Passerby: Secret Image of Ancient Scrolls

"Aoluya, what should I do! Should I hurt it?!" Ye Zhuo roared.

The beast's claws reached in through the window and continued to claw wildly, as if trying to grasp the answers it sought from the emptiness of the air.

Its claws embedded themselves in window frames, wooden boards, and walls, carving deep grooves into them.

What is it looking for? Is it looking for the person who said, "It's not a bad person"? Is it looking for the person who said, "It's a guardian angel"? Or is it looking for the person it wants to protect but is about to die?

"No...it's...protecting." The beast roared, uttering these words haltingly, its primal rage erupting once more. "No...it's!" Another claw smashed through the wooden planks nailed to the window and crashed inside.

The wooden planks were torn to pieces by its two claws, and the nails holding the planks in place would move outwards a little bit with the slightest vibration.

"Wait a little longer!" Ao Luya's voice trembled, but she did not back down. "It is the oldest guardian of this forest, and ordinary weapons cannot harm it. Only my copper bell can subdue it for a moment, but there is absolutely no chance of victory. Uncle, do you know anything? Let Uncle finish speaking, and perhaps there will be a glimmer of hope."

The man lay on the bed, coughing and panting, his lips trembling. His eyes were fixed on the still-flailing animal paw, on the broken planks of wood, and on the nails being moved outwards.

He wasn't afraid. He watched for a long time.

"I have a terminal illness," he said, his voice soft, as soft as snow falling on snow. "I know I don't have many days left to live. A few nights ago, I was coughing so hard I couldn't breathe, and I thought I was going to die. I saw it crouching by my bed, looking at me. There was fire in its eyes. It looked at me for a long time, then lowered its head and pressed its forehead against mine." The man paused, took a breath, and said, "It possessed me. I had been coughing for so many days, but that night I didn't cough. I hadn't slept so peacefully in a long time."

Old Gu's hands were trembling, especially the hand holding the animal trap. He didn't speak. He just listened.

"A day passed," the man's voice softened. "Two men came. They were carrying crossbows and circling outside my house. I saw them talking, their mouths moving, but I couldn't hear what they were saying. But I saw their eyes. They wanted to kill me."

Ao Luya's copper bell was ringing, very softly, like someone knocking on the door from afar. She didn't shake it; the bell was ringing on its own.

"It knew," the man said. "It left my body. It went into that man's body. I saw fire start in his eyes, I saw his mouth begin to split, I saw him become it. Another man squatted on the ground, clutching his head, trembling all over. He saw it. He was scared. He was too scared to stand up."

The claws outside the window paused for a moment. Just once. Then it started scratching again.

It was waiting for the old man to finish speaking.

"And then you came." The uncle looked at Ao Luya, at Ye Zhuo, at Old Gu, at the white deer. "It's not bad. It told me it was in pain. It had been in pain for a hundred years. When it possessed me, I saw it. I saw what was burning in its fire. There was this forest, there was the white deer, there were bells, there were people hanging colorful ribbons on the trees. It remembered. It remembered everything. It was just in too much pain."

The beast's claws stopped.

It wasn't held down by anyone; it stopped on its own. It hung suspended in mid-air, its fingernails still adorned with wood shavings, broken glass, and blood. It didn't move. It was listening.

It heard the old man say, "It's just in pain." It heard the old man say, "It remembers." Its fire dimmed for a moment. Just for a moment. Then it lit up again. Brighter than before.

"When it possessed me, I saw its story," the man choked up. "It waited a long time. Waiting for the people who hung colorful ribbons on the trees to return. Waiting for the bell to ring again. Waiting for someone to call its name. Waiting for people who still believed in it to come and pray, but no one came. It waited a long time."

The wooden plank shattered. With a simultaneous exertion of force from both beast claws, the plank split in two, sending fragments flying throughout the room. Before they even hit the ground, Ye Zhuo had already shouted in a low voice.

"Old Gu! Quick! Put the bear trap in front of the bed! You all hide in the closet!"

Old Gu was holding the animal trap, his legs and hands trembling, but he didn't stop. He rushed to the bedside, placed the trap on the ground, opened it, and locked it in place.

The teeth of the animal trap gleamed coldly in the candlelight. He didn't know if it would work. He only knew that he couldn't do nothing.

