand at Lang Shuhuai.

“Brother Lang, take our manuscripts and go! Go as far as you possibly can—!”

“What are you saying?!”

“Go—!”

With that, Yang Mo, his eyes red, shut the window, then turned and dragged a bookcase to block it, remaining alone in the room.

“Brother Yang…”

Lang Shuhuai’s shouts attracted the few zealous youths nearby.

Seeing the situation worsen and Yang Mo’s clear unwillingness to leave, he tearfully picked up the satchel and ran with all his might towards the dense forest not far from the inn.

“Stop—!!!”

Drawing strength from an unknown source, Lang Shuhuai plunged into the forest and ran relentlessly.

The youths pursuing him were surprisingly left far behind, and soon their shouts faded, seemingly indicating he had completely shaken them off.

However, Lang Shuhuai did not stop.

He continued to flee forward without respite.

After an unknown duration of running, his vision suddenly went black without warning, and he involuntarily tumbled to the ground.

“Ugh…”

When he opened his eyes again, night had passed, and daylight had returned, revealing a breathtaking vista of blue skies and white clouds.

‘I’m still alive…’

Lang Shuhuai gazed blankly at everything before him, his chapped lips slightly parted, as he whispered, “Brother Yang, I’m still alive. I haven’t let your sacrifice be in vain…”

After a moment, Lang Shuhuai forced himself to stand, shaking off the fallen leaves from his clothes.

He then shouldered the satchel brimming with manuscripts and surveyed his surroundings.

He found virtually no trace of human activity, only trees and foliage.

At this moment, the seasoned professor was utterly stunned, his mind a blank slate, as if an electrical short circuit had occurred, devoid of any thoughts.

Inadvertently, he suddenly noticed a beautiful blue flower blossoming on a nearby tree at a visible rate, fluttering like a butterfly.

Flower after flower, they stretched all the way to his feet, as if something were approaching him along their path.

“This is…”

Before he could finish speaking, an unusual sound came from behind him.

Lang Shuhuai instinctively clutched his manuscripts tighter, turning his head tremulously.

He discovered it was merely a few monkeys, swinging nimbly from tree to tree, startling numerous birds along the way.

“Phew, just monkeys…”

No sooner had his anxious heart settled than a crunch echoed, and a massive stag snapped a branch, entering his field of vision.

“Uh…”

Lang Shuhuai’s body trembled with fear, and he instinctively recoiled a small step, widening the distance between them.

The stag stood motionless, showing no sign of aggression, observing him with a peculiar gaze.

Just as Lang Shuhuai continued to retreat, attempting to find an opportunity to slip away, an unfamiliar voice suddenly called out, “Hey, don’t go any further.”

“Uh…”

Lang Shuhuai’s eyes widened in alarm, realizing a rock cave had appeared behind him.

Between the stones grew the blue flowers he had just seen, looking as if butterflies were perched upon them.

“Don’t go any further, please! The Prosecutor will put me on the blacklist!”

“Who?”

“Me!” The stag took a step forward, making Lang Shuhuai recoil another small step in fear.

“No, no, no, don’t go any further back, please don’t!”

“Y-y-you’re talking? Are you a demon?”

“It’s difficult to explain to you…”

Just then, Lang Shuhuai fumbled, and a book slipped from his satchel, falling directly into the cave.

“Oh no, that’s Brother Yang’s…”

He instinctively bent down to retrieve it, but unexpectedly his foot slipped, and he instantly lost his balance.

By the time he reacted, it was already too late.