There can't be a Harvest Moon in the RimWorld.

That is Mount Mads.

From Anzo's words, I could roughly guess that some inexplicable stories had happened on this mountain, and I also knew that people in the countryside always had a sense of awe towards high mountains.

But that's not all that intrigues me.

There are two routes from the town to Mount Mads. One goes through the dense forest at the foot of the mountain, through the forest farm where Gotz lives, and into the foothills of Mount Mads. The other goes through Old Man Hook's ranch, straight through a lush wasteland, and also into the foothills.

However, both places happen to be controlled by the old man's partners, just as they are trying to monopolize the mountain. No matter which way you go, you will inevitably pass through their territory.

What's even more intriguing is that this place called Mineral Town has no trace of mining at all. Only the residents, barely surviving, are left to make a living, showing no signs of its former prosperity.

Why did the Maders Mountain, once a sea of ​​gold and silver, become so desolate?

On the thirteenth day after I arrived in the town, while Anzo was working at the tavern, I secretly went to the winery and confessed my feelings for her to Anzo's parents.

I don't know what kind of feelings Anzo has for me, nor do I know if I have a place in her heart. But my burning emotions have nowhere to hide, and every interaction with her feels like dancing on a volcano.

Rather than seeking her parents' consent, I was more like I was throwing caution to the wind.

Regardless of Anzo's thoughts, I need to get them out of my head. An urge to speak out replaced careful consideration and guided my actions.

I still remember that night, my face alternated between flushed and pale, and all my former arrogance vanished. It was a self-protective reaction to a huge shock, a feeling that even my consciousness was about to disconnect.

In my haste, I thought that my ordinary appearance would not impress them, so like a boy in his first love, I emphasized the wealth I could bring and the future life I could provide for her.

I've forgotten how we left her house that night.

The next day, I didn't see Anzo at the tavern.

According to Mr. Dart, Anzo's father locked her in the house and ordered her to never have anything to do with me again.

And so, I paid a heavy price for my reckless behavior. Despite my repeated visits, I was unable to salvage my image in Anzo's parents' eyes; prejudice had taken deep root in their hearts.

In their eyes, I was just a playboy from a big city who wanted to use the same old tricks that have been around for thousands of years but are also outdated, like those spoiled rich kids who use power, wealth, and empty promises to win the heart of a country girl and then leave.

That night, despite Mr. Dart's advice, I got completely drunk.

As a child, I took this misunderstanding as an insult I would never forget. My anger and regret burned fiercely. I began to resent Anzo's honesty, the old man's orders, and myself for coming to this place to humiliate myself.

Drunk, I left the tavern, determined to confront Old Man Hook and Gotz, to deliver an ultimatum. If they refused to accept my and my family's goodwill, they would bear the consequences themselves, and I would never set foot here again!

However, when I approached Old Man Hook's ranch, I saw two people walking out of the ranch one after the other under the moonlight, heading up the mountain path.

Perhaps it was fate, but although my steps were unsteady, I managed to keep up with the group that had slowed down to take care of the elderly. I trailed far behind, using what I had learned at the police academy to track them down.

This furtive behavior appeared extremely malicious in my drunken state of mind, and my inexplicably burning sense of justice began to take shape.

…………

I will never forget the sight I saw under the moonlight in the lagoon halfway up Mount Mads...

As I drew closer, I saw Old Man Hook and Gots, like a silent and solemn funeral procession, carrying a body wrapped in layers of burlap, walking ahead with orderly and sorrowful steps.

After a brief rest by the lagoon, the old man and the young man set up a makeshift stretcher, securing each corner with vines, and placed the body on it.

Old Man Hook began to sing a noisy and vulgar song. The song was completely different from the sad and eerie atmosphere, yet he sang it with a heart-wrenching quality, and Gotz slowly roared along with the rhythm, shouting a long cry to the moon.

Finally, this strange ritual came to an end.

Together, the two pushed the body into the lake, letting the cold water seep into the shroud and slowly engulf the skeleton. But the process was slow and gentle, like a mother's embrace in childhood, peacefully embracing the turmoil of the world and ushering in eternal tranquility.

