Chapter 166: The Call From The Distant Mountains
After the carriage entered the mountains and drove for another half hour, it officially entered the [Mist Zone]. The dreamlike scenery of the outside world gradually disappeared, replaced by endless mist.
At this moment, the vehicle was winding through the clouds and fog, with the outside view only showing the monotonous ‘endless thick fog’, visibility less than five meters.
Even more terrifying were the sounds; the world outside the window no longer had any noises, except for the mechanical operating sounds of the carriage itself.
There were no bird calls or frog croaks outside, and inside the carriage only breathing sounds, no one talking. Dark clouds and rain clouds densely covered the sky above, surrounded by thick vegetation casting large shadows.
The atmosphere was indescribably oppressive, giving a sense of ominous immersion like a horror movie.
Little Spicy Stick, sharing vision with Yuan Zhu, couldn’t help but click his tongue: “This atmosphere is really a bit scary. It reminds me of the ‘Mist’ in your boss’s memory.”
Yuan Zhu responded: “With such thick fog and such poor visibility, who knows how the short-legged driver judges the road? Stepping on the accelerator so hard, is he taking everyone to reincarnate?”
He looked forward; beyond the carriage head glass was a hazy white blur, completely unable to see any road. The headlights only brightened the dim environment slightly, shifting from dusk to white night.
In this atmosphere, only the ventilation device on the car ceiling continuously brought in fresh and moist air, providing slight comfort. Everything else only amplified the unease in people’s hearts, growing more frightening the more they thought about it.
So some closed their eyes to rest, some lowered their heads to read novels or magazines under the bright overhead lights to distract themselves, and some put on headphones to listen to music…
“Look, look! That fashionable miss’s portable music player is a mouse(ο｀*))) alas!”
Spicy Stick suddenly shouted, making Yuan Zhu turn his head to sneak a peek. A stylishly dressed woman was wearing ordinary headphones. But the other end of the headphone cord was plugged into the mouse’s rear cervical spine, and she continuously rotated and pressed the rat head with her thumb in operations resembling ‘song skipping and volume adjustment’.
Yuan Zhu was silent, just endlessly shocked: “???”
“I remember there’s a product on the market: a mouse that can shoot home videos, record precious touching moments, and supports projection playback. Analyzing with your Earth’s common sense, since there’s even a [Handheld Family Camcorder Mouse]; then a mere [Biological Audio Player Mouse] seems to have even lower technical content?”
“On this, I can consult Meng Xi later. Maybe buy one and give it to younger brother?”
In a world where gifting a ‘handmade folk mouse sachet’ is seen as a blessing, giving a high-end ‘extraordinary music mouse player’ would be super stylish! Right?
While Yuan Zhu was sneakily observing every move of the passengers in the carriage with great interest, a faint singing voice suddenly came to his ears. Like a call from distant mountains, some mountain elf or fairy singing in a faraway valley, the sound penetrating the mist into his ears, making him involuntarily immersed.
The [Soul Crystal] emitted faint light, enveloping his mental world, permeating and radiating his entire head, maintaining extreme clarity, allowing him to finely savor this ‘mental influence’.
Yuan Zhu: “Interesting, there’s something wrong with the mist outside. Although the pollution concentration is very low, and the ventilation device has filtering and isolation functions. But the fresh air permeating into the carriage still has residues; long-term breathing will lightly affect mental perception.”
At this point, the carriage had been driving in the Mist Zone for over 40 minutes. With the outside all hazy and the inside extremely quiet, people lost their sense of time.
Such prolonged breathing was indeed subtly influencing all passengers’ mental states.
However… “I feel quite decompressed and relaxed.”
“You’ve already condensed a [Soul Crystal], you’re a standard extraordinary being. The kind that drops ‘extraordinary (Holy Light) trait’ after death, to be picked up and refined into magic potion!”
Clap clap clap!
Before Little Spicy Stick finished speaking, Yuan Zhu felt the surrounding space scene slightly distort, then continuous slapping sounds came from outside the window. Something was slapping the car window?
The sound was real yet illusory, making him unsure of its truth.
So he reached out, slightly parting the curtain to look outside. In the unchanging ‘sea of mist’, tentacles condensed from mist suddenly appeared, the side near the glass even growing suckers with faint blue patterns.
