[Twenty-Six] One Area of the Alps: Hunter Village
Senior Brother John Chen, Xiaoyang and his wife, Adorno, Lorna, and Kaise—seven people in total—arrived at the border checkpoint.
John Chen said to Xiaoyang and his wife, “One month ago, on a dark night right here, there was a battle between humans and ghosts, a fight so fierce it shook heaven and earth, causing the gods and spirits to weep…”
Adorno smiled: “Indeed! Lorna, Kaise, and I were all involved. It was truly thrilling and heart-stopping!”
Kaise recalled: “A battle of such scale… I fear I will never witness another like it in my lifetime.”
John Chen sighed: “Alas! Our good friend, Station Master Marlin, heroically sacrificed himself by detonating explosives at the critical moment.”
Adorno said: “Marlin… he was truly a man of valor and blood!”
Lin Xiaoyang said: “Afterwards, Wilson told me, thanks to your interception of the Bat Army’s main force at the border, the Paradise Hotel was spared from being flattened by them.”
“When two armies face off, one must seize every possible opportunity to weaken the opponent. I chose this location to fight Anderson because the terrain is naturally defensive. With careful planning, we could strike with fewer troops and maximize the damage to Anderson’s main force,” John Chen explained.
He then took an envelope from his pocket and pulled out a map. Father Stron and Lin Xiaoyang leaned in to look.
John Chen pointed to a fork in the path: “Take this branch road into the Alps.”
Father Stron analyzed: “From the map, the Nether Valley doesn’t seem far. However, the mountain paths wind and twist, so it will probably take several days to reach.”
Lin Xiaoyang pointed to a spot on the map: “There are no mountain roads or village markings in this area, only a single 卍 symbol. It might conceal something extraordinary.”
John Chen speculated: “I guess it’s a no-entry zone for living people. No one has ever emerged alive, which is why there are no markers.”
Father Stron said boldly: “Dragon’s Lair or Tiger’s Den, since we’re here, we’ll just venture in.”
John Chen said: “This restricted area must be extremely dangerous. Once inside, we must stay vigilant at all times. I will lead the way, Junior Brother, you stay at the rear. We will maintain coordination from front to back.”
The group proceeded in a single file. Adorno followed John Chen. The two couples, Xiaoyang and his wife, Lorna, and Kaise, walked in the middle, following the forked mountain path into the majestic Alps on foot.
The mountain path wound along the slopes, rising and falling around the mountainside. Even in mid-summer daylight, temperatures were below ten degrees Celsius. Huang Minhwa looped her arm through Xiaoyang’s; her pale face flushed pink on both cheeks.
“If you feel tired, let me know,” Xiaoyang gently reminded Minhwa.
“It’s okay. Ever since the morning after our wedding, I’ve felt completely refreshed. My body seems much lighter.”
Xiaoyang only smiled. He knew why, but in this setting, he could not tell Minhwa.
The group walked along the mountain path until evening, arriving at a small village with only about ten households. Each home had stone walls, thick thatched roofs, and rows of dried meats hanging under the eaves.
John Chen approached a middle-aged man with a square jaw, strong build, wearing a hunting outfit, carrying a longbow and quiver. The man stepped forward and asked: “Excuse me, sir, is there an inn in this village where we can stay?”
The man scrutinized the group: “No inn here. If you don’t mind, you’re welcome to stay at my humble house for a night. The mountains aren’t very safe at night; wolves and grizzly bears roam. For outsiders, we always provide lodging. I am Piaget, the captain of this village’s hunting team.”
John Chen stepped forward and shook his hand: “Thank you, sir, for your hospitality to our group.”
“Please follow me to my humble home,” Piaget said, then took out a cowhorn from his waist and blew a long and short sequence of notes: “Wooo~~woo”
Piaget put away the cowhorn: “I’ve notified the village chief and my wife that seven visitors have arrived.”
The group followed Piaget into the village. In every house, windows opened, and faces of all ages—old and young, male and female—peered out, watching John Chen and his party.
