TWBS c60~64

表里世界 ☆ 

The World Below Surface

Arc 4 (c60 – 77) Word Count: 14k

Translator: InkyDragon

60 ☆ Religious Madness

On the following day, Chu Xiu found himself unable to shake off the disconcerting feeling that had been gnawing at him since Lu Yan entrusted him with that cryptic message. 

Although he had committed his fair share of unsavoury deeds in the past, not to mention Lu Yan had been nothing more than a mere NPC to him. Also, there was no telling whether or not he would even cross paths with him again on his next mission. 

Nevertheless, the nagging sense of guilt lingered with him throughout the day, tormenting him with the thought that he had failed to keep his promise. Finally, when he had some free time to spare, he had someone deliver a statue to him so that he could worship it at home every day, recording the activities both on video and in writing, hoping to alleviate the sense of unease that had taken hold of him.

“Brother Chu, I never thought you believed in this too,” chuckled his friend when he visited and caught a glimpse of the shrine. “I thought you were an atheist.”

Chu Xiu did not argue with him, nor did he wish to. In fact, he longed to return to his former state of disbelief. However, there were simply some things in this world that could not be explained by science alone. After his friend finished laughing, Chu Xiu finally asked, “Did you find out anything about what you were investigating?”

“Of course I did, who do you take me for? Don’t underestimate me!” replied his friend, producing a stack of papers from a folder and handing them over. “It wasn’t easy to unearth his true identity. We nearly had the police breathing down our necks.”

Chu Xiu took the papers and perused them carefully. “Why does it still involve the police?”

“I’m not sure. He appeared to be preparing to cooperate with them, but that never came to fruition. And then he ended up dead.” His friend let out a sigh. “It was an unfortunate turn of events for him. But his death was shrouded in mystery, and the police department is at a loss. I suggest you steer clear of it.”

Chu Xiu had already reached the final page of the documents, and upon hearing this, he closed the folder and said, “I know my limits.”

“Just be careful not to do anything reckless,” his friend said, waving his hand. “By the way, isn’t your sister’s death anniversary coming soon? When are you planning to pay your respects? Take me with you.”

Of course, Chu Xiu had another question burning at the back of his mind, but he refrained from asking it, fearful of the reaction it might elicit. Weary, he closed his eyes. When he opened them again, the fleeting glimmer of hope that had sparked within him had already been extinguished. “I’ll be heading back next week.”

He did not dare meet Chu Xian’s gaze, fearful of the disappointment and pain that might be reflected therein, nor did he wish to see the look of disdain that he might see in her eyes upon beholding the person he had become today. But he longed for her all the same and yearned to see her again.

Friend bade his farewell, saying, “I won’t disturb you any longer. Take care of yourself. I’ll keep probing that matter, and I’ll inform you of any progress. You’ll receive the old customer discount.”

Chu Xiu bid him goodbye and observed his friend’s departure.

As his friend was about to shut the door, he rubbed his eyes in disbelief and muttered, “Strange, did I just see the statue smile?”

Chu Xiu returned to his room, arranged the camera as usual, and directed it at the statue. He reverently ignited three incense sticks and bowed.

After the ritual, he examined the video footage and was stunned by the abnormality he witnessed. The initial footage was unremarkable, but the colour tonality of the recording made him uncomfortable. The middle of the video seemed to cave in, and his body bent forward unnaturally. At the same time, the statue appeared to inch closer and closer, almost brushing against him.

However, when he stood up, everything reverted to its original state. The statue returned to its original position, and there was no indication of anything peculiar.

Chu Xiu shuddered as he sensed an icy chill running down his spine and swiftly erased the recording. Only then did the cold start to dissipate.

He didn’t dare to continue and snatched his computer to depart, intending to locate a new workplace. When he arrived at his preferred coffee shop, his nerves finally calmed down.

“What’s happening? Are there ghosts lurking in this world?” he pondered, feeling apprehensive and sensing that things were spiralling out of control.

Chu Xiu pulled his computer open and cautiously logged onto that website.

The Taskers website was a hidden gem of technology and stealth disguised as a mundane gaming domain. It was password-protected, and even those who entered it would only find a chat room for gamers that seemed innocuous. Chu Xiu had just completed his mission and uploaded a detailed report on the forum, hoping for feedback. His post went viral, and he received countless private messages with various analyses.

Chu Xiu noticed that there was even a Level One account. The website was a platform for taskers to assist each other. Anyone could post and review tasks. To avoid information leaks, registration only required a detailed account of their first task, with no personal details needed. After the human moderator approves the account, the user could choose a fixed alias or a random code from the website.

It was customary for everyone to share their experiences after finishing a task, and each successful post would boost their user level. But this Level One account had only done one task. Chu Xiu was puzzled, but the logic behind it was solid. He followed the other person’s suggestion and opened a new document, neatly arranging his thoughts. 

**

Meanwhile, Lu Yan returned to his place and did the same thing.

Lu Yan paid his respects at a nearby church after reporting to his superior and then headed again to the Yin and Yang path. However, the cultists had seized control of the Yin and Yang path, making it impossible for him to enter without alarming them. With no other choice, Lu Yan had to abandon his plan.