What are you doing?

After they completed the simple funeral ceremony, I drew my pistol for self-defense and finally emerged from my hiding place. By the moonlight, I saw that the two men before me were Gotz and Old Man Hook. They were neither fanged nor hysterical, unlike any of the murderers I had ever seen.

Instead, their faces bore a faint sadness, and the bloodshot eyes made people feel a sense of empathy and quiet down.

"Run!"

What greeted me was neither Old Man Hook's usual tirade nor Gotz's attempt to smooth things over. Instead, I heard a simultaneous exclamation from both of them.

In my eyes, the world seemed to slow down.

Old Man Hook's gray hair trembled, Gots' eyes were filled with terrifying fear, the wild grass swayed gently in the wind, the lake water suddenly burst into ripples, and the huge, twisted, and monstrous figure in the lake!

What kind of monster is that?!

Its form had vague humanoid features, but its head was oval-shaped, with huge, bulging eyeballs that never closed. On either side of its neck were constantly trembling tentacles, and its long arms and legs were covered with inverted bone spurs!

The creature leaped forward haphazardly, sometimes on its hind legs, sometimes on all fours… its hoarse, shrill guttural sounds… conveyed all the dark emotions that its face could not express…

After a cry of alarm, the two quickly blocked the monster's path. But it was all in vain.

The monster neither attacked them nor showed any sign of friendliness. It was like a bulldozer driven by a blind man, mercilessly clearing away any obstacles in its path. Old Man Hook was swept into the icy lake, and Gots was slammed into the woods, his fate unknown.

When I came to my senses, the gun in my hand was gone. The shadows had covered my vision, and all I could smell was an overwhelming stench. Combined with the effects of being drunk, the stench made me nauseous, and I vomited food scraps from the corners of my mouth.

But an even more suffocating feeling followed. The monster's tentacles had wrapped around my neck, tightening, gradually suffocating me...

Before I completely lost consciousness, the last sound I heard was a sticky, nauseating sound, like a hiccup accompanied by vomiting, coming from deep within my stomach, uttering a short word.

"Browning...you...are back..."

Chapter 156 Old Man Hook

When I opened my eyes, I found myself lying on an unfamiliar ceiling.

The surrounding furniture is all the oldest style, bearing the marks of time's relentless erosion. These old things, whether they were once sturdy and simple or magnificent, have all ended up with missing parts, chipped paint, and peeling paint.

Like the old man with white hair and beard in front of me.

No matter how unruly or spirited he was in his youth, he now looks old and frail. Only his perpetually pursed lips still curve into a mean and ruthless shape, ensuring that no one would mistake him for someone easy to get along with.

But in this dilapidated room, which resembled a ruin, they encountered a companion just as old as the room itself.

It was a piece of parchment with frayed edges, many tears, and a smell of failed tanning.

The parchment, as old and unsightly as the room itself, was clutched tightly in the old man's hand. Even the strange smell it emitted seemed like a wonderful experience. But what shone from the old man's eyes was a long-standing, ingrained suspicion. Anyone who was looked at by him would feel deeply offended.

This twisted feeling reminds me of the drug addicts I used to catch, that desire to resist yet a deep longing for the blissful feeling.

I heard him speaking softly, so I opened my squinted eyes slightly and confirmed that his mouth was indeed moving, and he was reciting to the parchment in a muffled but familiar way.

"Jorxson, Antonio, Doranco, Hooker, Browning, Kay..."

"We are free miners, who have left the civilized world for wealth, for a better future, for a more exciting world, and headed for the wilderness. We have nothing but freedom, but we ask for nothing but freedom."

He recited the brief declaration on the parchment repeatedly, his tone full of disdain and anger, but I could hear a different meaning in that unusual tone.

It's like looking back on the silly things you did when you were young, something you find hard to talk about but deeply nostalgic about.

I thought he would grit his teeth and hate the old man's name.

In my heart, they were the culprits who trapped them on the island, causing them to live a mediocre life, and deprived them of their wealth, reputation, and future.

