The Tale Never Ends Chapter 158 Lost Paradise

As it turned out, Lao Tao had long sensed our presence since we had entered into his domain, the Yellow Soil Ridge. He had not appeared to us, watching our banter with interest and silence while we were climbing. It was only when we reached the top he appeared. But he remained quiet to not disturb us, while observing us behind our backs.

It was hardly unexpected though; he was, after all, the Mountain Deity here, although the prospects of being quietly watch did send a chill down my spine.

Lao Tao led us to an inconspicuous part mid-hill, before he turned to us suddenly and gestured with a flouris.h.i.+ng wave of his arm. "Please, all of you." Behind him, a door appeared out of thin air on the rock-hard face of the solid rock with a loud "Click". "Wow, is this one of the perks of being a Mountain Deity?" And we followed Lao Tao into the cave. Anyone outside would only see a bare face of a cliff with jagged and sharp rocks, festooned by weeds and gra.s.ses. To think that such a cave exists just behind the face of a cliff! We entered the cave to find ourselves in a stone pa.s.sage. The tunnel was wide, but there was nothing but pitch-black darkness around us. I would never come in, if not for Lao Tao. Fortunately for us, we switched on the flashlights of our handphones and followed Lao Tao deeper into the cave.

We walked on for what seemed like more than an hour. Even I began to grow restless by the never-ending hike. Lao Tao remained ahead of us, shuffling forward in the light from our flashlights, but he had been unusually quiet all the way. Finally, I trotted nearer to him and asked, "Are far are we now?" The ancient deity turned to look at me and muttered, "We're near." Fortunately for him, he could not see my frown in the darkness. Where was this rabbit hole leading us to?! But I was hardly worried if Lao Tao had any devious plots; not only I was almost on-par with him, even my companions were hardly ordinary folks themselves.

We pressed on for another ten minutes. Finally, we caught sight of the first glimmer of light since entering the cave. We raced to it and the stone pa.s.sage ended abruptly, opening into a vast expanse with no beginning and no end. Instead of finding a stone cavern, we found ourselves before a subterranean settlement. The underground city covered as far as we could see; houses and dwellings, granaries and storehouses, all alive through the dark orange glow from the flaming brands and flickering torches that lit up the impossibly vast cavern from where we stood as we took in the view with disbelief. The streets were busy with frenetic activity and clamors of people busying about in their daily activities.

With my Spirit Sight, I could see that they were not ordinary humans. They were all spiritual ent.i.ties; demons, sprites or the like. We stood there, dumbfounded by the revelation. It took us minutes before I finally recovered from the stupor and asked Lao Tao, "Where are we?! What in the world is this?!"

Lao Tao began explaining, this was a separated domain; one between the Mortal Plane and the Underworld. Like fictional domains in subterranean fiction and legends such as Jules Verne's prehistoric underground world and James Hilton's Shangri-La, people had been getting lost while wandering in the wilderness, only to find themselves in a new world alien to any realities they believed in. But when these people left these mysterious domains, they would never be able to find their way back ever again. To think that the four of us would have the opportunity of encountering such an incredible experience ourselves...

And this, said Lao Tao, is one of the lost paradise hidden from human eyes, a lost realm concealed beneath the Yellow Soil Ridge. Realms like this were neutral grounds for spiritual and paranormal ent.i.ties to meet and communicate, for even demons and sprites, ghosts and spirits, all could not survive alone. With Lao Tao keeping the peace and order at the Yellow Soil Ridge, there had been little conflicts here but instead a network of information and intelligence that pa.s.sed to and fro like the gentle tingles on a spider's web. It was this very reason that long ago, Master Six had bade the weasel demon we had encountered then to come here to seek out Lao Tao for help.

The lands of the Yellow Soil Ridge might not be vast and capacious, but supernatural beings were more capable of discovering strange and rare treasures or minerals than humans. Hence, the lost paradise of the Yellow Soil Ridge slowly became a bazaar for unique and valuable goods.

This reminded me of an old wives tale I once heard from old men talking in leisure. There was a mountain to the North-West of Wu Zhong County called Bieshan (Literally, "the Mountain of Farewell"). The foot of the mountain stretched into the westernmost corner of Wu Zhong, where a knoll, called Tizishan Mountain (Literally, "the Hill of Stairs") sat there. From afar, one could vaguely see that the hillside cascade downwards, protruding like the tiers of a staircase, hence its name. Right at the foot of the hill was a quiet little village, called the Baishan Village (Literally, "the Village of the White Mountain").

There was a legend that originated from this village. There had been claims from the villagers that the crickets of Tizishan Mountain were known to have a distinct golden ring around their eyes, and every night, the villagers could see lights flickering from the crest of the knoll. But no one had been able to find out the source of the light. Instead, a song began to mysteriously spread among the villagers, "The day grows grey and the mountains old; In darkness lay the silver and gold; Deep behind Mount Tizishan, a trove is stashed beneath the trees; There lies the gold in forest deep; Ere it wakes again from sleep."

And one day, a man from the South came to the village. No one knew from whence he came, for everyone in the village grew up in the North with no knowledge about the South. The Southerner came to the village and was astonished to see a bottle gourd hanging from the vines on a farmer's rack. He went to the farmer and begged to buy the bottle gourd growing in this farm.

Some people might not realize that bottle gourds share the same species as calabash gourd, and were hardly the most lucrative farming product.

The farmer was confused. He had planted the gourds out of his own hobby rather than profit. But clearly, the Southerner saw great value in the gourd. "Sell me this gourd! I'll pay any amount you offer me!" he declared proudly. "Who do you think you are? The Deity of Wealth with sackloads of gold to spare? A gourd like this would cost at most two copper coins! What else do you think, tens of thousands of gold?" But the Southerner said, "I want your gourd, but not now. Let it be after autumn. I'll come again when the gourd is fully ripe to collect it!" He paid the farmer a piece of silver, and asked him to take good care of the gourd. He would be back as he promised the farmer.

At first, the farmer paid no heed to the words of the Southerner, dismissing them only as mere ramblings of a madman. He was rather pleased to have received a piece of silver for nothing. But after some thought, he began to suspect that in no way that the Southerner was insane! A piece of silver was a lot of money in those days and no madman would have that kind of wealth to squander for a worthless gourd! He spoke to his wife about the Southerner and the gourd and they both concluded that there must be something about their bottle gourd that had caught the eye of the Southerner.

Out of greed, the husband and wife picked the gourd and stowed it away, right before the end of the autumn season.

And indeed, the Southerner did return to the farmer just before winter loomed around. To his dismay, the bottle gourd was no more! "What happened!? Why is my gourd missing?!" he cried. The farmer, feigning innocence and distress, complained, "It's all your fault! The last time you came, you gave me a piece of silver as a stake to buy my gourd. Word of this must have traveled, for it was stolen just not long ago!"

The Southerner grimaced with exasperation, slapping at his thigh hard while looking terribly upset. "But it'll be useless! The gourd needs to fully mature to be of any use! I guess I'm not fated for this, I guess..."

The Southerner's reaction was enough to convince the farmer that his gourd was no ordinary farm produce. "I can see that you are a man of prosperity and wealth, dear sir. But what is so special about my bottle gourd that you are so interested in it? Could this gourd really worth tens of thousands of gold?"

Hearing this, a weak smile broke on the face of the Southerner. "Alas! I'll tell you the truth then, since I'm not fated to keep the gourd. It might look simple and ordinary, but it is the key to unraveling the mysteries of what is hidden behind Tizishan!"