These mist tentacles weren’t shaken off by the carriage; instead, they kept pace with the vehicle speed, appearing outside the window, continuously whipping the glass with intense collision sounds.
“Hm?”
The boring outside view had a new change, especially when his eyes focused on these mist tentacles, they whipped even more vigorously, rhythm and frequency increasing.
Like struggling for help, or like intimidation, the impact sounds terrifyingly loud, making the windows ‘clang clang’, as if the glass would shatter the next second. Yet visually, the glass showed no tremor.
Little Spicy Stick immediately protected his own boss: “Boss don’t panic! These tentacles look exactly real, very lifelike. But there’s a blind spot: the window glass doesn’t move at all. These mist tentacles are real, the slapping actions are real, but the force is fake, no sound transmits in. What you hear is all hallucination. What you hear is all visual! Especially when you look straight outside, this illusion gets reinforced, becoming more real. So, break eye contact!”
Hearing this, Yuan Zhu immediately turned his head, then noticed the atmosphere inside the carriage was somewhat heavy. For example, the middle-aged elite beside him had long chosen to close his eyes, leaning back on the seat to rest.
It was clear he was also affected by the mist, mentally somewhat tense, forehead slightly sweating. But that was it. If he really heard the same ‘clanging’ knocking sounds, he wouldn’t be this calm.
Then, Yuan Zhu turned back to observe and found most passengers showing tension or unease, yet all controlling it well.
On the contrary, those near the windows had more intense emotional expressions, showing varying degrees of panic.
Yuan Zhu: “This Misty Mountains does have some tricks. The mist permeating the carriage is weak enough for ordinary people to resist or ignore, but elevated to the ‘mist’ enveloping the entire mountain range, it’s a bit terrifying, counts as super pollution.”
When he turned his attention back outside again, he belatedly realized that the ‘knocking sound’ he’d just ignored was like a song that finished playing, switching to a new track.
Now, he heard terrified pleading cries from outside the window. It was a pleasant female voice, tone somewhat like Little Spicy Stick, naturally earning his goodwill.
At this moment, this female voice was pleading for help from him outside the window. Saying her soul was controlled by a devil, she wanted to escape the demon’s clutches, only if he opened the window and let her in could she truly escape.
Then, that mournful yet pleasant female voice continuously promised marriage, good people get good rewards, can have babies… blah blah promises, perfectly matching Running commoners’ traditional values. Like the classic routine of a Liaozhai female ghost repaying kindness in a short story.
To be honest, he didn’t believe this full-of-holes claim at all. A controlled female ghost that can keep up with the carriage speed? If you followed me running and chatting for hours, you’d have directly run out of the Misty Mountains! Still need me to save you?
But objectively, this voice had some bewitching magic, with a mind-enchanting effect. And the continuous sobbing content was barely coherent, forming a set of logic.
This was extraordinary! It meant the ‘mental pollution’ from the mist had coherent intelligence. Ordinary people after hearing would be hard-pressed to resist, using their own ‘common sense experience’ to brain-fill, perfect the story, ignore inconsistencies, and fall into conviction.
But for Yuan Zhu, one could only say this [Soul Crystal] was really too useful. His brain and spirit always in a cool, refreshing state, extremely rational.
[Soul Crystal] first brought a layer of [Rational Protection], soul bathed in Holy Light, maintaining rationality, maintaining clarity, immune to bewitchment and mental pollution…
Secondly, [Soul Crystal] also had CPU-like auxiliary computation functions. Not only supporting complex operations, but also massive simple matrix operations.
Thus, for the ‘mist’ outside the window, he had a built-in ‘see-through’ effect, staying clear throughout, yet able to immerse, accept pollution, enjoy the performance. Bringing some freshness to the boring journey.
“If ordinary people rashly enter the Misty Mountains and suffer this pollution erosion, will they all die out?”
Slap!
Before the words finished, new activity came from outside the window again. This time, a different ‘slapping’ sound, not like ‘tentacle’ whipping.
When he slightly lifted the curtain, he saw a somewhat scary black handprint heavily slapping on the glass, then in extreme pain and despair clawing and sliding down bit by bit, leaving glaring black bloodstains.
“How did it even add special effects?”
