Chapter 334 The Pine Dove

"Whoosh—"

The pungent smoke of burning herbs hung in the air. Clear water streamed down smooth skin and ran into a basin, splashing in crystalline drops.

Two of the village's oldest women—long past the age of labor—wiped the young girl's body with hands like withered branches.

Their movements were gentle but mechanically swift. Like the frigid water soaking their towels, they were piercingly cold, leaving Lillie shivering uncontrollably.

Her eyes were as calm as they had been that night, but now they carried a hollow emptiness.

She simply let the two old women manipulate her body, like a marionette on strings.

Once dried, she was dressed in a plain white gown.

The fabric was coarse, clearly woven from cheap material, but it was exceptionally clean and spotless, symbolizing the purity of the sacrifice and the villagers' reverence for the Spirit of the Canyon.

Lillie's hair was combed neatly and draped over her shoulders. She was barefoot.

Only after the others confirmed everything was in order did an even older, hunched crone step forward, reeking of death. Trembling, she extended a shriveled, skeletal arm and pressed heavily against the girl's forehead, using an ochre mixture of animal blood and special herbs to paint an ancient symbol of sacrifice.

Outside the tent, the crowd had gathered without a sound. Eyes stared silently at the swaying banners out front, the air heavy with a chilling, deathly stillness.

The curtain was lifted.

Bearing the gaze of the crowd, Lillie slowly walked out.

It was already dawn. The weak, dim sunlight drifted over her face; set against that pure white dress, her complexion looked all the more ashen, like a wildflower trembling in the winter wind.

The old Village Chief stepped forward in silence, his face carved with the weathering of years, his eyes solemn and dignified.

In his hands, he held an old, mottled wooden bowl filled with some unknown, murky liquid. He flicked the fluid three times onto the path ahead of Lillie to "purify the way."

Still without a word, the Village Chief turned to lead the way. The crowd parted automatically, and four of the village's strongest men followed from behind, their faces hidden by crude wooden masks painted with grotesque designs. They carried an empty, makeshift palanquin adorned with thorns and vines.

Lillie did not sit upon it. She simply followed quietly behind them.

Her pale, bare feet stepped onto the muddy ground, the filth slowly staining her toes and the hem of her dress. Even when she occasionally stepped on hard gravel, the girl merely furrowed her brow.

Her parents and the villagers followed silently at the rear. The procession moved at a crawling pace, with only a deep leather drum beating in a fixed, suffocatingly slow rhythm.

The stifling atmosphere seemed to freeze even the mist drifting in the air, making the sluggish drumbeats feel as though they were tugging at the heart.

Beat by beat, pulsing slowly.

Xia Nan stood alone in the distance.

His arms were crossed, his messy black hair still damp. His cold, quiet eyes reflected the crowd ahead.

He had been in Fog Lamp Village for two days, and he hadn't encountered many people or events.

But he had already learned a great deal about the village, the ritual, and the villagers.

Offering a young girl as a sacrifice to appease the Spirit of the Canyon, praying for the village to be protected from outsiders and for a bountiful harvest.

What was more intriguing was the attitude of the villagers.

Unlike Dongshu's resistance and disgust, the Village Chief and Aspen supported and advanced the ritual almost unconditionally. As for the rest of the ordinary villagers—

Xia Nan could sense their anxiety, fear, and restlessness.

But they were not opposed to the ritual itself.

They even faintly expressed support for it.

During his two days in the village, whenever Xia Nan approached the wooden cabin deep in the settlement where the girl Lillie presumably lived—even unintentionally—he could feel the surrounding villagers watching him with mounting vigilance and tension.

They desperately craved the completion of the Sacrificial Ritual to change their impoverished, miserable lives.

Xia Nan didn't understand.

If this so-called "Sacrificial Ritual" passed down through the generations truly worked, and if every young "sacrifice" who gave their life truly pleased the great entity in the Canyon...

Then after all these years, why was Fog Lamp Village still in such destitute poverty?

They couldn't even compare to Emerald Creek Village near Rivervale Town, which survived off passing adventurers.

Was the protection of a deity really worth less than those greedy but wealthy adventurers?

Standing in place, he coldly observed the distant crowd.

Then he stepped forward and followed them.

The procession came to a halt at the entrance to the Canyon.

The environment here was completely different from inside the village.

The view opened up, and the wind was stronger and much colder.

The shrill howl of the wind echoed through the air like a weeping wail.

