Chapter Forty-Six: Setting Out for Ancheng (2)

8:00 p.m., Gu Zhiheng drove from the hotel towards Guanqing Village.

Tonight, he would first take a look, confirm the exact location, and postpone any action. He wondered if there was a way to lure the octopus further away from the village—ideally without disturbing the villagers at all. It was said there was a clearing to the south; perhaps he could lead it there and settle everything in one go. When Mohan and the others were around, he could count on their help, but now he was alone. The sooner he resolved this, the better—no time for dreams to turn into nightmares.

“Oh, here because of the legend again!” The village chief glanced at him, puzzled, then walked away. The look in his eyes was unmistakably that of someone regarding a fool. How could anyone believe in such elusive tales?

Gu Zhiheng nearly choked at the chief’s expression—was it necessary to be so dismissive? He didn’t want to come either, but circumstances left him no choice.

But one thing troubled him: why had so many suddenly gathered at Guanqing Village? What purpose drew them here? Were they, like him, after the deep-earth octopus? If that was truly the case, things would get complicated; his workload would multiply overnight.

He hoped their motives were unrelated, fervently wishing they weren’t here for the same reason.

“Hey, brother, you’re here for the octopus too, right? Everyone coming lately has that goal—there are loads of people,” said a shifty-looking man beside Gu Zhiheng, his tone full of impatience.

“Yes, that’s why I’m here. But I didn’t expect so many people. Do you know why?” This man seemed untrustworthy; Gu Zhiheng reminded himself to be cautious.

If everyone was here for the same thing, there was no reason to share what he knew, especially not proactively. People always had ulterior motives; otherwise, this man wouldn't have walked up to him as soon as he got out of the car. His intent was too obvious.

What puzzled Gu Zhiheng was how these people had learned about the octopus. It was supposed to be a classified matter—where had ordinary people gotten their information?

Something was off. Tonight, he couldn’t act rashly; there would surely be people watching the octopus’s location every moment. If he made a move, a crowd would immediately notice, ruining his plan. Not only would the octopus escape, but he would be in danger and attract a host of trouble.

So much for a smooth start—he’d arrived only to find a swarm of eager grasshoppers blocking the way, leaving him momentarily at a loss.

His lack of experience showed; he couldn’t handle such sudden situations quickly. If the three of them were here, it would be different.

He simply hadn’t seen enough, knew too little of the outside world, and now when trouble came, he was caught unprepared.

Calm down. He needed to keep cool and figure out how to deal with these complications.

“Stop staring; you can’t get in. I heard someone’s cordoned it off,” said another man near Gu Zhiheng, then turned and left.

Everyone’s aim was the mountain octopus, each hoping to catch it themselves.

Unfortunately, there was only one octopus, but hundreds of people had come.

Someone of his modest ability might as well just watch the excitement; anything more was pointless.

With so many competitors, those without real skill stood no chance.

“You stay here, I’m leaving,” the first man said, finding it all meaningless, and departed from the village entrance.

Gu Zhiheng nodded, then walked alone toward the village, looking for an opportunity to slip in.

From the entrance to the village, after five minutes’ walk, Gu Zhiheng spotted more than a dozen people wearing identical clothing. Clearly, they were a group organized to hunt the octopus together.

He was curious what methods they would use—modern technology, or something like his own approach?

The night grew steadily darker, and Gu Zhiheng kept his gaze fixed on the mountains, hoping the darkness would be an advantage.

He moved toward the less crowded area, checking his surroundings as he walked, silently noting the route.

The southern edge of the village abutted the clearing. No one guarded it; maybe he could enter from there and then lure the octopus away.

But the octopus was enormous—how could he avoid those people?

He stepped lightly, inching closer to the mountain, the distance shrinking.

His heartbeat sped up; he could almost hear it, so clear in his ears.

One hundred meters, eighty, fifty, ten.

Looking at the spot indicated by his compass, Gu Zhiheng put it away and stood still.

As he pondered how to proceed, the ground beneath his feet suddenly trembled, with considerable force.

But the group not far away showed no reaction—had he imagined it?

No, the tremor was real; he could barely stand.

Why were those people unaware? Then, with a heavy thud, something seemed to crash onto the ground.

Moments later, the earth beneath him began to heave, as if something were about to break through.

Gu Zhiheng lost his footing and landed squarely on the ground, when a voice rang out beside his ear, not particularly pleasant: “Kid, you’re sitting on my foot.”

The words came so unexpectedly that Gu Zhiheng jolted with fright.

He scrambled up, and when he turned, he saw the colossal creature that had spoken.

“I… Oh my god, such a giant!” Gu Zhiheng swallowed hard, truthfully startled.

Compared to its size, the one at Baitang Creek was utterly insignificant.

Just one swipe of its tentacle could turn him into minced meat—and that was no exaggeration.

“Big… brother, sorry, I didn’t mean to, please forgive me!” Gu Zhiheng’s voice faltered, stammering out an apology.

But the creature was evidently not easily appeased; its lantern-sized eyes fixed on him, staring unblinkingly.

What the hell? With all this commotion, those people still sat chatting—were they truly oblivious?

Or was it that they simply couldn’t sense or see any of this?

No way—so if he died here, no one would notice?

This was far too bizarre. Why was he the only one who could sense and see, so cursedly unlucky?

“Kid, there’s a barrier here. The others can’t see you,” came a leisurely voice from above his head, and for a brief moment, Gu Zhiheng wanted to die.

How could he be so unlucky, stepping right into the barrier as soon as he arrived, while the others had been here for ages without trouble?

He really didn’t need this kind of ‘good luck.’ Could it be taken back? He was ready to call for his mother.

If he’d known how disastrous this trip to Ancheng would be, he would have obediently stayed at Mistbrow Mountain.