Chapter 1975: Chapter 1975

"Don't worry, leaving this place isn't as hard as you might think."

Seeing the troubled look on Jenkins's face, the old man smoking his cigarette changed his tune and pointed back the way Jenkins had come.

"Over that way, there's a shrine. Find it and devoutly express your wish to leave. As long as you haven't offended this world and your luck isn't terrible, you should be able to depart. Remember, a shrine, not a temple. It's easy to tell them apart—the temples are typically dilapidated and filled with danger. Don't go near any temple you find in these snows. They are remnants of a forgotten age."

As he spoke, he even began to trace a route in the snow with his finger.

"A non-native would have a hard time finding the shrine. You're quite fortunate. Of course," he added, "so am I."

He blew another smoke ring, his movements practiced and smooth. He was clearly a seasoned smoker.

"I'd like to ask a few questions about this place," Jenkins said.

"Ask away, but I can't answer everything. You know how it is. Some things are better left unknown."

"I understand. May I ask what you're doing?" Jenkins gestured to the bamboo basket the old man had cast aside.

With that, he pulled the basket closer, lifted the lid, and drew out a handful of shimmering, blue-green shoots. They resembled common weeds from the material world, but the sheer abundance of spirit radiating from them—so thick it seemed to bleed into the air—proved they were anything but ordinary.

"See? My luck's been decent today. Found this much after only thirty hours on the mountain. With this, the supplies I can trade for back home will be enough to get my family through the next year of blizzards."

He roughly shoved the handful of herbs back into the basket, then paused, pulling out a single stalk and extending it to Jenkins.

"Consider this a gift for saving my life. A souvenir, if you will, since the odds of you ever returning are practically nil. I can tell you're a capable man, standing here without any aid. I'm not so resilient. I was on the mountain too long, and I didn't realize the cold spirit seeping into my body had almost reached its threshold."

As he spoke, he took out a brass-colored pocket watch from the basket, its metal surface still rough with burrs. But when he opened it, the dial inside looked more like a water meter.

"I brought plenty of cigarettes, but I still nearly froze to death. People would laugh at me for a long time if they heard about this. But look," he said, flashing the strange watch in front of Jenkins before putting it away, "my cold spirit is below the threshold now."

"Do people here rely on cigarettes to stay warm?" Jenkins asked tentatively.

"No, not to stay warm. To lower our body temperature, to assimilate with the cold spirit. It's not just cigarettes; there are many ways to achieve that. For instance, the herbs I gathered can be used to concoct certain potions. A pity I'm too poor and can only afford these."

He took a drag from his cigarette, letting a puff of white smoke escape the corner of his mouth. He didn't seem troubled talking about his financial situation; instead, he smiled.

"But it's not so bad. At least I have these."

He then took out his cigarette case, intending to offer one to Jenkins, but Jenkins refused again.

Jenkins then explained his predicament and tried to pry for information about the "Blizzard Fiend." The old man, unfortunately, had never heard of such a peculiar entity, but he did offer a crucial piece of advice:

"Whatever it may be, it cannot kill on these sacred snows. To melt the hallowed white drifts with warm blood is an unforgivable sin. Therefore, whatever this fiend you speak of is, if it understands the rules of this place, it would never resort to crude violence."

Jenkins nodded, indicating he understood. He then rose to continue his journey, while the old man said he would wait for the snow to stop before moving on. He wanted to gather more herbs; otherwise, it would be a waste to have ventured so far from the kingdom into these mountains.

"That old man was suspicious," Jenkins muttered to himself as he followed the footprints, twirling the stalk of grass in his left hand. Chocolate's little snow-white head popped out again, its eyes instantly captivated by the plant in Jenkins's hand.

"Go back inside. Didn't I tell you not to leave my coat?"

Its tiny paw stretched forward but was immediately pressed back down by Jenkins. Once he was sure his pet cat had retreated inside his coat, Jenkins placed a hand over his own heart.

"The Ice Soul isn't reacting," he mused. "Does that mean the catalyst for its awakening isn't here?"

After a moment of deliberation, he popped the stalk into his mouth. The blue herb looked bizarre, but it tasted surprisingly pleasant and had an unidentifiable, fragrant aroma. As he chewed, its juices trickled down his throat, and the spirit within him grew by a minuscule amount.

Aside from that, his [Ice Solidification] ability seemed to flare for an instant, but there were no other changes.

"No reaction," he concluded. "So that's not the way."

