Author: 年终 / Nian Zhong

Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/

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Chapter 26: A God on Weishan

“Protection from all evil” could keep malicious spirits at bay but not living humans. Shan Hunzi never expected that Fang Xiu would strike without warning.

The moment he relaxed and turned away, Fang Xiu thrusted forward with all his strength, and that Luoyang shovel pierced straight through Shan Hunzi’s chest.

The newcomer hadn’t hesitated in the slightest, and there was even a faint, weary smile on his face.

Shan Hunzi couldn’t understand.

Just a moment ago, Fang Xiu had gone wild beating up Old Man Fu, and he seemed so exhausted that a single poke could topple him. If Fang Xiu wanted to ambush him, he should have saved his energy beforehand.

The ritual was already over, and Fang Xiu had offered plenty of reasonable grounds for negotiation, so Shan Hunzi had let his guard down just a bit.

Even when he hit the ground, shock was still written on Shan Hunzi’s face. He was so stunned that he couldn’t make a sound.

He suddenly thought of Fourth Master. Fourth Master had died just as quickly, not even having time to use his magic weapons.

…So now he himself had been tricked, and Fang Xiu was going to kill him for his treasure?

…But Fang Xiu was in terrible shape, and the ghost he raised was restrained by the “protection from evil”. Shan Hunzi hadn’t revealed anything like the jade Buddha. Why would Fang Xiu take such a risk?

Fang Xiu crouched beside Shan Hunzi, still carrying Brother Scar’s bloody head strapped to his back.

“Your real name is Cui Dakun, fifty-six years old, from Hai Province. As of twenty-two years ago, you committed six crimes and killed eight people, still at large.”

Fang Xiu lowered his head to look at him, speaking as if they were just chatting casually. “So you went off to the mountains to become a Taoist priest. No wonder the police couldn’t find you. I knew there was definitely something wrong with you because I recognized your face.”

“You… You’re here for… revenge…?”

Shan Hunzi couldn’t think of another reason. Fang Xiu knew him in such detail and had orchestrated his downfall.

It had been more than twenty years, and his appearance had aged a lot. How the hell had this guy recognized him?!

“No, I don’t have any personal grudge against you. It’s just that my life plan happens to require the death of people like you.”

Fang Xiu said solemnly, “Besides, I’m just a cleaner. Aren’t you basically filth yourself?”

Shan Hunzi: “…”

Even in excruciating pain, he wanted to spit blood right into this man’s face.

Fang Xiu began drawing a circle around Shan Hunzi, speaking earnestly as he worked, “That’s why you shouldn’t trust deals that seem too good to be true. As the saying goes, while you’re eyeing the interest, someone else is eyeing your principal*…”

*It means while you’re looking at your small gains, someone else is focused on your original investment.

Naturally, Shan Hunzi wasn’t listening. He was glaring at Fang Xiu.

Fang Xiu’s steps were feeble beyond belief; it didn’t look like an act. That made sense: this kid didn’t so much hide his strength as he excelled at pushing himself far beyond his limits.

When normal people reach their physical limit, pain or fatigue would make them stop, but Fang Xiu would just keep going.

How unlucky he was to encounter such a weirdo. Shan Hunzi struggled to breathe, feeling dizzy from blood loss.

He knew he was about to die here.

“Return… Return… Return…”

Shan Hunzi parted his lips, muttering in broken fragments.

“May… merit… be complete… may all… rejoice…”

At those words, Fang Xiu stopped drawing his circle.

He gazed down at Shan Hunzi in silence. Beneath his disheveled hair, his eyes were like empty holes devoid of any light.

……

When Bai Shuangying finished devouring Old Man Fu, Fang Xiu had just completed his own work. Seeing the man in front of him, so exhausted that he could scarcely stand upright, Bai Shuangying slowly arched an eyebrow.

Fang Xiu was covered in blood and gore from head to toe, his left shoulder grossly swollen, and his complexion a ghastly blue. He was swaying on his feet, his eyes unfocused, looking like he might collapse at any moment.

Behind Fang Xiu was a circle drawn on the ground, within which lay a mass of mangled flesh. Blood had sprayed outward from that circle in all directions, far and wide.

It looked like a crimson peony in full bloom.

Shan Hunzi’s living soul was firmly bound within that circle, with no way to escape.

Bai Shuangying glanced at his own paper flower, then at that “blood flower”. “What’s… this?”

Using the back of his hand, Fang Xiu wiped some blood off his face, his voice slurred. “Shan Hunzi broke a death taboo.”

“But you already shattered the E,” Bai Shuangying pointed out mercilessly.

Several seconds passed before Fang Xiu said, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to trick you… I’m just too tired and can’t think straight right now.”

He really was exhausted. Fang Xiu had never been fond of heavy physical labor.

At the moment, his Luoyang shovel was dented and bent, and his T-shirt was drenched in blood, making it impossible to hide anything… Good thing. He almost forgot that Bai Shuangying had witnessed everything…

But Bai Shuangying wasn’t human and didn’t care about such details. Fortunately, Fang Xiu had no need to deceive his ghost.

Fang Xiu shook his head a couple of times, leaning on the shovel for support and catching his breath. “Initially, I didn’t intend to go this far. But he started mumbling obscenities right before he died.”

“So the ‘something good you wanted to show me’ is Shan Hunzi’s soul.”

Bai Shuangying approached the blood flower. “…And this flower?”

“Keep guessing?” Fang Xiu grinned.

Bai Shuangying simply shook his head. The man’s line of thought was too out of the ordinary. There was no point in guessing.

“It’s me,” Fang Xiu said, his tone weak but strangely cheerful. “…That ‘something good’ is me.”

“You mentioned that the larger someone’s karma, the more delicious their soul tastes. If that’s accurate, my soul is definitely very, very tasty, probably the best you’ve ever had.”

Bai Shuangying stared at Fang Xiu and suddenly realized a fact:

This was only the first ritual, yet Fang Xiu had orchestrated the deaths of Brother Scar, Fourth Master, and Shan Hunzi.

It wasn’t merely using taboos to kill; normal people would hesitate before killing anyone themselves. They would be nervous, not as calm as Fang Xiu. Only one kind of person would react like that; someone who’s already done too much killing, committed so many sins that they’d become accustomed to it.

So Fang Xiu hadn’t lied. Such a person’s living soul would indeed be the most delicious.

“I get injured easily, and whenever I push myself, you worry I’m acting suicidal, which doesn’t make you too happy.”

Fang Xiu coughed a few times, continuing, “But now you know: even if I die and drag you down somehow, you can still feast on my five-star gourmet living soul.”

“That way, it won’t matter if I’m alive or dead. You’ll have something to look forward to. We can talk with less tension.”

Fang Xiu tugged at Bai Shuangying’s sleeve. “Well, you’ve seen the final good thing this temple fair had to offer. What do you think?”

Bai Shuangying took hold of Shan Hunzi’s soul, looking down at the corpse beneath it, and then turned his gaze to Fang Xiu, sizing him up from head to toe.

Fang Xiu wasn’t asking for Bai Shuangying’s power, nor did he need his concern. He was effectively using his own living soul as a bargaining chip, just to have a bit of companionship.

Right after telling Shan Hunzi, “Don’t trust deals that seem too good,” he then dangled prime bait in front of Bai Shuangying’s eyes. Bai Shuangying had a sneaking feeling he himself was being duped.

He couldn’t help freeing his right hand to rest it on Fang Xiu’s neck. Fang Xiu’s body was at its limit. His skin was scaldingly hot, and his pulse was too erratic to gauge his emotions.

Fang Xiu let him touch as much as he liked, even tilting his head slightly to better feel that coolness.

What’s going on in this human’s mind?

Bai Shuangying felt genuinely curious.

…Click.

A faint noise made Bai Shuangying’s eyes widen. He quickly moved his sleeve, checking his wrist.

On his right wrist, one of his invisible chains had broken apart.

That was just one of countless seals, but in all these centuries, nothing like that had ever happened. It wasn’t a physical chain; it was forged from layer upon layer of karma, impossibly sturdy.

Bai Shuangying had tried countless methods to break free, but he had never managed to remove even one link.

Yet it snapped at this moment, with no warning.

Bai Shuangying thought back carefully to what had just happened. Expressionless, he reached out with both hands and started vigorously rubbing Fang Xiu’s head.

“Ahhh! What are you doing?! Stop! Stop—!” Fang Xiu yelled.

It wasn’t caused by mere contact. Somewhat disappointed, Bai Shuangying pulled his hands away.

He had touched Fang Xiu before, so it obviously couldn’t be that simple. But since it involved the nature of his seal, Bai Shuangying wasn’t going to let it drop, not even if it turned out to be a coincidence.

He pondered a moment, then smiled.

“This temple fair has been very entertaining,” he said. “You put on quite a show.”

Therefore, Bai Shuangying decided to let Fang Xiu see something even more interesting.

If Fang Xiu wanted his companionship, then Bai Shuangying would drag him in deeper. This was, in Bai Shuangying’s view, the most binding form of “companionship”.

Until he figured out how his seal had been altered, he wouldn’t let go, even if Fang Xiu himself wanted to die, it wouldn’t be allowed.

In that sense, they were even more like friends now. Fang Xiu would be thrilled.

……

It wasn’t until they entered the Weishan Shrine that Fang Xiu snapped out of the daze caused by that smile.

What a beautiful sight… Bai Shuangying really should smile more often. It was the best smile his ghost had ever shown. Fang Xiu wasn’t sure if it was because Bai Shuangying realized that living souls would be available to him from now on, or that Fang Xiu’s own soul looked like a tasty meal.

In fact, Bai Shuangying didn’t need to show him anything beyond that. Fang Xiu felt that smile alone was enough to lift his spirits. But for the sake of “’give and take’ between friends,” Bai Shuangying ended up half-carrying, half-dragging him to the Weishan Shrine.

…At least he kept his word.

With the E gone, the evil spirits haunting Weishan scattered like startled birds and beasts. The stage opposite the shrine was deserted. Those still alive had been led away by the paper man. Only four corpses remained in their seats.

The bodies were silent now, no longer singing opera, and the only sound in the village was the patter of rain against the ground.

Inside Weishan Shrine, the offerings on the table remained as they had been when they left, with no evil force replenishing them. The statue of the God of Weishan wore a faint smile, giving off the smell of cheap paint.

“Doesn’t seem so special.” Fang Xiu was trembling from exhaustion.

Bai Shuangying took hold of his head, turning his face toward the god statue. “Look again.”

Fang Xiu squinted and saw a small cluster of mist in front of the statue. It barely resembled a human shape, faint and white, as though it might disperse at any moment.

Now Fang Xiu was the one who didn’t understand. “That’s…?”

“It’s a remnant soul on the verge of vanishing,” Bai Shuangying said. “Its unresolved attachment made it stay with the E. The E’s Yin energy nourished it, allowing it to cling to existence until now.”

Fang Xiu frowned. “But the E is gone.”

“That’s why it came here to the shrine. It can eke out a little more time by relying on the incense and offerings.” Bai Shuangying gave Fang Xiu a sideways glance. “It crawled out of that coffin barrel. You seemed pretty fond of the God of Weishan, so here’s the real ‘God of Weishan’s remnant soul.”

Fang Xiu gaped, hesitant. “You specifically brought me here to watch how the God of Weishan’s soul scatters…?”

Apparently it was hard to say which of them was more heartless.

Bai Shuangying gave him a stern look for a few seconds, then walked over to the remnant soul.

“It seems you’re also unlucky,” he said to it.

“To become an immortal, a person needs both merit and destiny. You still haven’t found your destiny, and you’re just half a step short of sufficient merit… In another two hours, your merit would be complete, but you won’t last that long.”

The remnant soul stared in confusion, making no reply.

“But this temple fair is enjoyable, so I’m happy to offer you a bit of destiny.”

Bai Shuangying raised his hand, evidently in a good mood as he pointed to the remnant soul.

“…I acknowledge you.”

Even though Fang Xiu was exhausted to the point of delirium, he still sensed the abrupt shift in atmosphere. The moment Bai Shuangying spoke, the very air in the shrine changed; the pressure was suffocating.

Within the shadows, the remnant soul pulled itself together, faintly taking a more distinct human form. It was no longer dissolving. Rather, it glowed with a faint golden light.

Bai Shuangying lowered his hand. “Go stay in Weishan. In two hours, you’ll be able to complete your merit.”

The remnant soul dipped slightly, as if bowing, and then drifted out of the shrine.

Fang Xiu watched it go, somewhat more awake now. “So you just saved her?”

“Mm,” Bai Shuangying replied, prepared for one of Fang Xiu’s warped misunderstandings.

“Thank you,” Fang Xiu said, his tone truly sincere and extraordinarily solemn.

“Saving people is far harder than harming them. You really are remarkable.”

Bai Shuangying didn’t detect any false note in his voice, and he blinked in mild surprise.

“I never expected…” Fang Xiu went on dizzily, “never expected you to be so powerful, and yet still forced to work for the Underworld.”

Bai Shuangying: “…” I’m not, and it’s all your fault.

That mouth of his was still irritating, so Bai Shuangying decided to ignore him again.

By now, the appointed time with the paper man was almost up. Bai Shuangying took hold of Fang Xiu, who was about to keel over, intending to head back to the Disaster Relief Tower. But Fang Xiu shook his head, saying he had one more thing to do.

After leaving the shrine, he slowly climbed onto the stage, making his way to Mai Zi’s corpse.

It was hot and humid, and after two or three days, Mai Zi’s body bad become bloated. The stench of decay spread over the stage. Without changing expression, Fang Xiu stepped forward, stopping a single step away from the corpse.

Lao Mian and Mai Zi died so quickly and quietly that nobody else had time to interfere. Later on, the play dedicated to the gods served as proof. After discovering Mai Zi had mutated, Lao Mian killed him instantly in self-defense.

“It’s a pity. If Lao Mian hadn’t killed you right away, this ritual would’ve been a lot easier.”

Fang Xiu said to the corpse, “But also, because you died so early and did so little, I was able to confirm the conditions for ‘mutation’ and figure out the third taboo… Thanks.”

From the cloth bag he carried, he took out Brother Scar’s head and placed it neatly in front of Mai Zi’s body. “In ancient times, people used steamed buns as a substitute for real human heads in offerings. I don’t have steamed buns right now, so let’s go back to the original source. Hope you don’t mind.”

Bai Shuangying eyed the gore-smeared head, feeling that “going back to the original source” was an extreme way of putting it.

“When did you realize that the ‘God of Weishan’ wasn’t a malevolent god?” Bai Shuangying asked, prodding Brother Scar’s empty eye socket, sounding casually curious.

“The second night, when we found the shrine,” Fang Xiu replied.

Bai Shuangying: “…?” That was awfully early.

“During the day, there were plenty of clues. The village had traces of propaganda banners, indicating it had normal contact with the outside world. The villagers moved out in an orderly fashion, not like they were fleeing disaster. This doesn’t align with a place plagued by an evil god or struck by tragedy.”

“Then we found the shrine… There were so many offerings there, all very modern, piled up to the brim. Some drinks weren’t even unpacked.”

Fang Xiu lowered his gaze. “Rather than a proper offering to a god, it felt more like elders stuffing food into a youngster’s hands.”

“And this village has been abandoned for so many years, yet people still remembered to come back and pay respects. From the production dates on those offerings, they definitely came back last year.”

“So I believe the people of Weishan Village are very fond of the God of Weishan.”

Bai Shuangying watched Fang Xiu quietly. Fang Xiu kept his eyes down; it was unclear whether he was explaining things to his own ghost or talking to Mai Zi.

As long as one assumed there was no evil god at work, it wasn’t too complicated.

“The graveyard is overflowing with tombstones. Even if life got better later, the villagers still had short lifespans. Something’s definitely off about this place.”

“The ‘E’ arises from clear-cut obsessions. Taboos never conflict with each other. The taboo of ‘protecting the villagers’ is very direct, so there must be another reason behind the ‘drinking water mustn’t be consumed’ taboo, like forcing the villagers to leave, or problems with the water itself, or maybe both.”

The evil spirits destroyed newspapers carrying reports of contamination, slipped lies into the opera lines, and imitated the villagers at their worst. They worked hard to make the God of Weishan appear inscrutable and evil, but in the end, they couldn’t hide the taboos themselves.

The E of Weishan was clumsily protecting villagers who had long since departed.

Because the “E” was born of human obsessions, Fang Xiu knew all he had to do was find the one whose obsession had given rise to it, someone the villagers still remembered after so many years, someone they treated with the care reserved for a younger family member, a so-called “god”.

Before leaving, Fang Xiu once more looked out over the empty Weishan Village.

It was daytime, and rain kept pouring, just like on the day they arrived.

Fang Xiu cast one last glance at the stage, softly humming a tune:

“Too puzzling, too unclear, no comment to give,

Can’t get out, can’t get in~ Like a bird in the cage~”

In the end, the reason they couldn’t “get out” was because the ritual restricted their range, and it had nothing to do with the E.

The E’s only purpose was to enforce that “no entry”. …By the way, since he personally broke the E, what sort of reward would the Underworld give him?

After the two of them left, Weishan Village lay deserted, not even a ghostly shape remaining.

Knock knock knock, knock knock knock, knock knock knock.

Suddenly, a door in the village began knocking by itself, precisely that empty warehouse Fang Xiu and the others had stayed in on the first night.

Knock knock knock, knock knock knock, knock knock knock.

The knocking lasted just over ten seconds before the village sank back into silence.

As though nothing had ever happened.

……

Two hours later, a dozen or so miles away.

A man rolled down his car window and said in a helpless tone, “It’s been days, and we’re still not allowed through!”

A local police officer sighed. “I’m not picking on you specifically. The road there is really dangerous right now. No cars are allowed to pass.”

Driver: “Don’t fool me, brother. It was just fine a couple of years ago. We’re all from Weishan Village. We just want to go back to pay our respects…”

“If I say no, it’s no. Head back. That road is about to collapse. You’ve got seniors in your car. Think about them.”

“Haa, it’s the seniors at home who want to go back.”

“Don’t go. That place is strange,” an auntie who was onlooking interjected. “There’s clearly nobody living there, yet at night it’s all lit up. Scares a person half to death…”

The driver was annoyed. “Who says? Every time we go back, nothing happens. Our village is just fine.”

Seeing that an argument was brewing, the officer hurried between them.

At that moment, the rear window of the car rolled down, and a teenage girl poked her head out. “Great-Grandma said, don’t make things hard for the officer. If we really can’t get in, we’ll find a high place and pay our respects from far away.”

“…Officer, how about that?” The driver scratched his head.

The policeman agreed.

Given the complex terrain, continuous rain these past days, and the elderly passengers, he didn’t dare let a whole carload of people wander around. He specifically showed them to a safe hilltop.

The road there was sturdily built, and from that vantage they could see Weishan in the distance, and, right beside it, Weishan Village.

Another two hours later, the group arrived at the designated spot without incident. From afar, Weishan Village looked gray and still as ever.

