As they made their way forward, the two of them knocked out over a dozen townsfolk who had lost their minds.
After Jin Ni dragged all of them to a nearby tea shed to rest, the two finally headed toward Granny Zhao’s house.
Granny Zhao lived at the end of an alley.
Mu Congyun had gone there once that morning when searching for Jin Ni, only to find the door tightly shut.
He had knocked for a long time before she finally opened it.
But this time, when they arrived, they found the door wide open, and faint rustling sounds came from inside the courtyard.
Exchanging a glance with Jin Ni, Mu Congyun pressed a hand to his sword hilt, suppressed his aura, and moved forward silently, approaching the gate without a sound.
Cultivators walked without noise, so the person in the yard had no idea they were there.
He was struggling to restrain Granny Zhao, tying her up with rope while muttering to himself,
“After hiding for so long, I still couldn’t escape this. I’m doing this for your own good-don’t blame me when you come to your senses.”
The man was a familiar face the owner of the house where Mu Congyun had been staying.
The owner was an elderly man around sixty, also surnamed Zhao, with white hair and beard, a plump figure, and a round, kindly face.
After firmly tying Granny Zhao to a pillar, he rubbed his sore back and legs with effort, wiped his sweat, then picked up a basket nearby and prepared to leave.
It almost seemed like he was trying to save Granny Zhao.
Mu Congyun looked at Jin Ni, who, with his wealth of experience, immediately understood.
He stepped forward to block the old man’s path.
With his handsome features and charming dimples when he smiled, Jin Ni had always been well-liked by elders.
“Uncle Zhao, what are you doing here?”
Startled, Old Man Zhao stumbled back two steps when he turned and suddenly saw Jin Ni’s grinning face up close.
Only after recognizing him did he relax, though he still seemed a bit uneasy.
“Ah, you two immortal masters are back?”
Jin Ni seemed oblivious to his unease, solicitously helping him sit down nearby and asking with concern,
“On our way back just now, we saw many townsfolk looking like they’d lost their souls, leaving their homes to head for the back mountains. No matter how we called, they wouldn’t stop.”
His gaze naturally shifted to the bound Granny Zhao: “Granny Zhao looks just like those people. The missing townsfolk earlier must have also lost their souls before entering the old forest in the back mountains, right?”
“I… I don’t…”
Old Man Zhao’s hands trembled slightly on his knees, his face a mix of hesitation and inner conflict.
This reaction clearly indicated he knew something.
Seeing this, Jin Ni grew even more certain and urged gently, “My senior brother and I just returned from the old forest-we’ve seen what’s happening there.
If you know anything, please tell us the truth. It’ll help us save people.”
Old Man Zhao seemed swayed by his words. His lips moved slightly before he finally spoke in a hoarse voice,
“Truth is, I don’t know much. Just that the old forest in the back mountains was once a mass burial ground long ago. They say because of all the dead, the yin energy there is heavy-it’s never been peaceful.
Living people who enter don’t come out, so it’s called the ‘Man-Eating Forest.’ Over time, the name seemed too ominous, so townsfolk just call it the old forest now.
Usually, everyone avoids it as bad luck, staying well clear. Only the town’s hunters or small-time traders digging for mountain goods would occasionally go in, but in recent years, there haven’t been any incidents.”
At this point, he rubbed his hands vigorously, his gaze unconsciously falling on the basket beside him.
“But just over half a month ago, several hunters who entered the old forest never returned. At first, their families rallied the town to search for them, but those who went looking also disappeared.
People grew terrified, saying the old forest had started eating people again. But the families of the missing refused to believe it. One hunter’s family was well-off and offered a hefty sum to hire people to search the mountains…”
“My son and daughter-in-law, seeing the generous payment, went with them.”
Mentioning his missing son and daughter-in-law, Old Man Zhao couldn’t help wiping away tears, patting the basket as he choked out, “But once they went, they never came back, leaving just this old man and a baby grandson to fend for ourselves.”
“After that, everyone was too scared, saying there was something evil in the old forest. They wanted to burn it down to stop it from harming anyone else. But the town chief said the weather in June and July was too hot-he feared starting a wildfire, so they changed it to cutting down the trees instead.
About half a month ago, the chief gathered the town’s able-bodied men and sent them to the back mountains at noon to fell the trees.”
The old man’s dry eyes could no longer produce tears, his voice growing heavier.
“Many went. The first day, they cleared most of the outer trees without trouble. But starting the second day, people in town began disappearing. At first, just one or two, then three or five at a time.
People would vanish overnight, as if into thin air. Everyone was terrified, saying the old forest was angry. Folks were so scared they didn’t dare sleep at night. But even then, people kept disappearing.”
“How many have gone missing so far?” Jin Ni asked.
“Most of the town is empty now.”
Old Man Zhao sighed dejectedly.
“People are too afraid to even step outside in broad daylight.
Not long ago, two groups of immortal masters came to investigate, but after entering the old forest, they never returned. The townsfolk have given up hope.”
