Chapter 13: The Vanished Monument

When the dance ended, nearly two hours had passed. I sat on the ground, drenched in sweat.

The Death Rite was underway.

Though everything in the clearing appeared as usual, I knew the Death Rite had begun; it was only a matter of time.

Dragging my weary body home, I slept through the night until dawn.

To be precise, it was Wei Guangyuan who woke me. He pressed me about the Death Rite Stele. Since Wei Guangyuan had always treated me well, I told him about the Death Rite and the stele, but I didn’t reveal how I came by the information.

He asked if I had seen any shadowy figures. How could I know? I had slept most of the day and knew nothing; I might as well have been unconscious.

Though I hadn’t seen anything, I suspected it was connected to the Death Rite Stele.

Since it involved the stele, it was linked to immortality. Whether black shadows or white, I cared little.

Wei Guangyuan left, heading toward the back mountain.

A bad feeling stirred in me. I feared he intended to smash the Death Rite Stele there. I recalled the warnings from the dream figure, but at that moment, I suddenly became ill.

Losing my sight, I could no longer see the path, let alone follow Wei Guangyuan to the back mountain. I had no choice but to stay home and wait.

About an hour passed—I wasn’t certain how long—when my vision returned. Just as I prepared to leave, Wei Guangyuan found me again, this time with several others.

He demanded to know the stele’s exact location.

I was puzzled. After moving the stele to the back mountain, I hadn’t touched it again. It had to still be in the clearing there.

But Wei Guangyuan claimed he couldn’t find it. I didn’t believe him.

He grew angry and threatened me: if I didn’t reveal the stele’s location, he wouldn’t hold back.

What could I say? I genuinely didn’t know where it was. If I did, it would be in the clearing.

Wei Guangyuan and the villagers he brought tossed my furniture outside. I feared that once finished, they would strike me.

At the same time, my curiosity about the stele’s whereabouts grew, so I decided to go with them to the back mountain clearing.

The Death Rite Stele was gone!

No trace of it remained in the clearing, no matter how hard I searched.

Perhaps it was underground? The villagers dug holes there, but found nothing.

Wei Guangyuan looked at me suspiciously again. No matter what I said, they didn’t believe me, even resorting to violence.

But I truly didn’t know where the stele was.

If I had to guess, my intuition told me it was still in the clearing on the back mountain, not gone but somehow protecting itself from being shattered.

***

That night, I returned home and managed to move the bed into the bedroom.

In the dark, I did see shadows—pressed against the walls, wearing eerie, sinister smiles. Yet I felt no fear.

The Death Rite was happening, and I was destined for immortality.

I write this so those who come after may know what happened in Yuxi Village—my way of leaving a legacy.

June 11, evening. Li Chenxi.

After reading, Qian Cangyi’s face brightened with understanding.

Most of Yuxi Village’s mysteries had been solved through Li Chenxi’s notes.

Yet two crucial questions remained unanswered.

First, where exactly was the Death Rite Stele now?

Second, what were those shadowy figures?

From a survival standpoint, the answer to the first question was obviously more important.

No villager in Yuxi knew the stele’s current location.

If Qian Cangyi and Hawk Eye wanted to search the entire village, an hour wouldn’t suffice.

Moreover, the villagers must have already searched thoroughly—but still found nothing.

In other words, the Death Rite Stele had vanished into thin air.

“Where do you think the stele is?” Qian Cangyi asked Hawk Eye.

“I’m not sure exactly, but it has to be in Yuxi Village; otherwise, we wouldn’t have survived,” Hawk Eye said, his right hand in his pocket.

Qian Cangyi lowered his head, pondering for two seconds, then asked:

“Since we’re on the subject, does the Hell Movie always offer a chance to survive?”

“I mean, could there be situations where death is inevitable?”

“Like fate or destiny—where from the start, we’re doomed.”

Qian Cangyi was worried.

Many novels, comics, and films depict such scenarios.

Once fate is sealed from the beginning, no matter how twisted the path, death’s outcome cannot be changed.

“Does it matter?” Hawk Eye countered.

“Hm?” Qian Cangyi was puzzled.

“Does it make a difference to you? Can you resist it?” Hawk Eye pressed on.

Images of his body being controlled flashed through Qian’s mind. The power gap between the Hell Movie and him was so vast it could be ignored—greater even than the difference between the sun and a human.

Whether the outcome was predetermined or not, he could not fight it.

That was the despair for actors in the Hell Movie.

Qian Cangyi took a deep breath to calm himself.

“So, if we want to survive, we have to assume the Death Rite Stele is still inside Yuxi Village,” he said, glancing toward the back mountain.

“Exactly,” Hawk Eye nodded.

“Li Chenxi believed it was in the clearing on the back mountain. We have to go see—maybe there’s something new,” Qian said, pointing to the winding path leading into the mountains.

During the Death Rite, the stele would be very fragile.

Li Chenxi’s notebook mentioned this.

It was a message from a villager who had appeared in a dream—whether truly immortal or the stele itself, Qian didn’t know. But the dream’s warning couldn’t be false.

If the Death Rite was still ongoing now, the stele must be extremely vulnerable.

The villagers trapped in Yuxi were surely tied to the Death Rite. Breaking the stele would end the rite and free the two from their confinement.

The mountain path twisted and turned.

Soon, a circular clearing appeared ahead—about the size of a basketball court.

On the clearing lay scattered joss paper, candles, and other items. Various pits of different sizes were dug in places. Iron shovels and hammers lay about.

The scene matched perfectly with Wei Guangyuan’s and Li Chenxi’s notes.

Qian circled the clearing but saw no trace of any stone stele, let alone the Death Rite Stele.

If not for the candles, joss paper, and freshly dug pits proving this was indeed the clearing, Qian would have doubted he was in the right place.

“Really nothing here,” Qian said regretfully.

Though slim, he had hoped to be lucky—that upon arriving, he’d find the stele and shatter it immediately.

“There’s still a path ahead,” Qian said, pointing with his right index finger to a trail on the far side of the clearing.