Chapter 24: The Cellar

Based on the content and tone of Zhang Lei’s earlier phone call, I judged that he was a hopeless gambler, likely having lost a considerable amount and now desperately in need of cash to recover his losses.

“I’ll take as much as you have, but I wonder how much you can actually provide?” I said.

“Mountain goods” referred to wild delicacies from the mountains, both plant and animal; their prices were high in ordinary times, and during heavy snow when the mountains were sealed off, the value could hardly be imagined.

“I’ll give you half a million worth of mountain goods, at an unbeatable price—no one else could offer you this deal. I only have one condition: the money has to hit my account right now,” Zhang Lei replied.

I chuckled and said, “Come now, Lei, you’re a businessman yourself. You should know that’s simply not possible.”

Zhang Lei slammed his hand on the table and bellowed, “You think I’d cheat you? Ask around—our Zhang family name is worth far more than half a million. Pay now, and I’ll take you to see the goods today, with free delivery.”

“Of course I know the Zhang family’s reputation,” I said, “but business is business. How about this: I’ll front the half-million, but you’ll have to leave something as collateral. That ring on your hand looks old—let me examine it, and I’ll transfer the funds immediately.”

Zhang Lei glanced at the black ring on his left ring finger. The ring had been bestowed by his grandfather when he was a year old; at first it hung around his neck, and only when he grew older did he wear it properly.

His father had claimed the ring brought good fortune and insisted he never remove it.

But Zhang Lei never believed that; in fact, he thought the ring only brought him bad luck. He’d never had an easy time—among his peers in the Zhang family, he was the least valued, dumped here to manage this failing seed company, barely making any money all year.

He didn’t hesitate; he simply took off the ring and tossed it to me.

I smiled in satisfaction, scrutinized the ring from every angle, and with a flick of my hand, made it disappear.

On the surface, I betrayed nothing, but inside I was in turmoil. From the very first moment I saw Zhang Lei, the Eye of the Netherdragon at my chest had burned with a longing for that ring, a craving stronger than ever before.

Just now, the Eye had even exerted a powerful pull, as if trying to devour the ring.

“Can you transfer the money now?” Zhang Lei stared at me, as if afraid I’d change my mind.

“No problem.” I pocketed the ring and immediately transferred half a million to Zhang Lei via my phone.

The moment he saw the confirmation, Zhang Lei burst out laughing. “Straightforward! I like making friends with people like you, Mr. Qin. From now on, we’re brothers. Around here, anyone who hears my name will give you respect.”

With that, he couldn’t wait to make a call. As soon as it connected, he barked, “The money’s in. Place a hundred bets on number 075, a hundred on 088—damn it, I refuse to believe I can’t win.”

Once he’d received confirmation, Zhang Lei relaxed, hung up, and grinned at me. “Let’s go, Mr. Qin—I’ll take you to Zhangjia Village.”

Cars couldn’t reach the village, so Zhang Lei arranged for two motorcycles, and we each rode one toward Zhangjia Village.

There was only a steep mountain path up to the village, and with the snow making the road slippery, our pace was slow. It took an hour to arrive.

“What a hidden paradise,” I couldn’t help but exclaim as I entered Zhangjia Village, seeing smoke curling from every chimney, mongrel dogs frolicking in the snow, and children engaged in a lively snowball fight.

For a moment, I doubted my own instincts. There was none of the gloom I’d expected; even when I peered with my spiritual sight, I saw no sign of ghostly presence. In fact, the village was so vibrant that ordinary spirits would avoid it.

“Paradise? It’s just a rundown mountain village,” Zhang Lei scoffed. “You can’t even drive up here. My old man refuses to move the place down the mountain.”

Once he started talking, he couldn’t stop.

“This isn’t the old days anymore. Back in troubled times, Zhangjia Village was a fortress—easy to defend, hard to attack. If things got bad, we could just melt away into the mountains and nobody, not even gods, could find us. But now, in peacetime, my stubborn old grandfather…” At the mention of his grandfather, Zhang Lei instinctively covered his mouth and looked around, a testament to the old man’s authority in the village.

He led me along a winding path to the rear of the village.

“See that cellar entrance? It’s as big as two basketball courts inside, filled with mountain goods. Take your pick—I promise you won’t be overcharged,” Zhang Lei said.

The cellar was carved straight from the mountainside, secured by a heavy iron door.

“Old Six, come unlock the door!” Zhang Lei shouted, kicking the door of a small wooden hut beside the cellar.