His pen feverishly scribbled across the page as he sat in the room, weaving a tangled web of thoughts within his mind. After grappling with the intricacies of their previous mission countless times, Lu Yan had finally managed to piece together the elusive rules of the game.

“Separated from the all-knowing ‘god,’ the seven-day game is rather straightforward,” he mused. “Wen Qing was caught in a temporal and spatial vortex caused by the omniscient deity. As a result, they were ensnared, forced to die and respawn ad nauseam.”

Despite the ‘god’s’ supposed ability to resurrect and manipulate time and space, Chu Xiu’s sudden appearance in the same realm as him seemed to contradict this notion entirely. Lu Yan’s pen scratched away, tracing several wavy lines across the page.

“Time is like a river – a force that cannot be stopped or reversed,” he scrawled. “Those who follow its current are mere bubbles on the surface of its rushing waters. Rather than rewinding these fragile bubbles, the ‘god’ merely transports them from one space to another.”

A sudden thought gave him pause, and he grew increasingly curious. “Are there alternate versions of myself in other worlds? Ones who never left the elevator and yet still managed to survive? Or perhaps versions who successfully avoided certain death nodes?”

The idea of such parallel universes captivated him, leaving him pondering the implications of his existence. “When the task takers leave, do they disappear along with the realm’s inevitable refresh? What is the connection between my world and theirs?”

As the moon rose high in the sky, his thoughts turned to the bizarre state of the world at large. “People may be going insane, but technological advancements continue to march on – keeping pace with their realm. It’s all so unbelievable,” he muttered, his pen dancing across the page.

Despite his best efforts to piece together the puzzle, Lu Yan remained uncertain. “No matter how long I calculate, I’m groping blindly in the dark. I always seem to hit a dead end and give up,” he lamented.

The full moon outside the window bathed the world in an eerie glow, casting long shadows across the room.

The tranquillity that once permeated the air was shattered by the shrill screams from upstairs. Lu Yan’s mind raced as he recalled a film he had watched with a group of taskers called “The Truman Show.” The notion that he could be the protagonist of a manipulative entity’s entertainment lingered in his thoughts. Suppose there was indeed an unseen force controlling everything. Why not make him succumb to madness and let go of all inhibitions?

The following day, Lu Yan was invited to attend a gathering hosted by the cult. The venue was on a deserted mountain outside the city, far from where he resided. Upon arrival, he noted that most cult members had already congregated. Dressed in a red and white robe akin to the others, he was an unenthusiastic participant in the cult’s ceremonial activities. He stood at the crowd’s periphery, observing as they danced, cheered, and subsequently prostrated themselves, convinced of their unworthiness to receive God’s grace.

The cultist crying the most fervently had already brandished a knife, determined to expunge his sins by shedding his own blood. Lu Yan kept a safe distance from the frenzied individual to avoid getting bloodstains on his robe. Others followed suit as soon as the first person began to hurt themselves. Soon, a group of individuals stood in a peculiar formation, lying in pools of blood. The cult leader was overcome with a sense of sacred elation, holding up a head and muttering incoherent words. As she spoke, she danced amongst the crowd, singing a song whose lyrics were unintelligible to Lu Yan.

After listening carefully, Lu Yan realized that the head belonged to the cult leader’s lover. She was bidding him a final farewell. She sang for an extended period before stopping abruptly, throwing the head she held into a nearby pool, which caused it to sink noiselessly. “God will surely receive our respect…” she exclaimed, tears of joy streaming down her face as she spoke.

Only a handful of the faithful remained, a mere shadow of the forty who had attended. Lu Yan had been hovering at the edge of the gathering, poised to depart unnoticed, when the priest snagged him by the arm.

“Next month, you’re headed to this spot.” The priest slipped a photograph into his hand, its edges curling like the fingers of the dead. “Spread the good word of God to those blasphemers. It’s His command.”

Lu Yan took the photo.

At first glance, it appeared to be an ordinary family portrait with five happy faces beaming at the camera. But there was something queer about them, a sense of unease that crept beneath the skin. Their faces were sickly and bloated, the visages of those not among the living. Their smiles were odd, fox-like and sly, with pointed chins, slanted eyes, and downturned mouths.

“If they resist, use the flames to cleanse them. Let them bask in the mercy of God in the cool river water…”

Lu Yan didn’t bat an eye.

“How many?” he asked.

The priest’s grin widened, each word rolling from her tongue like a curse. “All. Every last one of them.”

“I’ll see to it.” Lu Yan’s voice was calm as he accepted the task, nodding to the dwindling crowd as he slipped away, the vivid red of his robe drawing their eyes like a beacon.

He didn’t look back or see the carnage left in his wake: the blood, the limbs, the viscera melting into the soil. By the time he turned his gaze to the photograph once more, the evidence of the slaughter had vanished as though it had never existed.

“XX Village, X Town, X City, XX Province.”

**

“Why are you so late tonight? Where’ve you been?”

An Xing Yu stepped inside his home, only to be met with his father’s unwavering interrogation. He bent down to put on his shoes and explained as he walked, “I completed some homework with some classmates.”

