My Portrait Was Enshrined in the Mountain God Temple - Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The first thought that popped into my head was that I was saved.

My second reaction was: how did he know my name?

Before I could ask, the old woman lunged forward and grabbed me.

Her grip was terrifyingly strong.

Her withered, bony fingers pinched my wrist as if she were trying to crush my bones.

“Don’t go.”

Her voice shook like a sieve.

“Girl, he isn’t human.”

The man outside the door didn’t change his expression at all upon hearing this.

He simply lowered his eyes and looked toward the old woman.

That look was indifferent.

As indifferent as if he were looking at a piece of rotting wood.

The old woman, however, looked as if someone had seized her by the throat; she swallowed the rest of her words.

Her reaction sent a chill down my spine.

But compared to her ghost-stricken appearance, I wanted to get off this mountain even more.

I stared at the man outside the door.

“Who are you?”

He said, “The person who has come to pick you up.”

“How did you know I was here?”

“I knew the moment you got lost.”

That didn’t sound right.

Frowning, I asked again, “Are you from the village at the foot of the mountain?”

He paused for a moment, as if picking an answer I could accept.

“In a way.”

That was even weirder.

Yet he looked so normal.

So normal that he seemed completely out of place in this temple.

He didn’t speak fast, and his tone was steady-completely different from the old woman’s cryptic, crazed manner.

The scales in my heart had already tipped.

The old woman gripped me tightly, refusing to let go.

“Miss Xu, if you really go with him, you won’t be coming back tonight.”

I was getting irritated.

“And I’ll survive if I stay here?”

The old woman’s lips trembled, but she couldn’t find the words.

The man outside the door spoke up.

“The fog is rising in the mountains.”

“If you don’t come out now, you really won’t be able to leave.”

I looked outside.

The rain had indeed let up, but a layer of white mist was slowly creeping up from the end of the mountain path.

It wasn’t thick, but it seemed alive, crawling up the stone steps inch by inch.

My chest tightened.

The old woman was still pulling at me.

“You can’t go.”

“He’s not taking you away to bring you down the mountain.”

I couldn’t take it anymore.

“Then tell me, what exactly is he?”

She looked at the man outside the door, her eyes filled with nothing but terror.

After a long pause, she squeezed out two words.

“Mountain God.”

I almost laughed out of sheer frustration.

What era was this?

I’d believe it if debt collectors were blocking my door with knives, or if a corrupt boss ran off with the company funds, but I couldn’t believe that a Mountain God was standing outside a temple door.

I shook off her hand and walked out.

The old woman lunged but missed, falling to the floor.

She didn’t try to stop me again; she just watched me, her eyes suddenly turning dull and gray.

Like she was looking at a dead person.

A strange sense of unease filled my chest.

But I had already stepped out.

The man outside turned slightly to make a path for me.

The moment I stepped under his umbrella, I caught a faint, cold fragrance.

It wasn’t perfume, nor was it the scent of incense from the temple.

It was more like the smell of rain hitting cold stone.

He said, “Let’s go.”

I gave a small grunt of affirmation and followed him down the stone steps.

After just a few paces, I glanced back.

The old woman was still sitting at the temple entrance.

The sky was incredibly gloomy, and she was huddled in the shadows, her face as white as paper.

Her mouth moved.

We were too far away for me to hear what she said.

I only saw her finally raise her hand toward me and make a motion as if closing a door.

As if she wanted me to come back.

But in the next second, the temple doors slammed shut on their own right before my eyes.

*Thud.*

It was a heavy sound.

My heart leaped into my throat.

The man beside me acted as if he hadn’t heard a thing and continued walking forward.

His pace was steady.

Not a step too fast, not a step too slow.

I followed behind him, treading on the slick stone steps, feeling more and more that something was wrong.

The soles of his shoes were completely free of mud where he had walked.