Great-Grandma had said the god they were worshipping wasn’t particular about ceremony. So they simply laid a sheet of waterproof fabric on the ground as a makeshift altar.

The offerings were the same as always: meat, sweets, plus newly produced drinks and canned goods. The younger generation liked to keep up with trends, so they even added a cup of milk tea.

They stacked the offerings neatly, all facing the direction of Weishan.

“God descends from Weishan—guests arrive with bitter rain—

Immortals come year after year—the shrine opens day by day—

At sunrise we greet our guests with joy—at moonset we bid them farewell in sorrow—

Good guests share the deity’s name—peace reigns for a decade’s time—”

Ninety-eight-year-old Sun Ruyi closed her eyes, listening to the familiar sacrificial song.

Another year was about to pass, and she was still alive.

Ten years ago, Sun Ruyi moved from Weishan Village to the capital. She kept her promise: each year, at the time of the temple fair, she had her family take her back to Weishan Village in person, so she could leave offerings at the Weishan Shrine.

They’d been able to manage it in the past, but this year the rain had lasted far too long. The road was closed off by the local township, and she could only pay her respects from this distance.

That child was carefree and easygoing; she probably wouldn’t blame her.

Suddenly, Sun Ruyi heard a loud rumble.

It wasn’t thunder. It boomed on and on, causing the worshippers to cry out in alarm. Sun Ruyi opened her eyes and asked her great-granddaughter, “Ni’er, what’s going on out there?”

The girl pulled out her phone, filming enthusiastically. “Great-Grandma, it’s a mudslide!”

“Thank goodness nobody lives there. It’s so terrifying. The village rooftops are buried…”

Sun Ruyi was silent for a long time.

“I’d like to get out and take a look,” she said, several minutes later.

“Huh? It’s raining out there. It’s cold, and you should really…”

“I’d like to get out and look,” Sun Ruyi repeated.

Her great-granddaughter couldn’t refuse, so she opened the umbrella and helped the old woman out of the car.

Sun Ruyi walked over to the simple altar. She felt around in her pocket, taking out a red candy.

Nowadays the wrapper was that slick plastic film, and the candy itself was shaped like a small cushion. The words for “Double Happiness Hard Candy” were gone, replaced by a neat, stylized “囍*” character.

*Happy.

In a daze, she heard the drone of cicadas in mid-summer.

The last time she handed out candy, her hand was so small and grimy. Now her hand was larger, very clean, but covered in wrinkles.

Year after year, Sun Ruyi had forgotten many things. Sometimes she couldn’t remember which block her apartment complex was on, or she’d mix up her grandchildren’s names. She could hardly recall any lines from the poetry she once loved.

“If someone dwells in the mountain, clad in creeping fig and trailing ivy… I can’t recall the rest.”

She sighed. “Guess I’ve gotten old.”

But she still remembered that summer day, the moment she handed over the candy.

That deformed child didn’t understand her words, but his eyes lit up. She never forgot that sight, even to this day.

Ninety years later, Sun Ruyi once again offered up a piece of candy. She placed it gently on the altar.

Then, with difficulty, she bowed her head toward Weishan.

At the same time, on Weishan.

The clouds seethed, and heavy rain poured down. Unlike before, the cloud edges glowed with gold.

The great disaster had arrived, yet no one was harmed. The merit grew further, and the sacrificial song resounded in the distance.

In the curtain of rain, a figure gradually became clearer.

This figure had three arms and four legs, and she was, unmistakably, a young woman. She wore a dark robe, her features were fine and delicate, and her lips were strikingly red.

In the downpour, her confusion gave way to clarity.

Besides her old memories, she now possessed knowledge of the Heavenly Way and its deities. She knew she had become the God of Weishan, and how that transformation came about.

She also understood what that small bit of “destiny” she’d just received actually meant.

The newly born God of Weishan looked toward the Weishan Shrine. Though she knew that person was no longer there, she straightened and offered a solemn bow.

“Thank you, High God…”

Right after that, the God of Weishan turned toward the simple altar far away. She gazed at Sun Ruyi and beamed.

This time, she was going to devour every last bit of those offerings.

……

Disaster Relief Tower.

After returning, Fang Xiu collapsed into sleep. Bai Shuangying lay on the ceiling, quietly spacing out.

Suddenly, Bai Shuangying tilted his head. He faintly heard someone giving thanks. Judging by the time, he could guess who it was.

It was that newly born little god.

Yes, she didn’t even know his name, so nobody would suspect him.

Bai Shuangying ran his fingers over the invisible chain, then decided to go on watching Fang Xiu’s sleeping face.

He was still wearing that red paper flower on his lapel. On Bai Shuangying’s own right wrist, the broken link of his chain dangled, clinking softly.

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<<< || Table of Contents || >>>

Author: 年终 / Nian Zhong

Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/

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Chapter 25: The End of the Mountain God

In front of Fang Xiu was still the graveyard west of the village.

It was clearly a different point in time. There was no rain, and the weeds between the graves were lush and green. The setting sun was like fire, and the entirety of Weishan looked as though it was ablaze.

“If someone dwells in the mountain, clad in creeping fig and trailing ivy… I forget the rest after that.”

A little girl with pigtails walked through the graveyard, reciting poetry under her breath, carrying a small grasshopper cage in her hand.

She looked to be about seven or eight years old. Beside her were two boys. One appeared to be the oldest, and the other was younger than she was, sniffling with a runny nose.

Their clothes were old and heavily patched, looking like styles from decades prior.

There weren’t many insects in the graveyard, so the three children headed toward the grove at the foot of Weishan. A few minutes later, they heard the little girl let out a shrill scream.

“Ghost—!”

Immediately, the oldest boy moved protectively in front of them. All three kids could see clearly what that “ghost” really was.

It was a deformed boy.

He had two extra arms, and his spine was curved. His facial features were misaligned, making him look rather frightening.

He wore only a few ragged scraps of cloth, and his skin was covered in bloodstains and bruises. He seemed to have just been beaten. Curled up on the ground, his body occasionally twitched, like a particularly ugly worm made of flesh.

The older boy breathed a sigh of relief. “Ni’er*, it’s okay. It’s just the child nobody in the village wants. He must have been seen by someone who thought he was unlucky and gave him a beating.”

*It’s an affectionate way to address a young girl/daughter. Kind of like calling her sweetheart or honey (but not in a romantic context).

“The child nobody wants?” The little girl asked curiously. “Brother, what do you mean by ‘the child nobody wants’?”

The brother scratched the back of his head. “Remember how the auntie next door was crying? She had a baby last month. Our village has children like this every year. Most of them are born dead.”

“In years with a lot of rain, there are even more of these deformed babies. Grandpa says it’s because too much rain brings heavy yin energy to the village.”

“Then why don’t they want this one? He’s still alive, isn’t he?” The girl pointed at the deformed boy in the bushes.

“They can’t afford to raise him.” The older brother mimicked the adults’ tone. “Grandpa says that even if someone’s reluctant to throw the baby away, most of them only live to their early twenties; a lot die in their teens.”

“They look scary, and they don’t live long. Everyone thinks it’s bad luck. Plus, our village isn’t well-off. Who has the means to provide for him? Better to put him in a vat and leave him outside, letting fate decide.”

“Oh, I remember now.” The girl made a gesture with her hands. “I saw that big vat at Auntie’s place. She even put some food in it.”

Her older brother nodded seriously. “Right, exactly that one.”

But I bet her child is gone by now. I saw that vat in the woods a few days ago, and the smell was awful.”

At this, the three children fell silent for a moment.

The girl looked at the boy curled on the ground, who couldn’t speak and whose shoulders shook as though he were sobbing.

After thinking it over, she said, “If each family in the village gave him a little food, wouldn’t that be enough to keep him alive? He got thrown away by his parents and then beaten up. He’s so pitiful.”

“That auntie next door was really sad. She cried for days,” she added.

“But there’s no real reason to feed him, right? Why would everyone give him food?” The older brother scratched his head hard. “Still, now that you mention it, he really is pretty pitiful…”

“Food, food,” the younger brother repeated with his unclear speech.

The three children squatted silently in the bushes for a while longer.

“I’ve got an idea.” The girl’s face tightened with resolve. “Everyone says he’s unlucky, so let’s claim he’s actually an auspicious sign… That’s it! Like an omen of good fortune! We’ll all say that we saw him fly!”

Older Brother: “……”

Older Brother: “Saying he can fly is too far-fetched. Let’s say he glows.”

Younger Brother: “Glows! Glows!”

“He both flies and glows.” The girl felt she was quite clever. “All those grandpas and grandmas really believe in that stuff. They’ll definitely be willing to give him food.”

The older brother was more realistic, though only a bit. “Then we should take him to the village chief and ask him to speak for us. That would be best.”

“Yes, yes—and we need evidence.” The girl searched all her pockets and finally found a piece of candy.

It was wrapped in bright red paper labeled “Double Happiness Hard Candy”. This was a rare treat. Their parents had brought back a few pieces when they attended a wedding banquet in town.

It was a round candy with a transparent, vivid red hue. She had looked at it many times, unwilling to eat it.

In the end, the girl reluctantly unwrapped the candy and placed it in the deformed boy’s hand.

“Hold it tight. This is your magic core*,” she said in a serious tone, not caring whether he could understand or not.

*Neidan or internal alchemy. It’s an array of esoteric doctrines and physical, mental, and spiritual practices that Taoist initiates use to prolong life and create an immortal spiritual body that would survive after death (also known as Jindan (golden elixir)). Its reference is often used in cultivation.

The deformed boy clutched the candy, neither letting go nor making a sound, as if he did sort of understand.

……

The village chief of Weishan Village was a kind middle-aged man, short in stature. All the children knew he was the only teacher in the village.

At first, hearing the three children’s outlandish story, he couldn’t help but laugh. But seeing the wounds on the deformed boy, his smile gradually faded.

He fetched a basin of water to gently clean the boy’s body, then brought out a bottle of red medicinal liquid to treat his wounds. The child was covered in injuries, so skinny his bones showed and his ribs protruded sharply.

Seeing this, the village chief frowned deeply, letting out a constant string of sighs.

“The village chief believes us. He definitely believes us,” the little girl said, clenching her fist as she spoke to her older brother. “We’re really good at this.”

The younger brother whispered, “All three of us, all three.”

“You kids have an interesting idea… I should’ve done something about this long ago.”

After settling the boy down, the village chief patted their heads. “Don’t worry, I’ll tell everyone in the village that these children are the children of the mountain spirit.”

“Children of the mountain spirit aren’t unlucky. All they need is a bit of offering, and they’ll bring good fortune.”

“‘Mountain spirit’ sounds scary,” the girl mumbled. “Chief, didn’t you just teach us that the mountain spirit is really a mountain god…”

The village chief finally smiled, deep wrinkles forming at the corners of his eyes.

“You’re right. Then let’s call them the children of the mountain god.” His tone was gentle. “They’re all children of the Mountain God.”

The girl was satisfied. “He even has a magic core! That’s a real treasure. Chief, make sure you don’t lose it.”

“I understand. Now go on home and memorize your poetry.”

Early the next morning, the village chief really did announce the news to the entire village and brought up the fact that the boy had been beaten.

Some villagers immediately jumped out to say it was nonsense. After all, for more than two hundred years, people had quarried stone from Weishan to make inkstones, and they hadn’t seen even half a mountain god during that entire time.

Others found it hard to accept, since everyone had always believed these deformed babies were unlucky. How could the story suddenly change?

But more people stayed silent and offered to provide a bit of food. Among them was even that auntie from next door. The little girl stared at her in shock.

“Auntie never believed in ghosts or gods, right? She even argued with Grandpa about this.” The girl tugged on her older brother’s sleeve with one hand while holding onto her younger brother’s hand with the other.

Her older brother thought for a long time. “Maybe she just can’t bear to see it anymore.”

He didn’t say what exactly she couldn’t bear to see.

The boy ended up living at the village chief’s home. He grew up on communal offerings, got taller and stronger, and learned to speak and write.

Even so, he still didn’t have a name. People jokingly called him “the God of Weishan”. Some meant it kindly, some maliciously.

He knew, of course, that he wasn’t actually a mountain god. He also knew the villagers knew that, too.

As for that piece of candy, he kept it in a little wooden box, hidden in the deepest corner under his bed, as though it really were some kind of immortal’s core.

Everything was just a crude little lie.

Another deformed baby was born. This time, the child had four legs but only one eye. Before the village chief could even respond, he stepped forward.

“I can help write letters and read,” he said. “I can earn money. I’ll take care of her.

She can share my offerings. Don’t throw her away.”

And so it went, from the time he left the foot of Weishan to the time he passed away peacefully, a total of ten years.

Before he died, he took the box from under his bed and handed it to the seven-year-old deformed girl. Behind her stood two other deformed children, about three or four years old.

He’d been teaching her to read and write all these years; she was in a much better state than he’d been back then.

“You are the next God of Weishan. Inside the box is the Mountain God’s core. Take good care of it,” he said.

The girl blinked her single eye, staring at him in confusion.

The dying God of Weishan smiled. “But remember, you’re actually not the God of Weishan. That thing isn’t a true core, either.”

Live well. Don’t let down the villagers.”

“And don’t cry.” He turned to another girl by the bedside.

That girl, who had given him the candy all those years ago, was now eighteen. Her name was Sun Ruyi, his benefactor.

In the ten years since, he and the three siblings had grown very close. He was happy now, because he knew she had a long life ahead of her… She was going to leave the village to study.

But Sun Ruyi was still crying, and her brothers tried to comfort her without success. Their own eyes were red, so how could they console her?

[You know the mountain spirit is also a god; at the foot of Weishan, the trees stand dense and tall.]

…..

The second God of Weishan took up her post at the age of seven.

Year after year, besides those two younger children the first god left behind, she took in three more deformed kids.

With so many people, it was no longer suitable to stay in the village chief’s house. The villagers decided that each family would contribute a bit more to build an extra dwelling.

“It’s the God of Weishan’s home. It’s practically a shrine!”

The old village chief laughed. His hair was now mostly white. “How strange and wonderful that our Weishan Village finally has its own shrine.”

From then on, the God of Weishan moved into that shrine. During the day, she helped villagers write letters and taught the deformed children to read. At night, they all slept together on a large communal bed in the shrine.

By then, the village had a younger teacher, so the old village chief no longer taught classes. In his spare time, though, he would come by to teach poetry to the children.

Before long, the God of Weishan faced a new challenge.

Some of the older deformed children had begun their studies earlier, so they were more advanced. The eldest among them knew his life would be short and started to resent the healthy villagers.

He lashed out at the people who brought offerings, tore up his younger siblings’ books, and even stole someone’s hatchet. Finally, when he tried to attack the old village chief with the knife, the second God of Weishan flew into a fury.

She gave him a brutal beating, then banished him from the village.

“Isn’t that repaying kindness with enmity?” she snapped angrily.

“Calm down now, it’s not good for your health to be angry.” The old village chief was wrapped up in bandages from his injury but still spoke gently. “No place can guarantee that everyone will be good.”

After thinking it over, the God of Weishan said, “This isn’t going to work in the long run. I need to come up with a plan.”

A few days later, the second God of Weishan sought out the old village chief.

“I’ve got it. Like you said before, we’ll claim that we’re all children of the Mountain God.

We’re deformed because the children of the Mountain God don’t fit mortal bodies. Dying young means returning to the celestial realm as immortal attendants… I’m the God of Weishan, so they’ll believe what I say.”

“I’ll choose the kindest, most sensible child to be the next God of Weishan. I’ll only tell the truth to that one.”

She wove a new lie.

The deformed children continued to live short lives, but at least they could be happier, without falling into despair and doing harmful things.

The old village chief smiled, though with a hint of bitterness.

Before him stood the “God of Weishan”, who was really just a sixteen-year-old girl.

“All right,” He patted her on the shoulder. “That’s a good story. You should write it down.”

Immediately, the God of Weishan fetched pen and paper and wrote carefully, word by word…

[The God of Weishan is the deity of Weishan, worshiped by the villagers of Weishan Village.]

[Any who are born deformed are the children of the Mountain God, guests in Weishan Village.]

[The children of the Mountain God must train in the human realm. When their time is up, they will return to the mountain. Those of upright conduct will naturally be possessed by the God of Weishan, becoming the next God of Weishan.]

It looked rather terse, so she recalled something from her books and added two lines the old village chief had taught her:

[Do not commit even a small evil; do not neglect even a small good*.]

*This comes from an edict by Liu Bei, which basically means don’t do bad things even if you think it’s small and do good things even if you think it’s trivial.

“Words alone may not be enough. We need clear rewards and punishments.”

The old village chief smiled as he watched her. “If one of them does something bad, how will you punish them?”

The God of Weishan’s eyes lit up. “I can hide some bitter mountain yams.”

“They’re wild plants from Weishan. If you rub them on yourself, they itch like crazy but aren’t harmful. If anyone tries anything wicked again, I’ll rub some on them and say it’s the God of Weishan’s curse… oh, right.”

She picked up her brush and wrote another line:

[Do not offend the God of Weishan. Any who do shall suffer misfortune.]

“I have to scare them,” she said angrily.

And with that, she finished writing the story of the God of Weishan.

She died at seventeen, an ordinary lifespan for a deformed child. In her final moments, she really didn’t pick the oldest child but rather the one with the best character. She gave him the wooden box containing the candy and told him everything.

“You are the next God of Weishan. The box holds the Mountain God’s core. Make sure you keep it safe,” she said.

“But remember, you are not actually the God of Weishan.”

On the day she was buried, twenty‑eight‑year‑old Sun Ruyi returned from afar, bringing with her two beautiful tombstones.

Ever since the “Mountain God” legend began, villagers had liked to bury deformed children at the westernmost edge of the graveyard. Weishan Village didn’t lack stonemasons; they made many simple stone plaques to serve as tombstones for these children. Many of the children were stillborn and had no names. The stonemasons considered it inauspicious to engrave them, so they simply left the stone unmarked.

The two tombstones Sun Ruyi brought likewise bore no inscriptions.

“I understand not engraving the god’s name, but why not carve the birth and death dates?” her younger brother asked.

“Because the God of Weishan is immortal,” Sun Ruyi replied.

[You know the mountain spirit is also a god; At the foot of Weishan’s cliff, the trees stand dense.]

[Pitiful abandoned children, discarded like an old shoe; Ascends to immortality, dressed in blue robes.]

……

The third God of Weishan took office at age twelve, and he now had six children under his care.

He dutifully taught them to read and write and told them the story of the God of Weishan. The old village chief passed away, but the new one was a decent person who strongly supported his work.

A few years later, torrential rains fell on Weishan Village, causing flooding.

The God of Weishan faced an unprecedented problem…

Some people in the village began bullying the deformed children; mostly other youngsters without disabilities.

They would deliberately knock them over, hide nails around the shrine, or pretend it was an accident to brush past them with blades, leaving bloody cuts in their wake.

Some of the deformed children became depressed, staying inside the shrine day after day, saying nothing and never venturing out. Others turned aggressive and got into brawls with the village kids, coming close to causing serious casualties.

