Wusong Town, three days later.
The morning mist had not yet fully dissipated, and the small town was gradually waking up in the winter sunlight.
The pine needles of Wusong Town were covered in crystalline ice, shimmering with tiny glimmers in the sun, making the entire town look as quiet and beautiful as a fairy tale world.
A man walked along the town's only main street.
His pace was slow and stiff, with every step seemingly measured out to a precise distance.
Sunlight shone on his face; it looked slightly dull, his eyes vacant, yet a faint, almost imperceptible smile hung at the corners of his mouth—a smile that made people feel uncomfortable, as if it had been forcibly drawn on by someone else.
His name was Joel, a resident of Wusong Town and an ordinary woodcutter.
Joel walked to the front of a tavern, stopped, and looked up at the sign—"Wusong Tavern."
He stood there, motionless, for a full dozen seconds.
Then, he pushed the door open and walked inside.
The tavern was steaming with heat and bustling with noise.
It was lunchtime, and the townspeople were gathered here in small groups, drinking, chatting, and enjoying a rare moment of leisure.
Charcoal crackled in the fireplace, and the air was filled with the aroma of roasted meat and ale.
When Joel pushed the door open, a group of people at a table against the wall immediately saw him.
"Joel!" a middle-aged man with a full beard raised his hand and shouted happily.
"You're so late!"
Joel turned his head and looked at that table.
His movements were slow, like a rusted machine.
Then, the corners of his mouth twitched, revealing a stiff smile.
"...Sorry."
His voice was very soft and flat, without any inflection.
He walked over and sat down at the table.
The bearded man—Milo—was Joel's old friend.
He picked up a wine glass, handed it to Joel, and scolded him with a laugh.
"Why are you so late? We've already had a round!"
Joel took the glass but didn't drink; he just held it in his hand.
After two seconds, he finally spoke.
"I discovered a cave deep in the Wusong Forest."
His voice remained flat, as if he were stating something unrelated to himself.
But this sentence immediately piqued the interest of the few people at the table.
Milo's eyes lit up, and he leaned forward.
"A cave? Is there anything special about it?"
Joel's face twitched into that stiff smile again.
He lowered his head, his voice dropping even lower.
"I discovered a magical doorway there... behind the door is a forest, and inside that forest is gold."
"Gold?!"
The person sitting opposite Joel—a thin, small middle-aged man—instantly exclaimed.
His voice was loud, so loud that the entire tavern could hear it.
The word "gold," like a stone thrown into a calm lake, instantly stirred up a thousand waves.
All conversation in the tavern ceased simultaneously.
Everyone, regardless of age or gender, turned their heads in unison, their gazes cast toward Joel's table like starving wolves.
Milo's face instantly darkened.
He turned his head sharply, glared fiercely at the thin man, and roared in a low voice.
"You idiot! Why are you shouting so loudly?!"
The thin man finally realized what he had done and quickly covered his mouth, but it was already too late.
The gazes of the people around them had changed; it was a look of greed.
Several burly men stood up from their seats, exchanged glances, and then walked toward Joel's table with ill intent.
Leading them was a bald man with a fleshy face named Andrew, a notorious rogue in town.
He walked up to Joel, plastered a seemingly kind smile on his face, and patted Joel on the shoulder.
"Joel, my friend."
His voice was loud, intentionally letting everyone hear.
"We seemed to hear the word 'gold' just now? Care to tell us all about it?"
Milo immediately panicked and stood up abruptly.
"Andrew! You are too shameless! Joel discovered it; what does it have to do with you all?"
The smile on Andrew's face instantly turned into disdain. He glanced at Milo and snorted coldly.
"Since there's gold, it should naturally be shared. I think you're the one who wants to hog it all, right?"
He turned around and shouted to everyone in the tavern.
"Everyone, tell me, isn't that right?"
The people around them instantly started cheering.
"That's right! If there's gold, we should all look for it together!"
"Why should you keep it all to yourselves!"
"Exactly, exactly!"
The tavern was in chaos; some were slamming tables, some stood up, and some had already started pushing toward them.