The cat in his coat was already protesting.

He resumed his pursuit, following the tracks. The party, which had already dwindled to just over a dozen, had apparently split again. One trail veered up to the left, the other to the right. Jenkins once more coaxed his cat out for directions. This time, however, it was uncooperative, only begrudgingly glancing to the left after a few placating strokes to its head. The rıghtful source is novel[f]ire.net

He had only taken a few steps before he spotted another person ahead. This time it was a middle-aged woman, also dressed for summer like the old man before her. Her skirt was mended with several crude patches. Her features were unremarkable, like those of any common country wife. She carried a small basket on her right arm and approached Jenkins, her face etched with anxiety.

She was hunched over, shielding her face with her left arm. Through the heavy snow, she finally saw Jenkins. She recoiled in surprise, then, suppressing her fear, shouted at him.

"You're a person, right?"

Naturally, Jenkins didn't understand her. He explained this in Elvish, and after receiving a halting reply in the same language, he answered:

"Of course I'm a person. Why do you ask?"

"Isn't it obvious...? Oh, so you're an outsider? In our lands, once it snows, many strange things appear outside the kingdom's borders. That's why we usually don't go out in the snow. How can you prove you're human?"

"Why should I have to prove it?"

He shook his head and stepped aside to let the woman pass.

"I have no intention of stopping to chat. Now, if you'll excuse me, madam."

He turned to continue his trek up the difficult, snow-covered path. Just as he brushed past her, he heard the woman's voice again.

"Sorry," she asked sheepishly. "I know outsiders are always wary of this place. I shouldn't have doubted you... Excuse me, have you seen an herb gatherer with a bamboo basket? I'm bringing him his meal."

Jenkins's steps faltered. He turned back.

"He's down that way, smoking behind a rock. If you follow my tracks back down the mountain, you should smell the smoke in about fifteen minutes."

"Okay, thank you. Are you looking for the people who made these tracks?"

She gestured again, this time to the set of tracks left by only six people.

"I saw them about twenty minutes ago," she offered. "A strange group. I didn't dare approach them."

"Are they still alive?"

"From what I could see, they were. They have no means of warding off the cold, but they had the good fortune to find some old ritual implements. That will probably buy them some time, but those things are all cursed."

Next, Jenkins learned more about the "ritual implements" from the woman. As expected, both she and the old man believed in a supreme being called the Lord of Winter. But wherever there are people, all sorts of strange things happen.

Some people only pretended to believe in the Lord of Winter while actually worshiping some of the strange and terrible entities in the vast snowfields.

These rituals gave rise to ceremonial tools, items that became imbued with power but were also tainted by curses. Everything known as an "old ritual implement" is considered untouchable by the inhabitants of this world.

Outsiders, however, were unaware of the danger, which was why she had kept her distance when she saw the group earlier.

To thank Jenkins for the directions, the woman gave him a handful of beans from her basket as they parted ways. They were just ordinary roasted beans, useful for staving off hunger but nothing more.

"That woman was also suspicious," Jenkins said after he continued on his way. The white cat, peeking its head out, was staring intently at the handful of beans, paying no attention to his words.

"So what was the point of the beans?"

He thought for a moment, then tossed his head back and swallowed all the beans, not leaving a single one. He immediately felt a slight increase in his spirit.

"What could it mean?"

A quick scan of his body revealed no curses or toxins, which only deepened his confusion.

Continuing forward, the group of six split again to the left and right. This time the cat directed Jenkins to the left, and he complied. He smacked his lips, recalling the taste of the beans, which made the cat even more disgruntled. It sulked on his chest, fuming silently.

As he climbed higher, the wind and snow grew stronger, reducing visibility. At the same time, a strange sound came from a direction away from the footprints. Jenkins hunched over, stepping through the snowdrifts, and realized it was a call for help. He had the cat with its keen nose pinpoint the location, and then he rescued a young woman from a thick snowbank near a cliff face.

The moment she was free, she gasped for air. Then, from a pouch hanging at her waist, she pulled out a small, unripe apple. The color of the apple alone was enough to make Jenkins's teeth ache. But the girl ate it without hesitation, down to the very core.

"Oh, gods, I'm alive again."

Like the old man who had just taken a puff of his cigarette, her face became rosy and her spirit returned to normal. She looked at Jenkins, about to speak, but he spoke first, wagging a finger at her.

"Let me guess. You're looking for a middle-aged woman, or an old man with graying hair, right?"