TRYMBPIETM 61: Mirror, Night, Snow Peak (24)

Madam Chi, Fan Tao, was extremely agitated. She threw her handbag onto the cabinet beside Chi Xiaoyuan’s hospital bed and took out her phone to contact the grandmaster.

She didn’t know whether the grandmaster was on a flight or busy, but the message she sent disappeared without a trace—no response for a long time.

Fan Tao furrowed her brows in frustration.

Chi Xiaoyuan stared at her with suspicion, his first thought being that his involvement with Bei Shen had been exposed.

But soon, he realized that the person his mother was trying to contact wasn’t Bei Shen—Bei Shen had already gone to Yuntian Province.

His expression relaxed, and he lowered his voice to ask, “Mom, is the grandmaster our family worships headed to Shaoqiu City?”

Fan Tao shot him a sidelong glance, her pearlescent-manicured fingertips tapping on her phone screen, her expression icy.

“Of course. What else? Those cultivators you associate with—what have they ever accomplished?”

Chi Xiaoyuan didn’t argue.

He didn’t know much about Bei Shen’s background and naturally assumed that Bei Shen couldn’t compare to the grandmaster his family now worshiped.

But he knew that this grandmaster actually had some history with him.

When Chi Qingzhou was ten years old, his parents had suddenly decided to visit him—on the grandmaster’s recommendation.

Chi Xiaoyuan was eight years older than Chi Qingzhou, and at that time, he had just reached adulthood.

Back then, he still thought Chi Qingning was his biological brother. But after entering university and meeting heirs from other families, he gradually developed a sense of crisis.

He intended to raise Chi Qingning as a spoiled, useless playboy and was considering how to guide him in that direction without alerting his parents when he happened to run into the grandmaster near his university gates.

Perhaps those with real abilities have their own unique ways of doing things—this grandmaster, upon seeing him, directly expressed astonishment.

The grandmaster told him that his current “brother” was not related to him by blood and that his real younger brother had an extraordinary fate.

At eighteen, Chi Xiaoyuan had never met a real cultivator before and was actually quite skeptical.

But that day, whether it was fate or simply a moment of agitation, the grandmaster’s words struck a chord with his hidden expectations. Instead of dismissing them as nonsense, he actually listened carefully.

The grandmaster said, “Do you know what it means to be favored by heaven yet abandoned by fortune? Your biological brother has this kind of destiny.”

“His birth chart is strong—so strong that your entire family cannot overpower him. You will all be affected by his fate.”

“You’re lucky that he was switched at birth. Because he has been far away from you, the fortune of the child raised in your home has been able to shield you, allowing your family to remain stable until today.”

At the time, Chi Xiaoyuan didn’t fully believe such talk.

But it did give him an idea.

If Chi Qingning really was a little good-luck charm, then no matter how much he spoiled him, wouldn’t it all be justified?

While planning how to introduce the grandmaster to his parents, Chi Xiaoyuan also secretly collected some of Chi Qingning’s hair and sent it for a DNA test.

The results were unexpected—Chi Qingning wasn’t related to him at all!

With that, he had no more doubts. He found an opportunity to “coincidentally” introduce the grandmaster to his parents.

After all, according to the grandmaster, his biological brother was a walking disaster. With his parents’ personalities, they would never favor such a son.

What Chi Xiaoyuan hadn’t expected was that his parents didn’t seem surprised at all by the grandmaster’s words.

Judging by their expressions, he suddenly realized that his biological brother might not pose as much of a threat as he had feared.

Chi Xiaoyuan was overjoyed. After that, he no longer worried about Chi Qingzhou and gradually treated Chi Qingning with more warmth.

Meanwhile, the Chi family’s business suddenly skyrocketed in those years. Aside from Chi Qingning and their naive uncle, everyone else in the family tacitly decided to worship this grandmaster.

The grandmaster didn’t like making public appearances. After being hired by the Chi family, he found a secluded place to practice his arts.

To Chi Xiaoyuan, this grandmaster never acted casually—whenever he intervened, the Chi family always reaped great benefits.

For instance, the year Chi Qingzhou turned ten, their family’s business suddenly expanded.

Or the year Chi Qingzhou turned nineteen, when their company ran into trouble and had to acknowledge him as family again to overcome the crisis.

Chi Xiaoyuan wasn’t sure what exactly his mother was planning, but since the grandmaster had decided to step in, he wouldn’t object.

He just didn’t understand why his mother was in such a hurry.