In order to calm the villagers, the God of Weishan discussed matters with the village chief. Publicly, the chief announced that they would be driven out; secretly, he sent the deformed children who bore grudges against the village up onto Weishan. There were a few abandoned quarry huts there where they could barely get by.

But that was not a lasting solution.

The third God of Weishan decided to consult the Sun family. The second God of Weishan had told him that the three Sun siblings were very dependable. Once the eldest Sun sibling heard the whole story, he directly grabbed one of the bullies and made him explain himself in person.

Confronted with the frightening appearance of the God of Weishan, the child burst into tears on the spot.

“What gives them the right?”

“Every day I’m up before dawn gathering fodder for the pigs and don’t get to sleep until nightfall. They were born short-lived and pitiful, but I’m pitiful, too!”

“All they do is read a few books and nothing else! Mom and Dad insist on feeding them while I don’t even have enough to eat!”

Feeling awkward, the eldest Sun sibling said, “That’s not true. They’ve earned some money, too…”

“You dare say they haven’t been freeloading? You dare say that?” the child shouted tearfully.

The third God of Weishan fell into deep thought.

Because of the village’s frequent rains, disaster years were common, and they couldn’t live off the villagers’ compassion forever. If the deformed children couldn’t do physical labor, then they would have to use their minds.

He began writing more letters for the villagers and asked someone to buy more books from the town. He wanted the children to learn more so they could help the village in other ways. Unfortunately, by the time these preparations were complete, he himself was on the verge of death.

“You need to read more, read books that are truly useful.” Bending his arm tremblingly, he took the hand of the future, the fourth God of Weishan.

“We have no parents or personal attachments. That makes us best suited to uphold fairness… The village doesn’t have enough teachers, so you must also help teach the children of the village…”

He gave him the wooden box with the candy, imploring, “Remember, you are not the God of Weishan. But you must be a competent God of Weishan…”

He, too, died at seventeen. That year, Sun Ruyi was thirty‑three.

She had been doing business outside and made a decent amount of money. Returning home for the funeral, she donated a large sum to her family and once again commissioned wordless tombstones.

“From now on, my family will provide the tombstones for the God of Weishan. Think of it as our good deed,” she said.

[You know the mountain spirit is also a god; At the foot of Weishan’s cliff, the trees stand dense.]

[Pitiful abandoned children, discarded like an old shoe; Ascends to immortality, dressed in blue robes.]

[The village’s boys and girls are its guests; Honored ones inside and outside the shrine.]

……

The fourth God of Weishan took up the position at fourteen, never betraying the previous one’s trust.

Weishan Village was remote, and villagers were used to settling disputes themselves. Petty conflicts broke out constantly; once tempers flared, injuries easily resulted.

After the God of Weishan stepped in, matters improved a great deal. This God of Weishan was quick-witted. He had studied law from a young age. He could argue any case in an orderly way that convinced people. Now, villagers brought disagreements to the shrine to reason things out instead of coming to blows.

During busy farming seasons, families would leave their children at the shrine, where the deformed children taught them. The “children of the Mountain God” taught reading and also arithmetic.

When the God of Weishan was twenty‑three, the village produced its very first college student. The entire village lit fireworks and banged drums. As one of the student’s former teachers, the God of Weishan was overjoyed.

The old village chief was positively beaming. He picked an auspicious day and called everyone together.

“Why don’t we hold a temple fair for the Mountain God?” he suggested excitedly, gesturing with his hands.

“We can do it every year, seven days and seven nights!”

Now that the village was better off, everyone readily agreed.

However, on the sixth day of the fair, the God of Weishan fell ill, so ill he couldn’t leave his bed. He listened to the lively festival music with a smile. That same day, he summoned his successor and handed her the small wooden box that contained the candy.

So much time had passed that the candy had begun to deteriorate. Afraid it would melt, he had wrapped it layer by layer in moisture‑absorbing paper, replacing it each year. Aside from being a bit dulled in color, it looked much as it had before.

“Remember, you are not the God of Weishan,” he told the next successor. “Weishan Village has never had a real god. It was only people.”

On the seventh day of the fair, the villagers commissioned a plaque, made a pair of couplets, and carved a wooden statue of the God of Weishan.

Within the shrine, a gleaming couplet in gold lettering was hung high on the wall, personally composed by the old village chief.

[Do no evil, heaven’s blessings are far-reaching; Practice all virtue, and the rain that nurtures all things brings deep fellowship.]

In the center, an unfinished wooden idol stood. The villagers had faithfully carved the deformed limbs, for the old village chief said that the God of Weishan had always looked unusual and there was nothing to hide. If the statue looked deformed, it would comfort the children who saw themselves in it.

But each God of Weishan had been different—different gender, different features—so no one knew which face to carve. In the end, they left only a faint smile.

They only needed to wait for the paint to dry before giving it a thorough polish.

…What shrine doesn’t have its own image of the deity?

…A small gap in the legend of the God of Weishan, one the villagers happily filled.

The villagers had always known the God of Weishan was not actually divine.

But so what? As long as the God of Weishan didn’t tear the lie apart, neither would they, and thus the God of Weishan remained a god.

On the day that God of Weishan was laid to rest, forty‑two‑year‑old Sun Ruyi returned home. This time, she kept vigil for the first seven days of mourning and never left again. That same year, she became the new village chief of Weishan.

When the statue of the God of Weishan was finally completed, the villagers brought many gifts. Sun Ruyi prepared a poem, not to honor the statue, but to remember her friends.

[You know the mountain spirit is also a god; At the foot of Weishan’s cliff, the trees stand dense.]

[Pitiful abandoned children, discarded like an old shoe; Ascends to immortality, dressed in blue robes.]

[The village’s boys and girls are its guests; Honored ones inside and outside the shrine.]

[Upholding virtue and punishing evil with clear judgment, and henceforth, justice is seen in the hearts of men.]

……

Time flew by, and so did the succession of the God of Weishan; from the fifth, to the sixth, the seventh… all the way to the tenth.

The tenth God of Weishan assumed the position at age twelve. She had three arms, four legs, and a small, undeveloped head at her neck.

She did not adopt any deformed children. The reason was simple: she was the last deformed child of Weishan Village.

Weishan Village was remote and had poor climate conditions. The land was infertile. The only specialty was the Weishan inkstone, which never sold well. Recently, muddy water often ran down the mountain, destroying crops if people weren’t careful.

All the young folks had left for the town, saying there were more jobs there, plus better schools, and indeed, over the years, Weishan Village had produced many college students, so everyone knew the importance of an education.

Many elders followed their children and grandchildren to live in town, only returning on holidays to let the kids pay respects to their ancestors. They said life was better outside, and that people lived noticeably longer there.

Strangely, after the young people departed, fewer and fewer deformed children were born. By the time of the tenth God of Weishan, not a single one had appeared.

Now, only about half the original villagers remained in Weishan. You could hardly see any young people; most who stayed were older folks attached to their home, such as Sun Ruyi.

Sun Ruyi’s older and younger brothers had passed on, yet she herself survived to the ripe old age of seventy‑eight. This was nearly unheard of in the village. She was no longer the village chief but still often visited the young God of Weishan.

With no children in need of teaching and no disputes in need of judging, the tenth God of Weishan had plenty of free time. Carrying her small wooden box, she simply moved into Sun Ruyi’s home.

One old and one young, with nothing particular to do, they read books and newspapers every day, living as though they were grandmother and granddaughter.

A few years later, something new happened in the village.

Officials from the town arrived, hanging banners and setting up a desk at the entrance for public announcements. Their main points were twofold: first, that Weishan Village’s environment contained natural mineral pollution; and second, that its location was poor and prone to disaster if the rains got any worse. In short, they were urging the villagers to relocate.

“Granny, you should leave. Don’t both your children live in the capital? You can go and enjoy your old age.” The tenth God of Weishan said anxiously, “They’re right. There’s a problem with Weishan Village’s water and soil.”

“Our village clearly isn’t poor anymore, yet the elders still die young. Meanwhile, those who left are doing so much better.”

“We can’t sell our Weishan inkstones because they smell fishy once they get wet, right? There must be something dirty in the soil dissolving in the water, and people end up drinking it… The heavier the rain, the worse the pollution, and that’s why there used to be so many kids were born deformed.”

She held the book and analyze it solemnly. “People used to just accept it because they didn’t understand, but now we have a scientific explanation. Everyone should move away.”

Sun Ruyi said nothing.

“They’re not just trying to scare us about potential disasters. Lately the rains have been getting heavier, and the soil on the mountain is unstable. A mudslide could happen. I heard the town can help people apply for free housing…”

“Ni’er, I understand,” Sun Ruyi said. “Weishan Village is already how it is. There’s no need.”

The God of Weishan was taken aback.

“All the young people have already gone, so no children will suffer anymore. It’s just us old folks left; we live each day as it comes. Why make it harder on ourselves?”

“My parents and my brothers are buried here. Why would I leave alone?”

“But… the mudslides…”

“That’s only a ‘maybe’.” Sun Ruyi sighed. “It’s been raining like this for centuries, and we’ve never had a mudslide. None of us have many years left, so what are the odds we’d be that unlucky?”

She patted the God of Weishan’s head and smiled. “You’re still young. You wouldn’t understand.”

The God of Weishan knew that Sun Ruyi had been there when the first God of Weishan came into the world, and she had also sent off the previous nine. Sun Ruyi had read many books, conducted large business ventures, served as village chief, and written poetry for the God of Weishan.

But the tenth God of Weishan still could not agree with her thinking.

She, too, had read many books. She knew that the climate of Weishan Village was shifting and the ground in the mountain was in terrible condition. They were only one prolonged downpour—a truly relentless rain—away from disaster.

So the young God of Weishan gathered scientific articles and newspaper clippings, going door to door to persuade the villagers.

The town officials couldn’t stay in the village every day, but the God of Weishan could. Thanks to her persistent efforts, another half of the villagers left.

As for the remaining elders, they were stubborn as oxen, dismissing her worries as groundless. Irritated by her pleas, they simply refused to see her. They knew she wasn’t truly divine, and she knew it, too.

The final God of Weishan died at twenty‑two.

The day before her death, she was still trying to convince Sun Ruyi to leave. But come the next morning, the old was left burying the young.

In her last moments, the God of Weishan opened the wooden box and took out that candy. There was no one to succeed her; there was no more need to wrap it up. Everyone knew Weishan Village would have no more Gods of Weishan.

In the end, the last God of Weishan clutched the candy tightly and pressed it to her chest.

She still didn’t want to die; she hated her own short life. Never before had she felt such reluctance. After all, the God of Weishan’s mission wasn’t over. At the very end, she hadn’t even managed to persuade Sun Ruyi to leave; how could she feel at ease departing like this?

She knew she wasn’t actually a god. She knew Weishan Village had no god. And yet…

“If the God of Weishan was real, that would be wonderful.”

She murmured these words and took her final breath.

Even in her last moments, her eyes remained slightly open.

When an object carries lingering attachment, and the ties of karma converge, it becomes an “E”.

Eighty years of time, ten generations of karmic bonds, plus one pure yet overwhelming wish. In the corpse’s hand, that piece of candy exuded a dense, chilling aura, gradually turning dull and lightless.

The following day, eighty‑eight‑year‑old Sun Ruyi paused before a new tombstone. Her hands trembled as she set down two pastries and a bottle of drink.

“Now I really can’t go.” Sun Ruyi smiled wryly. “If I left, who would bring offerings to the shrine?”

It was as if something responded to her words. The moment Sun Ruyi left the graveyard, a sudden gust of eerie wind rose from the new grave’s center.

In an instant, dark clouds blotted out the sun, shredded grass swirled in the air, and midday became as dark as night. The yin energy was so immense that countless evil spirits emerged in broad daylight.

…And thus, the “E” of Weishan descended upon the world.

Very soon, the villagers discovered something was wrong with the crops in their fields and the water they drank.

Day by day, the strange smell intensified, making everything inedible. Even food brought from outside quickly took on a foul reek.

Strangely enough, the offerings at the Weishan Shrine remained perfectly fine.

The older folks looked at one another. “It must be the God of Weishan causing mischief”. This phrase hovered on everyone’s lips, yet no one said it out loud. In the end, they sighed and gave in. In under half a month, all the villagers had moved away.

Sun Ruyi was no exception.

On the day she left, she lingered for a long time in front of the God of Weishan’s grave.

“You silly child. Why are you so stubborn?” Her eyes were red. “I’ll come back each year for the temple fair to bring you something to eat.”

“…And wherever you are, make sure you still eat well.”

From the next day onward, Weishan Village lay officially deserted.

Until this very day, ten years later.

……

Gulp.

Fang Xiu swallowed the fragments of candy, and countless threads of karma fell silent.

Amid the howling yin wind, a paper figure from the Underworld drifted down like a savior descending from the sky.

Only then did Fang Xiu notice that he, Cheng Songyun, and Shan Hunzi were all cloaked in a faint layer of golden light. Cheng Songyun stood as if in a daze, seemingly not comprehending what had happened. Shan Hunzi glared openly, making no attempt to hide his displeasure.

The surrounding evil spirits continued to encircle them but didn’t charge closer; they seemed quite wary the paper figure form the Underworld.

Ignoring the host of evil spirits around them, the paper figure turned to Fang Xiu with a broad grin.

“Dispersing calamity, dispelling the E—protection from all evil. The ritual is complete. I shall now escort you all back to the Tower—”

“Give it back! Give it back!”

Old Man Fu roared at the paper figure. Unlike the other evil spirits, he charged straight at the group.

“Ten years of cultivation brought me this far! Another ten and I’d become an immortal ghost! How dare the Underworld—ugh!”

The paper figure, Shan Hunzi, Cheng Songyun: “……”

Bai Shuangying: “?”

Fang Xiu, in one swift motion, rush forward and slam his shoulder into the lanky Old Man Fu, pressing his knee against him. With the Underworld’s protection behind him, Fang Xiu swung his right arm, pummeling Old Man Fu’s face with heavy blows.

Though Fang Xiu wasn’t especially brawny, his punches were ruthless. Each fist landed squarely on Old Man Fu’s distorted face. Its gaping mouth-like cavity clamped shut and turned into a narrow slit; that stark-white face was already becoming misshapen.

Old Man Fu’s real form was thin and frail. He wasn’t an evil spirit suited for close combat, and now that with his evil magic nullified, he was reduced to a literal punching bag.

The surrounding evil spirits that had been poised to attack all froze in place, terrified into silence.

For a moment, the graveyard grew deathly still, broken only by the thud of fist meeting flesh.

The paper figure: “…”

Unable to hold back, it asked, “What are you doing?”

“Testing the performance of your ‘protection from all evil’.”

Without lifting his head, Fang Xiu replied, “After all, force is mutual. He’s smashing my hand with his face.”

The paper figure was at a loss for words.

“Protection from all evil” was meant to shield the ritual participants so they wouldn’t be attacked by vengeful spirits after destroying the E. In all the time it had served, the paper figure had never seen anyone use the protection this way.

And yet, it couldn’t exactly scold Fang Xiu to “show some mercy.”

The ritual was clearly over, and yet Fang Xiu was engaging in this “hurt the enemy by a thousand, hurt yourself by a thousand” brawl. Just what was Fang Xiu… Wait… Perhaps there was a point.

No way. The paper figure slowly turned its head.

Sure enough, its bad feeling proved correct. When Fang Xiu finally tired of beating his Old Man Fu, he hefted the barely recognizable Old Man Fu in one hand, panting as he called out to Bai Shuangying.

“How’s this? Can you eat it?”

Bai Shuangying strolled over, the corners of his mouth lifting high. “Yes.”

As he approached, Fang Xiu grabbed Bai Shuangying’s sleeve to help himself stand. Once he was finally upright, he leaned weakly against his ghost.

“Was the temple fair fun?” Fang Xiu asked in a low voice.

Bai Shuangying pondered a moment. “The food was good. The ending felt… a bit underwhelming.”

Not that he was surprised. After all, from Fang Xiu’s perspective, destroying the E as soon as possible was clearly the best choice.

Hearing this, Fang Xiu muffled a laugh against Bai Shuangying’s shoulder. Bai Shuangying could feel the vibration of his chest and the racing of his heart.

“Who says the temple fair is over?” Fang Xiu covered his mouth as he whispered, “I have something better to show you.”

Bai Shuangying tilted his head, idly toying with the paper flower he wore. Finally, he seemed to have thought of something.

“All right. If your performance is interesting enough, I’ll give you something in return. Among friends, there should be give and take.”

Watching this pair—one in red, one in white—so blatantly whispering to each other, the paper figure’s mouth twitched.

It couldn’t stand it any longer. Clearly, someone here was bewitched by a seductive ghost!

Remaining strictly businesslike, the paper figure repeated, “The ritual is complete. I shall now escort you to the Tower…”

“May I leave a bit later? Just give me one more hour. I still have something to settle.” Fang Xiu wipe sweat from his forehead as he finally released his “Bai Shuangying crutch”.

Knowing Fang Xiu was a key figure in destroying the E, the paper figure remained patient.

“Ah, by all means, take your time. This ‘protection from all evil’ will last for another hour.”

Luckily for the paper figure, nobody else had so many requests.

After all that trouble, Cheng Songyun was exhausted both physically and mentally. Confirming that the unconscious companions had been teleported back to the Tower, she immediately asked to return herself. With a wave of its hand, the paper figure transformed Cheng Songyun’s body into golden light, and she vanished on the spot.

Shan Hunzi rolled his eyes. Now that it was clear there would be no reward for destroying the E, he couldn’t be bothered to argue any further.

…He was just about to request to return to the Tower when Fang Xiu blocked his path.

“There’s something you still haven’t asked me.”

Fang Xiu picked up the Luoyang shovel from the ground and leaned on it like a cane. He looked exhausted, his lips nearly bloodless.

It took Shan Hunzi a moment to realize what Fang Xiu meant: back when Fang Xiu had revealed that Shan Hunzi was only pretending to be mad, Fang Xiu had mentioned he knew exactly how he had been exposed, and that the answer would require payment.

“Stay with me for an hour, and I’ll tell you. That hour will be your fee.”

Fang Xiu winked. “An hour in exchange for learning how you slipped up. Quite the deal, no?”

“Why?”

“Because it’s a rare opportunity, and I have questions for you as well. Besides, who knows, we might run into each other again someday. I don’t want us at each other’s throats.”

Shan Hunzi hesitated for two seconds. “All right.”

It was hard to refuse an offer like that. He would still need to keep faking madness in the future, and if someone else noticed, it would be a problem.

Seeing that the two had come to an agreement, the paper figure forced a smile. “Then I’ll return in about the time it takes for two sticks of incense to burn.”

With that, its form flickered and dissolved into a wisp of green smoke.

Freed from the E, the surrounding spirits began to disperse. Bai Shuangying took a seat in a leisurely manner on top of Old Man Fu, casually ripping off an arm to eat.

With Bai Shuangying no longer concealing himself, Shan Hunzi could see the seductive ghost sitting there and looked even more disdainful.

