novelSusiti Chapter 356 Arriving at the Southwestern Frontier, the Ceremony to Worship the Moon Goddess
Chapter 356 Arriving at the Southwestern Frontier, the Ceremony to Worship the Moon Goddess
Less than a day's work.
From sunrise to sunset, from the first light of dawn to the fall of dusk.
The 50,000-strong army was still trekking along the official road, still crossing mountains and valleys, and still being slowed down by one steep slope and bend after another.
They walked for a whole day, but they had only covered less than a hundred miles.
Qin Mu, accompanied by three women, traversed mountains and rivers, steep slopes and bends, and a journey that would take an army ten or fifteen days to complete in just one day, starting from a great height above the clouds.
The earth beneath my feet has changed.
It is no longer the flat and open plains of the Central Plains, nor the boundless wilderness that broadens one's mind.
The terrain here is rugged and uneven, with mountains upon mountains and ridges upon ridges, layer upon layer, like a wound that has been cleaved open by a giant axe and will never close.
The mountain is very high, so high that its peaks pierce the clouds, and white mist swirls around its waist like soft, grayish-white ribbons.
Between the mountains are deep canyons, with rivers flowing swiftly through the valleys. The roar of the water can be heard from a great distance.
The river water wasn't the gentle emerald green of the Central Plains; it was turbid and yellowish, carrying mud, sand, and gravel, cascading down from above like an angry yellow dragon.
The vegetation has changed too.
The trees here are very tall and dense, with broad and thick leaves that are dark green and shiny.
The vines hung down from the tree, twining and coiling like countless snakes.
The ground was covered with bushes and thorns, and the earth beneath our feet was red, as red as blood.
The air was thick with a damp, suffocating smell, a mixture of the scent of decaying leaves, wildflowers, and the earthy stench of soil.
Everything here is unfamiliar, primitive, and untamed.
Like a sleeping giant, it lies on this land, breathing and waiting.
Qin Mu descended slowly with the three women.
The clouds gathered and dispersed around them, the wind whistled in their ears, and the outline of the earth became clearer and clearer.
Those mountains, those rivers, those trees, those small towns hidden in the valleys, have gone from blurry to clear, and from clear to within reach.
Their feet touched the ground.
It was a small town.
The city was small, only a few miles in circumference. The city walls were bluish-gray, and some parts had collapsed and were hastily patched up with rubble and mud, showing that they had not been repaired for many years.
The city gate was very narrow, only allowing one carriage to pass at a time. Two characters were carved on the lintel, but the strokes had been worn away by wind and rain and could only be vaguely discerned as the first character, "临".
There was a dirt road in front of the city gate, its surface full of potholes and puddles of last night's rainwater, gleaming dimly in the twilight.
Several banyan trees were planted on both sides of the road. Their large canopies and dense foliage cast a heavy, hazy shadow over the entire road.
Qin Mu stood in front of the city gate, his hands behind his back.
The twilight shone from the west, falling upon him and bathing his moon-white figure in a dark golden halo.
He raised his head, gazing at the narrow city gate and the two indistinct characters on the lintel, and the smile on his lips deepened.
"We've arrived," he said softly, his voice carried away by the evening breeze, leaving almost no trace.
Jiang Zhaoyue stood behind him, looking around.
She had never been to the southwest, and had never seen such mountains, such water, such trees.
The mountains here are higher, steeper, and more dangerous than those in the North.
The mountains of the North are vast, desolate, and barren, like knives dulled by wind and sand.
The mountains here are verdant, moist, and full of life, like giant beasts lying on the ground, ready to awaken at any moment.
A feeling she couldn't quite describe, a mixture of excitement and nervousness, welled up inside her.
Zhao Qingxue stood beside Qin Mu, her gaze fixed on the narrow city gate.
She still held the "Frost Moon" sword in her hand, her fingertips gently stroking the hilt.
Her brows furrowed slightly.
She's been here before.
Many years ago, when she was still Princess Liyang, she was sent on a mission to the Qin Dynasty and passed through this small town.
