The Mountain Where Souls Return
Chapter One: The Silent Ascent
Night draped the mountain in a veil of fog.
A thousand lights flickered in the gloom, winding like a river of flame through the ancient steps.
Villagers, solemn and silent, carried oil lamps and offerings, their shadows twisting like spirits in the mist.
In the fog, something shifted. No one dared look.
For it is said—within these clouds dwell gods.
Or ghosts. Or things that were neither, but undiscribale.
Tonight is the Festival of Return.
The mountain had not awakened, but the path has opened. Human hopes flicker like flame, carried toward the dreaming god.
Mount Gui, lying south of the Eastern Range,
is unnamed on maps, known only to locals as "Gui"—the place of return.
Not towering, not grand, yet veiled eternally in clouds. Except for tonight, when the fog lifts just enough to show the mountain's silhouette breathing in the dark.
Some claimed the immortal had made it their refuge. Others whispered of spirits and beasts older than time. But none had ever truly seen
who, or what, waits in the mountain's heart.
A merchant once wandered within for three days. When he returned, a single dream turned his fortune.
Another traveler, resting at the base of mountain, heard the wail of an unseen child— and he was never woke up again.
The old ones say: The mountain is alive.
That within the mist sleep gods and monsters alike. Only on this one night do the fog and beasts retreat, and the eyes of the one will open.
At the lake where fog gathers thickest, a man stood with a torch.
His face was marked by scars. His hands, coarse and burned by years of iron and fire.
His name was Gui Tian. The villagers called him Iron Lump— blacksmith by trade, and the guide chosen to lead others into the mountain's breath.
Before him stood a great broken stele, ten meters tall, half sunken into water, cracked and worn with age. Mist poured from its wounds like memory refusing to fade.
Gui Tian raised his gaze.
Flames danced across the lines of his face.
Through the shifting fog, a single character remained carved in the stone:
"Gui"
Return.
That one word had given the mountain its name.
His throat tightened, as if words tried to rise and failed. He only muttered:
"…This fog… isn't like past years."
The mountain has three gates. The first two may be turned back from.
Beyond the third—none return. Only wind speaks past the trees.
This stele marked the first gate.
Gui Tian turned, torch flickering. He seemed to be waiting for someone. Or hoping for someone who wouldn't come.
He paused, pulling out an ancient book—The Gui Records. its cover brittle, its pages yellowed, ink had faded, but his fingers found the lines. He flipped gently, fingertips brushing the faded ink. Then he recited:
"When fire fades and starlight wakes,
the veil lifts, and spirits stir.
In the lake's heart, the bull giant waits.
and only grass may ferry the soul ashore."
He looked toward the churning mist across the lake.
"We've reached the first gate,"
he said, voice low.
"Tell them to put out the lights."
One by one, the torches went out. Darkness fell like a curtain. The lake rippled with breath—
as if something ancient stirred beneath.
"Mama, I'm scared…"
A little girl with twin braids buried herself in her mother's arms, clutching a cloth tiger.
"Don't be afraid, Yuan Yuan,"
the woman whispered, stroking her hair.
"Uncle Iron Lump is watching the stars. That means we're safe. But we have to stay quiet, okay?"
"But… Pi-zi said there are things in the mountain. Ones that eat kids…"
Her voice wavered and disappeared. She curled into her mother's cloak, trying to disappear with it.
"Pi-zi is a fool," her father muttered. "If his nonsense offends the gods, he'll find no place to hide."
"It's the hour of Hai, (9pm-11pm）"
Gui Tian murmured, eyes on the stars.
"We may now cross."
He bent toward the water. The lake, calm like glass, revealed a winding path of silver light—
a shallow stretch of water reflecting the Milky Way.
This was the only safe passage across. The rest of the lake? Black and bottomless.
He turned back.
"Tie the waist ropes. Stay close."
"Children in front. Hold tight."
"We walk. And remember—
step only on the starlight."
Ropes, cords, cloth strips— a human chain formed, threading silently into the fog.
Gui Tian stepped in the water. The lake stabbed cold through his bones.
And somewhere, deep in the black below,
something was watching.
He closed his eyes. A memory echoed in his mind: "Beneath the lake sleeps something…
that must not be named."
He had to walk faster. Faster than "it" could wake.
"Mr. Li…"
An old man in a melon hat trembled as he stepped in.
"Don't you think the blacksmith is leading us to be fed to the beasts and devils, do you?"
"And that Pi-zi story… bodies never found, remember?"
"Master Wang," the man ahead finally snapped, yanking his foot from the mud,
"You've got money but no spine. No one made you come."
Another muttered, "Those stories started with the mad doctor, remember? He said he walked Gui Mountain every day. Crazy fool. Herbs rotted his brain."
Still… The man's tone dropped.
"But mad or not… "
He leaned closer.
"Only tonight does the mountain clear its mist.
Even the Guide can't go past the waist on other days."
"Unless…"
Suddenly, thunderclap cracked the silence!
A blast of icy wind tore across the lake, hurling mist into the sky! The lake recoiled as if something great had drawn breath—
water rushed back, revealing black mud beneath the path. Torches died. People screamed.
The ropes pulled taut. Several fell into the freezing deep.
Then it came—
a sound like a bull's bellow, but older, deeper, filled with rage from another age.
It rang across the water, through their bones, into the fog, and toward the second gate.
Gui Tian stood at the front.
He gripped what remained of his torch and whispered—
"…It's awake."
"The first gate… has begun its test."