Fang Xiu was still trembling on his feet, as if his strength were spent to the very limit and he was about to collapse.

Yet, to be safe, Shan Hunzi kept a magic weapon clutched in his hand.

“Speak,” he said, clearing his throat and looking at Fang Xiu. “How exactly did you—”

Splurt.

Before Shan Hunzi could finish, hot blood spattered across his face.

A sharp Luoyang shovel had pierced straight into his chest.

---

The author has something to say:

The truth behind the God of Weishan is revealed! Xiao Fang’s mask has fallen off… halfway. (…In the next chapter, the other half will fall off, then Xiao Bai’s will too, and that’ll just about wrap up this volume—

As for the real story, Fang Xiu only guessed the main idea—no way he could’ve guessed all these specifics, lol. I’ll explain the rest in upcoming chapters!)

“Should someone appear on the mountainside,
Clad in creeping vines and girded with trailing ivy.”
—Quoted from Qu Yuan’s “Nine Songs: The Mountain Spirit.”

---

<<< || Table of Contents || >>>

Author: 年终 / Nian Zhong

Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/

---

Chapter 24: The Origin of the Mountain God

Fang Xiu casually picked up the Luoyang shovel and drew an incomplete circle around Fourth Master’s pile of flesh. Then, he removed the hair ring from his finger and buried it at the missing corner of the circle.

With only one arm left to work with, Fang Xiu’s movements were a bit clumsy, but his expression remained focused. Despite the rain soaking the paper money at his feet and the wails of evil spirits nearby, none of it seemed to matter.

“Bai Shuangying, the best part of the show is about to begin. Want to enjoy it with some snacks?” Fang Xiu asked cheerfully after finishing his task.

Bai Shuangying accepted the invitation. With a flick of his hand, he pulled Fourth Master’s soul out and found a nearby gravestone to sit on. The soul transformed into three milky-white orbs, which Bai Shuangying held in his arms as if cradling popcorn, ready to watch a movie.

He tore off a small piece and popped it into his mouth, savoring the rich flavor, realizing that Fourth Master must have carried the weight of many lives and blood debts.

“Delicious,” Bai Shuangying said with a pleased smile.

“Eat as much as you want. There’s plenty more where that came from,” Fang Xiu said, wiping his nose, looking quite content.

Then, turning to Cheng Songyun, he said, “Cheng Jie, touch the corpse’s hand. The item should be nearby.”

Cheng Songyun, barely able to think, mechanically obeyed.

As soon as her hand touched the corpse, she realized something was wrong. The skeleton’s shoulder joint had an odd fork, and near the neckbone, there was a noticeable growth, like an underdeveloped skull. And indeed, in the hands of the skeleton, she found something.

The corpse’s three hands were clasped together at the chest, as if the deceased had been holding it with great care at the moment of death. What she found was an icy-cold bead, about the size of a marble, blackish-red in color, dirty, and completely dull.

Even without any knowledge of metaphysics, Cheng Songyun could feel that this object was special.

…This was the “E” of Weishan Village.

Right, she had to destroy the “E” quickly.

Cheng Songyun lifted the Luoyang shovel and brought it down hard on the bead. There was a sharp sound, but the shovel merely vibrated in her hands, and the bead remained completely unscathed, not even showing the slightest mark.

Fang Xiu approached the bewildered Cheng Songyun, bent down, and picked up the bead. He examined it closely and even sniffed it.

“Well done, kid—!” Shan Hunzi laughed wickedly upon seeing that the “E” had been found. “I knew you were up to something! Nicely done, really nice!”

He pulled out a strip of cloth covered in scriptures and casually threw it into the air. The cloth unraveled and formed a glowing golden protective circle. The vengeful spirits outside tried to breach it, but they were repeatedly repelled by the glowing light.

“This Silk of Merits can hold them off for half an hour. Now, give it to me,” Shan Hunzi said, extending his hand. “To destroy the ‘E’, you have to understand its true form before you can take the right action. We don’t have time for research, but I’ve got a Samadhi True Fire talisman that can burn it up.”

“No,” Fang Xiu refused flatly. “Fourth Master was in such a rush to destroy the ‘E’ himself. That must mean there’s some benefit to doing it personally.”

Shan Hunzi’s eyes flickered, and he suddenly changed the topic. “Alright, then explain what just happened. According to you, the mutated people weren’t live sacrifices, but the Gods of Weishan… How did they become the Gods of Weishan?”

“Mai Zi shared survival tips with us, Doctor provided food and treatment, and Cheng Jie always stood up to protect others… They all insisted on being kind to others, and then they transformed to look like the gods,” Fang Xiu explained confidently. “If something looks like a god, acts like a god, and bad things happen when you offend it, then isn’t it a god?”

Shan Hunzi: “?”

Wait, the statue of the god looked like that, and you just assumed they were good gods?

“Apparently, becoming a God of Weishan isn’t that complicated. You just have to accumulate virtue. The shrine has that couplet, ‘Refrain from all evil, and practice all good deeds.’” Fang Xiu paused. “The spirits here reverently worship the gods, so to the ‘E’, the concept of the God of Weishan is crucial… Cheng Jie and the others didn’t break any taboos, so they became part of the taboo itself.”

Shan Hunzi chewed over his words but couldn’t detect any deceit.

So, becoming a god was about accumulating virtue? No wonder Fang Xiu was so keen on letting Cheng Songyun become a god. This kid hadn’t done much good at all, and even he, a seasoned villain, was a bit taken aback by Fang Xiu’s behavior.

Thinking this, Shan Hunzi glanced surreptitiously at the protective circle, noted that the spirits’ attacks had weakened his talisman, and the golden glow was growing dim.

He shifted his gaze back to Cheng Songyun. “But what about the ‘offending the God of Weishan’ part? Nothing happened when Fourth Master pushed her.”

“Cheng Jie is indeed a God of Weishan,” Fang Xiu said. “But so is the one buried in that grave.”

Shan Hunzi was shocked. “Even the dead ones count? But I took Mai Zi’s weapons back then…”

“The ‘E’ operates on strict rules and can’t distinguish intent. It only recognizes actions like discarding gifts, arson, or theft as inherently rude and offensive.”

Fang Xiu looked at the open coffin. Rain was soaking the skeleton inside, making the bones wet and shiny.

“Mai Zi wasn’t buried. You took her weapons but didn’t disturb the corpse. The ‘E’ couldn’t tell if it was theft or you helping to clean up her remains. That kind of ambiguous action doesn’t violate the taboo.”

“But digging up graves and exposing corpses definitely does.”

At the mention of “grave digging”, Cheng Songyun shivered.

“It’s okay, Cheng Jie,” Fang Xiu reassured her. “Even when Doctor cut off his own limbs, nothing happened. The God of Weishan comes with exemptions.”

“But we can’t destroy the ‘E’. It’s indestructible. What do we do now…?” Cheng Songyun was in disbelief that the two of them could still chat so calmly while the vengeful spirits outside were furiously attacking the protective circle. After just five or six minutes, the golden light of the cloth was already fading.

Old Man Fu clung to the edge of the protective circle, barely ten paces away from them. The cracks on his face had turned into large holes, and the characters for “Blessing” on his robes had changed from black to bright red.

“The Blessing have fallen—” he wailed in a piercing voice.

“We have to hurry!” Cheng Songyun couldn’t bear to look anymore and urged Fang Xiu.

But Fang Xiu acted as if he hadn’t heard her. He rubbed the jade Buddha on his chest and continued his conversation with Shan Hunzi. “Since we still have time, I’ve got two questions for you. In exchange, I’ll let you handle the ‘E’.”

Shan Hunzi cursed under his breath.

If not for Fang Xiu wearing that jade Buddha and Cheng Songyun being protected by the taboo, he would have already killed them both. But now, he couldn’t touch either of them and had no choice but to negotiate.

No matter. He had already made his plans.

He’d said the protective talisman would last half an hour, but it wouldn’t hold out for even fifteen minutes. Once the barrier collapsed without warning, Fang Xiu would have no choice but to hand over the ‘E’ to survive.

Lying tricksters like this brat needed to have their rhythm disrupted and be given no time to think.

“First question: Why are the spirits so obsessed with mimicking the villagers?” Fang Xiu asked calmly, unfazed by the impending danger.

Fang Xiu still cared about that? Shan Hunzi thought. Perfect, just the distraction he needed.

“For humans to ascend to immortality, they must cultivate virtue. For ghosts to ascend, they must cultivate an ‘E’. Spirits can’t follow the righteous path, so they have to rely on what already exists.”

“The ‘E’ is like the finest spiritual artifact. If it doesn’t recognize you as its master, it’s useless. But if it does, you can use it however you want.”

Shan Hunzi glanced at the protective circle again, deliberately slowing his speech.

“Spirits can’t understand human nature, so they can’t grasp the true cause and effect of the ‘E’. That’s why they strictly follow its rules, painstakingly acting their parts. The first one to be fully accepted by the ‘E’ will ascend to become a ghost immortal.”

“So, the spirits are all pretending to be the dutiful children, hoping to inherit the old man’s estate?” Fang Xiu asked.

Shan Hunzi: “……”

Shan Hunzi: “Something like that.”

Fang Xiu chuckled. “So it’s a scam. No wonder they’re so angry.”

After all, Old Man Fu had tricked his way into becoming the village chief. He must’ve put a lot of effort into it. Cutting off someone’s path to immortality is like killing their parents, and in this case, it was cutting off their divine ascension.

“Second question: Once the ‘E’ is destroyed, will the survivors be protected by the underworld? These spirits don’t look like they’ll let us off easily.”

“There’s definitely protection. These bodies are specially made by the underworld, like disposable spiritual vessels.”

Since it was about what happened after the ‘E’ was destroyed, Shan Hunzi saw no point in lying.

“As soon as the ‘E’ is gone, the bodies will activate, and no spirit will be able to harm us.”

“Thanks for the answers. But since you set me up from the start, trying to force me to hand over the ‘E’, I won’t be giving it to you.”

Fang Xiu smiled. “And stop staring at the protective circle. It’s pointless. I know how to destroy the ‘E’.”

Shan Hunzi’s gaze hardened. “Kid, this ‘E’ destroyed the entire Weishan Village. Its core must be incredibly evil. What makes you think a newbie like you can destroy it barehanded?”

Something’s wrong. Shan Hunzi thought, What has Fang Xiu figured out?

Shan Hunzi desperately tried to recall every detail. From the three taboos to the eerie atmosphere of the festival. The couplets in the shrines were more terrifying each time, and the spirits along the way grew more and more sinister… Fang Xiu’s lies to Fourth Master were half-truths. There had to be a clue in his words…

“Don’t bother thinking about it.”

Fang Xiu toyed with the round ‘E’ in his hands, his gaze sweeping over the furious Old Man Fu just a few paces away.

“You and Fourth Master assumed a tragedy happened in Weishan Village, believing the brightest ‘Eastern Shrine’ was the beginning and the darkest ‘Southern Shrine’ was the end. But from the very start, you had the direction reversed.”

“I just played along with your assumptions and spun the truth ‘upside down’. That’s all.”

Fang Xiu’s smiling gaze shifted to Bai Shuangying.

Under Bai Shuangying’s curious watch, Fang Xiu slowly raised the ‘E’ to his mouth and bit down gently.

Crunch.

“It really is candy,” Fang Xiu muttered. “Strawberry-flavored.”

He had caught a faint scent of artificial flavor earlier. The inheritance of a beautiful story, after all, wouldn’t be too bad.

As Old Man Fu roared in shock and anger, the ‘E’ shattered in Fang Xiu’s mouth. A violent storm of dark energy erupted from him, pinning everyone in place.

The wind whipped up the books and papers inside the coffin, and one decayed piece of paper was caught by the gust, flying out of the coffin.

Bai Shuangying remained seated on the gravestone, his long hair unmoved by the storm. He lowered his head, watching the burial paper drift down.

It landed in the mud, slowly soaking through with rainwater. The words were slightly smudged, but the contents were still readable.

You know that mountain spirits are also gods. At the foot of Weishan, the trees grow dense and somber.

Pitiful abandoned children, discarded like an old shoe, ascends to immortality, dressed in blue robes.

The village’s boys and girls are its guests, honored ones inside and outside the shrine.

Upholding virtue and punishing evil with clear judgment, and henceforth, justice is seen in the hearts of men.

—A gift from Village Chief Sun Ruyi to the God of Weishan.

Fang Xiu saw this poem in another way.

The moment he bit down on the ‘E’, the countless karmic threads it carried rushed into his mind—its creation, its memories, and the day everything began.

For a moment, Fang Xiu could hear the cicadas of midsummer.

---

<<< || Table of Contents || >>>

Author: 年终 / Nian Zhong

Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/

---

Chapter 23: The Western Cemetery

When Cheng Songyun pushed the door open and came out, she looked completely dazed. Seeing her unharmed, Shan Hunzi let out a surprised sound, while Fourth Master thoughtfully stroked his chin.

As the three men watched, Cheng Songyun stammered through a description of the situation inside the shrine. While she spoke, she kept glancing at Fang Xiu, but he remained silent.

He appeared deep in thought, fingers subtly playing with the edge of Bai Shuangying’s sleeve. In reality, he was pondering a curious problem.

Bai Shuangying’s clothing transformed along with him from a non-Newtonian fluid into human form, which explained its strange texture. Since the clothes were part of Bai Shuangying, did they have any sense of touch?

Fang Xiu pinched the sleeve lightly. Bai Shuangying didn’t react.

He pinched it again, and still no response.

On the third pinch, Bai Shuangying wordlessly reached out and pinched Fang Xiu’s earlobe in return.

…Apparently, there was some sensation after all. The study of spirits was truly fascinating, Fang Xiu thought.

“Ha!” Fourth Master suddenly clapped his hands. “I’ve figured out the third taboo.”

Shan Hunzi: “Not many of us left, so share it quickly.”

Manpower was indeed scarce, and after hesitating for a couple of seconds, Fourth Master decided to speak.

“I heard that during mountain god rituals, people have to imitate the god’s appearance.”

Fourth Master pointed at Cheng Songyun. “She’s transformed to look like the god’s image, which must mean she’s been marked as a ‘live sacrifice’. Live sacrifices belong to the God of Weishan, so Old Man Fu wouldn’t dare harm her.”

Shan Hunzi: “How does that work?”

“The third taboo is that you can’t harm a live sacrifice,” Fourth Master said solemnly.

Fang Xiu gave a small, surprised cough, blinking his eyes.

“That guy surname Fang said that ‘guests’ who slack off in their duties are chosen as live sacrifices. We don’t know much about the woman, but Doctor was sloppy in his duties, and this one just messed up our food supplies. Every one of them is useless.”

Fourth Master continued.

“And remember, the woman was stabbed through the heart, and Doctor hanged himself. If they had violated the taboos, they would have died the same way. But in fact, the person who stabbed the woman had the strangest death. She turned into a pile of flesh. That’s because he violated the taboo by harming a live sacrifice.”

“…It all fits. It all makes sense! It’s definitely the resentment of the live sacrifices that created the ‘E’!”

Fourth Master got more and more worked up, spitting as he spoke. “Damn it, I finally figured out the cause and effect!”

Fang Xiu muttered, “But wasn’t there a rule about protecting the villagers…?”

“Protect?” Fourth Master sneered at him. “The villagers here survive by snatching offerings meant for the God of Weishan. The ‘E’ outlawed stealing and fighting, so they can’t take from others. To eat, they have to commit sacrilege.”

“How ruthless. It’s only because these spirits don’t eat human food that we were thrown off track.”

Shan Hunzi chuckled. “If that’s the case, then the western cemetery is the closest to Weishan, full of yin energy, making it the perfect place for live sacrifices. If we reach the end of the west without encountering a ghost wall…”

“Then that proves the ‘E’ is in the cemetery,” Fourth Master said, waving his hand. “Let’s go. I know how to break the ghost wall.”

“Amazing.”

Shan Hunzi grinned, his small eyes gleaming.

“But since Miss Cheng has revealed her transformed body and cleared the challenge in front of Old Man Fu, once we break the ghost wall, Old Man Fu will know we’ve made a discovery.”

“At that point, it’ll come after us without hesitation. There’ll be no turning back.”

“Why? Aren’t they supposed to mimic the villagers?” Fang Xiu, who had been enjoying the conversation from the sidelines, finally spoke.

Shan Hunzi glanced at him with a sly smile. “I can’t tell you for free.”

Fang Xiu: “……”

Damn, getting hit with his own trick actually stung a bit.

But no worries. Shan Hunzi would volunteer the answer soon enough.

……

They reached the western edge without encountering any spirits. At the end of the ghost wall was nothing but an empty void. There was no shrine, no ghost stalls, and no cemetery in sight.

Cheng Songyun, struggling to adjust to her new limbs, was panting. “Isn’t the west supposed to be the most dangerous?”

Fang Xiu moved closer with a serious expression, causing Cheng Songyun to shiver and perk up her ears.

Fang Xiu said, “Cheng Jie, you don’t play video games much, do you?”

Fang Xiu continued, “In most games, when you reach a map without minor enemies, players call that the ‘boss room’.”

Cheng Songyun: “……”

We haven’t talked for this long, and this is what you wanted to say?

She looked anxiously into the darkness. Shan Hunzi had been right: once they broke through the ghost wall, Old Man Fu wouldn’t let them off.

Fang Xiu’s live offering theory was a lie, and any deductions based on it by Fourth Master must also be wrong.

…Was it really okay to proceed so recklessly?

“You go first,” Fourth Master said, pushing Cheng Songyun forward. “The rest of you grab her clothes and follow.”

Fang Xiu obediently grabbed onto her with his one good arm.

Cheng Songyun sighed quietly, steeling herself as she stepped into the darkness.

Sure enough, the ghost wall didn’t hinder a “noble live sacrifice”. After only a few steps, the scenery opened up before them.

They had reached the cemetery of Weishan Village.

With the endless rain, the cemetery looked especially gloomy. The gravestones were crowded together, surrounded by wild grass and mud. In the distance, Weishan loomed faintly through the rain, casting an oppressive shadow over everything.

The moment they stepped into the cemetery, a piercing, furious shriek echoed from above the village.

Fang Xiu recognized the voice. It was Old Man Fu.

“We’ve been discovered. Move, move, move!”

Fourth Master pulled them through the dense gravestones, heading straight for the far western side of the cemetery.

Here, closest to Weishan, stood a row of arched gravestones. Some were new, others old, and the inscriptions were all blank.

They blended in with the varied village gravestones, nothing particularly remarkable. Last time Fang Xiu had visited the cemetery, he’d only noticed them after careful observation.

“I saw these before. The people buried here don’t have names, so they must be the ‘guests’.”

Fourth Master pointed to ten gravestones. “…These are the ones for the live sacrifices.”

Compared to the other unnamed gravestones, these ten were noticeably taller and more intricately crafted.

“Live sacrifices belong to the god, and the villagers wouldn’t touch their belongings. The ‘E’ must be inside the coffins.” Fourth Master quickly explained and shoved Cheng Songyun. “Start digging from the newest one, hurry!”