"Go quickly!" Ye Zhuo shouted again. Ao Luya was still standing there, looking at the beast's paw reaching in through the window, and at the still-burning fire. "Release the white deer! I have a plan. Use the net on the wall to trap it, and I'll cast the spell."

Ye Zhuo stepped to the wall and took down the net. The net was very sturdy. Old Gu had already hidden in the cabinet, and Lin Jian had also hidden inside. Ao Luya took one last look at the claw, one last look at the uncle, and one last look at Ye Zhuo.

"Stop hiding, everyone come out and pull the net. Pull the net in front of the white deer; its first target is the white deer. This is our only chance."

Ye Zhuo nodded and said, "We'll listen to Ao Luya."

Lin Jian and Lao Gu quickly came out of the wardrobe. The four of them held the net in front of Bai Lu and stood still, their eyes fixed firmly on the wooden planks of the window that were about to be broken.

The wild beast burst in. It smashed through the window frame, through the wooden planks, and through the still-dangling nails. It landed on all fours in front of the bed, its eyes blazing with light that illuminated the entire room. It saw the old man, lying on the bed, unable to cough anymore, his lips turning purple. It saw Ye Zhuo. It saw Lin Jian, it saw Old Gu, it saw Ao Luya.

Finally, we saw a white deer.

The flame had already ignited in the white deer's eyes. The beast approached the white deer step by step, while everyone could only watch helplessly as the raging flame drew closer.

The evil tide surrounding the golden light barrier receded, and they changed direction. Those empty faces that had been desperately trying to squeeze into the cracks in the golden light barrier turned towards the window one by one, as if being pulled by something, and peeled off the golden light barrier one after another, merging into the surging black tide and rushing downstairs.

The drones buzzed up from below, mingling with the wind and the churning of the evil tide. They were chasing the light. The light was shining on them.

Shen Xun's blood was still flowing, but slower. It wasn't that it had stopped flowing, but that he was almost completely drained. The color of the staff had changed from dark red to gray, like burnt charcoal, like a fire about to go out. The cracks in the golden light shield were still there, but they had stopped cracking.

The remaining evil currents could not break through; they merely circled, swirled, and laughed, hehe, hehe, hehehehe. Shen Xun leaned against the wall, gripping his peach wood staff tightly. His face was deathly pale, as white as paper, as white as snow, as white as Xiulian's fading body.

"Let's go. Let's go upstairs," he said. His voice was very soft, as if he were talking to himself.

Lin Jian supported him, the team members walked in front, and Xiu Lian followed behind. Her lower body was already transparent; there was nothing below her waist, but she kept walking. She wanted to return to the top floor, her home, the place where she was born. The place where the person who created her had lingered. The golden shadow was still swirling around her, round and round, and round and round. It didn't stop. It dared not stop. If it stopped, she would be gone.

There was only one room on the top floor. Lin Jian turned the handle, but there was no response. The door was locked. She took out her key, her hands trembling uncontrollably, and it took her several tries to get it into the lock. She turned it once, but it didn't open. She turned it again, still no luck. She took a deep breath, pulled the key out, reinserted it, and tried turning it again.

Click. The door opened.

That aura washed over her. It wasn't a sinister aura, nor was it that evil tide; it was familiar, the warm scent of photographic paper, the scent of bygone days, the scent of her grandfather. Lin Jian covered her mouth, tears streaming down her face. She didn't know why she was crying, didn't know why that aura made her want to cry, didn't know why her legs went weak and she couldn't stand when she saw that table, that camera, those photos.

The team members stood at the door, stunned. The camera sat in the center of the table, exactly the same as the one Lin Jian had smashed, without a single difference. The body had no brand markings, the film compartment door was perfectly sealed, there were fine scratches on the lens, and the shutter button was worn shiny. It was exactly the same as that one.

The golden shadow on Xiulian's body slowly loosened, circling and drifting. It floated up from Xiulian, spun once in the air, and then drifted towards the camera. It circled the camera, round and round, as if embracing it. Then it slowly, little by little, seeped in, seeping into the lens, into the shutter, into the fine scratches.

The camera started glowing. It was warm. Lin recognized the light. It was the same light she had seen when she took that photo at the end of the alley.