He glanced at the tightly shut hospital room door, ensuring privacy before lowering his voice.

“Mom, why are you so anxious? Wasn’t the plan to wait until Second Brother got close to the Song or Han family, so we could reverse their fortunes before making a move?”

His parents had been desperate to bring Chi Qingzhou home, going to great lengths to push him into the Scenery Along the Journey program, all for this very purpose.

Fan Tao put down her phone, smoothed her hair, and her gaze turned icy.

“We might not have that much time. Xiaoyuan, I had a nightmare last night.”

Chi Xiaoyuan stiffened, a hint of panic flashing in his eyes. “Mom, you had that nightmare again?”

Fan Tao said, “It was slightly different this time. You remember how, in the old nightmares, that remote village was completely engulfed in flames? The fire turned the entire sky orange. But this time, the village was swallowed by a red mist.”

Her complexion paled, and she unconsciously clutched the silver chain on her wrist, her fingers trembling.

“I could faintly smell blood. That little bastard stood in the middle of the village, and on the ground, on the collapsed walls behind him, there were strange-looking eyes everywhere.”

As she recalled the dream, the blood drained completely from Fan Tao’s face, and her expression grew increasingly unsettled.

“I saw the grandmaster’s sacred idol toppled to the side, half of its golden body shattered. There was also some pitch-black thing, torn in half, collapsed at that little bastard’s feet. It wasn’t dead yet—it kept letting out horrifying screams.”

“I also saw a stone gate behind the village. The huge rock blocking the entrance was shattered, and an enormous shadow stepped out from within.”

“It was taller than the mountains, with a pair of red eyes. It bent down, grabbed that little bastard by the shoulders, and its mouth stretched so wide it almost reached its eyes!”

Fan Tao’s eyes gradually lost focus, and her tone became increasingly terrified.

“My dreams have never been this clear before!”

“Something must have gone wrong. He might be trying to get revenge on us—we can’t let him succeed!”

Chi Xiaoyuan felt a chill run down his spine as he listened, an inexplicable cold creeping over his body.

Nervously, he glanced toward the direction of Chi Jianming’s hospital room. Ignoring the pain in his tailbone, he struggled to sit up straight and covered his mother’s mouth.

“Mom! Mom! Keep your voice down—Dad is right next door!”

Fan Tao had never told Chi Jianming about these nightmares.

Chi Jianming only knew that his wife was prone to night terrors, but he had no idea how bizarre her nightmares truly were.

The reason Chi Xiaoyuan knew was that three years ago, he had experienced a similar nightmare himself.

In just a week, he had felt as if his very spirit had been drained. Even now, recalling it sent shivers down his spine.

Fan Tao had suffered from these nightmares even longer—ever since Chi Qingzhou was ten years old, she had dreamt of that village engulfed in flames almost every night.

She had privately hired people to investigate, but every location they found differed from the one in her dreams.

After repeated failed investigations, she naturally began to suspect that it was just a dream.

However, the prolonged lack of quality sleep had significantly affected her health, and she had always wished for the nightmares to stop.

Her wish was granted after Chi Qingzhou was brought home.

With the master’s help, she used the inextricable bond of blood relations to transfer misfortune onto her youngest son.

From that moment on, she never had those nightmares again, and her once-aging face gradually regained its youthfulness.

Chi Xiaoyuan had a similar experience—only after Chi Qingzhou was cursed did his nightmares cease.

Mother and son exchanged glances, seeing the deep-seated fear of those nightmares reflected in each other’s eyes, and their expressions relaxed slightly.

Chi Xiaoyuan let out a long breath and said, “Since the master has already gone to Shaoqiu City, nothing should go wrong. Didn’t he say before? Second Brother has a fate blessed by the heavens yet abandoned by fortune—he won’t die so easily. And as long as our little brother stays with the family, he’ll continue to bring us prosperity.”

Fan Tao’s eyes flickered with a hint of realization. “You mean—?”

Chi Xiaoyuan said, “Mom, the master said the two of them are naturally incompatible, like fire and water. Maybe if we don’t interfere, things will escalate even further on their own.”

Chi Xiaoyuan didn’t understand why his mother was so intent on making his two younger brothers turn against each other, but some things in this world worked in ironic ways—the more you tried to force an outcome, the more likely things would go in the opposite direction.

Fan Tao slowly nodded. “Alright, let’s observe for now.”

She loosened her grip on the silver chain around her wrist, patted her son’s shoulder, and her expression softened considerably.

