Journey to the End of the Night Chapter 1527 - 947: An Ink Wash Painting

Though the river measured only a few hundred meters across, the Taoist had been poling for close to an hour without even a glimpse of the opposite bank.

With a sharp crack, the long bamboo pole held by the Taoist splintered into two pieces.

The bamboo raft began to lurch violently, tossed about on the increasingly rough waters as immense waves roared with terrifying might.

The women could no longer contain their fear and dissolved into tears.

"What are we going to do? How could the sturdy pole have snapped? How will we ever get back now?!!"

The young Taoist, despite his unusually ashen face, maintained a semblance of composure.

He wiped the rainwater from his face and stated, his voice tight with suppressed strain:

"This river passage is treacherous, with sharp rocks concealed beneath the surface. It’s not uncommon for the guiding pole to snag and break due to the powerful current.

Remain calm. As long as we grip the ropes on the raft and support each other, we will navigate this safely."

Having journeyed across the Four Seas with this Taoist, engaging in deceptions and trekking through mountains, the young Taoist possessed a strong mental resilience capable of reassuring others.

The Taoist also nodded nonchalantly, "Indeed, with me present, there’s no cause for alarm."

The Taoist in yellow appeared outwardly serene, yet no one observed the subtle quiver of his lips as he spoke or the tremor in his hand gripping the fractured bamboo pole, his palm deathly cold.

Within his heart, an unspoken dread and struggle were clearly churning.

While the young Taoist’s explanation seemed logical, the Taoist in yellow distinctly perceived that the bamboo pole hadn’t simply broken from snagging on rocks.

That sensation… it was undeniably a hand submerged in the water, intentionally snapping it!

Moments before it broke, the Taoist in yellow could even feel that submerged hand grappling fiercely with him for control of the pole.

Gripped by terror, he held on with all his might, refusing to let go, which ultimately caused the break.

But who would be swimming or diving in this deep, rushing river in the dead of night, especially amidst such a dangerous storm?

Furthermore, he had already alerted the villagers that he would be performing a ritual for the River God in this very river tonight, and no one would dare to be in the water, let alone cause trouble.

A chilling premonition suddenly struck the Taoist in yellow.

What if the entity lurking beneath the water was not human at all?!

A wave of coldness washed over the Taoist in yellow, and he could no longer remain still, his hands instinctively clutching the implements of his trade – a Peach Wood Sword and Red Talisman Paper.

With the pole gone, the raft was left to the mercy of the swift current, accelerating its downstream journey.

With a heavy thud, the raft struck a protruding rock, sending waves crashing over the sides and threatening to capsize.

"Hold tight and steady yourselves! Don't let the boat flip!" the young Taoist yelled urgently.

Guided by the young Taoist’s shouts, the women shrieked but complied with his instructions.

All except for Shu Ci, they linked hands, forming a human barrier that barely kept the almost capsized raft from overturning.

The Taoist in yellow felt a surge of relief, grateful he hadn't attempted the River God ceremony alone while feigning bravery.

Choosing six village women for safety had indeed been a prudent decision.

Otherwise, with just his own weight, the boat might have already met its end.

In this near-total darkness, with the river water chilling him to the bone, he wouldn't have been able to locate the hidden stake; regardless of his skill in water, he likely would have perished.

If the boat were to be swept downstream, it might at least remain intact.

After narrowly escaping disaster, the Taoist was about to exhale in relief, instinctually turning to look for the presence of Madam Shu.

However, from the corner of his eye, a flash of red caught his attention – a figure huddled close to one of the village women, its face obscured.

Initially, the Taoist in yellow assumed it was a frightened young girl, secretly weeping behind a familiar woman.

But an inexplicable jolt went through his mind.

Strange, had any of the women who boarded the raft tonight been wearing red?

Half in disbelief, half in dread, the Taoist in yellow began to count meticulously.

In that instant, an icy dread seized him, as if his entire body was freezing, cold sweat breaking out profusely.

Seven people?!

Seven women?!

He distinctly recalled that only six of the most beautiful village women had boarded the raft. Yet, somehow, there were now seven women on board!

The one in red had never been among them from the start.

An unholy presence!

He had truly drawn the attention of something unclean!

The Taoist’s legs buckled, nearly sending him collapsing onto the raft.

His eyes, though unwilling, refused to look away from the crimson figure; under the intense grip of fear, his gaze became fixated on the eerie woman, unable to break away even slightly.

The chaotic struggle concluded, and the raft found its balance amidst the misty, dim weather.

From their precarious perch on the boat, the occupants could dimly discern two silhouettes on the distant shore. Equipped with umbrellas and lanterns, they appeared to be anticipating the raft's arrival.

A wave of joy washed over everyone. They saw salvation, a reprieve from their mounting fears, believing their journey's end was finally in sight.

With renewed urgency, the five women employed their palms as makeshift oars, propelling the raft forward with haste, their gazes fixed on the beckoning shore.

The Taoist priest, clad in yellow robes, continued his rigid observation of the woman in red. He perceived her as an ethereal entity, clinging tenaciously to another woman, her pale, inscrutable face slowly rising. Her lips, a cracked crimson resembling a sliver of the moon, exhaled a chilling wind towards the back of the woman’s neck.

Despite a palpable shiver, the woman seemed utterly oblivious to the spectral presence behind her. Her focus remained undeterred, her eyes fixed on the opposite bank as she furiously propelled the raft through the water, a desperate longing in her gaze.