Because the parcel contained my grandfather's severed head.

Not only that, but the head was laughing, its mouth opening and closing in a silent, hideous mirth.

The bizarre sight jolted me awake.

I sat up, wiping the cold sweat from my brow, and immediately went to Nie Chuan's door, knocking three times.

Precisely as I finished the third tap, the door swung open.

Nie Chuan stood there, equally drenched in sweat, his face deathly pale as he looked at me.

Puzzled, I asked him why he was still awake so late.

Nie Chuan shook his head, murmuring that it was nothing, just a bad dream.

I desperately wanted to ask if he had experienced the exact same nightmare, but I hesitated, thinking it might be inappropriate.

Nie Chuan beckoned me inside to sit down and asked why I had come to find him at such an hour.

I questioned him, "Didn't we talk about Professor Nie mailing you a package last time? Why haven't you gone to see what was inside?" Nie Chuan froze, clearly surprised that I remembered.

But the pause was momentary.

He simply said, "Are you referring to this?" He retrieved an empty cardboard box from beneath the coffee table and stated, "While you were recovering, he sent this box to me, but when I opened it, this is what I found." I leaned over to examine the box curiously, only to confirm that it was entirely empty.

Seeing my expression, Nie Chuan gave a wry smile and said, "Here is the shipping receipt; take a look." I took the slip from his hand and immediately noticed that the sender's address was that of my grandfather's courtyard.

In essence, the package had been mailed from my grandfather's home back to my grandfather's home.

Clearly, if that were the case, the gesture was meaningless.

Furthermore, if it genuinely originated from there, who could have sent it? I couldn't figure it out, and it was evident Nie Chuan hadn't either, which was why he had been studying the empty box for days.

The end result was: no result.

Nie Chuan mentioned that he had intended to check on things while I was healing, but since the package was empty, he felt there was no point in returning.

He had already passed the matter over to Second Uncle for further investigation.

I nodded, fully understanding his reasoning.

After all, Liang Qian’s injury was an accident, and saving her life remained the paramount concern.

We chatted about other things for a while longer, but with nothing pressing, we eventually retired for the night.

The next morning, we once again endured the enthusiastic 'baptism' from our Japanese fans with forced smiles before boarding the bus bound for Mount Rokko.

Having learned from past experience, I made sure to bring my helmet this time.

Once on the bus, Jie Yuting conducted a thorough check to ensure none of us had been fitted with listening devices again before allowing the driver to proceed to the actual destination.

Even so, our vehicle was tailed by several black vans during the journey.

It took Herculean effort to shake off those pursuit vehicles.

By the time we succeeded, it was nearly noon.

We donned our masks and sunglasses and found a random ramen shop by the roadside for lunch before the bus pulled away from the concrete jungle, heading toward the distant green mountains.

Japanese mountains are generally not very high; they are more akin to rolling hills.

Even though our vehicle was climbing, we barely noticed the incline.

The afternoon sun was magnificent, casting a pleasant warmth.

Since it was a Sunday, many students in uniform were strolling along the clean streets.

Watching the girls, clad in short skirts and black stockings, laughing and chatting, I couldn't help but be reminded of a Miyazaki animation.

I mused that Japan seemed such a harmonious nation; it was baffling why they became so aggressive when the topic turned to war.

Drifting between dozing and observing the urban scenery, the houses gradually thinned out.

In their place appeared vast expanses of open farmland, lined by rows of lush, verdant trees along the edges.

I saw the endless green ridges of the mountains looming close ahead, and the traffic around us began to dissipate.

It is noteworthy that while Japan is densely populated, the density of automobiles is significantly lower than in China; once you reach the suburbs, vehicles become scarce.

Moreover, despite the numerous cities, the environmental upkeep is excellent; the suburbs are completely free of polluting chemical plants, consisting mainly of farmland and small villages.

Japan still preserves extensive tracts of primeval forest, and Mount Rokko harbors one such expanse.

