Marvel: The other side of the double-passing door is Devouring the Stars

Chapter 515 Time Freezes!

"The closer they get to the Demon-Suppressing Abyss, the greater the influence on the evil spirits," Rowan analyzed. "These evil spirits must have lived near the Demon-Suppressing Abyss for a long time, and their degree of mutation is more profound than that of evil spirits in other places."

He continued onward.

Finally, on a cloudy evening, he arrived at the entrance to the Valley of the Underworld.

It was a narrow canyon with steep cliffs on both sides and a winding passage in the middle. Thick black fog filled the canyon, almost completely obscuring its interior. A suffocating sense of oppression emanated from its depths, as if something terrifying slumbered within.

Rowan stood at the entrance to the canyon, feeling the powerful energy fluctuations.

"This is it," he thought to himself, "the Demon-Suppressing Abyss...the place where ancient star beasts slumber."

He took a deep breath and stepped into the Valley of the Underworld.

Rowan ventured deeper into the canyon, where the black fog grew thicker and the stench of decay in the air intensified.

His mental energy constantly scanned his surroundings, alert to any potential dangers. But strangely, apart from the occasional low-level evil spirit, he didn't encounter any major obstacles.

"According to Zhou Qing, there should be many powerful evil spirits near the Demon Suppression Abyss," Luo Wen thought to himself, "Why haven't we encountered a single one yet?"

He felt a vague unease, but he continued forward nonetheless.

After walking for about two hours, the canyon suddenly opened up.

Rowan stopped in his tracks, slightly taken aback by the sight before him.

At the end of the canyon, there was a village.

It was a fairly large village, with about forty or fifty households. The houses were arranged in a pleasing, staggered pattern, with stone-paved paths winding through them, and a huge old locust tree standing at the village entrance. Wisps of smoke rose from the rooftops of several houses, and the air was filled with the aroma of cooked food.

What surprised Rowan even more was that there seemed to be a lot of people in the village. He could see people walking in the streets, chatting in front of their doors, and children chasing and playing. From a distance, it looked no different from an ordinary village.

"How come there's a village here?" Rowan frowned.

According to Zhou Qing's description, the Netherworld Valley is the place with the densest demonic energy in the Eastern Continent, making it impossible for ordinary people to survive there. Moreover, it's very close to the Demon-Suppressing Abyss, which should logically be the most densely populated area of ​​evil spirits. How could there possibly be humans living there?
Rowan did not approach rashly, but hid behind a boulder and carefully observed the village.

He released his spiritual power, sweeping across the entire village.

The next moment, his pupils suddenly contracted.

“These people…”

He sensed the people in the village, but their life force... was very strange.

They lacked the vitality of normal people; instead, they exuded a cold, decaying aura. This aura was somewhat similar to, but not entirely the same as, the demonic energy emanating from evil spirits. Even more bizarrely, these people behaved completely normally, just like ordinary living people.

"Walking corpses?" The thought flashed through Rowan's mind.

He had seen similar records in the Virtual Universe Company's documents. After the death of certain powerful beings, if the residual energy is strong enough, a special phenomenon may occur—the body of the deceased will be driven by the residual energy to continue the activities it had before death, as if it were still alive.

However, this phenomenon usually only occurs in individuals, and it is rare for an entire village to become like this.

"What exactly is going on with this village?"

After thinking for a moment, Rowan decided to go in and take a look.

He withdrew his spiritual power, stepped out from behind the boulder, and walked confidently toward the village.

As soon as I reached the village entrance, an old man came to greet me.

The old man was about sixty years old, with a kind face and dressed in simple linen clothes, looking like an ordinary old farmer. But Rowan could clearly sense that there was no life force in his body, only a cold, decaying energy flowing within him.

"Oh, a guest!" the old man said warmly. "We rarely have guests in this poor, remote place. Young man, where are you from?"

Rowan sized up the old man and noticed that his complexion was indeed somewhat pale, but otherwise he was no different from a normal person. His eyes were bright, his expressions were lively, and his tone of voice was natural.

If Rowan hadn't possessed mental perception, he wouldn't have been able to tell that this was a dead person.

“Hello, sir,” Rowan replied calmly. “I am a traveler passing through this area. I saw a village here and wished to ask for a drink of water.”

