The pack animals were mainly horses and mules, carrying extremely large bundles of goods, which, judging by the packaging, were probably tea leaves. There were about a dozen people, accompanied by two bodyguards, which suggested that this group had come from a rather remote place. This stretch of the official road was still relatively safe.

Before the people arrived, their voices could be heard.

“We can’t go any further, we should have passed that stretch already. There’s a pavilion up ahead—let’s make do and spend the night here.”

“I’m afraid we’ll have to go a bit further!”

“There’s nowhere ahead to shelter from the rain.”

“There’s someone up ahead!”

“They’re making a fire…”

Brian Carter remained seated, watching the group approach.

Chapter Two: Fog Ghosts in the Mountains

All of the dozen or so people looked to be middle-aged. The two bodyguards were easy to recognize, dressed identically in the style of martial wanderers, one holding a brow-tip saber, the other with a chain mace tucked at his waist. The rest were dressed as merchants, and according to Dayan’s regulations, their clothing was mainly black and white.

The group entered another pavilion, unloaded their goods, and stacked them where the rain couldn’t reach. Only then did they remove their cloaks, shaking off water onto the ground.

The pavilion was not large, but the horses and mules were sturdy and simply sheltered under the trees from the rain.

The group spoke quietly in dialect-accented voices. Having been soaked and then chilled by the night wind, they felt cold, and some couldn’t help but glance at the fire in front of Brian Carter, as well as the dry firewood in the corner of the pavilion, exchanging glances and nudges.

Finally, one person walked over and cupped his hands to Brian Carter.

“Greetings, young sir. Did you gather this firewood? It seems you won’t use it all tonight—could you sell us some? Our clothes are damp, and we’d like to warm up by the fire.”

In Dayan, it was customary to address Taoists as “sir.”

Brian Carter was still wearing his Taoist robe.

“I didn’t gather it. It was here when I arrived. If you need any, please help yourselves.”

“Then we won’t stand on ceremony.”

The middle-aged merchant took a small armful of firewood, but didn’t come over to borrow the fire—instead, he started his own, then took out some dry rations, warming them by the fire, eating and talking quietly, glancing around from time to time.

The wind carried their voices over.

Brian Carter heard them discussing their earlier decision to take shelter from the rain, with some disagreement. He roughly understood why they were traveling at night.

They were all tea merchants. Their original destination for the day was a post inn thirty li ahead, a type of lodging convenient for merchants. Unfortunately, heavy rain had fallen along the way, and for some reason, someone’s goods had a problem with waterproofing, so they feared the tea would get wet. They found a place to shelter from the rain, but that stretch of road had recently been plagued by fog ghosts, and most people dared not travel it at night. As soon as the rain eased and the waterproofing issue was resolved, they hurried on their way.

By the time they reached this spot, it was already night. Traveling at night was not a good idea, so they had no choice but to rest here.

Some said they had already passed that stretch, others said the tea sellers had all moved away, so the fog ghosts must be causing trouble here. Some said they shouldn’t have stopped for the rain, others said they shouldn’t have stopped just now and should have kept going. Some even discussed Brian Carter.

Although Brian Carter wore a Taoist robe, he was so young that, in these times, not one in ten Taoists could actually catch demons or drive away ghosts, so no one took him too seriously. After a few words, they no longer paid him much attention.

“Fog ghosts…”

Brian Carter stared into the fire, lost in thought.

This was a type of ghost commonly found in the wild mountains, fond of appearing in the mist. The weaker ones used the fog to hide their forms, relying on scaring people to do harm. The more powerful ones could exhale mist to envelop an area and attack travelers within it.

However, such ghosts rarely amounted to much. Ordinary, vigorous martial artists—or even bold, strong men—were not afraid of them.

As the fire burned low, Brian Carter added more wood.

Unknowingly, the rain had stopped.

When mountain rain ends, mist often rises, usually in patches, sometimes gathering in mountain hollows. This time was no exception.

But the mist seemed a bit too thick.

Though it was late, there had still been some light before; one could vaguely make out the outlines of distant mountains, and the firelight revealed the ancient cypresses by the road and the weeds beneath the trees. But now, in just a moment’s distraction, the whole world seemed filled with dense fog.

Within the thick mist, neither mountains nor trees could be seen. Even the two pavilions, not far apart and both with fires burning, could only see each other’s blurred firelight.

Even this firelight was compressed to the limit by the fog.

Somehow, things had become eerily strange.

The merchants were instantly alarmed—there was no doubt now, they had encountered a demon or ghost.

“Don’t be afraid, everyone! The more afraid you are, the fiercer it gets!”

“That’s right! Ghosts are afraid of people too!”

“Add more wood! Make the fire bigger!”

“We’re out of wood…”

Everyone looked at each other, then toward the other pavilion. Only the orange glow of fire could be seen.

Though it was only ten or twenty feet away, the thick fog between them made it seem that only the small area illuminated by the fire was safe. Who would dare cross the dense mist to fetch firewood? Or should everyone go together, and just move over there?

Suddenly, a cold wind blew from outside.

Everyone turned their eyes to the two bodyguards they had hired.

The one with the chain mace was nervous, his gaze evasive. The one with the brow-tip saber, meeting everyone’s eyes, spat on the ground, his brows knitting as he summoned a fierce air—enough to frighten even little ghosts:

“I’ll go borrow some firewood!”

“Senior brother, I’ll go with you!”