The third taboo prohibited harming live sacrifices, so no new ones could be buried.

Everything aligned perfectly with his theory, and Fourth Master’s face flushed with excitement.

The ghostly wails above Weishan Village continued as Cheng Songyun hesitated, unsure if continuing like this was really wise.

“Hurry up, Cheng Jie. Time is running out, and following orders is probably your best option.” This time, Fang Xiu looked directly into her eyes.

Cheng Songyun took a deep breath and started digging with her hands.

Yin energy surged in the cemetery as malicious spirits lunged at them. In the distance, larger ghostly figures began to gather.

Fourth Master raised his arm guard, deflecting attacking spirits, while Shan Hunzi muttered incantations, summoning headless ghosts from the ground to protect the other side.

Fang Xiu… Fang Xiu was leaning against Bai Shuangying, watching Cheng Songyun dig.

Cheng Songyun: “……”

Bai Shuangying: “……”

Fang Xiu whispered to Bai Shuangying, “See, sometimes it’s good to be a little injured.”

Cheng Songyun’s hand-digging was slow. Shan Hunzi pulled a yellow paper talisman from his pocket, blew on it, and it turned into two spades.

“You two, use these!” he said, tossing them to Cheng Songyun and Fang Xiu.

Fang Xiu didn’t take one.

His face pale, voice weak, he looked like he might collapse any second. “Sorry, my shoulder is dislocated, and it hurts too much to use my strength…”

Shan Hunzi: “……”

Bai Shuangying: “……”

Fang Xiu whispered again to Bai Shuangying, “You see? We’ve got the perfect seats to watch this show.”

Bai Shuangying pursed his lips. Being around Fang Xiu often gave him the odd feeling that his conscience was aching. Thankfully, he didn’t have one, and clearly, neither did Fang Xiu.

And so, the once-quiet cemetery grew lively.

The sound of piercing suonas grew closer, blood-stained paper money fluttering through the air. The spirits around them crawled forward, seemingly abandoning their pretense of “mimicking villagers”.

The spirits attacking them were growing stronger. Fourth Master’s arm guard could no longer deflect them, forcing him to chop them down with his peachwood sword. Shan Hunzi’s headless ghosts were torn apart by the horde, and the ones he summoned grew fewer and fewer.

The spirits only increased in number. Fourth Master and Shan Hunzi were sweating, retreating as they fought, while the safe zone behind them shrank.

Fang Xiu could see Old Man Fu’s suona troupe in the distance approaching from all sides, surrounding the entire cemetery. Under Old Man Fu’s lead, the spirits were closing in fast.

The time was right.

Fang Xiu lifted his eyelids and walked over to Cheng Songyun.

With the spade, Cheng Songyun was digging much faster now. The coffin wasn’t buried deep, and soon the lid was revealed.

It was one of the clay coffins they had seen before, though much larger. With no time to think, Cheng Songyun pried the lid open.

Inside was a curled-up skeleton.

The body was sitting, legs pulled up to the chest, now long since reduced to white bones.

Surrounding the bones were dried branches, withered flowers, and shriveled fruits. Scattered among them were everyday items like pencils and books. There was no sign of any special artifacts. It was just an ordinary grave.

Seeing that the grave had been opened without incident, Fourth Master pushed Shan Hunzi aside and rushed to the coffin.

He shoved Cheng Songyun out of the way, reaching inside.

What happened next all took place in an instant.

Shan Hunzi turned his head to look at Fourth Master, just as Fourth Master grabbed the skull.

Fang Xiu, who had been prepared, reached out with his right hand toward Fourth Master.

Cheng Songyun lost her balance and fell to the ground.

…There was a muffled thud as Cheng Songyun landed on the ground.

The next second, she was splattered with warm, fresh blood and chunks of flesh.

Shan Hunzi’s eyes widened, and Fang Xiu’s lips curled into a smile. He was holding onto the necklace with five jade Buddhas that had been around Fourth Master’s neck.

Fourth Master had vanished, leaving behind only a mess of flesh and fragments of his magical weapons.

Time seemed to freeze. Rain gently pattered onto the remains.

“I told you before, they wanted to use me to test the taboos, so I used them to test them instead.”

Fang Xiu put on the jade Buddhas and smiled at Bai Shuangying. “Finally, I’ve completed my test.”

“The first taboo: no food or water in the village may be consumed, except offerings.”

“The second taboo: no harm may come to the villagers, except in self-defense.”

“And… the third taboo: do not offend the God of Weishan, except for the Mountain God itself.”

---

The author has something to say:

Farewell, Fourth Master. The Jade Buddha group has met its end (cue dramatic suona music).

This arc is about to conclude, and the truth of Weishan Village and the true nature of our main couple will be revealed one by one—

---

<<< || Table of Contents || >>>

Author: 年终 / Nian Zhong

Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/

---

Chapter 22: Ascension to Immortality

Of the four remaining, Cheng Songyun was the most inconspicuous. Fourth Master packed up the offerings and ordered her to carry them. Fang Xiu, however, didn’t make things difficult for her, casually grabbing a handful of candies for himself.

“Whatever they assign to you, just mess it up once, naturally,” he said nonchalantly while picking out the candies.

…This was Fang Xiu’s first instruction.

Crash!

At this moment, as she saw the coffins, Cheng Songyun feigned being startled and immediately dropped the food bundle. A can of preserved fruit smashed, its syrup soaking the red cloth. The wet stain darkened, resembling blood.

Fortunately, Fourth Master was too busy examining the coffins, so he just cursed a few times without investigating further.

Fang Xiu, on the other hand, was observing closely.

The coffins were made of clay, painted black, and inscribed with mantras for the dead. They were shaped like small buckets, not very large. Among the four of them, only Cheng Songyun, who was under 1.6 meters tall, could squeeze in with the corpse parts.

As for the three men, they’d have to break their limbs to fit in… Were they really supposed to get in?

“Get in, get in!”

Fang Xiu had a bad feeling, and sure enough, the spirits were closing in, encircling them tightly.

Fang Xiu stepped forward to measure the coffin. Though he was on the thin side, his broad shoulders would get stuck.

“Get in, get in!”

The spirits pressed closer, their voices growing more urgent, making it clear that if they didn’t get in, the spirits would “help” them.

“Just get in already,” Shan Hunzi said. “The lids aren’t sealed, so they won’t bury us alive. Look at the situation. It’s easier to get in than to refuse.”

After saying that, he chuckled, his joints cracking audibly. Shan Hunzi folded himself quickly, managing to squeeze into the coffin with the corpse parts.

“Enter the coffin. Don’t resist…”

The spirits covered the lid, but they didn’t do anything else.

After confirming the situation with Fang Xiu, Cheng Songyun also climbed into a coffin. She was small, so the process wasn’t too difficult.

“Enter the coffin. Don’t resist…”

Another lid closed.

In the blink of an eye, only Fang Xiu and Fourth Master were left outside, and the spirits pressed even closer. They smiled sinisterly, just an arm’s length away.

Fourth Master glanced around, gritting his teeth as he pulled out a yellow talisman, slapping it onto his forehead. In the next moment, his body shrank, becoming half its original size.

Miniaturized, Fourth Master struggled to carry the corpse parts into a coffin.

“Enter the coffin. Don’t resist…”

Before the lid closed, Fourth Master shot Fang Xiu a mocking look.

Now, only Fang Xiu was left, surrounded by spirits who stared at him intensely, their faces almost touching his.

Fang Xiu: “……”

Fang Xiu: “It’s nice to have props.”

Bai Shuangying hummed in agreement. He did have a spell for this situation. He could turn Fang Xiu into a pile of flesh and pour him into the coffin. Restoring him would be a bit of a hassle, though.

“Bai Shuangying, we’re friends, right?”

“We are,” Bai Shuangying replied, slightly raising his head, waiting for Fang Xiu to plead for help.

“…Can I lean on you for a moment?” Fang Xiu said.

Bai Shuangying: “?”

Fang Xiu took that as consent, moving closer and burying his face into Bai Shuangying’s shoulder.

Crack.

With a dull sound, Fang Xiu shifted his right arm, and his shoulder joint dislocated with a pop. His left arm went limp, hanging loosely by his side.

His whole body tensed up, followed by a slight, restrained shiver. Other than quick, shallow breaths, he made no other sound.

Bai Shuangying stood still, letting Fang Xiu’s weight rest against him.

When Fang Xiu raised his head again, his expression was composed. His face, however, was deathly pale, and sweat covered his forehead.

This time, Bai Shuangying didn’t feel underestimated.

He couldn’t tell if Fang Xiu genuinely thought he was weak or if he just wasn’t used to relying on others.

“Finally done.” Fang Xiu climbed into the coffin, struggling to fit his dislocated shoulder inside. “Hide yourself outside… Bai Shuangying?!”

Before the lid could close, Bai Shuangying, expressionless, jumped into the coffin with him.

Thump.

As soon as Bai Shuangying entered, he dissolved once more, his distorted form filling every gap like a liquid, perfectly fitting the coffin.

Fang Xiu was submerged in an instant.

The sensation was peculiar. It reminded him of his childhood. His father would drive while his mother held him in the backseat. With the car window halfway open, he’d secretly extend his hand outside, feeling the wind rush past.

It wasn’t quite water, but something similar, with a faint solid texture. Light, dry, and slightly cool.

Bai Shuangying, by comparison, was much colder.

The entity called “Bai Shuangying” enveloped him completely. It flowed into his ears and mouth, but unlike liquid, it didn’t break apart. Fang Xiu could feel it moving inside his throat, flowing down his esophagus and trachea.

It felt like drowning, and he instinctively wanted to cough but realized he wasn’t suffocating.

Though his shoulder was still dislocated, the pain seemed distant. It was a numbness akin to death, coupled with a strange sense of weightlessness. Fang Xiu curled up like a baby, letting himself be submerged, as if accepting a twisted embrace.

An embrace, deformed from the inside out.

[Your left arm is useless now.] Bai Shuangying’s voice tickled his mind.

His ghost had followed him into the coffin and clearly had something to say.

[It’s fine,] Fang Xiu thought. [I’ve noticed something. Neither Fourth Master’s group nor Shan Hunzi have any old or fresh wounds.]

[I’m guessing when we return to the Disaster Relief Tower, all injuries will vanish. There’s no restroom there, and the food is all offerings. The underworld has likely only captured our living souls, and these bodies are temporary vessels.]

Bai Shuangying: [That’s correct.]

[You knew from the start?] Fang Xiu bit down gently on the fluid in his mouth. It was soft and flavorless.

[You never asked,] Bai Shuangying replied indifferently. [Even if these bodies are temporary, if you die, you’ll still die. Our interests are tied, so don’t be reckless.]

[One arm is enough. I know my limits. I won’t drag you down.] Fang Xiu quickly reassured him.

[Mm.]

……

After a long, bumpy ride, the coffin lid opened, and the sudden light made Fang Xiu squint.

Bai Shuangying gracefully flowed out of the coffin, resuming his elegant ghostly form. Fang Xiu pulled himself up with one arm, letting out a deep breath.

“Thank goodness you can return to normal on your own,” he said sincerely. “I was worried I’d have to wring you out of my clothes…”

Bai Shuangying turned away, ignoring him.

Fang Xiu moved his body. The pain from his injuries slowly returned, though the worst part had already passed.

“Thanks for earlier,” Fang Xiu said.

Bai Shuangying frowned. “There’s nothing to thank me for. Your injuries remain unchanged. Don’t misjudge the situation.”

His ghost’s emotions were always straightforward. Fang Xiu could tell Bai Shuangying wasn’t concerned about his injuries. He was warning him not to act rashly, lest they both end up in trouble.

Bai Shuangying’s attitude toward Fang Xiu had always been like a human treating a stray cat, and not even the kind-hearted type of human.

If he was in a good mood, he’d pet the cat for fun. If not, he found the cat a nuisance.

One thing was certain: no matter how dire the cat’s situation, Bai Shuangying would never take it home. Even if it died, he’d only regret it for a few minutes… or a few seconds?

“…The flower.” Suddenly, Bai Shuangying stretched out his hand toward Fang Xiu.

Fang Xiu: “?”

“The paper flower is still at the bottom of the coffin. Pick it up,” Bai Shuangying said. “Our temple fair isn’t over yet.”

Fang Xiu’s eyes curved into a smile. “Alright.”

…He knew evil spirits lacked human hearts and that they could never truly be friends. But moments like these were enough to satisfy Fang Xiu.

…It’s fun to tease an agreeable human. Who says a stray cat always wants to go home?

After helping Bai Shuangying put the flower back on, Fang Xiu stepped out of the coffin and looked toward the shrine before them, which was theoretically, the last shrine—the southern shrine.

The shrine’s doors were wide open, but the inside was eerily dark.

A tall, thin figure stood in the center of the shrine, holding a red candle, which was the sole source of light.

The fire illuminated a face that was almost human but not quite. The pale white face had curved slits for eyes and a mouth that curved downward, nearly forming a semicircle.

It was Old Man Fu.

He stood in the middle of the shrine, as if welcoming them. Strangely, just before they left, he had still been sitting in front of the opera stage, watching the show.

Old Man Fu blocked most of the candlelight. Behind him, a couplet hung in the shadows, but only the first word could be faintly made out…

[Pitiful ■■■■■]

[Ascends ■■■■■]

Everything outside the candlelight was shrouded in darkness. They couldn’t see what else was in the shrine. Fourth Master, ever cautious, pulled out his copper gourd. This time, the gourd’s mouth pointed directly away from the shrine, almost as if it were screaming that the shrine was ominous.

“Fuck,” Fourth Master cursed under his breath, then turned toward Cheng Songyun.

“You… What the fuck!!”

Shan Hunzi turned as well, eyebrows raised.

Cheng Songyun was standing awkwardly, with a new arm growing from her left armpit and two deformed legs sprouting from her waist. Her neck had swelled, and a second head, about the size of an apple, was now fully protruding, complete with facial features and hair.

Seeing their reactions, Cheng Songyun panicked and looked helplessly at Fang Xiu.

Hadn’t Fang Xiu said Bai Shuangying was great at hiding things, and that she wouldn’t be exposed?

Fang Xiu didn’t meet her gaze. Instead, he cradled his injured arm and backed away, pretending to be shocked and frightened.

Deception again, Cheng Songyun realized. She bit her lip and lowered her head, saying nothing.

“It’s your turn. Get in there,” Fourth Master hissed, taking a sharp breath. “Damn it, what shitty luck.”

Shan Hunzi circled Cheng Songyun, frowning. “I’ve been paying attention. This woman hasn’t done anything unusual. Maybe we should keep her around for questioning and let Brother* Fang go first?”

*Little brother [Xiao Xongdi] (小兄弟). This is often use among cultivators/practitioners rather than didi (弟弟). 

“No!” Cheng Songyun blurted out. “I’ll go, I’ll go! If Fang Xiu gets hurt, I won’t tell you anything!”

She glanced at Fang Xiu again, but he didn’t stop her. He merely twitched his lips, as if he had fully expected her reaction.

Fang Xiu had said he’d guarantee her survival.

Cheng Songyun didn’t quite believe it. But if Fang Xiu could stay alive and find the “E”, then everyone could be saved, even if she was used in the process.

With three pairs of eyes watching her, Cheng Songyun stepped into the shrine. The moment her foot crossed the threshold, the door slammed shut.

The moment Cheng Songyun’s deformed body entered the shrine, the smile on Old Man Fu’s face vanished. He stood still, as shadows twisted around him and the temperature dropped sharply.

Cheng Songyun shrank back, quickly scanning the room.

The tables on either side were piled with paper. The walls were covered in white sheets, each with an inverted “Blessing” character. The couplet was right in front of her, and she finally saw the full words…

[Pitiful abandoned children, discarded like worn-out shoes.]

[Ascends to immortality, dressed in blue robes.]

After confirming the situation, Cheng Songyun turned and bolted for the exit.

A fierce wind swept through the shrine, rustling the papers on the walls. The candle in Old Man Fu’s hand turned blue, and his joints creaked as his face twisted into a grotesque grimace, with the slits for eyes curving downward and the mouth curving upward in a mournful expression.

“The Blessing has fallen,” Old Man Fu repeated coldly, as if casting a curse.

“The Blessing has fallen, the Blessing has fallen, the Blessing—has—fallen—”

But even as Cheng Songyun fled, he did nothing, glaring venomously at her retreating back.

It was as if he feared something.

---

The author has something to say:

Bai Shuangying: Just for fun, no way I’ll actually take care of him.

Fang Xiu: I won’t follow him home.

No, you’ll follow him home, and you’ll even end up in bed together (…

————————————

Cheng Jie successfully clears the stage, and next chapter, the big reveal begins!

---

<<< || Table of Contents || >>>

Author: 年终 / Nian Zhong

Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/

---

Chapter 21: The Southern Shrine

The madman continued to bang his head against the wall as if he hadn’t heard Fang Xiu’s words.

Fang Xiu remained calm and continued, “You’ve been watching us from the very first day. You’re the one who stole Mai Zi’s magic weapon.”

“You’ve been pretending to be crazy, waiting for the right moment. You knew that with us here, Fourth Master wouldn’t only use you. He even said himself that using a sane person is more useful than a madman when it comes to risky tasks.”

Fourth Master’s expression darkened. Cheng Songyun nearly choked on her canned food. “W-what?”

Bang, bang, bang. The madman kept ignoring them.

“I’m not bluffing.”

Fang Xiu scratched his head. “On the first night, I noticed something spying on us in the warehouse. If it was Fourth Master’s trick, he would’ve used it earlier to scout the shrine. And with all of Old Man Fu’s spies around, he wouldn’t be so obvious.”

“As for the stolen weapon… If Fourth Master did it, he’d have kept it all on him. He values his life too much. And if Old Man Fu did it, he would’ve taken the copper coin sword too. It wouldn’t have been any trouble to snatch it.”

“Besides, you let Fourth Master capture you, which means you have confidence in your survival. So I’m guessing you’re stronger than him.”

“Trying to fool me…”

Before the madman could react, Fourth Master lost his temper and kicked at the madman’s back, but the madman effortlessly dodged.

The madman was no longer pretending to be crazy. He straightened his back, clasped his hands behind him, and blood from banging his head still dripped from his forehead.

“A bit hasty, young man. Old Man Fu isn’t exactly rational. Why are you so sure?”

Fang Xiu: “There’s a 70% chance it’s you, 30% it’s Old Man Fu. It doesn’t cost me anything to try.”

The madman let out a long “Oh.”

“I’m really not bluffing.” Fang Xiu scratched his face in embarrassment. “I’m just bluffing Fourth Master. As long as he doubts you, it works.”

Fourth Master: “……”

Fourth Master tugged at the chain. “Surname Fang, since you’ve exposed him, I’ll let you off this time.”

The madman smiled, clenched his right fist, and wiped it across the spirit-binding chain. The chain instantly shattered into sparks and disappeared into his fist.

Fourth Master stepped back two paces in shock. Cheng Songyun stared in disbelief, nearly dropping her can of food.