But the old man kept reciting the name, lost in memories, without any sign of dissatisfaction.

Suddenly, the old man with gray hair clenched the parchment tightly in one hand, turned around and glared fiercely at me. His eyes, filled with a malicious scorn for everything, pierced my very soul. I almost jumped up like a cat whose tail had been stepped on.

"You little rascal, you're lucky."

Old Man Hook instantly turned hostile, disdainfully tossing the parchment into my arms. If I hadn't just moments before seen him fondly reminiscing about something, I would never have believed he still possessed the beautiful emotions of a human being.

After all, his words and expression clearly showed that he was someone everyone hated.

"Old Man Hook, did you save me?" I pretended not to know anything, touching my neck which was vaguely painful, feeling that the bones were even dislocated.

Old Man Hook snorted, "Nobody saved you; you almost got yourself killed. What? You can't be a live-in son-in-law anymore, so you've got a temper?"

"What did you say!"

"Am I wrong? Young Master, do you think the whole world should be optimistic about your future? Are you confusing a bright future, a distinguished family background, tempting wealth, with your damn horse face?"

My blood almost turned into lava and flowed from my eyes. My left hand was already clenched into a fist, ready to punch him in the face.

But the old man's next words left me stunned.

"Be grateful for your horse face; without it, you would have died yesterday!"

"Yesterday... how... how did I survive?"

I distinctly remember last night, when that monster had its throat choked so tightly I couldn't even speak or breathe. If that's true, in my experience, such suffocation would only last five minutes before my body functions ceased forever.

If it was a dream, it was too real. I still vividly remember the stench and the festering sensation. How can I explain the bruises on my neck?

He mistook you for Browning!

Old Man Hook's eyes widened as he roared, "It was your damned friendship that saved you! It was your damned affection that ruined you! That bastard, why did he have to do this on his own!"

The old man muttered angrily to himself, "How can they all be so self-righteous! Haven't we gone through enough? Why do more people have to be dragged into this!"

I sat up abruptly, but the next moment my head felt like it had been hit by a heavy hammer; it buzzed for a split second, and the world seemed to spin. That feeling was extremely ominous!

“Tell me… what is that!” I roared at him, gripping the back of the chair next to me tightly to keep from falling straight down.

Old Man Hook watched my agonizing struggle with cold eyes for a long time before finally saying to me, "You're familiar with this kind of pain now. This pain will accompany you from now on. It will linger in your dreams, in your drunkenness, in your waking moments, and in your life. Perhaps even death will no longer be the final end..."

I still remember that day when he said something to me in a sensational tone that I should take to heart for the rest of my life: "It is not the dead that sleep eternally, for even death is obliterated in eternity."

Old Man Hook sighed deeply.

“We outsiders, who have no place to call home, don’t even have the right to run away. We can only think that we are moving forward, but we have lost our way, drifting with the tide, teetering on the edge of a terrible abyss.”

Gotz, his expression shifting between anger and uncertainty, brought in an unidentified liquid and walked into the house.

"Ignorance is humanity's last line of defense. Drink this potion, and you will lose all memory of this place for the next two years."

Old Man Hook shoved the rough ceramic cup to my lips and poured it into my mouth without saying a word.

“I won’t tell you anything about this place, child. If you haven’t escaped all of this in two years, come here. This will be your last refuge, your fortress against loneliness.”

“I don’t know why your bastard father wanted you to do this, but all of this will come to an end. I will end it all myself.”

…………

After a long, chaotic and vague description, Harris quickly pulled himself out of his memories and looked at me without any emotion, as if the naive, spoiled rich boy in the story had nothing to do with him.

His gaze was complex, and he perfectly reenacted the image of Old Man Hooker from his own words with his body language, gesturing for me to finish the glass of water before slowly speaking.

"After two years of ups and downs, I lost my youthful arrogance and wanted to return to town to find solace from those days."

"But when I finally returned here, Old Man Hook had become senile, and Gots had become taciturn. I knew their plan had ultimately failed."

"After you finish drinking this glass of water, please forget about it."

"This time it's my turn to bring things to a close."