But in reality, she wasn’t convinced by Chi Xiaoyuan’s words at all.

She was merely reminded of something—the master had once said that to ensure the curse remained stable on her youngest son, he not only had to experience endless malice but also had to taste what it was like to be the center of attention and witness the beauty of the world.

Even though she had another nightmare, which seemed to indicate that the curse on her youngest son was weakening, who was to say that this wasn’t just part of the process to strengthen it?

Why had she endured all those veiled insults in the past if not to expose her youngest son to more hostility?

She had endured back then, and she could certainly endure now.

Fan Tao’s gaze shifted as she suddenly picked up her handbag and nodded to her eldest son. “I’m going to check on your father. He hasn’t been home for days—I really miss him.”

She shouldn’t have rushed to the hospital so hastily. If her husband found out about certain things, it would be troublesome.

Chi Xiaoyuan understood and said, “Alright.”

…

Since Chi Xiaoyuan and Fan Tao hadn’t watched the livestream, their raw and intense malice wasn’t captured in the broadcast.

However, the faint stirrings of the curse on Chi Qingzhou still revealed their stance.

Chi Qingzhou blinked, unsurprised at how well-informed his mother and older brother were. After finishing his meal and resting for a while, he joined the other guests in continuing the afternoon’s livestream.

The tea garden owner led the guests to visit the tea makers’ workshop and even invited a master tea roaster to demonstrate the process.

At first, the guests were eager to try, but once they actually started, they were scalded and yelped in pain.

Chi Qingzhou, using his shadow to assist his hands, didn’t find it too hot. However, the tea he roasted tasted rather strange, and the guests all hesitated to drink it.

Tang Qichen spat out the sip he had taken and sighed, “So Teacher Chi does have things he’s not good at.”

Chi Qingzhou looked at him innocently, and the livestream chat burst into laughter.

Perhaps because of the chaos that had erupted outside the program that morning, the afternoon’s livestream felt especially peaceful.

From the content to the guests’ interactions to the audience discussions, everything seemed warm and ordinary.

Director Hu watched the broadcast, finding it similar to the previous episodes. He was so moved that he nearly shed tears.

Lu Man patted his shoulder sympathetically, silently encouraging him to cherish these rare moments of peace.

A few of them kept live-streaming until around 7 PM. Since two guests were distracted during the tea-picking segment in the morning, and no guest succeeded during the tea-roasting session in the afternoon, it was expected that none of the guests completed the task.

The production team had originally prepared accommodations for the guests, but now, no one could stay in them.

Director Hu happily snatched the microphone from Lu Man’s hand and jumped in front of everyone to announce a surprise.

“We’ve prepared eight tents for the guests. Tonight, everyone will be camping outside the tea garden. Are you excited, surprised?”

He spread his arms, tilted his head, and struck a heroic pose.

However, not a single guest responded to him.

All the guests gathered around Chi Qingzhou, tactfully asking, “Teacher Chi, what do you think about camping tonight?”

Chi Qingzhou thought for a moment and gave a rather strange answer: “The altitude here isn’t very high, and there’s no snow, so there shouldn’t be an avalanche.”

The guests immediately breathed a sigh of relief and ran to the logistics area to get their tents, bypassing the director entirely.

Chi Qingning picked up two tents and turned back, calling out to Chi Qingzhou, “Second brother, I’ve got yours. Where are you planning to set up the tent?”

Chi Qingzhou casually replied, “Just find a spot near the fence.”

Upon hearing this, the guests immediately ran toward the area near the fence, without needing the production team to suggest a spot.

Director Hu: “…” He suddenly felt how lonely it was to be the director.

Lu Man patted him on the shoulder.

In the live-stream, the viewers burst into laughter, and some keen-eyed ones felt Chi Qingzhou’s mention of an avalanche was odd.

[Am I the only one who thinks Teacher Chi’s comment about the avalanche had some deeper meaning?]

[You’re not alone. I also think it was strange to bring up an avalanche out of nowhere.]

[It reminds me of that dense fog in Yinping Village earlier.]

[Wasn’t that fog scene repeated a few times?]

[It was two times. There was one in the morning at around 7 or 8, then another came in the afternoon after the first cleared up.]

Some viewers who hadn’t watched the first episode were shocked.

[Can fog really work like that? Did it rain in the middle?]

[No, it was sunny.]

[Hmm, maybe it’s just the unique climate of Qunqing Province.]

[But isn’t it summer now? Fog shouldn’t form easily in summer.]