Fang Xiu held his breath, his back tensing up again.

“Quite a gamble, young man. If you’d been wrong, I’d have been beaten for nothing,” the madman said lazily.

Fang Xiu quickly shook his head. “That wouldn’t happen. Old Man Fu and you have a 70-30 chance of being guilty, but you? You’re 100% suspicious.”

“How so?”

Fang Xiu: “I can’t tell you that for free.”

“Fair enough. I’ll make sure to ask later.”

The madman walked to the offering table and tore off a piece of pig’s ear. “I’m a half-baked Daoist. The name’s Shan Hunzi.”

Fourth Master sneered. “There’s no place for the metaphysics among the sacrifices.”

“I told you I’m half-baked. I’m self-taught, not a professional.” Shan Hunzi said, “I planned to wait a little longer before revealing myself, but this works too…”

The shrine became lively.

Bai Shuangying watched with great interest, entirely unconcerned about the madman. His experience of all this was utterly immersive.

Throughout the journey, Fourth Master grew increasingly wary of Fang Xiu. But now, his guard was fully up against Shan Hunzi.

The situation had quietly shifted. Someone had chosen just the right moment to expose the madman, and Bai Shuangying glanced over at Fang Xiu.

Sensing his ghost’s gaze, Fang Xiu turned and mouthed the words…

[Fun, right?]

Meanwhile, Shan Hunzi smiled as if nothing had happened. “The ritual is almost over. No point in infighting… So, got any clues?”

“To hell with your ancestors!” Fourth Master, having lost his chain, was still fuming.

“Why are you so mad? You’ve got no baggage left. Why not learn from me?” Shan Hunzi shook his head with a grin. “Take some hardship early on and make your move toward the end of the ritual. By then, all the useless ones will be dead, and you’ll know the survivors’ temperaments. Much smoother.”

Fourth Master’s eyes were bloodshot as he glared at Shan Hunzi.

Unbothered, Shan Hunzi turned to Fang Xiu. “What do you think? You’ve got a sharper mind than this brute.”

“You go first, Senior. I wouldn’t want to show off,” Fang Xiu replied politely.

Shan Hunzi took a bite of the pig’s ear. “Hmm, I figure the southern shrine’s the most dangerous, and there’s probably no shrine to the west.”

“The east and north shrines are about the same distance from the real shrine. But to the west, there’s a graveyard. A place that honors its gods wouldn’t build a shrine in a graveyard.”

Fang Xiu: “I also think there’s no shrine to the west.”

Shan Hunzi: “But we still have to go check. We need to figure out the origin of all this to understand what the ‘E’ really is.”

“And the shrine couplets?” Fang Xiu asked.

“I can’t stand that fancy poetic stuff,” Shan Hunzi said, grimacing. “The couplets mean something, sure, but they were probably written by the villagers, and the spirits are just using them for decoration. Remember, the ritual is about what happens, not what’s written.”

Fang Xiu: “Got it. And the third taboo?”

“It’s related to the God of Weishan. Those two bodies look like the statues, but I’m not sure what triggers it.” Shan Hunzi waved his hand. “Your turn.”

Fang Xiu sighed. “I… I’m too tired today. My mind’s a mess.”

Shan Hunzi yawned. “Alright, then sleep for now.”

Fourth Master had no objections either. He was busy fiddling with his peachwood sword, perhaps reminiscing about the lost chain.

Before sleeping, Fang Xiu specifically sought out Cheng Songyun.

“Cheng Jie, can you help me bandage up? I can’t manage it myself.” Fang Xiu showed her his injured hands.

Cheng Songyun flinched when she saw his torn nails. “Oh dear, how’d this happen? Come here.”

She tore off some fabric to make bandages, carefully cleaning the wounds before wrapping them with skilled hands.

Fang Xiu stared at the gaping wounds on his hand for a moment, then looked at Cheng Songyun.

“Bai Shuangying, hide us.”

Fang Xiu whispered, “Cheng Jie, do you trust me?”

Cheng Songyun didn’t even look up. “With just the two of us left, who else would I trust?”

“Good. Promise me two things, and I guarantee you’ll survive.”

Cheng Songyun looked up, surprised.

“First, no matter what happens, follow my instructions to the letter.”

“Second, unless I speak directly to you, don’t believe anything I say.” Fang Xiu chuckled. “I know it sounds strange…”

“No problem,” Cheng Songyun hesitated. “But with you being so confident, how much have you figured out?”

“99%.” Fang Xiu looked straight at her. “And now, 100%. Bai Shuangying, can you hide this?”

Cheng Songyun quickly understood what he meant.

A sharp pain shot through her armpit, and her lower back ached terribly. Something pierced through her skin, growing out like branches. In Fang Xiu’s gentle gaze, a burning sensation spread across her neck, slowly forming a hard lump.

Trembling, Cheng Songyun reached for the lump and felt a shriveled human face.

The face’s hot breath blew against her fingers.

Cheng Songyun wanted to scream, but Fang Xiu covered her mouth.

“Shh, don’t worry, just pretend they aren’t there,” Fang Xiu said lightly. “Bai Shuangying is great at hiding things. No one else will notice.”

“Cheng Jie, don’t be afraid. You said you’d trust me.”

Cheng Songyun stared at Fang Xiu in terror, but in the end, she swallowed her scream.

At this point, she had no choice.

Before dawn, everyone found a corner to sleep in, Fang Xiu included. Bai Shuangying, who didn’t need to sleep, sat across from him, continuing his observation. This man’s silence while asleep was the most pleasant time of the day.

The temple fair really was fun, and the earlier show had been entertaining, so Bai Shuangying was in a good mood.

Even better, there was more to look forward to after sunrise. Fang Xiu had figured out the truth but kept it to himself, clearly plotting something.

Bai Shuangying was eager for the upcoming spectacle.

He picked up the paper flower and playfully covered Fang Xiu’s right eye.

As Bai Shuangying blocked the candlelight, the red paper flower looked like a bloody hole in the shadow.

First, the eye, then the throat, and finally the heart. He moved the flower toward Fang Xiu’s lips.

…This mouth really is the source of all trouble.

Bai Shuangying pressed down on Fang Xiu’s lower lip, his finger slipping slightly between the lips. He still remembered the sensation of sticking his finger into Fang Xiu’s mouth in the illusion. Soft, moist, and a little warm, just like the taste of a living soul.

He thought he might try it again someday. Maybe when Fang Xiu was on the verge of death?

But…

“I haven’t had enough of the temple fair yet.” Bai Shuangying tucked the flower back into his robe. “You’re not dying before this show ends.”

Fang Xiu’s eyelashes fluttered slightly. Hidden from him, Bai Shuangying’s words went unheard.

……

After about four hours of sleep, Fang Xiu opened his eyes and was greeted by Bai Shuangying’s face.

Wonderful. Forgiveness for the world, just for ten seconds.

Breakfast was the same offerings as before, thankfully a good balance of meat and vegetables. The opera across from the shrine had been playing all night, repeating the same scene over and over, making everyone’s ears sore. The corpses on the chairs had decayed further, while the living remained as still as the dead.

“Looks like even if we make it back alive, everyone will have back pain for days,” Fang Xiu said, chewing on a piece of chicken and gazing at the stage.

Fourth Master scoffed, while Shan Hunzi burst out laughing. “You’re a funny guy. Now, tell us what you’ve discovered.”

Fang Xiu nodded. “Remember the line, ‘God descends from Weishan, and the guests arrive with bitter rain’?”

Shan Hunzi clicked his tongue. “I remember.”

“This place is always raining, and after a long period of rain, floods happen. Many young people leave to make a living.”

Fang Xiu stared at Shan Hunzi, speaking humbly and sincerely.

“Weishan Village warmly welcomed these ‘guests’ and gave them jobs… Like helping to judge disputes. That’s the kind of work best suited for outsiders.”

[Upholding virtue and punishing evil with clear judgment, and henceforth, justice is seen in the hearts of men.]

“And then, just like last night, the villagers deliberately tormented people. After a while, the guests became apathetic. The village chief found an excuse to expel them, making them disappear one by one.”

[Upholding virtue and punishing evil with clear judgment, and henceforth, justice is seen in the hearts of men.]

[The village’s boys and girls are its guests, honored ones inside and outside the shrine.]

“The disappeared young people might have been living sacrifices to the God of Weishan.”

Shan Hunzi gave him a meaningful look. “So according to you, the southern shrine corresponds to the ‘sacrifice’ stage, and we’ll be able to verify that soon.”

Fang Xiu’s theory was confirmed shortly after they left the shrine.

As they headed south, a group of spirits blocked their path. They exaggeratedly rolled their eyes and completely sealed off the road.

In front of them, four coffins were lined up, their lids wide open. The bottoms were filled with flowers, fruit, and cloth, making them look quite cozy.

“It does look like a live sacrifice,” Fang Xiu said with a smile, his gaze sweeping over Shan Hunzi and Fourth Master.

Bai Shuangying looked bored. “That theory is dull.”

Depraved cults offering live sacrifices were nothing new. The pattern was all too familiar.

Fang Xiu didn’t respond to him, but his smile deepened.

Watching it all, Cheng Songyun felt a chill run down her spine.

[As long as I don’t speak to you, don’t believe anything I say.]

…Fang Xiu hadn’t looked at her once.

…Which meant that everything he’d said was a lie.

[No matter what happens, follow my instructions to the letter.]

…She had no idea what Fang Xiu’s true motives were.

…And now, she had to start following his first instruction.

---

The author has something to say:

It’s begun. The little liar has made his move. I wonder if anyone has been fooled (…

Fang Xiu wouldn’t let his ghost watch a boring show√

And Bai Shuangying won’t just be a bystander. Given his identity (?), he won’t immediately cooperate with the humans.

By the end of this arc, the young couple will have reached cooperation!

---

<<< || Table of Contents || >>>

Author: 年终 / Nian Zhong

Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/

---

Chapter 20: Inside and Outside the Shrine

Fang Xiu glanced at Bai Shuangying, then at the giant hands, and then back at Bai Shuangying again.

Bai Shuangying suddenly had a bad feeling. Sure enough, Fang Xiu cautiously asked, “Your relatives?”

This human was truly unique, capable of offending him with just a few words. Bai Shuangying silently recited in his mind, “When Fang Xiu dies, deduct his cultivation,” barely managing to keep his expression neutral.

Fang Xiu, seeing his face, said, “Looks like they aren’t. My apologies.”

Bai Shuangying replied, “Don’t say those words again. They’re annoying.”

While the two of them were having their casual conversation, Fourth Master shoved Mei Lan forward. “Your turn.”

Mei Lan, injured and tortured along the way, screamed immediately.

“Why me! Why me!” Mei Lan cried, her face covered in tears, her eyes darting around helplessly. “Isn’t there a madman you can use?!”

“It’s better to use someone with a functioning brain for more reliable results.” Fourth Master bared his teeth. “He’s useless, and so are you. You can’t even walk straight, so I’m just making use of trash.”

“I’ll go in her place.” The gloomy boy suddenly spoke up.

He was trembling, his face streaked with tears, and his voice sounded stiff.

Fourth Master sneered. “Oh, the little loser found his voice.”

“Fang Ge reacts quickly, and Auntie Cheng… Auntie Cheng is also capable. Everyone is more useful than I am.”

The boy barely held back from saying Cheng Songyun’s protective skills. “Fang Ge said as long as we deal with the ‘E’, the people who were captured might still be saved… Isn’t that right, Fang Ge?”

Fang Xiu, always honest, said, “That’s assuming they’re only captured. This could easily kill you outright.”

The boy shuddered but didn’t back down. “…I don’t really care if I live anymore anyway.”

Mei Lan hugged herself tightly, burying her head, not stopping him.

“My name is Guan He, from Fengzhou in the Gui Province. My mom’s name is He Yumei. Fang Ge, Auntie Cheng, if I die here, can you apologize to my mom for me?”

The boy rarely spoke, and after several days together, this was his first time introducing himself.

Fang Xiu: “I understand.”

Cheng Songyun couldn’t bear it anymore. “You’re still young. I’ll go.”

“Let him go. Are we going to debate this all day?”

Fourth Master swung a fist at Cheng Songyun. She instinctively shielded her head with her arms and curled her body into a defensive position.

Taking advantage of the moment, Guan He stepped forward. Trembling, he took a deep breath and touched the giant hands.

In the next instant, the hands closed around him, grabbing him tightly. They coiled back into the shrine like a snake, and the shrine doors slammed shut.

The shrine fell into a deathly silence. The closed doors cut off all sight, and the shadows of the giant hands swayed eerily on the doors, filling everyone with dread.

A few minutes later, Guan He’s voice finally came from inside. It was faint, unclear whether it was a groan or a cry of pain. The sound lasted for several seconds, then faded. After a few more bouts of noise, the shrine went completely silent.

About an hour passed, and the suona band assembled in front of the shrine again.

“The wicked guest, idle in their duties, shall be detained—expelled from the village when the temple fair ends—”

They opened the shrine doors and dragged Guan He out.

Standing just over 1.7 meters tall, Guan He looked even smaller as the tall spirits pulled him along. His face was pale, his eyes shut, and his wounds were still bleeding.

…But oddly, his expression was peaceful, which made Fang Xiu raise an eyebrow.

The giant hands stretched out again, palms up, stained with blood.

“See anything?” Fourth Master, unable to figure it out, turned to Fang Xiu.

Fang Xiu carefully observed the hands. “Not yet.”

Fourth Master smirked maliciously and gestured toward Mei Lan. “Your turn. Be grateful the boy saved you an hour.”

This time, Mei Lan didn’t cry.

Whether it was because she had given up hope or because she saw that Guan He wasn’t dead, she resigned herself to her fate. She limped forward and threw herself into the ghostly hands.

The doors closed, followed by the same pattern of silence, groans, and finally stillness… The exact same sequence played out, only this time the protagonist was Mei Lan instead of Guan He.

“The wicked guest, idle in their duties, shall be detained—expelled from the village when the temple fair ends—”

Mei Lan, unconscious, had the same peaceful expression.

Fourth Master asked, “What about now? See anything?”

Fang Xiu replied calmly, “I’ve figured it out. I’ll go next.”

“Aren’t you the one who already figured it out?”

“I still need to confirm the couplets inside.” Fang Xiu added, “If you don’t trust me, you can go yourself.”

Fourth Master clicked his tongue and said nothing. Seeing how confident Fang Xiu was, Cheng Songyun also stayed silent.

Only Bai Shuangying’s expression slowly darkened, but Fang Xiu patted his arm first.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be fine. You can go in and play too, if you want.”

With that, Fang Xiu swiftly leaped into the ghostly hands.

The hands closed around him, plunging Fang Xiu into darkness.

Oddly, all his wounds stopped hurting, and his body felt light as a feather. It was as if he had slipped into the safety of a clam shell, wrapped in an indescribable sense of security, and his mind grew fuzzy.

A few minutes later, the hands suddenly opened.

Panic, intense pain, and exhaustion flooded back to Fang Xiu all at once. After experiencing the lightness, reality became especially unbearable. The searing pain wracked his nerves, and he felt as though he might die at any moment.

Fang Xiu almost groaned in pain, but he held it in.

He climbed out of the ghostly hands and looked around the shrine. The red candles were sparser than in the real shrine, but their light was enough for him to read the couplets.

[The village’s boys and girls are its guests.]

[Honored ones inside and outside the shrine.]

Bai Shuangying stood beneath the “honored guests” couplet, his pale eyes gazing over, like two bright moons. It was beautiful, yet completely devoid of emotion.

Fang Xiu was just about to smile at him when the ghostly hands pulled him back into their grip. The eerie comfort returned, like a mother’s embrace. The hands stroked him with a warmth that felt almost alive.

Despite the overwhelming peace, Fang Xiu’s thoughts remained… No, they didn’t blur this time.

He scratched the giant palm. “Alright, alright, stop rubbing me like a walnut.”

The hands ignored him.

Fang Xiu sighed. “Politeness doesn’t work, huh? Then I’ll be blunt.”

“You’ve been tormenting everyone, pushing them to the brink of collapse, and now you’re pulling this… If I let myself be lulled into your trap and escape reality, I’d end up just like the other two.”

The spirits had accused them of being idle and neglecting their duties.

Whatever those duties were, they clearly didn’t involve lazing around here.

The giant hands loosened slightly, revealing a small gap. The cold air outside rushed in, and the pain sank deep into Fang Xiu’s bones, as if warning him.

Fang Xiu glanced at the sliver of white through the gap and smiled.

“Did you know? Hospitals give morphine to late-stage cancer patients. When the painkillers stop working, their groans are worse than what we heard earlier.”

“And yet, morphine is strictly controlled because it’s not exactly a good thing… Just like you.”

“I still have things to do.” Fang Xiu’s tone grew firmer with each word. “I said, let go.”

He dug his fingers into the palm, pressing so hard his fingernails began to lift.

The giant hands released him, their fingers twitching uncontrollably like an angry spider. Fang Xiu lightly jumped down, splashing into a small pool of blood.

“You’re clingy,” Fang Xiu muttered, licking his wounded fingers as he walked toward Bai Shuangying. “See, I told you I’d be fine.”

Bai Shuangying looked at the battered, bloodied man before him. Fang Xiu’s definition of “fine” was disturbingly broad.

The ghostly hands’ spell was called “Euphoria and Misery”—bliss inside the palms, doubled suffering outside. It worked even on ordinary people, let alone a bunch of beaten, exhausted souls.

Yet Fang Xiu, despite his flippant nature, had easily broken the spell.

“How did you resist the spell? Are you a Daoist?” Bai Shuangying asked cautiously.

Fang Xiu stifled a laugh. “Yes, I go by the Daoist name Night Owl.”

Bai Shuangying: “…I think it should be Lecher.”

“That works too.”

Bai Shuangying didn’t get sidetracked. “Enough games. How did you really do it?”

“I’m used to it.” Fang Xiu shrugged casually, walking toward the door.

“Used to spells?”

“Used to pain.”

Bai Shuangying understood. “No wonder you knew so much… You’re the one with ‘late-stage cancer’…”

Fang Xiu came to a screeching halt. “What the hell, don’t curse me! I just work in a hospital!”

“Then why are you used to pain?”

“I had bad luck as a kid… Anyway, this thing wasn’t that tough. Its technique isn’t as good as yours. I prefer your treatments.” Fang Xiu’s tone was startlingly sincere.

“…Mm.”

Bai Shuangying lowered his head, adjusting the paper flower on his chest.

……

When they returned to the opera stage, only four people were left, and dawn was just an hour or two away.

Old Man Fu was still sitting in his spot, and the music continued its endless loop.

Guan He and Mei Lan had been added to the stage, and two more body parts had been placed on Brother Scar’s chair. The wide stage now held nine chairs, making it feel a bit crowded.

Confirming that Guan He and Mei Lan were still breathing, Cheng Songyun let out a sigh of relief.

After all the ordeals, even Fourth Master was struggling to keep going. He yawned and generously said, “Go sleep in the shrine for a while.”

When they left, the offering table had been half-empty. Now, returning, they found it piled high again.