However, as pleasant as the natural environment was, I couldn't help but feel it posed a complication.

If the Jinja (shrine) location was deep within a primal forest, the complex terrain would undoubtedly present us with enormous difficulties.

We traveled in silence, perhaps because everyone was napping.

By the time we arrived, I was almost the only one awake.

Japan’s natural landscapes are typically admission-free, and Mount Rokko was no exception.

Because there was no entry fee, there was no concern about ticket evasion, resulting in many entry and exit points for a single site.

The entrance we were using might not have been the main one; it was just a simple gate, devoid of any ticket booth or the clutter of street vendors common around scenic spots in China.

In front of the gate was a massive open paved area, capable of holding hundreds of cars, yet today, including us, only three vehicles were present.

Once the car stopped, I nudged Ō-Xiong beside me.

Ō-Xiong snapped his head up, wiping drool from the corner of his mouth, and asked, "What? Have we eaten?" I assumed he must have been dreaming of food again to produce so much saliva.

I lightly slapped the back of his head. "Eat, that's all you think about.

We're here." Hearing me, Ō-Xiong looked around, slapped his thigh, and asked, "What time is it? Shouldn't we eat first?" Just as I was contemplating another slap for his preoccupation with food, Jie Yuting clapped his hands and announced, "Everyone up! We’ve arrived.

Let's gather on the plaza below, and I'll outline the plan before we get to work." Evidently, even while sleeping, everyone maintained a high level of alertness.

At Jie Yuting's call, many people stirred and stood up.

We assembled in a line on the lower paved area.

Jie Yuting handed each of us a route map.

I stared at the map, which displayed squares, circles, and triangles, momentarily confused about their meaning.

The entire group seemed to share this bewilderment.

Jie Yuting smiled and addressed us, "Don't be confused.

You'll understand once we enter." Next, Jie Yuting laid out a few rules, mainly concerning local Japanese customs—things like not touching roadside stone statues or taking photographs of Buddhist figures.

I found it somewhat amusing watching him speak with such conviction, like a seasoned tour guide.

Yet, I knew his advice was sound; violating local customs could invite unnecessary trouble and impede our operation.

After his briefing, he led us into the scenic area.

Passing through the gate, which featured an intricate bamboo design, we stepped onto a wide, paved avenue.

Clear, shallow streams flanked the avenue, separating the path from dense, lush forests on the other side.

I noticed several monkeys leaping among the trees close to the water, chattering and howling at us, seemingly issuing a warning.

This was completely different from the monkeys at Chinese sites like Mount Emei, which immediately swarm people demanding food and will even snatch it if refused—they certainly don't offer warnings first.

The monkeys on Mount Rokko, however, retained their wild nature, suggesting the area preserved a remarkably pristine natural environment, not overly manicured by human development.

Walking along the paved road for a few more minutes solidified this feeling, as the concrete ended, giving way to a dirt path.

The dirt path was overgrown with weeds, and in the distance, farm fields and hamlets dotted both sides, bamboo groves marking the edges of the small houses, where the faint sounds of roosters and dogs could be heard—the very essence of rural life.

We paused briefly, took a drink of water, and continued forward along the earthen track.

As we truly entered the hamlets via that dirt path, we understood why the site charged no entrance fee.

This place shouldn't have been called a scenic spot at all; it was a perfectly preserved pastoral landscape.

Ancient tatami rooms, primitive hand-operated water wells, courtyards overflowing with sunflowers, and large flower beds beside the old houses planted with mulberry trees and tulips, complete with scarecrows wearing straw hats and plaid shirts.

At the entrance to the hamlets, kind elderly Japanese residents, wearing straw hats and carrying hoes, were dressed in the simple attire of the Edo period.

Without any need for cosplay, they perfectly embodied feudal Japan.

These elders paid us no mind as tourists or foreigners; they simply greeted us with warm smiles and nods, appearing incredibly friendly.