Back then, this place was much more lively than it is now. People came and went under the city gate, vendors' shouts rose and fell, and children chased and played under the banyan trees.
The city gates are still there, the banyan trees are still there, but the people are gone, the liveliness is gone, and only a deep, deathly silence remains.
She didn't know what had happened here, whether the Moon Goddess Cult had turned this place into this, or some other reason.
All she knew was that this small town was no longer the one she remembered.
Yunluan stood at the very back, her gaze sweeping across the shadows on both sides of the city gate, across the canopy of the banyan tree, and across every dark window.
Her hand rested on the hilt of the sword, her knuckles turning slightly white.
Her intuition told her that something was wrong.
It's too quiet.
As dusk settles, the smoke from the chimneys should be rising, the dogs should be barking, the children should be crying, and the women should be shouting for their husbands to come home for dinner.
But there was nothing here, only a deep, deathly silence, like a grave.
Qin Mu strode towards the city gate.
Three women followed behind him.
Jiang Zhaoyue walked at the front, closely following him, her fingers gripping the hem of her clothes, her knuckles turning white.
Zhao Qingxue walked in the middle, holding "Frost Moon" in her hand, the gem on the scabbard gleaming with a cold light in the twilight.
Yunluan walked at the very back, her hand on the hilt of her sword, her gaze sharp as a knife.
As dusk deepened, the last vestiges of orange-red on the horizon were being swallowed by the deep blue.
On the city wall, someone lit a lantern, its orange-red glow spreading in the twilight, like a flower blooming before a grave, something that shouldn't exist there.
........
Inside the city gate was a narrow cobblestone path.
The road surface has been worn smooth by time, and moss grows in the cracks, making it damp and slippery to walk on.
On both sides are low wooden buildings with black tiles and gray walls. The lanterns hanging from the eaves have gone out, leaving only a few dry bamboo strips swaying gently in the wind.
There are people on the street.
There weren't many pedestrians, just a few in twos and threes, heads down, hurrying along.
They wore coarse cloth clothes, their colors a dull gray, like the small town itself.
No one spoke, no one talked, and no one even looked up at the road.
They just walked along the wall, heads down, like a group of fallen leaves being blown by the wind.
Dusk filtered through the wooden buildings on either side, falling upon them and casting their shadows long, thin, and twisted on the bluestone slabs.
The entire city was shrouded in a deep, suffocating silence.
There were no barking dogs, no children's laughter, and no women yelling for their husbands to come home for dinner.
Only the sound of footsteps, rustling like autumn leaves falling to the ground.
Jiang Zhaoyue followed behind Qin Mu, her fingers gripping the hem of her clothes, her knuckles turning white.
Her gaze swept over the pedestrians who were hurrying by with their heads down, and an inexplicable chill rose in her heart.
Zhao Qingxue's brows furrowed slightly, forming a very faint knot between them.
Her gaze swept over the pedestrians, over their bowed heads, hunched backs, and hurried steps.
She recalled what this small town looked like many years ago when she passed through it.
People came and went under the city gate, vendors' shouts rose and fell, and children chased and played under the banyan tree.
The city gates are still there, the banyan trees are still there, but the people are gone, the liveliness is gone, and only a deep, deathly silence remains.
Yunluan's hand rested on the sword hilt, her gaze sharp as a knife.
Her intuition was right; it was too quiet here, as quiet as a tomb.
Qin Mu walked at the front, his pace unhurried, his moon-white robe fluttering gently in the evening breeze.
He stopped.
There was a woman in front of him.
She was wearing a gray cloth dress, her hair was wrapped in a blue cloth, her head was down, and she was walking hurriedly.
She carried a bamboo basket in her hand, which contained several stacks of yellow paper and three sticks of incense.
Her face was very pale, the kind of deathly pale that comes from being frightened and losing blood.
There were heavy dark circles under her eyes, and her eye rims were slightly red, as if she had been crying, or as if she was holding back tears.
Qin Mu stopped her.
The woman suddenly stopped and looked up.
Her eyes were wide open, her pupils filled with extreme terror.
Her body instinctively took a step back, the bamboo basket slipped from her hands, and the yellow paper scattered all over the ground.