As a forbidden ground, the Canyon's entrance was tightly sealed off by a towering fence of dark brown oak. Mottled chains hung limply to the ground. Right now, the main gates in the center were wide open, revealing the deep, gloomy Canyon path beyond.

Aspen was standing off to the side.

He stood as rigid as a statue, his wooden bow slung across his back.

The sunlight slanting down from behind cast deep shadows over his face, obscuring his expression.

He was merely waiting, just like he had in the past.

Lillie stepped forward alone, her bare feet already caked in damp mud.

Before her was the bottomless Canyon, shrouded in mist year-round; behind her was the collective gaze of all Fog Lamp Village.

The Village Chief unhooked an ancient, rust-covered sickle from his waist.

Grasping it tightly, he walked toward the young girl.

His lips moved, and an ancient chant echoed in everyone's ears in his raspy voice.

"A pure body, forever buried with the filth."

"A pact of blood, to bless our village."

"Granaries full, man and beast in good health."

Slash—

The dull sickle tore through flesh with difficulty, leaving flakes of rust in the wound. Crimson blood flowed down her pale skin, dripping onto the plain white dress and blooming into a glaring patch of red.

A gash had been cut into Lillie's right forearm.

Her body visibly trembled from the sharp pain, but not a single sound escaped her lips.

The wound was left untreated, allowing the blood to freely drip.

The moment the sickle fell, her ties to the village were severed.

At this moment, the girl no longer belonged to the village.

She belonged to the Canyon.

The drumbeats beside the procession came to an abrupt halt, and the world seemed to plunge into a deathly silence.

Lillie hung her head. Her chest heaved as she drew faint breaths, perhaps hissing from the pain of the wound, or perhaps gathering the last of her courage in her heart.

After a short pause, she stepped forward on her bare feet. Step by step, treading through the muck, she walked into that impenetrable mist.

Behind her, the wooden gates slowly swung shut amid the grinding of metal chains.

Unable to resist any longer, the girl couldn't help but look back. Her gaze swept frantically through the narrowing gap in the gates, as if searching for a familiar figure.

But a second later, with a heavy boom, the gates slammed shut, completely sealing off her line of sight.

The ritual was over.

The villagers gathered at the Canyon entrance turned away in a daze.

However, the highly tense, suffocating atmosphere silently eased at the sound of the chains wrapping around the gates.

Murmurs of conversation gradually began to rise from the crowd.

There was exhaustion, but also an indescribable—relief.

It was as if, now that the ritual was complete, all their misfortune and bad luck had been wiped away with the girl's sacrifice, and the village would thrive once more.

"Mr. Xia Nan, the village will hold a celebratory banquet for the ritual tonight. There will be the most delicious dishes and the sweetest wine. Would you—"

The Village Chief, his hair and beard entirely white and his face deeply wrinkled, stepped forward with a smile to respectfully invite Xia Nan to the banquet.

The relief on his face was palpable.

Clearly, the successful completion of the Sacrificial Ritual was a liberation for him as well.

Xia Nan didn't answer immediately. He simply stared into the old man's eyes with his dark gaze, as if trying to find something hidden within them.

After a long while, seeing the smile on the Village Chief's face grow stiff, he finally averted his gaze and gently waved his hand.

"Enjoy yourselves. I won't be attending."

Visibly, the old Village Chief breathed a sigh of relief.

Perhaps he thought that making Xia Nan wait for two days had angered him.

He hastily kept up an apologetic smile, bowing his already hunched back even lower, and added, "Please rest assured, by tomorrow afternoon at the earliest, we can arrange for you to enter the Canyon and harvest the fog lamp grass."

"Oh? Is that short amount of time enough to finish the ritual?" Xia Nan raised an eyebrow. He glanced at the tightly shut gates of the Canyon, a hint of mockery in his tone.

"It is enough, it's more than enough!"

The Village Chief nodded repeatedly, his voice and posture growing even more obsequious due to the Adventurer's shift in attitude.

He kept exchanging pleasantries, seemingly wanting to discuss commissions for escorting goods or exterminating monsters with Xia Nan.

But seeing Xia Nan's utter lack of interest, he realized he was being a bit forward. He stopped bothering him, agreed to meet again tomorrow afternoon, and took his leave.

In the distance, the crowd gradually dispersed.

People began speaking loudly, discussing the weather and the crops, and children were allowed to run and play.

But not a single person mentioned Lillie's name, nor did anyone look back toward the Canyon.

They numbed themselves with the noise and false hopes for the future. For the sake of survival, they collectively maintained a fragile lie that could be pierced with a single touch.