Soon, the door opened and a scrawny middle-aged man emerged, swathed in a military coat so long it trailed on the ground.

His sharp features and beady eyes gleamed with cold light as he glanced at me. Without a word, he took out a key and unlocked the cellar door.

The moment the door swung open, an icy chill swept out, colder than the winter air outside. The walls inside were coated in thick frost.

My eyelid twitched; the cold was laced with the aura of restless spirits—I was certain of it.

A long staircase led down from the doorway, reminding me of Zhang Ruoyue’s tomb—the designs were eerily similar.

Old Six flicked a switch, lighting dim bulbs along the stairway, then took the lead down.

I narrowed my eyes at his back. The life-fire within him was barely a flicker, almost extinguished. Moreover, he barely exuded any human warmth.

There was something very strange about this man.

Inside, the cellar was indeed as vast as Zhang Lei claimed, stacked high with goods.

Strangely, the temperature varied—the further to either side, the colder it grew, while the center was warmer.

“Does this cellar have a ventilation system?” I asked, feeling the mysterious cold breeze.

“Probably. Don’t worry about that—just pick what you want. I’ll have someone bring it down the mountain,” Zhang Lei said, rubbing his hands.

I strolled around, pointing out a recently delivered wild boar, dozens of pheasants, several roe deer, and a few hawk-eagles. Then I told Zhang Lei, “Take the rest in mountain bamboo shoots and wild mushrooms.”

Old Six handled the weighing. My pupils contracted when I saw him hoist a seven or eight-hundred-pound boar onto the scale unaided.

“Haha, amazed, aren’t you? Old Six is naturally strong,” Zhang Lei laughed.

“Impressive—I’ve never seen such strength. Truly eye-opening,” I praised, but inwardly, my guard was up. In that moment of exertion, I sensed a strange, inhuman presence from him—not corpse or ghostly energy, but something that made my skin crawl.

When everything was weighed, the goods formed a small mountain before us.

We left the cellar, and Zhang Lei called for porters, but soon hung up and smiled wryly. “Heaven means for you to stay, Mr. Qin—you’ll have to be our guest tonight.”

My heart skipped a beat. Had I given myself away?

“The road down is blocked by a landslide, and with all this snow, it can’t be cleared until tomorrow,” he explained.

How coincidental.

I felt uneasy, but kept a calm face, remarking that staying in such a hidden paradise was a rare treat.

Zhang Lei led me to an old courtyard house. “You’ll have to stay here tonight, Mr. Qin. It’s old, but we keep it clean.”

It was a three-section courtyard, visibly aged, the walls mottled with traces of time.

“I’ll have dinner sent over. Normally as a guest I’d invite you to my house for a drink, but my grandfather is particular about rules—my apologies,” Zhang Lei said.

“No trouble at all. Every household has its rules, it’s only proper,” I replied, waving my hand.

As dusk fell, I wandered around the old house. It faced south with the back to the north, airy and open—a prime location by feng shui principles.

Yet there was an inescapable metallic tang of blood in the air.

I paused before a wall overgrown with moss, scraped some away with a stick, and uncovered old, dark bloodstains beneath.

“Such old stains, but the scent of blood remains?” I muttered, drawing out a talisman and flicking it—the paper burned without flame, the smoke curling into a ghostly face before dissipating.

I exhaled. Resentment lingered here.

The persistence of such resentment meant the owner of the blood had become a vengeful spirit.

I took out my compass, calculating as I paced the room.

The needle pointed toward the cellar I’d just visited.

I wasn’t surprised; I’d already suspected as much while I was down there.

That night, dinner was brought in—an impressive spread of mountain delicacies and a fine bottle of wine.

Yet I didn’t touch any of it, instead feeding it all to the dogs out back.

Better safe than sorry.

I lay fully clothed on the bed as the wind howled outside and the whole village lay in silence.

I examined the black ring by the light. It was made of black ironwood, carved with intricate patterns—strange and hard to describe.

The Eye of the Netherdragon at my chest pulsed with a fierce, almost violent longing.

I lifted my shirt and brought the ring close to the Eye.

At that moment, an immense force drew the ring to my chest, where it stuck fast.

The ring shuddered, and I could sense something within being drawn into the Eye.

Soon, the suction ceased. The ring was unchanged, except the patterns were now much fainter.

Something seemed to be brewing within the Eye of the Netherdragon, but I couldn’t yet tell what.

I set the ring aside and checked the time.

Three o’clock in the morning—the hour to act had come.