"Don't be afraid," Qin Mu said softly. "I just want to ask, what happened here?"
The woman looked at him, and her fear gradually faded.
"It's haunted," she said, her voice so hoarse it was almost inaudible. "There are dead people everywhere."
Her eyes reddened again, tears welling up in her eyes, but she didn't let them fall.
Qin Mu frowned slightly. "Isn't the government doing anything about it?"
The woman looked at him and suddenly smiled, a bitter smile.
"The government can only deal with the living, not the dead."
She bent down to pick up the scattered yellow paper and the incense stick broken in two, her movements slow and heavy.
"Now we can only wait for the immortals of the Moon Goddess Cult to descend and save us."
When she said this, there was no fanaticism or worship in her voice, only a deep, resigned, and humble expectation.
Standing behind Qin Mu, Yun Luan's eyes flashed with a cold light when she heard the words "Moon Goddess Sect".
"Foolish." Her voice was cold. "This is clearly absurd."
The woman's body stiffened abruptly, and she looked up at Yun Luan, her face turning deathly pale.
She almost instinctively took a step back, waving her hands frantically, her voice trembling with fear.
"Young lady! You can't say such things! The moon goddess will punish you!"
Just then, a commotion arose from the end of the street.
The sounds of gongs, drums, horns, chanting, and footsteps mingled together, like a pot of boiling porridge.
The group turned out from the street corner.
Leading the way were four people dressed in white robes and tall white hats, each carrying a gong and striking it as they walked.
Behind the man in white were a dozen or so men and women dressed in gray, their hands clasped together, heads bowed, and chanting incantations.
Further on, there was a white sedan chair with a silver moon embroidered on its curtain.
The sedan chair was carried by four men in white, and the chair swayed gently with their steps.
On either side of the sedan chair, there was a group of women dressed in colorful clothes, holding flowers, incense burners, and prayer flags.
A large group of people followed behind the sedan chair.
They were dressed in all sorts of clothes, some in official robes, some in coarse cloth, some were men and women, some were old and some were young.
They walked and knelt down as they went, taking three steps, kneeling down, kowtowing once, standing up, taking three more steps, kneeling down again, and kowtowing once more.
They chanted the same phrase: "May the moon goddess protect us—may all people live in peace and prosperity—"
The voice grew louder, louder, and more fervent.
The woman's eyes lit up when she saw the group.
Almost instinctively, she dropped the bamboo basket in her hand, clasped her hands together, faced the direction of the group, and bowed deeply.
Qin Mu looked at the procession, at the people kneeling, kowtowing, and shouting "May the Moon Goddess protect us," his face expressionless.
Zhao Qingxue stood beside him, gripping the "Frost Moon" sword even tighter.
Her gaze fell on the white sedan chair, and on the silver moon reflected in the curtain.
Jiang Zhaoyue stood behind Qin Mu, looking at the people kneeling in worship, at the bloodstains on their foreheads, and at the fanatical, burning light in their eyes.
Yunluan stood at the very back, her hand on the hilt of her sword, her gaze sharp as a knife.
Her gaze fell on the four white-clad men at the very front of the group—they were martial artists, at least of the second rank.
Four second-rank martial artists carried the sedan chair, and the person inside was at least a first-rank martial artist.
The woman straightened up, turned her head, and looked at Qin Mu and his group.
"I can't talk to you anymore," she said hurriedly, "I'm going to worship the moon goddess too."
She turned around, ran towards the group, knelt down, clasped her hands together, and touched her forehead to the ground.
The procession gradually faded into the distance, the sounds of gongs and drums grew fainter and fainter, the chanting of scriptures grew fainter and fainter, and the sound of footsteps grew fainter and fainter.
The streets returned to their previous deathly silence, even quieter now.
Qin Mu stood there, hands behind his back, gazing in the direction where the group had disappeared.
"Follow them," he said.
He strode off in the direction the group had disappeared.
The moon-white robe fluttered gently in the evening breeze, its hem brushing against the bluestone slabs with a soft, rustling sound.
Three women followed behind him.