She walked over and picked up the camera. The body was hot, exactly like the old one. It burned her palms, but she didn't let go. She felt that golden shadow in her hand, in the camera, and in her heart.

It came back. The golden shadow from the shattered camera followed her back, merging with the camera itself. She didn't know why this was happening, why her grandfather had left two cameras, or what that golden shadow actually was.

All she knew was that it was back.

Shen Xun walked in and leaned against the door frame. He saw the table, the photos, and Lin Jian holding the camera and crying.

He didn't speak. He walked over, sat against the wall, slid down, and sat on the ground. He wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth; the back of his hand was dry, the blood had already congealed. He stared at it for a long time.

The team member walked to the table, picked up a stack of photos, and started looking through them. His hands and eyes were wide open.

Those aren't just individual photographs; they're an entire history. Thirty years of history.

In the first photo, the pristine spirit at the bottom of the river is still clear, like a ball of moonlight merging into the river water, surrounded by tiny specks of light.

In the second picture, the stone tablet at the bottom of the river is still white, covered with dense, strange runes. The ripples of the river make it gleam.

The second, the third, the fourth… the light in the photos began to dim. The first black lines appeared on the edge of the primordial spirit, like ink drops falling into water, unable to spread or dissipate. Xiulian stood beside it, her braids hanging over her shoulders, smiling brightly, her eyes filled with curiosity, not fear. The stone tablet behind her was covered with symbols, but those symbols were alive, emitting a faint glow in the photos.

That was thirty years ago. It was still clean.

Then, Xiulian's smile faded, her brows furrowed, and her lips tightened. What was she worried about? What was she protecting? She didn't know what it was, but she knew it had arrived. The symbols on the stone tablet began to distort, no longer alive, but struggling.

The further along the photographs went, the more numerous, denser, and deeper the black markings became on the primordial spirit's body. It transformed from a ball of moonlight into a blob of ink, and from a blob of ink into a blob of pus. The spots of light disappeared, replaced by a sticky, shiny black substance that seeped from its body, drop by drop, clump by clump.

Xiulian stood beside it, her body also infected with the black markings from the primordial spirit. She was using her own body to block those things that were eroding it.

But she couldn't stop it.

In the later photos, Xiulian is gone. Only the primordial spirit remains. It is being devoured. It is being transformed into what it fears most. It simply remains there, at the bottom of the river, in the darkness, amidst those sticky, shiny black things, day after day, year after year. Thirty years. Drowning innocent people in the water. Nourishing itself with resentment.

In the last few photos, the primordial spirit had completely transformed into an evil entity. Tentacles grew out of its body, wrapped around it, pulled it down, and shaped it into what it feared most.

Its tentacles twisted and tangled wildly, gradually obscuring most of the photograph. The team member's hands trembled, and the photo nearly slipped from his grasp. He flipped to the bottom, to the last photograph. It was Xiulian. Not the Xiulian who had been devoured, but the living Xiulian. She stood before the forests of the Greater Khingan Mountains, beside the shaman, behind the stone tablet. The symbols on the tablet were alive, glowing.

There was a light in Xiulian's eyes. It was a clean, warm light that hadn't been extinguished. That was her last photograph. After that, she went to the riverbank, and she never came back.

Xiulian stood at the doorway, silent. Her body was almost completely invisible, only her face retained a faint glow. Her lips moved, as if trying to say something, but it was inaudible.

Shen Xun looked at her lips. She said, "I know, I've always known, I'm not the real Xiulian at all. I'm just a shadow created from a photograph. I should go; I never belonged here."

Shen Xun pressed his fingertips against the snake's fangs, about to offer up his golden blood to summon the White Impermanence to redeem Xiu Lian's shadow.

But Bai Wuchang is no longer here.

Before Shen Xun could answer, Xiu Lian's figure had completely disappeared, becoming transparent.

She finally disappeared. She left nothing behind.

Looking at the thick stack of photographs, Shen Xun understood everything.

Su Jin, of course, couldn't possibly pull Xiu Lian out of the Reincarnation Well. This Xiu Lian was originally formed from these photos, but in the photos, she was controlled and enveloped by evil beings from beginning to end, yet she still didn't harm herself at the most crucial and fatal moment.

This is the purest spirit of the Greater Khingan Mountains, and it has never changed. Even if it's only in photographs.