I Fell to Save the Expedition — They Left Me to Die

“You don’t listen to me, and you’ll get yourselves killed!”

Emily Carter frowned in irritation, then suddenly grabbed a fistful of my hair and slapped me hard across the face.

“Chatter, chatter — you’re so damn noisy!”

Ryan Brooks shot a look at Jake Miller.

Jake reached into his pack and pulled out a length of rope.

They were actually going to tie me up.

I pleaded with them to let me go, but the more I begged, the more they laughed.

Ryan stared straight at me.

“You’re a lunatic running around endangering society. I’m doing a good deed here — tying you up until we’re done streaming, then I’ll send you right back to the psych ward!”

They kept advancing. I backed away until there was nowhere left to go.

The four of them surrounded me, trying to grab hold.

I wasn’t about to wait for it to happen — I kicked Jake hard in the leg and bolted forward.

Ryan caught my hair, yanking me back and slamming me to the ground.

My chin struck the earth, splitting open; blood covered my face.

Dazed and reeling, I lost all strength to resist.

They tied me to a tree and stuffed a foul-smelling sock into my mouth.

“Sit tight. If you ruin our stream again, we’ll toss you off the cliff!”

They started their broadcast, carefully angling the professional camera to avoid me, showing off the surrounding forest.

“See? We told you we’d make it deep into the wilderness. Look at this — awesome, right?”

The two women called out for donations, their voices full of fake excitement.

They were having fun — but I was panicking like an ant on a hot griddle.

I could already see two masses of black mist drifting toward them, the dark energy swirling so thickly it curled the leaves of nearby trees.

The spirits I was meant to guide tonight had arrived.

Jake rubbed his arms and shivered.

“Why is it suddenly so cold?”

The two women pulled their jackets tighter.

Ryan was still engrossed in his livestream, not paying attention.

The black mist lingered around their feet, slowly climbing to their knees.

Ryan finally seemed to feel the chill.

Still, the four of them kept their eyes on the camera, chatting with viewers.

Then, without warning, the two women screamed and clung to each other.

I widened my eyes as they dropped the camera to the ground.

All four began packing up their gear in a panic, bumping into each other in their haste.

I strained against the gag, forcing out muffled sounds to get their attention so they’d untie me.

Jake, dizzy with fear, glanced my way — and his expression lit up like he’d just seen salvation.

He scrambled over, untying me and yanking the disgusting sock from my mouth.

“You said you’re a practitioner. Please, save us!”

His grip on my wrist was desperate, eyes filled with hope.

I didn’t understand the sudden change in attitude — it was jarring.

Ryan noticed Jake freeing me and strode over quickly.

“What the hell are you doing wasting time on this nutcase? We need to get off this mountain!”

The women’s faces were pale as paper. They kept urging Ryan and Jake to hurry.

But Jake still held onto me tightly, turning to Ryan.

“Last resort — she knows the way down.”

From their frantic, fragmented talk, I pieced it together.

During the stream, viewers had been flooding the comments saying there was someone standing behind them. And in the footage, they themselves had seen a faint, shadowy figure.

Glancing at the black mist swirling around them, I understood.

After all, my task tonight was to guide these spirits to the underworld and send them to their next life.

I quickly found my sack and pulled out handfuls of spirit money, scattering them into the air.