Joel remained sitting there, motionless.
He looked up at the arguing crowd, and the stiff smile on his face deepened.
"It doesn't matter."
He spoke, his voice very soft, but for some reason, everyone could hear him.
"I did indeed discover gold."
The tavern instantly went quiet, and everyone stared at him.
"In the south of Wusong Forest, near the direction of Pine Lake."
Joel's voice remained flat and calm, as if it had some kind of magic.
"There is a cave. There is gold inside the cave. There is so much gold there that I couldn't carry it all by myself."
Andrew's eyes instantly lit up like two lightbulbs.
He threw his head back and laughed loudly, slapping Joel's shoulder with enough force to nearly knock him down.
"Well done, Joel!"
He shouted.
"Brothers, let's move out!"
As soon as he finished speaking, he turned and rushed out the door.
The entire tavern instantly exploded into chaos.
Everyone surged toward the exit; some knocked over chairs, some tipped over wine glasses, and some didn't even bother putting on their coats before rushing out with the crowd.
"Gold! Gold!"
"Hurry, hurry!"
"Don't push! Everyone, don't push!"
In less than a minute, the tavern was completely empty.
Even the tavern owner—a man in his sixties—took off his apron and stumbled away after the crowd.
Milo stood by the table, looking at the empty tavern, then looked back at Joel, who was still sitting there, hesitating for a second.
Then, gritting his teeth, he also rushed out.
Only Joel was left in the tavern.
He remained sitting there, motionless, maintaining that stiff posture.
He had held the glass for too long; half of the wine had spilled, soaking his pant leg, but he felt nothing.
A few minutes later.
Joel's body began to twitch.
First his fingers, then his arms, and finally his entire body.
Like a fish thrown onto the shore, he trembled violently on the chair, making a "ho-ho" sound in his throat.
Then, with a "thud," he collapsed onto the table.
Joel lay on the table, motionless.
On the back of his neck, beneath his collar, was a tiny, grayish-black ant.
A hair-thin antenna extended from the ant's forehead, piercing deeply into Joel's skin.
The antenna trembled slightly, as if it were drawing something out.
His eyes remained open, gazing blankly in a certain direction.
But there was no life left in them.
By the roadside in Wusong Town, at the entrance of a small inn.
Goreinu, carrying a shoulder bag, pushed open the inn's door and walked out.
The sunlight was a bit dazzling; he squinted his eyes and stretched out with a big yawn.
Just then, a commotion caught his attention.
He turned to look. On the other end of the street, seven or eight people carrying hoes, shovels, and various tools were running toward the outskirts of town, their faces full of excitement.
They were running very fast, afraid of falling behind others, and shouting things like "Hurry up" and "Don't let others get there first."
Goreinu watched with curiosity.
"Hmm?"
He scratched his head.
"Are the residents here all this hardworking?"
He watched for a while, shook his head, and turned to walk into town.
His stomach was a bit hungry; he needed to find a place to eat first.
An hour later. Goreinu sat in a small restaurant with a perfectly grilled steak in front of him.
He picked up his knife and fork and was just about to start when the conversation from the next table drifted into his ears.
"Have you heard? Someone died at Wusong Tavern."
Goreinu's hand paused slightly.
"Really? Who died?"
"Joel, that woodcutter. He died at the table he usually sits at. The strange thing is, there wasn't a single person in the tavern; those roughnecks usually gather there to drink, but today they all ran off."
"How did that happen? How did he die?"
"I don't know. Someone said there was a red, swollen bump on his neck, and a strange ant. Maybe he was bitten by some poisonous insect."
"Tsk tsk, how unlucky..."
Goreinu ate his steak, but his ears perked up.
An ant?
He frowned, feeling like something wasn't right.
But soon, he put the matter out of his mind.
Perhaps it was just a coincidence, he thought.
In a remote town, it's normal for such things to happen occasionally.
He continued eating his steak, enjoying this rare tranquility.
What he didn't know was that while he was enjoying his lunch, a conspiracy was unfolding deep in the Wusong Forest.