Fang Xiu grabbed a bottle of Wangzai milk and noticed the production date had changed from one year ago to two years ago, though the food still looked fresh.

Cheng Songyun sipped the syrup from a can of peaches, while Fourth Master stripped off his shirt to bandage his wounds. With the fabric removed, his bulging muscles looked even more intimidating.

The madman faced the wall, gently tapping his forehead against it as he mumbled to himself.

“You still haven’t shared your discovery.” Fourth Master glanced at Fang Xiu. “You mentioned the couplets, but you didn’t really explain anything. Come here and speak in plain terms.”

Fang Xiu took a sip of his drink. “You’re so disrespectful. How about a little equality?”

“Ah? Don’t push your luck.”

Fourth Master could sense Fang Xiu changing. The fewer companions he had, the less he hid his true nature.

He acknowledged that Fang Xiu had some skills, but he wasn’t worried. He had plenty of magic weapons, and there were just two weaklings left on the other side, including an old woman barely 1.6 meters tall.

Once the old woman was dead, it’d be one-on-one. He didn’t believe Fang Xiu would dare push him too far.

Sure enough, Fang Xiu hesitated for a moment before saying, “Alright, I’ll talk.”

Fourth Master sneered and spat.

He watched as Fang Xiu stood up, walked toward him… and then walked right past him.

Fang Xiu stopped next to the madman who was tapping his head against the wall.

“Sir, given the situation, it’s time to drop the act.” Fang Xiu said, “I know you’re not really crazy… And I know you’re far stronger than Fourth Master.”

---

The author has something to say:

What Fang Xiu wanted to say: Let’s change the subject, brother.

What Fang Xiu actually said: This guy’s not that good. His technique is worse than yours. Your treatments are much better.

What Bai Shuangying heard: …Worse than you… You’re… better (sentence inversion).

Bai Shuangying: Mm.

Bad men have their own sweet words√

Bad ghosts have their own selective hearing√

---

<<< || Table of Contents || >>>

Author: 年终 / Nian Zhong

Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/

---

Chapter 19: The Northern Shrine

Next, and then the next.

The spirits meticulously mimicked the villagers, all their disputes trivial matters between neighbors.

As a result, whenever faced with interpersonal squabbles, Fang Xiu outmaneuvered them easily. When it came to property disputes, Fang Xiu would simply say, “Swear to the god of Weishan first.” A line of spirits entered the shrine in full force, but fewer than a third of them emerged.

After finishing all eight cases, Fang Xiu slung the severed head back onto his back and got up from the chair as if he were clocking out from work.

Before leaving, he gave Bai Shuangying another glance.

His evil spirit usually had a blank expression, never showing any extreme emotions. But upon closer inspection, Fang Xiu realized Bai Shuangying’s emotions were quite straightforward.

When happy, he would smile. When displeased, he would kill.

This guy was clearly not stupid, but he wasn’t good at lying. Even his malice was pure, pure to the point of being somewhat endearing.

Fang Xiu hadn’t seen this kind of person, whether human or ghost, for a long time.

Someone like this was either too young to have faced the harshness of reality or so powerful they couldn’t be bothered to care about others.

Fang Xiu made up his mind not to let reality crush his ghost.

“Bai Shuangying.”

“Hm?”

Fang Xiu: “Did you get mad when I said, ‘Evil spirits are inherently evil’?”

“Hm.” Bai Shuangying gave him a glance.

“Sorry about that. I had to quickly explain things to the others, so I simplified it. I know not all spirits necessarily want to harm humans…”

“No, I want to harm humans,” Bai Shuangying said coldly. “I just don’t like humans judging us freely.”

Fang Xiu: “……”

Fang Xiu replied seriously, “Since you’re not a good person either, we’re even more suited to be friends.”

Bai Shuangying stopped, surprised at Fang Xiu’s self-awareness. “You said ‘either’…”

“Yeah, I’ve been hiding some of my discoveries on purpose.” Fang Xiu leaned in and whispered to the spirit, “Some of them still need to be verified. Others, well, I have my own uses for them… Do you know what’s most important at the negotiation table?”

Under Fang Xiu’s gaze, Bai Shuangying curiously tilted his head.

“It’s leverage,” Fang Xiu said with a smile.

……

The group didn’t find any new clues. Following the guidance of the copper gourd, Fourth Master led them back.

They had started with eight people, but now only six remained.

Along the way, Fang Xiu summarized their situation. The empty shrine was most likely a scene-recreation setup by the spirits. On one hand, it allowed them to imitate the villagers more deeply, and on the other, it gave them opportunities to trap and kill the group.

If they made mistakes in the shrine, Old Man Fu could justifiably capture them. Conversely, if they acted appropriately in the shrine, the spirits had no choice but to accept it… In short, the greater the reward, the higher the risk, for both humans and spirits.

Fourth Master understood this clearly. Based on this cunning behavior, Brother Scar probably died at Fang Xiu’s hands. However, given his current predicament and Fang Xiu’s usefulness, seeking revenge now would be foolish.

As they headed back, Fourth Master pushed the madman to the front of the group. The madman kept muttering nonsense, but didn’t react otherwise.

This took up most of the night. By dawn, the group had returned to the opera stage.

The singing on the stage continued, repeating the “Bird in a Cage” segment over and over. Old Man Fu still sat watching the show, but three more chairs had appeared on the stage.

Jia Xu and Huang Mao were seated side by side, right next to Doctor’s corpse.

Both of them had been dressed in red robes, with large red flowers tied tightly around them, securing them to the armchairs. Their chests still rose and fell slightly, indicating they were only unconscious.

They were separated from Doctor by one more armchair, on which were piled Brother Scar’s dismembered body parts, clearly intended for the two of them.

“So that’s what they meant by ‘detained’,” Fang Xiu mused.

Cheng Songyun’s voice trembled. “W-What if we all end up tied up there…”

Fang Xiu: “Then we can piece Brother Scar back together. We’re almost there.” Just missing Skinny Monkey.

Cheng Songyun: “……”

She clasped her hands and quietly recited a few Buddhist prayers.

Meanwhile, Fourth Master began playing with the gourd again. This time, it indicated that the north was an auspicious direction, but the gourd’s mouth wobbled slightly, not as steady as before.

Acting like a ruthless boss, Fourth Master ordered, “We’ll check the north first, then come back to rest. We’ll deal with the south and west in the daytime.”

Fang Xiu had no objections. Though it was always drizzling during the day here, the yang energy was still stronger than at night.

He made one suggestion. “Let’s head to the shrine first and grab a bite.”

The real shrine was just as before, with the deity statue unchanged.

The offering table was still piled with food, and everyone, familiar with the routine by now, immediately dug in. After seeing so many eerie things, even the deity statue seemed kind of pleasant.

Mei Lan held a can of yellow peaches, looking up at the deity statue.

The paint around the statue’s mouth hadn’t been cleaned, and it still oozed like blood. The smile, composed only of a mouth, faced the stage, overseeing everything.

“Eat some meat. This stuff won’t fill you up,” Fang Xiu said as he approached her, handing over a chicken leg. “You can put the stuff down for now. Weishan Village respects the gods, so leaving gifts in the shrine doesn’t count as ‘throwing them away’.”

Mei Lan hesitated for a moment before putting down the mud pastries, and sure enough, no taboo was broken.

“Thank you.” She gratefully accepted the chicken leg.

It was rare to see Fang Xiu do something considerate, and Bai Shuangying stood behind him, watching with interest.

A moment later, Fang Xiu glanced at Fourth Master and lowered his voice. “You mentioned earlier that Weishan inkstones weren’t selling well. Do you remember why?”

Bai Shuangying: “……”

So it’s a trade. Why am I not surprised?

Mei Lan frowned, trying to recall. “I remember. Weishan inkstones are a beautiful black color and produce ink quickly and smoothly. They sold well at first.”

“Later, customers complained that there was a strange smell when using the inkstones. Some returned them, while others kept using them because they liked the feel, though some ink does smell pretty bad…”

Fang Xiu: “Anything else?”

Mei Lan shook her head. “If the inkstones were haunted or people mysteriously died after buying them, I would’ve heard about it.”

Fang Xiu thanked her and returned to the offering table to continue eating.

“Finished asking?” Bai Shuangying asked, bored.

“Yeah, I have a theory. Just one more piece left.” Fang Xiu glanced at the idol.

“Now it’s my turn to ask you something,” Bai Shuangying said. “You traded a chicken leg for her answer. You gave me a ghost arm and your living soul. What are you hoping to get from me?”

Fang Xiu stopped chewing and silently stared at Bai Shuangying.

“You said you wanted to choose how you die and offered me your living soul. Let’s assume that’s the truth. But you never expect me to fight with all my strength for you. Why do you go out of your way to feed me?” Bai Shuangying asked directly.

“Because we’re friends,” Fang Xiu said.

Bai Shuangying: “I don’t believe you.”

“Because I like your appearance and personality,” Fang Xiu said.

Bai Shuangying: “Still don’t believe you.”

“Didn’t anyone ever treat you kindly for no reason when you were alive?” Fang Xiu asked.

Bai Shuangying thought for a moment. “No.”

Fang Xiu paused for a long while. “Seems like you’ve had bad luck too. Alright, I’ll be honest, but don’t laugh at me.”

Bai Shuangying silently stared at him, waiting for either a plea or a deal.

Fang Xiu rubbed his face. “…I just want to talk to you more.”

Bai Shuangying was so puzzled that he might as well have had a question mark engraved on his forehead.

“When I’m alive, I’ll find food for you. When I die, I’ll give you my living soul to eat. I have nothing else you could possibly want.” Fang Xiu explained in a quiet voice, “This way, I don’t have to be on guard around you, and I can talk to you in peace.”

“When I said I’m afraid of loneliness, that was the truth.”

Bai Shuangying brushed aside Fang Xiu’s bangs and looked directly into his eyes. Fang Xiu met his gaze head-on, not avoiding it.

Bai Shuangying wasn’t good at deciphering human emotions, but he knew how to listen to a human heartbeat. Fang Xiu’s heartbeat was steady. If he was lying, he’d be the world’s most remarkable liar.

“Alright,” Bai Shuangying said. “You don’t have to be on guard around me.”

After thinking for a moment, he added, “If I ever plan to harm you, I’ll give you a heads-up.”

Fang Xiu burst out laughing. “Deal.”

……

As it turned out, the road to the east had indeed been the easiest.

After walking north for less than half an hour, Mei Lan got injured. Burdened by the heavy corpse parts and dirt she carried, she stumbled and stepped on a nail. The nail, hidden in the shadows, pierced straight through her foot.

Mei Lan let out an immediate scream of pain.

“The nail fell. Sorry.” A spirit resembling a spider with a human face crawled out, its eight eyes rolling wildly as it stared at Mei Lan. “The nail fell. Sorry.”

The spirits crowded closer. “Sorry, sorry.”

Fang Xiu looked down and spotted several nails in the mud. These nails didn’t reflect light, and the ground was dark, making them hard to see.

Barely two minutes after Mei Lan’s injury, Fourth Master cursed as well. A spirit brushed past him, and something hanging from its body slashed a deep gash in his arm.

The wound was severe, and blood gushed out immediately.

“Sorry, sorry.” The spirits turned their faces, each wearing a grotesque smile.

Everyone quickly adjusted, moving Brother Scar’s corpse parts to the outer side to use as a shield. But whenever they collided with a spirit, another gash appeared on the bundle. Terrified, they held the body parts close, afraid the wrappings would tear and the pieces would be lost.

The spirits chanted. “Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry…”

Eventually, the madman took the lead, with Fang Xiu and the gloomy boy on either side. Fourth Master, Cheng Songyun, and Mei Lan walked in the middle, avoiding any contact with the spirits.

Bai Shuangying offered to help conceal them, but Fang Xiu declined.

“These injuries aren’t fatal. They’re just meant to torment us,” Fang Xiu said seriously. “This is important information. I need to test it.”

First, they faced sharp nails, followed by poisonous plants and dirty water. The pattern remained the same; deliberately “accidental” injuries, followed by insincere “sorry”s.

Old wounds overlapped with new ones on Fang Xiu, and the dirty water seeped into his injuries, reigniting the burning pain.

But that wasn’t the only odd thing. Ever since they had started walking north, Fang Xiu felt an inexplicable rage building inside him. Under the red lanterns, countless grinning spirits danced before his eyes, and his negative emotions swelled like a balloon.

“Don’t get distracted.”

A cold hand covered his eyes. It was Bai Shuangying. “It’s just a bit of illusion magic. Keep walking.”

Bai Shuangying’s hand was like ice, bringing a cool darkness that instantly extinguished Fang Xiu’s rage, calming him down.

He then noticed that the others weren’t doing well either. Cheng Songyun was frantically chanting prayers, Mei Lan occasionally let out panicked cries, the gloomy boy was sobbing quietly, and Fourth Master’s cursing grew louder and louder.

Fang Xiu exhaled deeply, leaning back against Bai Shuangying. Feeling the paper flower on Bai Shuangying’s chest, Fang Xiu quickly created some space, careful not to crush it.

Bai Shuangying half-embraced him as they moved forward. The icy touch on Fang Xiu’s burning wounds felt surprisingly soothing.

It was strange. Even though he couldn’t see anything, he felt a peculiar sense of relaxation.

“I feel like Emperor Zhou…” 

“Shut up.”

By the time they reached the northern boundary, everyone but Fang Xiu was on the verge of collapse.

At the end of the northern path stood another empty shrine. Compared to the one in the east, the firelight here was much dimmer.

A pair of giant hands extended from inside the shrine, blocking half of the doorway. Fang Xiu could only see half of the couplets inside.

[The village’s boys and girls ■■■]

[Honored ones inside and outside ■■■]

The ghostly hands were calloused and even larger than the doorway. Their palms faced upward, gently curling inward.

It was an inviting gesture.

---

The author has something to say:

Upon reflection, this story might be about the unfeeling one’s emotions × the little liar’s sincerity.

They can’t even make up a single “virtue” together… Tsk tsk tsk (that kind of tone).

---

<<< || Table of Contents || >>>

Author: 年终 / Nian Zhong

Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/

---

Chapter 18: Henceforth Justice

Jia Xu seemed to grab onto a lifeline. He suddenly turned his head to look at Fang Xiu.

Fang Xiu sighed. “Don’t get too excited. I’m just giving you a heads-up. You still have to go.”

Jia Xu was speechless.

A heads-up? As brothers tied to the same chain, Fang Xiu had seen everything Jia Xu had. It wasn’t like Jia Xu had ignored the clues, but they were completely contradictory.

For instance, Old Man Fu claimed he wanted to escape misfortune, offering food and drink, yet set up a ghost maze at the temple fair.

For instance, the information hinted at cooperation between humans and spirits, with the spirits seeming to follow some rules, but occasionally showing malicious intent.

……

“It’s actually quite simple,” Fang Xiu interrupted his thoughts. “First, they’re constantly imitating the villagers.”

Fourth Master raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

Fang Xiu said sincerely, “When we arrived, they didn’t bother us directly. Instead, it was the village chief who approached the people outside and offered food and drink.”

“They held a temple fair, sent us invitations. The village chief brought us fresh meat, and the villagers kept stuffing gifts into our hands… Ever since the ritual began, they’ve been warmly hosting their guests.”

Everyone fell silent, and Bai Shuangying felt a bit of satisfaction.

Finally, these humans experienced that feeling of “it makes sense, but something’s off”.

“They killed Brother Scar. You clearly saw it…” Jia Xu struggled to say.

“That’s normal. A village this big is bound to have some impolite villagers. Besides, the taboo allows us to fight back.”

Fourth Master pinched the bridge of his nose. “Alright, what’s the second point?”

Fang Xiu’s smile faded a bit. “Weishan Village worships gods.”

Fourth Master: “Isn’t that obvious? The shrine is so bizarre, and they rebuilt it after it burned down.”

Fang Xiu continued calmly, “We encountered Old Man Fu twice, and the lyrics sung by the suona band were different each time.”

“The shrine’s couplets and the invitation’s couplets didn’t match. There were two lines about the ‘E’, likely added by the spirits.”

“Tonight, before we even arrived, the play was already being performed in front of the god’s shrine. When the four chairs faced the shrine, and when they faced us, the script was different.”

He paused. “Evil spirits are inherently evil, but since they’re trying to imitate the villagers, they wouldn’t lie to the gods.”

Jia Xu looked bewildered. He couldn’t remember so many details.

Understanding, Fang Xiu added, “Let’s not talk about the opera. Only two lines in the couplets can serve as clues.”

“The shrine’s couplet reads, ‘Do no evil, heaven’s blessings are far-reaching; Practice all virtue, and the rain that nurtures all things brings deep fellowship.’”

“The suona band sang in front of the shrine, ‘God descends from Weishan, and the guests arrive with bitter rain.'”

Jia Xu shuddered. “Are you saying, besides these two lines…?”

“Anything unrelated to the shrine can’t be trusted,” Fang Xiu said.

Upon hearing “Evil spirits are inherently evil”, Bai Shuangying glanced at Fang Xiu, but Fang Xiu avoided his gaze.

Bai Shuangying lowered his eyes to look at the flower on his chest. Under the bright light at the shrine’s entrance, the flower now looked rather fake.

Fourth Master pondered. “There’s a problem with what you’re saying. Just now, you mentioned that the spirits were warmly hosting us, and now you’re saying they’re collectively lying.”

Fang Xiu’s smile deepened again.

With his back to the shrine’s door, his lips curved upward, but his eyes under his bangs showed no light. In the candlelight, that smile was gentle yet eerie.

“Because there is no god here, only the E.”

He whispered, “The ‘E’ is a dead thing that only follows strict rules, as long as it seems reasonable on the surface.”

Fourth Master surely understood. If the “E” could distinguish intent, a madman wouldn’t have broken the taboo by being “forced to burn the shrine.”

As expected, Fourth Master let out a breath. “Right, ‘hospitality’ is an easy loophole, but ‘lying to God’ is harder to fake.”

“That’s it?” Jia Xu was drenched in sweat. “I know they’re pretending to be villagers, and I know they won’t lie to God, but then what?”

“Then, it’s up to your intelligence.” Fang Xiu patted his shoulder.

Jia Xu: “……”

Under Fourth Master’s stern gaze, Jia Xu grimaced and stepped into the shrine. He held his breath for a full ten seconds after crossing the threshold. Nothing happened. It was as if it were just an ordinary, empty room.

“Go sit in that chair,” Fourth Master continued to direct.

Jia Xu slowly sat on the rosewood armchair. The armrests felt smooth and polished, as if they had aged over time.

Seeing that the chair didn’t change, Jia Xu relaxed a bit, only to realize he couldn’t get up. He was stuck to the chair, which was firmly fixed to the ground.

At the same time, a line of spirits quickly formed in front of the shrine. Perhaps due to the lack of a deity statue, the first three directly stepped into the shrine.

Three spirits stood in front of Jia Xu, two short and one tall.