Piaget’s house had a low and narrow entrance; one had to stoop down to get inside. Once inside, the living room was spacious, with large stone slabs covering the floor. Several windows were set high near the eaves, and the window openings were small. In the center of the living room was a square kang (heated brick bed), directly above which was a chimney for smoke, also the highest point of the entire house.
The group sat around the kang. Suspended above the kang was a metal pot covered in black soot, simmering a pot of assorted stew, rich with the aroma of meat and cilantro. The hostess took four ceramic cups, one in each hand, each containing a wooden spoon, squatted by the kang, and distributed the cups to the guests.
Piaget said, “Please wait a moment; the village chief will be here shortly.”
Although the group was famished, they could not neglect proper etiquette. Adorno and Kaise both stared fixedly at the pot of assorted stew.
Before long, the village chief came into the house: a man in his seventies, with silver-white beard and hair, wearing brightly colored clothing, a silver ornament on his chest, slightly plump but solid in build, exuding an air of nobility. In each hand he carried a jar of wine and a smoked deer leg. Smiling warmly, he approached the kang, handed the gifts to Piaget, and sat down. The hostess immediately brought a set of ceramic cups and spoons, bent down, and respectfully handed them to the village chief.
“Haha! Thank you all for waiting a little,” the village chief said in a strong, resonant voice.
“This is our Hunter Village Chief, Adams,” Piaget introduced him to everyone.
Father John pointed and briefly introduced a few of the party members to the hostess and the village chief.
Adams surveyed the faces and attire of the group: “It seems you are not ordinary tourists, are you? No one from the East has ever come here.”
Father John said, “To be honest, our group is on a mission to explore the legendary Nether Valley.”
“Nether Valley?” The old village chief and Piaget exchanged surprised looks. The old chief’s face turned serious as he said, “That place is off-limits to the living. I advise you not to enter.”
Father John said, “We must meet the master of that place; we have a mission to complete.”
The old village chief smiled wryly: “The Nether Valley has no master. I’ve only heard that no living person has ever returned from there.”
Piaget intervened smoothly: “The guests are hungry; please, Chief, let us begin the meal!”
The old village chief picked up a wooden spoon, scooped some broth, and poured it into his ceramic cup. Piaget and his wife then helped serve the food to the guests. Once the seven ceramic cups were filled, Piaget gestured for the guests to raise their cups, pay respects to the old chief, and then everyone began to enjoy the steaming contents.
Adorno gave a thumbs-up: “This assorted stew is truly a delight!”
Piaget proudly said, “This stew is made from deer bones and bats, combined with local spices and cilantro. You won’t find this anywhere else.”
Upon hearing “bats,” Father John and the other six simultaneously paused, frozen as if struck by a pressure point, their foreheads each showing three lines, staring at Piaget.
Seeing this, Piaget laughed heartily: “These are the fruit bats unique to our mountains. They eat only ripe, sweet fruits, not the insect-eating bats.”
After his explanation, Father John and the others relaxed slightly.
The old village chief said, “In these remote mountains, besides hunting deer and goats, fruit bats and flying squirrels are also primary sources of meat.”
Piaget reminded them: “After your meal, you may use the bathroom to bathe. However, the water comes from snowmelt, so if you are sensitive to cold, bathe quickly. Also, after bathing, please rest early. If you hear wolves howling or bears roaring at night, do not go out to look.”
Father John smiled: “Wild wolves and grizzly bears aren’t frightening. Perhaps the scariest are humans themselves?”
Adams nodded in agreement: “Young man, you are right! No matter how fierce the beasts, they will not challenge humans unless cornered. We have coexisted with these creatures for hundreds of years. Unless they invade the village, we don’t bother them. These animals, like humans, remember grudges.”
Piaget said, “First, fill your stomachs; later, the chief will toast you.”
The hostess placed slices of deer leg meat on a platter, serving in two rounds to the guests and the village chief.
Lorna chewed on the deer meat, smiling at Kaise.
Kaise returned her gaze: “I didn’t expect this smoked deer meat to be so delicious!”
“To the old village chief and Piaget, I toast you both,” Father John, who normally abstained from alcohol, could not resist joining the toast. He raised the ceramic cup to his lips; the liquor’s burn surged to his head. He closed his eyes and took two sips, feeling a scorching sensation run from his esophagus to his stomach.
