txolops Chapter 379 Don't Get on the Ship
Chapter 379 Don't Get on the Ship
He looked down ahead.
Beyond the mountains, the official road stretched out like a thread.
Further away, a great river can be vaguely seen stretching across the horizon.
The river water appeared dark under the setting sun.
Like a silent, old knife.
Mo Chengyue let out a soft breath.
"Red Maple Ferry".
"I hope you're just having a bad view."
The leaf flew through the air and disappeared.
Half an hour later.
The mountains and fields gradually bend, and the atmosphere of everyday life gradually intensifies.
Mo Chengyue did not fly all the way to the ferry.
He landed in a small town thirty miles away from Red Maple Ferry, changed into an ordinary blue robe, and used the "Taiyin Concealing Breath Chapter" to suppress the cultivator's energy.
The spiritual energy seeped into the meridians.
He gathered his divine sense.
A moment later, he looked like a scholar on a journey.
At most, his face was slightly pale and his eyes were slightly cold.
And the storage bag at the waist was hidden too carefully.
At the tea stall at the town entrance, several porters were drinking coarse tea around a table.
The tea stall owner was a thin man in his forties, with a towel draped over his shoulder, refilling water for a customer.
Mo Chengyue walked over and sat down.
"Boss, a bowl of tea, please."
The boss looked up at him.
"Where are you headed, sir?"
Mo Chengyue said gently, "Red Maple Ferry."
The teahouse suddenly fell silent.
A porter's hand, which was holding a teacup, froze in mid-air.
Another driver frowned at him.
The boss's expression also changed.
"What brings you to that place, sir?"
Mo Chengyue blinked.
"Catch the boat."
The shopkeeper put down his teacup and lowered his voice.
"There are fewer boats crossing the red maple trees at night these days."
"If you are not in a hurry, sir, why not go tomorrow at dawn?"
Mo Chengyue asked, "Why?"
A porter nearby couldn't help but chime in.
"What else could it be?"
"It's haunted."
The boss glared at him.
"Don't talk nonsense."
The porter stiffened his neck.
"Am I talking nonsense?"
"Is Old Zhang's second son gone?"
"Is that storyteller on the south bank gone too?"
"A few nights ago, my uncle saw red lanterns on the river, lined up one after another, like a wedding procession!"
Another man muttered a curse: "Don't mention sending someone off to the wedding."
"unlucky."
Mo Chengyue picked up the teacup and blew away the foam.
"To escort the bride?"
The man glanced at him, and seeing that he looked refined and seemed to be from out of town, he lowered his voice.
"Sir, you don't know."
"An incident happened at Hongfeng Ferry before."
The boss's face turned even uglier.
"Old Liu, say less."
The driver, who was called Old Liu, seemed to have been holding back for a long time.
"What are you afraid of?"
"That happened so many years ago."
"In the early years, there was a boatman's daughter in Hongfeng Ferry who was beautiful and could sing."
"Later, he was targeted by a group of river bandits who tried to forcibly take him aboard their boat."
"Her father refused, so he took her and ran away at night."
"As a result, the boat capsized in Maple Forest Bay."
Neither the father nor the daughter were pulled out.
Mo Chengyue paused slightly.
"And then?"
Old Liu swallowed a mouthful of tea.
"Later, whenever there was a foggy night, people would hear a woman singing."
Some say it's because her soul hasn't left her body.
"Some say it's a bandit who died and came back to claim his life."
The porter added, "But this time it wasn't bandits who went missing."
"The ferryman, the storyteller, the night patroller—they are all ordinary people."
The boss couldn't help but say, "That's why it's so strange."
The teahouse fell silent again.
A gust of wind blew in from outside the shed, stirring up a small tea stain on the table.
Mo Chengyue looked down at the tea in the bowl.
The tea was cloudy, reflecting half of his face.
He said softly, "Have all the recent disappearances occurred at night?"
The boss nodded.
"It's all at night."
"Nothing's wrong during the day."
"Once the sun sets, even the dogs at the ferry crossing stop barking."
Mo Chengyue asked, "Is the government going to do anything about it?"
Old Liu sneered.
"Tube."