"A traveler?" The old man was somewhat surprised. "This Netherworld Valley is no good place. How did you end up here all by yourself?"

“I enjoy traveling and seeing different scenery,” Rowan said. “I’ve heard that the depths of the Dragon Vein Mountains have unique and spectacular scenery, so I wanted to come and see for myself.”

“Young people are bold,” the old man chuckled, shaking his head. “But since you’re here, come in and rest for a while. Although our Qingliu Village is remote, we still have the proper etiquette for welcoming guests.”

"Qingliu Village?" Luo Wen asked.

“Yes, our village is called Qingliu Village,” the old man said, pointing to the large locust tree at the village entrance. “Look at that old locust tree; it’s said to be several hundred years old. Our village is called Qingliu Village because of that tree.”

Luo Wen glanced at the locust tree and noticed that although it was lush and leafy, the leaves were somewhat dark in color, and there were some strange patterns on the trunk.

"Thank you, sir," Rowan nodded, "Then I'll take my leave."

The old man led Rowan into the village.

Along the way, Rowan observed everything around him.

The village was indeed large, with men, women, and children of all ages. Some were working in the fields, some were weaving bamboo baskets in front of their homes, and some were washing clothes by the river. Many people greeted Luo Wen and the old man warmly as they passed by.

"Uncle Zhao, who is this?"

"They are travelers passing through, stopping by our village for a rest."

"Oh, what a rare guest! Young man, you're quite handsome!"

"Come over for dinner tonight! My wife's braised pork is amazing!"

Rowan responded with a smile, but inwardly he grew increasingly wary.

These people appeared warm and friendly, but the chilling aura emanating from them constantly eroded the surrounding air. Moreover, he noticed a detail—their shadows were different from those of normal people.

A normal person's shadow should be dark gray or black and move with changes in light. But these people's shadows are a pale grayish-white, and no matter how the light changes, the shadows remain fixed in the same position.

"When exactly did these people die?" Rowan pondered to himself. "Did they even know they were dead?"

Judging from their behavior, they seemed unaware. Their actions were completely normal, living like ordinary villagers.

The old man led Rowan to a courtyard in the center of the village.

It was a small courtyard house with blue bricks and gray tiles, and a few fruit trees planted in the yard. A middle-aged woman was feeding chickens in the yard. When she saw the old man bring Luo Wen in, she quickly came to greet him.

"Old man, who is this?" "A traveler passing through, stopping by our village for a rest," the old man said. "Go and prepare some food to treat him well."

“Okay,” the middle-aged woman said warmly to Rowan, “Young man, sit down and rest for a while, I’ll go make you some food.”

"Thank you very much, ma'am," Luo Wen said, bowing with his hands clasped in thanks.

The middle-aged woman smiled and went into the kitchen. The old man then invited Luo Wen to sit down on the stone bench in the yard and poured him a bowl of water.

Rowan took the bowl of water, but didn't drink it. He pretended to pick up the bowl, but actually just brought it to his lips and then put it down.

The bowl of water looked ordinary, but he could sense a faint trace of yin energy within it. Drinking it wouldn't harm him, but there was no need to take the risk.

"Young man, what's your name?" the old man asked curiously as he sat opposite him.

"My name is Luo Wen."

“Luo Wen…a good name,” the old man nodded. “My surname is Zhao, and everyone in the village calls me Uncle Zhao. I’ve lived in Qingliu Village my whole life and have never left. You are the first outsider I’ve ever met.”

"Is Qingliu Village located deep in this Netherworld Valley? Does it usually have no visitors?" Luo Wen asked.

“No,” Old Zhao shook his head, “our village is too remote; outsiders don’t even know there’s a village here. And…”

He paused, then lowered his voice and said, "It seems things aren't peaceful outside; monsters frequently appear. No one in our village dares to go out; we just stay in the village."

"A monster?" Rowan feigned surprise. "What monster?"

“I don’t know either,” said Old Zhao. “Anyway, it was something really scary. When I was young, a few young men from the village wanted to go out and make their way in the world, but none of them ever came back. Ever since then, no one has dared to leave the village.”

Luo Wen listened to what Old Zhao said and analyzed it in his heart.