This ghostly activity outside the window changed too frequently. Roughly every ten minutes, switching to a new trick, constantly harassing Yuan Zhu. While the middle-aged man beside him was completely unaffected.
Spicy Stick analyzed: “Probably related to your mental activity level? Explained with Cthulhu game terms, your [Inspiration] is too high, and [Soul Crystal] has constant San value effect, so you frequently receive external mental pollution, pass the checks, and fall into round after round of loops. The mist outside seems to be using brute force to screen your ‘mental vulnerabilities’.”
“As for other ordinary passengers, their inspiration is lower, San value though weak has dullness, needing slow pollution erosion… The mist outside won’t frequently change tracks, that would backfire due to excessive difference.”
Yuan Zhu: “This world is really fun; even taking a carriage encounters so many novel things.”
Suddenly, an idea popped into his mind, so he quietly extended a finger, pressing his index finger against the inside of the car window glass.
This action was like poking a hornet’s nest; the despairing struggling blood handprint outside went mad with continuous slapping responses, and with an extremely miserable piercing scream intimidated: “Save me! Let me in! I’ll curse you!”
Even, that cold aura and drops of blood beads permeated through the window, condensing at his fingertip, alive as they wound up his forearm.
Yuan Zhu showed shocked and admiring eyes, muttering: “You’re really brave!”
Immediately, his fingertip slightly lit up with Holy Light in response. Outside his window instantly erupted in pained and terrified screams. Those mist palms slapping the window, blood handprints, black bloodstains all dispersed completely, outside the window restoring to the dim hazy white scene.
The originally fun ‘first-person immersive mental pollution illusion short video’ was gone, and he felt somewhat sad.
“Boss, you’re so mean. Hiding behind single-sided glass, using a lighter to burn others’ hands!”
While he was having fun, more passengers suffered deeper erosion. Several people in a row spoke up, calling for the attendant’s help.
Every time someone spoke and made a sound, it would to varying degrees stimulate the thick mist outside the car window. The louder the sound, the stronger the effect triggered.
Those who stayed restrained could keep low volume. But those near windows, more strongly affected and overly tense or fearful, would due to too loud sounds fall into deeper ‘mental pollution’ states.
Among them, a youth was drenched in sweat in deep hallucination, emitting terrified screams, body struggling violently: “Don’t come over! Please don’t come over! Don’t kill me, your son wasn’t killed by me, I didn’t eat him!”
“???”
Yuan Zhu, like hearing gossip, widened his eyes in surprise, sneakily looking back. It was a young man around 20.
“This broken carriage really gathers talents. His emotions seem too genuine, not like acting.”
“I think he’s too deep into the role, self-hypnotized?”
While he and Little Spicy Stick discussed the authenticity of the other’s ‘delirium’, the burly attendant aunt had already walked over carrying a thumb-thick skinned wooden strip.
Aiming at the youth with eyes tightly closed, crying out in fear, struggling to escape the seatbelt yet unaware he was in a carriage, she swiftly delivered five lightning whips.
Slap slap slap slap slap!
Her sturdy arm whipped the elastic wooden strip into afterimages, harshly lashing the youth, who howled in agony, suddenly opening bloodshot eyes, looking at the warmly lit yet heavy eerie carriage, eyes showing post-trauma dazed dreamlike relief.
Looking again at the burly female Illidan-like figure, no anger, grievance, or questioning of why hit me; only endless gratitude and desire for ‘whip me again!’, grant more pain and clarity.
As if sensing the passenger’s need, the Valkyrie hesitated a moment, then slap! lightning strike, another whip hitting the body. That crisp whip crack seemed to restore the whole carriage’s San value momentarily.
Even neighboring seats not hit couldn’t help twitching, eyes becoming much clearer.
The attendant Valkyrie asked: “Need binding service?”
The youth passenger, violently beaten by the attendant on this long-distance carriage, nodded repeatedly, eagerly: “Yes, yes!”
The attendant nodded, drew a rope from her bag, deftly wrapped and bound him, explaining: “You shouted too loudly earlier; if affected again and make noise, must forcibly purchase ‘silencing device’.”
The so-called ‘silencing device’ was the [Gag Ball] no one in the carriage had bought yet.
The youth nodded repeatedly, pleading: “Please bind tighter, make it hurt!”
“No, too tight will impede blood circulation.”