"Why don't you care?"
"The county government sent two constables, but they were so frightened that they ran back before midnight."
The porter added a sentence.
"I heard that one of them got sick after going back, and kept shouting that there was a boat."
Mo Chengyue's eyebrows twitched slightly.
"Are you saying there's a boat?"
The boss lowered his voice.
"right."
"I shouted all night."
"There is a boat, but no oars, and the lamp is red."
Upon hearing this, the people in the teahouse shifted uncomfortably.
Mo Chengyue slowly took a sip of tea.
The tea is very bitter.
It also has a slightly musty, dried leaf flavor.
He silently evaluated it in his mind.
The first step in worldly trials.
The quality of the tea is not as good as that of the Sutra Repository.
Negative Ratings.
However, the information was useful.
The red lights and black boats are no longer just rumors.
The missing persons are of various types, the disappearances occur mainly at night, and some are suspected of being disturbed by spirits.
If it is a water ghost, it will most likely carry yin energy.
If they are cultivators, they may use legends to conceal their whereabouts.
The so-called old story of the boatman's daughter is like a shell specially prepared for fear.
When people are afraid, they will fill in the gaps in the story themselves.
This trick is very cheap.
It works very well.
Mo Chengyue put down his teacup.
"Boss, are there any inns near Red Maple Ferry?"
The boss looked at him.
"Are you sure you want to go, sir?"
Mo Chengyue smiled.
"It's not dark yet."
"I'll go check it out, and if something's wrong, I'll come back."
Old Liu shook his head.
"Young people are bold."
The porter muttered under his breath.
"Several of the bold ones have already died this month."
Mo Chengyue heard it, but pretended not to hear it.
The boss sighed.
There is a Tingchao Inn to the east of the ferry crossing.
"The shopkeeper's surname is Hu."
"If you absolutely must go, then stay with him."
"But remember, don't open the windows after nightfall."
Mo Chengyue asked, "Why?"
The boss's voice was even lower.
"If you hear someone outside the window asking if you want to board the ship..."
"Don't answer."
Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.
When Mo Chengyue left the teahouse, it was not yet completely dark.
The river breeze blew in from the Red Maple Ferry, carrying damp, cold moisture. When it slipped into my sleeve, it felt like someone gently touching my wrist with icy fingers.
Mo Chengyue looked down at his sleeve.
"The service here is quite attentive."
"We haven't checked in yet, but we're sending in a chilly breeze for a trial stay."
The ferry crossing is not far from the tea stall.
A bluestone path slopes down, lined with old maple trees.
It wasn't late autumn yet, but the leaves were already excessively red, as if they had been gradually soaked in the blood of the river.
Several porters carrying loads on their shoulders were walking back along the roadside.
They saw Mo Chengyue heading towards the ferry, and their pace slowed down.
One of the tall, thin men couldn't help but speak up.
"Young master, are you still heading to the ferry?"
Mo Chengyue smiled.
"Checking in at a hotel."
The man's expression became even stranger.
"Tingchao Inn?"
"Um."
Another, older porter immediately pulled him up.
"Don't talk nonsense."
The tall, thin man lowered his voice and said, "If you absolutely must stay here, young master, please bolt the door twice tonight."
Mo Chengyue asked, "Where's the window?"
The tall, thin man's face twitched.
"It's best if there are no windows."
Mo Chengyue nodded seriously.
"That's a good suggestion."
"It's a pity that the inn was probably unheard of when it was built."
The porters didn't understand what he meant, but they felt that the young man's words were a bit ominous.
The older porter glanced at him, then at the sword at his waist, and his expression calmed down slightly.
"Is the young master a cultivator?"
Mo Chengyue calmly replied, "I know a little about self-defense."
The tall, thin man immediately perked up.
"Would the young master be willing to go and take a look at the riverbank?"
"My third uncle died over there."
The older porter's expression changed.
"Ergou!"
The tall, thin man gritted his teeth.
"If I don't say it, who will?"
"The government officials came twice, burned incense, and sprinkled glutinous rice, saying it was a water ghost."
"But do water ghosts pick and choose their victims?"
"Those who didn't go out were people who heard noises at night."