Judging from Old Zhao's account, this village seems to have existed for a very long time. The villagers knew there were "monsters" outside, so they never dared to leave the village. But what they didn't know was that they themselves had become "monsters" in another sense.

"Uncle Zhao, how old is this village?" Luo Wen asked.

"Well..." Old Zhao thought for a moment, "I can't really explain it. Anyway, my great-great-grandfather's generation has been here for at least several hundred years."

“Several hundred years…” Rowan seemed to be deep in thought.

If this village has indeed existed for hundreds of years, then these villagers likely died a long time ago and are driven by some force to continue repeating the life they lived in their previous lives.

“They’re trapped here, repeating the same things day after day,” Rowan thought to himself, “as if time has frozen.”

This is a very strange state. These villagers have no real consciousness; they act only on their remaining instincts. Their memories, emotions, and thoughts are all stuck at the moment of their death, and then they repeat this cycle endlessly.

“How pathetic,” Rowan sighed inwardly.

Just then, the middle-aged woman came out carrying a plate of steaming hot food.

"Young man, eat up," she said, placing the food on the stone table. "It's all locally grown; it's not expensive, but it's absolutely fresh."

On the table was a bowl of white rice, a plate of stir-fried vegetables, a bowl of braised pork, and a dish of pickled vegetables. It looked and smelled delicious, just like a normal meal.

But Rowan knew that these things were absolutely not to be eaten.

“Thank you, ma’am,” he said with a smile. “I ate on the way here and I’m not hungry yet. Please keep this food for me.”

"You've already eaten?" The middle-aged woman asked, somewhat disappointed. "How can that be? You've traveled such a long way; you can't go without eating something. Here, just have a bite."

As she spoke, she tried to put the chopsticks into Rowan's hand.

Luo Wen politely declined, saying, "I appreciate your kindness, Auntie, but I'm really not hungry. Besides, I have a habit of not eating food prepared by others. It's not that I'm picky, it's just a personal quirk, please forgive me."

The middle-aged woman listened with some regret, but did not insist.

“In that case, never mind,” she said. “But if you get hungry, just let me know and I’ll make you something else.”

"Thank you, ma'am."

Luo Wen spent the afternoon at Uncle Zhao's house, chatting with the villagers.

He discovered that the villagers' memories seemed to be stuck at a specific point in time. Their words and actions all carried a sense of repetition. For example, Old Zhao told him the same story three times, with the content and wording exactly the same each time.

“Their consciousness has completely solidified,” Rowan thought to himself, “they’re just mechanically repeating past behaviors.”

As evening approached, the village began to come alive.

The villagers returned from the fields one after another and gathered under the big locust tree at the village entrance to chat. Smoke rose from each house, filling the air with the aroma of cooked food. Children chased and played in the village, their laughter like silver bells.

If you didn't know the truth, you would think it was a peaceful and tranquil little village.

Old Zhao arranged a guest room for Luo Wen so that he could stay in the village for one night.

“It’s getting dark and the road is difficult to travel,” said Old Zhao. “Why don’t you stay at my house for the night and leave tomorrow?”

Rowan did not refuse. He had originally intended to observe the area further to see if he could find any clues.

“Thank you very much, Uncle Zhao,” he said. “Then I’ll be staying with you for the night.”

The guest room was small, containing only a bed, a table, and a chair. The windows were papered, letting in very little light. There was a faint musty smell in the room, suggesting it hadn't been occupied for a long time.

Rowan sat on the bed, closed his eyes, and used his mental power to perceive everything around him.

The villagers were having dinner, chatting, and doing chores in their homes. Their behavior seemed perfectly normal, no different from during the day.

"How long can this state last?" Rowan wondered to himself. "They behave like normal people during the day, but will they change at night?"

He decided to remain vigilant and observe the situation throughout the night.

Time passed slowly, and the night grew deeper.

The village lights gradually went out, and the noise slowly faded away. A deathly silence descended, broken only by the occasional chirping of insects.

Luo Wen sat on the bed, motionless, intently sensing the outside world.

Just after 9 PM, he suddenly sensed something was amiss.

The atmosphere in the village began to change.

The chilling aura that permeated the air suddenly intensified, as if something was awakening. The decaying energy within the villagers also began to stir, as if summoned by some unseen force.

(End of this chapter)