One had short limbs with no neck, covered in yellow mud; another had greenish skin and a twisted posture, as if stuffed into an invisible wine jar; and between them stood a zombie with purplish-blue skin.

Fang Xiu chuckled and turned to whisper to Bai Shuangying, “Look, it’s like a stir-fried trio of vegetables come to life.”

Bai Shuangying took a moment to recall what “three vegetable stir-fry” meant.

…He struggled to hold back his laughter, his lips twitching slightly.

The potato spirit and green pepper spirit spoke in unison. “Honored guest, pass judgment—this one has deceived us, staying and eating with both of us—”

“Honored guest, pass judgment—decide who shall take it home—”

“Either is fine,” Fang Xiu muttered. “Potato and eggplant, green pepper and eggplant—they’re both delicious.”

Bai Shuangying, staring intently, used all his ten years of cultivation to keep a straight face.

Jia Xu couldn’t hear Fang Xiu’s jokes. He was drenched in sweat.

He was supposed to deliver justice? How? He couldn’t even tell the gender of these creatures!

Fang Xiu sighed, just about to give a hint, when Jia Xu, full of terror, blurted out, “Silence!”

The voice was sharp and strange, clearly not Jia Xu’s own. It seemed no outside help was allowed, so Fang Xiu closed his mouth.

Jia Xu then stammered through a few questions, asking things like “Who got involved first?” and “Who lived together first?” The spirits stared at him intently, and both sides gave identical answers.

Jia Xu’s sweaty hands soaked the chair. “What do you want, exactly…?”

“Honored guest, pass judgment—punish the wicked, reward the good, and let the couple return home—”

The spirits chanted in unison.

“Honored guest, honored guest, honored guest—”

Seeing Jia Xu hesitate, the spirits’ voices grew sharper. Blondie and Fourth Master covered their ears.

Jia Xu’s seven orifices began to bleed. Unable to bear it any longer, he randomly pointed at the potato spirit. “You go with this one!”

In an instant, three ghostly faces turned; one smiled, and the other two cried.

“Unfair! Unfair!” screamed Green Pepper.

Jia Xu nearly passed out from the noise. Moments later, two spirits grabbed his arms. At some point, Old Man Fu’s suona band had arrived.

The faceless spirits lifted their heads. “The wicked guest has bent the law for personal gain. He shall be detained first. When the fair ends, he will be expelled from the village.”

Expulsion from the village was essentially a death sentence. Jia Xu froze.

Just like that? He had made a small mistake, and it was that simple…?

“I’ll reconsider. Let me ask again!” He struggled wildly. “I was just talking nonsense earlier!”

The faceless spirits didn’t listen. They dragged Jia Xu forcefully, heading toward the true god’s shrine.

“Help me. Save me…” Jia Xu clung to the threshold, tears streaming down his face.

His skin changed forms in vain, but no matter what Jia Xu transformed into, he couldn’t escape the restraints.

Watching the suona band approach, the others didn’t dare respond. Cheng Songyun turned her head in pity.

Fang Xiu clapped his hands expressionlessly. “Looks like when past ‘guests’ made mistakes, the village chief could punish them.”

Cheng Songyun stammered, “T-The taboo?”

Fang Xiu: “No, it’s just exploiting loopholes. They’re still mimicking the villagers… They want to ‘reasonably and legitimately’ kill us within the rules.”

“We can’t attack them, but they… they can do this?” Cheng Songyun’s eyes turned red.

“Every loophole they exploit gives us more information about the past. It’s not entirely a bad thing.”

Fang Xiu remained calm. “Don’t worry. Jia Xu said he’s only being detained. As long as we deal with ‘E’ before the fair ends, he might still be saved.”

The three spirits at the shrine continued to call out, “Next—”

Fang Xiu was about to act, but Blondie rushed forward first.

“All the wrong answers have been eliminated.” Blondie, full of confidence, glanced at Fourth Master, “Brother, I’ll take care of this!”

He pointed at Green Pepper. “You go with this one!”

Again, three ghostly faces turned; one smiled, and two cried.

“Unfair! Unfair!” This time it was Potato screaming.

Blondie: “?”

Blondie was dragged away by the suona band on the spot. The whole process took less than a minute.

This time, the group’s silence carried a deeper meaning.

“You go,” Fourth Master said to Fang Xiu.

Fang Xiu decisively sat in the chair, placing the head he carried on his lap. Bai Shuangying stood behind him silently, his cold presence slowly seeping into Fang Xiu’s limbs.

“Come, let me show you something interesting.” Sensing the long hair falling over his shoulders, Fang Xiu tilted his head back with a smile.

On the stage, the three spirits focused their gaze on Fang Xiu.

“Who here is good at slaughtering pigs?” Fang Xiu asked.

Potato and Green Pepper tried the same trick, both answering in unison.

“You’re both good at it? That makes things easy.” Fang Xiu pointed at Fourth Master. “Borrow his peachwood sword and split the eggpla… this zombie down the middle, half for each of you.”

Three spirits: “?”

The remaining humans: “…?”

Fang Xiu: “It’s two-timing. Am I not punishing evil and promoting good?”

Spirits: “Yes.”

Fang Xiu: “Once you split it, will you both have a home to return to?”

Spirits: “…Yes.”

“Isn’t that great, then? Get to it,” Fang Xiu said kindly.

The two short spirits hesitated for a moment but then actually borrowed Fourth Master’s sword. With a stench wafting through the air, they split the zombie in half.

In the end, they each carried half of the zombie away, their expressions a bit dazed as they left.

As soon as the spirits departed, the chair released Fang Xiu. He simply stood up, straightened his clothes, and sat back down with dignity.

“Next,” he said.

This time, two giant spirits entered. They were broad-shouldered, rotting all over. Fang Xiu glanced at the lineup outside the door; the remaining spirits seemed to form six groups.

Eight humans, eight cases. It seemed like a reasonable workload.

“Honored guest, pass judgment—the fertile fields east of the village are my family’s property, but this guy took them!” one spirit bellowed.

“Honored guest, pass judgment—the fertile fields east of the village are my family’s property, but this guy took them!” the other spirit echoed.

Fang Xiu: “What do you want?”

Two spirits: “Honored guest, pass judgment—punish the wicked, reward the good, and fairly judge who owns the land—”

Fang Xiu exhaled. “A property dispute, huh? That’s easy.”

“Alright, let’s go through the proper procedure. You both need to swear before the god of Weishan that the land has always been yours.”

The two spirits fell silent, terrified.

Bai Shuangying couldn’t hold back any longer and let out a soft laugh.

“If you don’t swear, I can only assume you’re disturbing God’s shrine,” Fang Xiu said regretfully. “However…”

He touched the long hair on his shoulder and looked up at Bai Shuangying again, his eyes curving into a smile.

Bai Shuangying didn’t have time to hide his smile as their gazes lightly brushed against each other.

“However, we can’t close the case too hastily.”

After admiring Bai Shuangying’s smile, Fang Xiu looked down at the stage. “Since you’re both so insistent on knowing ‘who owns the land,’ I’ll sentence you to ask for yourselves.”

“You can find the former village chiefs of Weishan Village. If one can’t answer, ask the next. Someone must know whose land it is. Oh, and by the way, they should all be in the underworld.”

Fang Xiu pointed at Fourth Master. “Borrow his peachwood sword and give your necks a slash. You’ll be sent straight there.”

“You disturbed God’s shrine first. Am I not punishing evil and promoting good?”

“Once you’re in the underworld, won’t you know who owns the land?”

A few minutes later, standing by the corpses of the two spirits, Fang Xiu smiled brightly.

“Next,” he said.

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The author has something to say:

It’s all about playing with the rules. Ghosts can play with people, and people can play with ghosts √

Now, tell me, is this justice or not.jpg

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Bai Shuangying: This human is quite interesting. (Looks at the little red flower)

Bai Shuangying: This human is quite interesting… (Watches the evil spirits bleed)

Fang Xiu: Yay, my ghost smiled.

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Author: 年终 / Nian Zhong

Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/

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Chapter 17: The Eastern Shrine

The temple fair was brightly lit and filled with ghosts.

The group, tied with pieces of corpses, moved like celebrities under constant scrutiny, with dozens of eyes glued to them. Fourth Master remained unfazed, unhooking a copper gourd engraved with a Bagua symbol from his waist and placing it steadily in his palm.

“Luck! Luck! Luck!” he shouted.

The copper gourd spun on its own in his hand, its mouth pointing in a certain direction. Fourth Master nodded in satisfaction. “As expected, it’s to the east.”

Blondie perked up again. “Bro, what does this mean?”

“The sun rises in the east, so the yang energy is strongest there. It’s easier to deal with evil spirits,” Fourth Master, in a rare good mood, explained briefly.

Blondie exclaimed, “You’re amazing, Bro!”

His tone made it sound like Fourth Master was his actual sibling.

No one mocked Blondie at this point. Compared to Old Man Fu, who was handing out pieces of corpses as gifts, Fourth Master seemed almost human. At least his actions were understandable.

Jia Xu was singled out by Fourth Master and pushed to the front to lead the way. The others huddled behind Fourth Master like chicks, with Fang Xiu and Bai Shuangying as usual at the rear of the group.

Fang Xiu clutched Bai Shuangying’s sleeve, his eyes darting between the stalls.

Amidst the noisy music, the evil spirits seriously danced with lions that had no pupils, some even tossing their own heads like embroidered balls. White paper money replaced red confetti, paper flowers pretended to be fresh flowers, and the stalls were piled high with mud-made food, paper goods of all kinds displayed in abundance.

As long as one didn’t look too closely, the scene was quite lively.

Fang Xiu: “This is a lot like the temple fairs back in my hometown. Have you ever been to one?”

Bai Shuangying shook his head.

Fang Xiu picked up a small handful of paper money from the ground and asked the paper flower vendor, “Is this enough to buy one?”

He pointed to the reddest flower in the basket.

The stall owner, a wandering soul, was caught off guard by the question. It absentmindedly handed over the flower, almost forgetting to collect the paper money.

Fang Xiu took the flower, bent the stem slightly, and pinned it to the front of Bai Shuangying’s white robe.

“It suits you.” Fang Xiu smiled. “Now, you can say you’ve been to a temple fair.”

Bai Shuangying looked down. The vibrant red paper flower, dampened by the rain, looked no different from a real one under the lantern light. It wasn’t bad. He couldn’t resist flicking it with his fingertips and allowed it to remain on him.

…Sure enough, this human is quite interesting, he thought.

After the flower incident, Fang Xiu grabbed Bai Shuangying and hurried to catch up with the group. Fang Xiu was slightly out of breath from the rush. Once he caught his breath, he started mumbling again.

“Wearing a paper flower like this might be bad luck, but you’re already a spirit, so it’s probably fine,” he said. “Uh, you shouldn’t be cursed by a paper flower, right?”

…This human would be even more interesting if he didn’t talk so much, Bai Shuangying thought again.

In the end, he sighed, moved his sleeve, and pulled Fang Xiu closer to him.

He soon noticed Fang Xiu’s relaxed smile, though his body was tense, as if ready to pounce at any moment. The gashes on Fang Xiu’s back had reopened, with fresh blood seeping out slowly, but the stench from the severed head on Fang Xiu’s back overpowered the smell of his own blood.

This human wasn’t oblivious to danger; he just didn’t like showing it.

Bai Shuangying recognized this behavior. Solitary beasts were also used to hiding their pain and scent… but humans were supposed to be social animals, right?

“Stay close to me,” Bai Shuangying couldn’t help but say. “These spirits can’t hurt you.”

“Mm, mm, mm, thank you,” Fang Xiu replied, but his eyes remained vigilant, scanning their surroundings.

Bai Shuangying was speechless. He had more questions recently than in the past thousand years. He was a proper evil spirit, yet Fang Xiu was almost forcing humanity out of him.

“Since you don’t trust me at all, why did you offer your living soul to me?” he asked.

Fang Xiu chuckled. “Oh, that? It’s not like it’s the final payment of a contract. As the saying goes, ‘Don’t let good stuff go to outsiders’… Just think of it as me treating you. I’d rather be eaten by you than by some weird thing.”

“Even if I know I’m going to die, I should at least have the right to choose how I die, right?” he said with his usual cheeky smile.

Fang Xiu didn’t deny the “no trust at all” part, and Bai Shuangying didn’t want to talk to him anymore. Unfortunately, once the chatterbox opened, it couldn’t be stopped.

Fang Xiu: “By the way, what does a living soul taste like? Does it vary by person, and how’s the texture?”

Bai Shuangying pretended not to hear.

Fang Xiu gave him a sad look. “I’m yours in life and your meal in death…”

“Soft, moist, slightly warm. The more tangled their fate, the richer the taste,” Bai Shuangying replied in a flat tone. “Living souls must be eaten fresh. If the three souls leave the body for too long, they either turn into ghosts or disperse into yin energy, which isn’t… isn’t…”

“Isn’t as nutritious,” Fang Xiu helpfully added.

“Mm.”

“Then Fourth Master must be really delicious. I’ll make sure to keep an eye on him for you,” Fang Xiu said enthusiastically.

Amid the commotion, the two walked side by side, chatting away as if they were genuinely enjoying the temple fair.

A little ahead, the others didn’t dare even glance at the stalls, staring only at their feet. But the evil spirits didn’t let them off so easily.

“Child, child.”

A skeleton with a hairpin stuck in its eye sockets grabbed Mei Lan, shoving a yellow mud-made pastry into her hands.

“Don’t be afraid. Have a snack.” The skeleton’s teeth clacked together, its voice muffled. “Have a snack.”

Mei Lan was startled. Before she could react, her arms were filled with a large bundle of mud pastries. Realizing the weight in her arms, she froze.

…Another load she couldn’t throw away. Disposing of it would surely break a taboo.

Seeing Mei Lan accept the offering, countless spirits turned toward her. They grabbed mud and dirt, rushing toward her.

“Child, child.”

“Don’t be afraid. Have a snack. Have a snack.”

They all repeated the same words, like they shared the same tongue.

The weight of the rubbish they handed her quickly became more than a normal person could bear. The spirits twisted their faces into eerie smiles, as if they intended to bury Mei Lan alive under a pile of offerings.

Sensing danger, Cheng Songyun gritted her teeth and stepped in front of Mei Lan. “She can’t carry any more. If she takes any more, she won’t be able to walk!”

Hearing her scolding, the spirits stopped, sizing up Cheng Songyun. After a moment, they surprisingly didn’t force any more offerings on her.

Cheng Songyun sighed in relief and turned to Mei Lan. “Let me carry some for you.”

Mei Lan: “Thank you, thank you, but it’s taboo…”

“We’ve accepted the gifts, and we’re not throwing them away. Does it matter who carries them?” Cheng Songyun adjusted her short hair. “Come on, I’ll take half.”

Mei Lan bit her lip but eventually shook her head.

Cheng Songyun didn’t push further. She handed Mei Lan a bottle of drink. “Fine. You’re using up a lot of energy, so drink this if you get thirsty.”

“I could carry them? I think I can manage.” The gloomy boy hesitated, slowing his steps.

Mei Lan slowed down too, smiling a bit awkwardly. “It’s not about whether you can carry them…”

Sensing that their pace was faltering, Fang Xiu took two steps forward and patted the boy on the shoulder. “If something happens to Cheng Jie or you and the offerings are lost, Mei Lan would probably still be the one to break the taboo, because she didn’t ‘take care’ of the gifts properly.”

He guessed that Mei Lan felt it was too unlucky to say this out loud.

As expected, Mei Lan softly acknowledged, lowering her head.

The gloomy boy froze while Cheng Songyun could only smile bitterly.

“We all understand,” she said.

With the issue resolved, the group trudged on in silence.

Yet the spirits holding mud and rocks didn’t disperse. They followed closely behind Mei Lan, mimicking her steps, sticking to her like shadows.

“We all understand,” they kept repeating, shaking the mud in their hands. “We all understand. We all understand.”

Mei Lan’s face turned even paler than before. She shrank closer to Cheng Songyun, clutching the mud pastries in her arms, her eyes fixed on her own shoes.

With Mei Lan as a warning, the rest of the group became even more cautious. They huddled tightly together, ignoring everything the spirits said.

The wet, muddy road seemed endless. Fang Xiu felt like they had been walking for half a lifetime when Fourth Master finally started to slow down.

“My feet must be blistered,” Fang Xiu grimaced. He could feel blisters forming under his feet, and his heels were in agony.

Bai Shuangying gave him a sideways glance. “Is this how you used to go to temple fairs?”

“It’s different. The last time I went, I was still a kid. When I got tired, my dad would let me ride on his shoulders,” Fang Xiu said.

Bai Shuangying frowned. “I’m not letting you ride.”

Fang Xiu: “……”

Fang Xiu: “…I’m not that desperate, my friend.”

Bai Shuangying looked at Fang Xiu in surprise, as if he wanted to say something but held back. He touched the paper flower on his chest, his tone softening slightly. “Your father treated you well.”

Fang Xiu tapped the tip of his shoe. “Yeah, I miss him a lot.”

Bai Shuangying: “You’ll see him again if you survive this.”

“But I still won’t see him,” Fang Xiu added, “My dad passed away almost twenty years ago.”

“Did your father also… Were you spared in the nine familial exterminations?” Bai Shuangying asked hesitantly.

Fang Xiu laughed. “No, no, I’ve just had a streak of bad luck.”

“And by the way, I’m an only child. My dad, mom, grandparents, all gone. Just so you won’t have any misunderstanding again.”

Bai Shuangying: “Got it.”

Up ahead, Fourth Master came to a halt and cursed loudly. Fang Xiu immediately perked up, craning his neck to see.

In front of them was another ancestral shrine.

It was identical to the one at Weishan, with the same plaque. However, this shrine’s doors were wide open, and there was no deity statue inside. There was only a rosewood armchair.

Aside from that, the room contained nothing but brightly burning red candles, with no sign of evil spirits.

The couplets on the walls had also changed…

[Upholding virtue and punishing evil with clear judgment.]

[And henceforth, justice is seen in the hearts of men.]

Fang Xiu frowned slightly. These lines weren’t very antithetical. Rather than a couplet, they sounded more like poetry.

Looking further east, there was nothing but pure darkness behind the shrine, as if they had reached the edge of a ghostly maze. Nearby, there were still temple fair stalls, but they kept their distance from the shrine.

That strange, empty shrine stood brightly lit, its door wide open.

Fourth Master didn’t enter immediately. Instead, he took out the copper gourd again, shouted “Luck, luck, luck,” three times, and the gourd pointed unwaveringly at the shrine.

“You.” 

Fourth Master kicked Jia Xu in the back. “Go in and take a look.”

“Wait a moment.” In a rare moment, Fang Xiu interrupted Fourth Master.

“Before Jia Xu tries, can I say something? …I’ve made a new discovery about this temple fair.”

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The author has something to say:

Happy Mid-Autumn Festival, everyone! (*/ω＼*)

The two guests visit the temple fair, give flowers, and talk about family… How is this not a date? (。

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The clues Fang Xiu has noticed are already in the text~I wonder if anyone’s picked up on them yet! ☆

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