Fan Wubing suddenly plunged into the deep abyss, the feeling of weightlessness jolting him awake.
Rain, wind, night, the icy moonlight, and the dreadful sound of crying.
"Wuwuwuwu... Lord Envoy, hold on... we're almost there..."
Fan Wubing tried to open his eyes, but it was as if his soul hadn't reconnected with his body, and he couldn't open them.
At a certain moment, he felt the person carrying him come to a stop.
A dry, hoarse voice sounded. Someone said to him, "Lord Envoy, please stay here. Stay here. Don't make a sound. I... I am of no use. For three hundred years, no one has worshiped, and I've long forgotten the taste of incense fire. It was Lord Envoy who reminded me, I... I was originally a Mountain God. My duty is to protect this mountain and river, to protect the common people, to bring peace and blessings. But I can protect nothing. I've always been fleeing, an unworthy Mountain God, ashamed of my sacred form!"