The elderly man glanced up at the gloomy sky overhead and instead advised them:
“When I was young, I heard the elders say the old forest behind the mountains has buried too many people—every tree there holds a soul. When townsfolk cut down the trees, they angered the forest. For every tree felled, a life must be given in return.
Those of us here have no way to escape now we just take each day as it comes. If you two immortal masters can leave, you should go now. Don’t stay here any longer.”
The man’s grief was so palpable that even Jin Ni, who had been smiling earlier, grew solemn. Helping Old Man Zhao to his feet, he said earnestly:
“We were sent here to resolve the anomaly in Nanhuai Town, and we won’t abandon our mission.”
Old Man Zhao merely shook his head at this, carefully shouldering his bamboo basket without further persuasion.
The two escorted the old man back to his home.
When Jin Ni emerged, his eyes were red-rimmed with anger:
“Nanhuai Town had nearly three hundred households over a thousand people. Yet because of this anomaly, more than half are gone.”
Mu Congyun, however, showed no sorrow as he studied the lush tree in Old Man Zhao’s courtyard.
His voice turned cold: “He was lying.”
Jin Ni froze in disbelief: “That can’t be right?”
“This is the only place in the entire town that still has trees.”
Earlier he’d noticed apart from Old Man Zhao’s home, not a single tree remained standing in Nanhuai Town. Where trees had once grown,
only stumps remained, clearly deliberately cut down.
While Old Man Zhao’s claim about townsfolk fearing the forest and cutting trees might be true, the rest likely wasn’t.
If his son and daughter-in-law had truly perished in that forest, wouldn’t he fear or resent the tree in his own yard?
It defied logic.
Moreover, Mu Congyun had always been sensitive to others’ emotions.
Though Old Man Zhao spoke mournfully of his lost family, the grief didn’t feel genuine.
He’d been performing.
Jin Ni’s expression turned complicated, realizing his tears had been wasted.
“So what do we do now? Drag him out for questioning again?”
Mu Congyun shook his head: “Keep watch here. I’m going back to investigate the old forest.”
While Old Man Zhao’s story contained half-truths, one statement stood out-he’d said every tree held a soul, that felling trees angered the forest, requiring human lives as compensation.
And indeed, the missing townsfolk had become trees in that forest.
Every effect has its cause. While the corrosive mist had spread to Nanhuai Town nearly a month ago, the mass disappearances only began half a month later.
Something must have happened to intensify the forest’s anomaly.
And the root cause couldn’t be as simple as tree-cutting.
After giving Jin Ni his remaining thunder-summoning talismans for protection, Mu Congyun rode his sword back toward the old forest.
Dusk approached, the sky darkening further.
The mist shrouding the forest swirled silently like a colossal shadow lurking between heaven and earth.
Yet Mu Congyun noticed something peculiar―the corrosive mist seemed thinner now.
To verify his suspicions, he didn’t immediately form a spiritual energy barrier but walked directly into the corrosive mist.
As his body passed through the thick gray fog, he felt some discomfort—but nothing more than that. The mist lamp at his waist didn’t even sound an alarm.
The anomaly in the forest had already subsided, and the trees had visibly thinned.
The ground was pockmarked with deep pits, soil scattered everywhere.
What new incident had occurred here?
Seeing the sky grow increasingly dark, Mu Congyun didn’t dare delay.
He rode his sword deeper into the woods.
Only after venturing further in did the trees begin to grow dense again.
The trees here showed no further anomalies, yet they grew far sturdier than those at the periphery.
Two or three-sometimes even four or five-trunks twisted together into single entities, their branches all stretching toward the same direction as if paying homage to something.
Mu Congyun avoided these strange branches, suppressing his aura as he advanced cautiously.
The deeper he went, the more pronounced this worshipful posture became—even the main trunks began to bend and prostrate.
The corrosive mist filling the forest grew denser, its gray tendrils churning as if stirred by an invisible force, all converging toward one direction.
Squinting through the undulating haze, Mu Congyun glimpsed a faint crimson glow.
He must be nearing the heart of the ancient woods.
His movements became even more deliberate. After another hundred meters, he halted abruptly, pupils dilating in shock at the scene before him—
Where all the twisted branches pointed stood a colossal tree whose canopy blotted out the sky.
Yet what truly stole his breath wasn’t the tree, but the dragon coiled around it, its head raised to inhale the corrosive mist. Golden eyes. Crimson scales.
The massive serpentine body curved in majestic spirals, its terrifying claws embedded deep in the trunk, radiating even more grandeur than the legends described.
Having never seen a dragon before, Mu Congyun felt his pulse quicken with dizzying awe.
But when he steadied himself for a closer look, discrepancies emerged.
It bore only one horn-where the other should be jutted a stump-like protrusion.
Examining the fearsome yet beautiful head revealed not just ruby-like scales, but also patches of gold and emerald inlays that appeared crafted from precious metals and gems.
The body told a worse story.
Its scales were patchy and uneven, the exposed skin cracked from forcibly absorbing the corruptive mist, oozing golden-red blood that sizzled where it dripped, eating holes into the tree’s exposed roots.
This was a dragon-broken of horn, stripped of scales.