"Isn't there a door, sir?" I asked, implying why we weren't using the door instead of climbing out the window.
"There's no way out through the door now!" Without even looking back, the master dragged me to the window. The scene outside sent a chill down my spine.
The entire village was shrouded in a thick, eerie black mist. But what was even more horrifying was the sound of clanging armor echoing through the fog—steady, rhythmic, and haunting, like the march of soldiers from an ancient battlefield.
"Sir, what is—"
Before I could finish, the master clamped his hand over my mouth, motioning for silence. I nodded quickly, and only then did he let go. He set down his backpack, pulling out a small black box.
He pointed to the box, then gestured around me. Opening the box, he retrieved a fine black powder with a peculiar scent—one I recognized immediately.
It was human bone powder.
Having worked in a funeral home, I was intimately familiar with this smell. It was the scent of cremated remains. If I couldn't recognize it after years of handling corpses and ashes, my experience would have been wasted.
I gestured a question mark to the master, who flipped the box around to reveal five neatly written words:
"Millennial Black Bone Powder."
The name alone was chilling. It wasn't just ordinary cremated remains but powdered human bones aged over a thousand years. The dense aroma suggested some special preservation or treatment had been applied to it.
"The figures outside are Shadow Soldiers passing through," the master explained quietly. "I don't know why they're here, but their presence is no small matter. Stay inside the circle I've drawn with this powder. Whatever you do, don't step out. If you leave the circle, you'll be dragged to the underworld, and there'll be no way back."
I glanced outside again. The clanging of armor continued, growing louder. This was my first time encountering the phenomenon described in stories—Shadow Soldiers passing through. Unlike the poetic or fantastical depictions in books and movies, this was raw, visceral, and utterly terrifying.
"What about you, sir?" I asked nervously.
"I need to find the one who lives here. Only they can resolve this situation. Stay put and wait for me."
Before I could respond, the master agilely climbed out the window and disappeared into the black mist within moments.
Now alone, I found myself in a house that felt unnervingly wrong. The oppressive atmosphere made me feel like something sinister was lurking.
As I surveyed the room, a disturbing realization hit me. The layout, the furnishings—it all seemed familiar.
Suddenly, it clicked.
This place was identical to the cave in my recurring nightmares. The resemblance was uncanny, down to the smallest detail.
A wave of dread washed over me.
This house belonged to the malevolent spirit from my dreams. The master had said only the resident could resolve the situation, but did he mean the spirit? Was I being offered as a sacrifice?
Conflicted, I recalled the two people who had claimed to help me: the master and Ning Manwan. Both had given conflicting advice, often contradicting each other. One of them had to be lying.
As I debated whether to trust the master or make my escape, a faint cry for help pierced the silence.
"Help! Somebody, help me!"
The voice was unmistakably feminine. But wasn't the village abandoned?
I listened closely, and my heart skipped a beat. It was Ning Manwan's voice.
Without thinking, I ignored the master's warning and dashed out of the circle.
The cry seemed to come from deeper within the village. But as soon as I stepped outside, the voice vanished, leaving only the sound of clanging armor.
I froze.
I had run straight into the path of the Shadow Soldiers. The noise of their march was deafening now, and I could see their ghostly outlines emerging from the mist.
Paralyzed with fear, I tried to move, but my legs refused to obey.
As the soldiers drew closer, a hand suddenly shot out from the mist, covering my mouth and dragging me into a nearby house.
Once inside, I struggled against my captor. The hand was surprisingly delicate, far too slender to match the strength it had displayed.
My captor let go without resistance, and I turned to see who had pulled me to safety.
It was Ning Manwan.
I was stunned. Her presence confirmed that the earlier cry for help had indeed been hers.
But why had she lured me out of the circle?
"Ning Manwan, what are you doing here?"
She didn't answer my question. Instead, she asked why I was there. I avoided mentioning my mission to resolve my half-human, half-spirit state, wary that she might see through my doubts about her.
"I came here with some friends on a trip," I lied. "We got separated when the mist appeared."
She studied me for a long moment before sighing. "You know you've been attracting too much trouble lately. Shadow Soldiers passing through is no trivial matter. If you're not careful, you'll be dragged to the underworld, and there'll be no way back."
As she spoke, she retrieved a box similar to the master's, scattering a circle of white powder around me.
"Stay in this circle. Don't step out. I'll distract the soldiers and give you a chance to escape the village. If you don't leave now, even I won't be able to save you."
Before I could protest or question her, she bolted out the door, leaving me alone once again.
Through the window, I saw her figure vanish into the mist, the clanging armor gradually moving away as she led the Shadow Soldiers in another direction.
Her actions left me with more questions than answers.
What was Ning Manwan's true purpose here? And could I trust her to help me—or was this all part of an even darker scheme?