Chapter Four: The Fire That Lit Flesh
They journeyed deeper into the mountain.
The trees grew monstrous, their limbs blotting out the sky. Jagged stones whispered secrets as the wind scraped through them.
The deeper they went, the higher the cliffs rose, and the thicker the fog gathered. From somewhere within it came the cries of birds—or beasts—uncertain and eerie, like someone sobbing in the night, or wind moaning through broken stone.
Gui Tian walked at the front. He turned suddenly, calling back:
"Gui Ye. How did you met the god of water?"
Gui Ye scratched the back of his head, half-casual, half-serious.
"I saw him a few times while foraging for herbs. At first I only dared to spy from a tree. But… I don't know, it felt familiar somehow. So I got closer, slowly. And then—somehow—I could understand his story."
"You could understand Marbovis?" Gui Tian frowned. "So you speak… fish language ?"
"No, of course I don't speak fish language! But he is cow."
"…Then you speak cow language?!"
"No I don't."
"…."
Not long after, they came upon a narrow gorge—a gash torn clean across the mountainside. Fog spilled from the fissure like breath from some unseen beast.
This was the second gate of Gui Mountain.
Gui Tian halted, squinting into the mist-choked ravine. His voice lowered.
"Gui Ye… you ever seen this place with the fog? What lives here deep in the fog? What is 'it' like?"
Even the villagers behind them, hearing the weight in his tone, instinctively tightened their ropes and stared ahead with fear in their eyes.
Gui Ye rubbed his nose, speaking with a sheepish honesty:
"No. I never came this far. When I collected herbs, I lingered near the road. Deep inside? I never dared."
He paused. A sly smile crept in.
"But… I might have a plan."
Gui Tian's eyes lit up.
"What kind of plan?"
Everyone leaned in.
Gui Ye hesitated, then mumbled:
"…We could always… come back another day?"
Thud!
Gui Tian struck him square on the head.
"Another day?! You just told everyone—'There's no turning back on Gui Mountain!'"
Still fuming, he whipped out the brittle Gui Records, flipped a page and read aloud:
"In haunted gorge, each step a grave,
hell fire leaps to claim the brave.
Light the torch, keep reverence true—
no harm shall pass through."
He looked up, solemn.
"The guardian of the second gate is the god of fire. That's what the records say. As long as the torches burn bright, and we carry no arrogance in our hearts, we'll make it through."
He hesitated, voice dropping low:
"The old texts never gave the fire god a name. But if the water god has shown itself… perhaps this one will too."
A low rumble echoed from deep within the fog. So faint, it could've been imagined.
Ding—
A bell rang, soft as breath, from the distant temple.
A gust of wind swept through.
Pear blossoms scattered like snow.
No one noticed.
A single pear blossom drifted through the mist, brushing Gui Ye's cheek—
and hidden within its curl, a tiny white tail vanished in the wind.
"You came after all…"
—
They lit torches and oil lamps, tying ropes around their waists, and stepped carefully into the gorge.
The crack between the cliffs was so narrow, only one person could pass at a time. The fog twisted between stone walls, and the fire ahead flickered like ghosts caught in wind.
The firelight struggled against the mist, fragile as a dying leaf.
The path beneath their feet faded in and out, like something unseen was trying to swallow it whole.
They crept through the corridor until suddenly, the space ahead widened—
A vast hollow inside the mountain emerged from the mist. The ceiling soared dozens of meters overhead, stalactites dangling like the teeth of some buried beast. Fog drifted between stone columns like souls drowning in silence.
"Careful!"
Gui Ye grabbed Tian just in time.
A stone slab beneath Tian's foot crumbled, sending gravel tumbling into darkness.
He leaned forward. Beneath was a black abyss.
Cold wind poured up through cracks in the stone, heavy with a metallic stench—like something rotting in iron.
Gui Tian gritted his teeth and shouted back:
"Each step a grave! Keep torches low—light the path!"
No sooner had he spoken—
The mist surged upward, sucked in by something unseen below!
One by one, the oil lamps went out. The torches sputtered, cracked, and died.
Only cold stone and frantic breath remained. Darkness surged like a tide, swallowing the second gate of Gui Mountain.
"Don't move! Relight the flames!" Ye spat out a crushed reed and shed his usual grin.
But no matter what they tried, no fire would catch.
Then—
a flicker of red drifted through the fog.
Ye narrowed his eyes.
A faint scent—burnt herbs, sharp and smoky—tickled the air.
He sniffed again.
Suddenly—
"Don't move! Something's above!" Gui Tian hissed.
Too late. A villager's sleeve caught fire with a hiss.
The flame leapt up, lighting the fear in everyone's eyes.
"It's the hell fire!! It feeds on flesh, lighting up human like candles!"
Someone screamed. Chaos erupted. A man slipped—
and fell into the abyss.
His rope snapped taut—others near were dragged down with him. The cords groaned, ready to break.
Gui Tian lunged for a pillar, gripping the rope with all his strength. Teeth clenched. Muscles straining.
Gui Ye dropped to the ground, gripping the rope and shouting:
"Don't let go!"
As they pulled the villagers up, another scream pierced the dark—
a man's head had caught fire.
He flailed, shrieking, nearly hurling himself into the pit.
Others scrambled to smother him, holding the ropes, terrified they'd be pulled in too.
Ye moved fast—
He tore off his soaked outer robe, smothering the flames. Then shoved herbs into his mouth, chewed hard.
Smoke and blood burned his nose and eyes. He slammed the herbal paste onto the man's scalp—
steam hissed as it cooled the burns.
But there was no time to rest.
A tiny glint flashed at the top of the cave.
Gui Ye looked up. His heart jolted.
He rolled, ducked—
Flames exploded across the floor where he'd just stood!
Gui Tian cursed.
"Not again?!"
But Gui Ye—
laughed.
"I get it!"
He'd seen the pattern:
This fire wasn't meant to burn people, It was trying to light something else.
Ye snatched a fallen torch, lifted it high, and waved it in the air!
Another flame flashed!
A stalactite exploded above them, raining shards.
He dove aside, shouting:
"Don't move! Do as I say!"
"Plant your torches four feet ahead!"
"Kneel! Then bow low!"
Confused but trusting, they obeyed. One by one, torches were planted into cracks.
Each villager knelt, bowed low between the flames—like worshippers before an altar.
The mist swirled.
A final flash of light above—
All the torches burst into flame, leaping high into the hollow,
illuminating the entire cavern. Stalactites gleamed, each droplet of water reflecting fire like a thousand open eyes.
Gui Ye sat in the center of the blaze, looking up toward the shadow on the ceiling, and smiled.
"Hell fire leaps to light a hundred flames.
With reverence in your heart, no harm shall pass."
"So that's what you were trying to do… You just wanted to light the way."
The fire, he thought, was clumsy. Awkward. Like someone fumbling in the dark—trying to light a lamp, but always missing the wick.