[Just watched the replay, and the fog was so dense, it felt a bit unnatural.]

The guy monitoring the public saw these comments and his heart skipped a beat.

He quickly avoided the camera and went to find Director Hu. Upon hearing, his heart also started to tremble.

When the live-stream temporarily ended, he hurried to Chi Qingzhou’s side and cautiously asked if there was something wrong with Jingming Mountain.

“Is it, uh, safe tonight?”

Chi Qingzhou tilted his head toward him, a hint of innocent naivety in his eyes: “It’s safe. But I might need to step out for a bit.”

The director paused, then quickly remembered what happened the previous night, his face full of admiration and gratitude: “Got it, Teacher Chi. You go ahead, we’ll stay put and make sure not to cause any trouble!”

Chi Qingzhou blinked but didn’t answer.

The director seemed very excited, but Chi Qingzhou felt he must have misunderstood something.

However, it didn’t seem like the right time to clarify.

The director rubbed his hands and went back to inform everyone that Chi Qingzhou might need to leave tonight, which immediately sparked discussion among all the guests.

Soon, a few staff members shyly approached and asked Chi Qingzhou if he could mark a safe area for them.

Their eyes were full of expectation: “Just like how Sun Wukong drew a protective circle for Tang Seng in that one episode.”^[1]

Chi Qingzhou: “…I think you might be overthinking this.”

He wasn’t Sun Wukong, nor did he possess those techniques.

Several staff members didn’t quite believe him, and as Chi Qingzhou was about to explain further, at that moment, Shen Wenxing came over, wanting to ask him to mark a safe area as well.

Shen Wenxing said enthusiastically: “Teacher Chi, just give me a general safe area, and I’ll stick the talismans on it. My abilities aren’t as strong as my cousin’s, but I’ve learned his talisman formations very well, so I’m sure it’ll have an even greater effect!”

Seeing how eagerly everyone was waiting for him to draw a circle, Chi Qingzhou, being so kind-hearted, couldn’t let their hopes be dashed.

He glanced over the camping site and found a relatively higher spot to mark an area.

Shen Wenxing happily went to stick the talismans, and Chi Qingzhou stood there for a while, waiting for the Miao girl to find him before leaving with her.

…

The moon gradually rose, casting a bright white light over the ground.

The Miao girl led Chi Qingzhou to the altar and carefully explained its location.

“As per your instructions, Mr. Chi, we’ve built the altar not far from the tea garden, directly in line with the peak of Jingming Mountain.”

She raised her hand and pointed to the moon, “When the moonlight is bright, you can just about make out the outline of the Jingming Mountain altar from here.”

Chi Qingzhou looked up, and tonight, the moonlight was especially bright, the moon unusually full.

He asked with some realization: “Is today the 16th of the lunar month?”

The Miao girl smiled: “Yes. Mr. Chi, see, the altar is over there.”

Chi Qingzhou followed the direction she pointed and saw, about 20 meters ahead, a medium-sized altar made of white marble and trees, surrounded by countless vines.

This altar had seven levels, each paved with 25 cm high slabs of white marble.

The surface was adorned with starry tracks, and at the four cardinal points were four tall banyan trees.

These banyan trees seemed to be ancient plants transplanted from somewhere, and each one was large enough to shade the sky.

Countless aerial roots hung from the trees, enveloping the space above the altar, creating the appearance of a lush forest.

Countless fireflies flitted beneath the trees, their glowing green light flickering, reflecting the deep night and bright moonlight, creating an almost surreal atmosphere.

The moonlight was torn into beams by the banyan tree leaves, falling on the different starry tracks of the altar, making the embedded glass shine brilliantly.

Chi Qingzhou took a few steps forward, his gaze falling on something protected by the banyan tree roots and the starry formation at the center of the altar—

It was a spherical object made of metal, its outer shell mostly broken, still emitting a faint pale blue light, giving off the feel of a technological artifact from a science fiction novel.

A set of unclear numbers was engraved on the shell, and the pattern resembling a circuit board connected in odd ways, forming a strange protective formation.

This formation was completely ineffective at the moment, leaving the originally protected internal space empty.

There might have been some strange energy entity inside before, but it had now completely vanished.

Ah, as expected.

Chi Qingzhou tilted his head, gazing at the broken shell with interest, and slowly curled his lips.

The system, curious, peeked out from the shadow, took a glance, and was instantly startled, its code running wildly.

[Host… Host… This dimension… there were other systems here before?!]