There are paths among these red houses, intertwining and complex.
But, my father did not take us through those paths; instead, he circumvented the hills under these red houses, and only after walking to a secluded staircase did he climb up on that ladder.
The position of the ladder is relatively more peaceful. We have passed through many red houses, and the closest ladder is always on one side of the house.
During this period, Old Gong stashed it back into the night pot bag.
The wind was not as cold, carrying a bit of warmth, though breathing was slightly uncomfortable.
In fact, the streets and alleys of Dasheng almost all have advertisements for selling Red Aster in front of their shops. I have always not believed that I have altitude sickness, but now that my body is flooded with discomfort, it has made me clear that human willpower may not be able to resist the environment. The terrain here must be higher than Dasheng itself.
Reached the top via this staircase.
My father seemed very familiar with the layout here, and he didn't pause once. We even passed a Buddhist temple and squeezed through an inconspicuous doorway. After making our way around, we arrived at a place that was completely different in style.
Many small pagodas were scattered in an orderly manner. Some were round and full, some were pointed and straight, and some small pagodas were very odd. The whole body of the pagoda was built by stacking round things.
Only when I got closer did I feel my scalp tingle. Those... were actually individual skeletons?
The moonlight was cold, reflecting on them, and one by one, the empty eye sockets, noses, and mouths of the skulls made people feel incredibly lonely...
But it was just emptiness, not eerie or resentful.
Old Gong appeared again, continuously smacking his lips and muttering, "What's this all about, a skull pagoda, huh?"
My father still didn't stop, continuing to walk forward.
We bypassed this area and reached a more open space.
After walking a bit further, we could see a massive slope, and beyond it was the summit of this hill. The ground was yellowed, and on the dusty and rocky terrain, there was also a foul, sticky liquid that looked like blood but had some oiliness.
There were several houses to the right of the slope, along with a massive tarp tent. The air was filled with a putrid odor that shot up towards my forehead!
To be honest, I am very familiar with the stench of death. I have sewn up bodies, shaved heads, retrieved corpses, skinned them, and put them in mourning clothes...
I was quite proficient in the funeral practices of the Nine Schools of Art.
But I still felt a bit dizzy from the stench...
Old Gong, as a ghost, he also vomited.
It was not until this moment that my father's face finally showed some easing, and my mother also took a deep breath of relief, relaxing a bit.
The three of us walked to the front of those houses, and my father reached out and knocked on the door with a firm knock.
It took about two minutes for the wooden door to open, and in the dim light, there stood a monk wearing red cloth and having a dark skin tone, with eyes that looked quite muddy.
His gaze first landed on my father, and a trace of clarity appeared in the muddy eyes. He placed his right hand on his chest, slightly bending over, and spoke a sentence.
I couldn't quite understand it, as it wasn't a phrase I was familiar with, such as "Zhaxi Deleg".
My father responded by clasping his hands together, slightly bowing, and my mother mirrored his actions.
Then, the monk stepped aside to allow us to enter.
The room inside was very cramped. It could be said that there were no walls without cabinets, filled with many books and knives.
These knives looked very strange, but I could see some marks on them. They were dirty blood and fatty oils...
This monk is rather odd...
"I have always thought that I would never see you again, my friend." The slightly unfamiliar Mandarin was still a bit slurred and had a touch of tongue twisters.
The monk pulled out a few bowls from somewhere and poured us some tea that looked extremely muddy.
My father sighed softly, saying, "Who would say otherwise? All thanks to my son's miraculous intervention that brought us out. However, that place is in chaos now; the entire Dasheng area must be under strict martial law. All vehicles entering and exiting are undoubtedly being watched."
My father's words were referring to Black City Temple.
Only now did I realize that he wanted to help us leave safely through this monk.
I didn't find it particularly troublesome. Compared to the complications, safety is the top priority.
Perhaps if I had gone directly to the station to find a ride according to my idea, I would have fallen into the hands of the Lu family, and then a crowd attack might occur, taking us back to Black City Temple.
The monk looked at me and nodded slightly.
"In the early morning, there will be a car. You can take this opportunity to leave. They won't come to disturb us." The monk said at the same time.
Actually, I had a slight doubt in my mind.
Why wouldn't the cars here be disturbed?
Because... is it because of the rival forces?
I can feel the difference between the red houses on this hill and the blackish atmosphere of the buildings in Black City Temple.
My father clasped his hands together and said a "Zhaxi Deleg".
As for my mother, she had a slight smile on her face and tears welling up in her eyes.
Then, my father said a few more words in a language I couldn't understand. Now I'm completely clear that it was Tibetan.
The monk's face slightly changed, firstly he put his hands together, and then looked at me, and there was even a trace of reverence in his eyes.
Then he stood up, indicating that we should follow him outside.
After leaving these houses, when he stopped again, there was a row of houses in front of us, several buildings.
Among these rows of houses, there are some thatched cottages with red walls and white tiles, which are out of place among the other houses.
He first led us to the door of a normal house here. It was like a hotel, with a woman of dark skin standing in front.
The woman looked at him with great respect after seeing him, and after the monk said a few words, she took out two keys and handed them to my father.
Later, my father led us up to the second floor, indicating for me to enter a room and told me to rest well first. He said that if there were any things, we would talk about it after leaving here. I watched as my father and mother entered another room before the door was closed.
Sitting on the bed, my temples kept twitching. Old Gong rolled onto the bed and said, "Grandpa, Lord has great abilities. I perceived this mountain. It's all hairy donkeys. Haha, one of them is guarding us at night."
I furrowed my brows, got up, and went to the window. Sure enough, I saw the monk standing on the roadside, slightly bowing his head with his hands clasped together in prayer; there was no unusual movement.
Some shadows were flying in the sky. I looked up and saw eagles, some of them flying close. I could see that their necks were bare and their appearance was fierce, clearly vultures.
At this time, the monk lifted his head and happened to meet my gaze.
With hands clasped together, I let out a soft sigh and there was a benevolent smile on my face.
The monk also smiled, with a trace of reverence in his eyes.
But I was full of doubts. Why did he respect me?
What did my father say?
Yes, it must be that some things were conveyed in my father's words, which I couldn't understand!