Perhaps only when night fell, in the dead of the silent night, would they hear the faint, ghostly sighs carried on the Canyon winds in their dreams.

Xia Nan stared heavily at the villagers ahead, a glint of contemplation flashing deep in his eyes.

Suddenly, as if remembering something, he turned his head and looked at Aspen beside him.

This silent man, who had watched the ritual without uttering a single word from start to finish, had quietly followed him ever since Lillie entered the Canyon and the gates closed.

"Are you monitoring me?" With no intention of beating around the bush, Xia Nan got straight to the point.

Clearly not expecting him to be so direct, Aspen paused. He didn't answer directly, merely avoiding his gaze.

"The ritual is over. No one can change that."

Xia Nan turned his head noncommittally. He looked at the villagers disappearing into the trees in the distance, speaking in a casual tone:

"What about Dongshu? Have you seen him today?"

"Dongshu—" Aspen frowned. His eyes subconsciously drifted toward the Canyon gates, and only when he saw the heavy iron chains locking them did he relax slightly. He shook his head. "He and Lillie were quite close. It's... normal for him not to come today."

"Give him some time. It will all pass."

"Tsk." Xia Nan silently curled his lip. He pondered for a moment before finally voicing his doubts.

"Do you all... really think that completing this sacrifice will make your lives any better?"

"At least it won't get worse."

"Even if the price is the innocent lives you've watched grow up since they were kids?"

"...That is none of your concern."

Xia Nan stared intently at the middle-aged man before him. His outstanding Perception activated silently, as if trying to uncover something within him.

Yet all he found in the man's eyes was a cold, hollow void.

"I've tried to change all this, and I wasn't the first to try."

In the dead silence, Aspen suddenly spoke up.

"But no one could escape."

"Whenever the Sacrificial Ritual is threatened, disaster descends upon us."

"It could be a passing Adventurer Squad, a minor locust plague, or a vicious, powerful monster."

"Only by completing the ritual can we survive."

A memory suddenly surfaced in Xia Nan's mind—the past events regarding Aspen that Dongshu had mentioned to him a few days ago.

When his own daughter was chosen as the sacrifice, this man, as silent as an oak tree, had also fought back.

He had even come close to succeeding.

But the crushing pressure brought by an invading monster, combined with the staring eyes of the villagers, had ultimately broken this father's shoulders, sending his daughter into the Canyon.

Xia Nan's eyes flickered, and he swallowed the words that had already reached his lips.

His gaze inadvertently swept across the longbow on Aspen's back, and he suddenly noticed something faintly carved into the surface of the wood, near the nocking point.

A long time had passed, so the letters weren't very clear, and the handwriting itself was crooked, like the work of a beginner who had just learned to read and write.

"Jen—"

Xia Nan softly read the letters aloud.

"Is that the name you gave your bow?"

The moment he spoke, Aspen froze for a second, his eyes suddenly going glassy.

Only after noticing Xia Nan's gaze did he snap out of it.

He carefully untied the strap across his chest and took the wooden bow off his back.

For the first time, a gentle expression surfaced on the silent, hollow man's face.

"Jenny."

"That was my daughter's name."

Aspen's eyes lost their focus, as if he were looking into a distant, unreachable past.

"She was nine that year. She secretly took an arrowhead I left on the table, wanting to carve her name into this wooden bow. The letters came out all crooked, and she even cut her hand."

"She didn't cry. Instead, she held up that bloodstained arrowhead and said to me with absolute seriousness, 'Dad, look, it has my mark on it now. When you go out hunting from now on, it'll be just like Jenny is right there with you, protecting you forever!'"

The corners of his mouth twitched upward ever so slightly, so faintly it could barely be called a smile.

"I taught her how to listen to the forest's breathing, how to tell coyotes and forest leopards apart by the wind. But she... she taught me how to bottle-feed an injured fawn, and how to spot glowing fog lamp grass under the moonlight."

Aspen gently stroked the wooden bow. Just as his fingertips were about to touch those crooked letters, he abruptly stopped, his hand trembling slightly, not daring to press closer.

"On the morning of the Sacrificial Ritual, she even made a bet with me about a pine dove we had healed and released, betting on whether it would come back to see us next year. She said it definitely would, because 'all things possess a spirit.'"

"Sometimes, in my dreams, I can still hear the thump-thump of her bare feet running across the floorboards... but when I wake up, there is only the damn wind."

"The next year, that pine dove really did come back."