Huang Minhwa took a small sip, feeling warmth spread through her body. She not only drank the stew but joined in drinking the wine. Adorno drank three full ceramic cups, staggering drunkenly, his face already red like a monkey’s rear. Lorna and Kaise drank two cups each, then gulped hot soup, their cheeks flushed with two rosy spots.
After the meal, everyone except Lin Xiaoyang was somewhat drunk, taking turns to bathe and prepare for sleep.
Eventually, only the old village chief, Piaget, and Lin Xiaoyang remained by the kang. The old chief marveled at Xiaoyang’s drinking capacity, patting his shoulder: “Young man, you are the first to drink with me for half the evening without falling drunk, much like I was in my youth.”
At that moment, Xiaoyang asked the hostess for a clean large ceramic cup and performed a remarkable skill, leaving the two watching in awe. Xiaoyang used internal energy to concentrate the alcohol from the wine into his right elbow, then forced the alcohol out from his index finger tip into the large cup, until it was nearly eight-tenths full.
The old village chief held Xiaoyang’s shoulders with both hands, very curious: “How do you do this magic trick?”
Xiaoyang feigned mystery: “This is not a magic trick, it is Chinese martial arts, Kung Fu.”
“Chinese Kung Fu, like Bruce Lee?” The old chief shook his head: “I’ve never seen such Kung Fu in Bruce Lee movies. When I was young in Paris, I watched his films; what you are doing is Chinese magic.”
Xiaoyang smiled: “Alright then, it’s mysterious Chinese magic.”
Piaget’s curiosity was piqued. He lifted the large cup, sniffed it: “Definitely liquor,” then tasted it: “The alcohol content is indeed very high.”
Only when Huang Minhwa came to Xiaoyang with a change of clothes did the old chief and Piaget step aside.
“Young man, when you return this way, remember to come see me,” the old chief said, finally getting up, drunkenly bidding farewell and leaving.
The guests slept in rooms with kangs, two couples per room, and the two priests with Adorno shared a room.
Minhwa let Xiaoyang hold her. She had only seen him drink with the chief and the hostess, unaware of the moment he forced the alcohol from the wine into his fingertips.
Minhwa complained: “Xiaoyang, you drank so much; it will harm your body.”
Xiaoyang said: “The chief and hostess were being hospitable; I really didn’t drink much.”
“You’re lying. After I bathed, I saw you still drinking and chatting with the chief and hostess.”
“Then, do I look drunk to you?”
Minhwa leaned close, sniffed, cupped her hand, and sniffed again, puzzled: “Why does my mouth taste stronger of alcohol than your exhaled breath?”
“See, I didn’t lie!” Xiaoyang smiled mysteriously.
Minhwa pressed: “You must have secretly used some technique, right?”
“Not a technique. It’s an internal energy method I discovered myself.”
“Internal energy method? Why didn’t you teach me before, how to drink without getting drunk?”
Xiaoyang widened his eyes, staring at Minhwa: “You’re not out there selling smiles and company; what would you, a woman, use it for?”
Minhwa, annoyed, lightly tapped his forehead twice: “Treating me like a barmaid? That’s outrageous!”
At that moment, outside, wolves howled. Lorna and Kaise on another bed were unaffected by drunkenness.
Minhwa frowned, complaining: “These wild wolves, what are they doing? Staying up late to disturb us.”
Xiaoyang smiled: “They’re probably hunting. Anyway, it’s none of our business. Sleep.”
The next morning, the hostess and her daughter had already prepared breakfast for the guests, along with a few bags of drinking water, flatbreads, and jerky to take on the road. The male host Piaget was still in bed, hungover, and the hostess did not wish to scold him. She and her daughter served oatmeal porridge, several dishes of fresh vegetables, and two dishes of braised meat. Everyone had a good appetite; even the lightest eater, Huang Minhwa, ate two ceramic cups full.
After breakfast, Lin Xiaoyang took two gold coins from inside his clothing and placed them on the table. The mother and daughter escorted the group to the edge of the village, waving farewell.