Still clutching several test papers, An Xing Yu’s assertion seemed authentic. An Ru’s keen eyes scanned his son’s figure, but An Xing Yu no longer cowered like a child under his father’s glare. He stood calmly and allowed An Ru to inspect him.

“Did you really just do homework?” An Ru’s expression darkened. “Be truthful with me, where did you really go?”

“I genuinely went to do homework,” An Xing Yu replied, his tone even.

An Ru remained silent. Yet, when An Xing Yu sat beside him and poured himself a glass of water, An Ru’s hand abruptly grabbed the hem of An Xing Yu’s pants and lifted it, revealing a mark on his calf.

“What’s this?” An Ru pointed at the scar and tried to suppress his anger. “You’re believing in that absurdity, aren’t you? Let me tell you…”

“It’s not absurdity!” An Xing Yu suddenly shook off his father’s hand, his previously timid face now fierce. “How can you be so disrespectful to God? Aren’t you afraid of eternal damnation?”

An Ru was entirely taken aback by his son’s baseless defiance. Before he could react, An Xing Yu shoved him away harshly before he could react and disappeared out the door.

An Ru pursued him, but An Xing Yu had already vanished. There was no trace of An Xing Yu for an extended period after that. An Ru took an extended absence from work, posting small daily advertisements, hoping to find his son.

Despite his extensive efforts, there was no news of his son.

61 ☆ Returning to my Hometown To Pay Respects to My Ancestors

An Xing Yu stood amidst the throng of people, his white robe billowing in the wind. The weight of expectations from his parents and the ever-present fear of being on the cusp of life and death had left him in constant unease. The only solace he found was in prayer and listening to the gospel, which brought him a fleeting sense of peace.

As the sacrificial ceremony commenced in the field, An Xing Yu’s face lit up with joy. Blood spattered and stained his white robe a deep crimson hue. He was not alone, for everyone present was similarly exchanging their white robes for red ones while feeling honoured by the grace of God. It was a day of grand celebration. An Xing Yu couldn’t help but break into an unusual, joyful smile.

His phone vibrated, and he glanced at the caller ID. Without answering, he let the other party continue calling. 

After An’s mother discovered that her son had run away from home, she was furious with her husband and searched for him daily. She followed any leads from surveillance cameras and posted flyers. Still, An Xing Yu remained resolute in staying hidden from his family.

“It’s all your fault. Why did you have to argue with him? He can believe whatever he wants. Can your theories save him? Bring him back?” An’s mother wept on the sofa, filled with anger and frustration.

An Ru felt a sense of unease, “He’s already gone through so much. He’s strong enough to handle this…but isn’t it the cult that caused all of this suffering? I’m only trying to help him.”

“Help him? Where is our son now?” An’s mother was beside herself with grief.

An Ru remained motionless, accused by his wife of being responsible for their son’s disappearance.

Mother An’s eyes darted to An Ru, her voice lowering to a menacing growl. “You think I’m oblivious to his doings? As long as my son is unscathed, I could care less about what he believes. Does his religion command him to harm or set fires?” She snarled, “How did you suspect him?”

An Ru hardly ever returned home, so where did he obtain the information?

“Didn’t you put a camera in his room?” An Ru said, exposing her deceit. “I saw it too. And An Xing Yu’s laptop is in your possession, isn’t it? This child is quite shrewd, he knows how to encode his secrets using cryptic symbols. If I didn’t understand his tactics, I wouldn’t have unraveled the mystery.”

Those words elicited a proud and mournful grin from Mother An. “Yes, he’s so astute.” She evaded responsibility, “It’s all because of you! If something happens to him during this turmoil outside, we’re not done yet!”

An Ru allowed her to blame him, but after a lengthy pause, he seemed to have decided. “Don’t fret; I’ll locate him.”

**

In a dimly lit room, a young girl sat with a doll-like face that displayed an enigmatic smile. Her fingers flicked back and forth.

“Hehehe,” the girl suddenly sprang up, exhilarated. “Just as I anticipated, nothing can flummox me, a fledgling master! I’ve solved it!” Her phone rang simultaneously.

“Hello?” The girl, Lin Chu (林初), rubbed her short hair and cackled. “Honestly, Xiao Yu, where did you get this website? These games are rather entertaining and challenging.”

The voice on the other end sounded on the brink of tears. “Chu Chu, are you at home? Can I come over?”

Lin Chu was taken aback. “What’s wrong?”

The young man she called Xiao Yu cried out, “I’m a dead man, I…I’m outside your building right now, can you please help me?”

“Alright, um…” Lin Chu nodded slowly, her mind preoccupied with something that seemed to be speaking to her internally. A voice in her head made her responses slower than usual. “What… task? Village of the Heavenly Immortals? What is that?” she asked, trying to shake off the strange sensation clouding her thoughts.

She composed herself and let Xiao Yu inside, but her expression remained unsightly. Xiao Yu, who had been tearful before, noticed her discomfort and asked, “Are you feeling unwell, Chu Chu?”

Lin Chu forced a smile, trying to push aside the nagging feeling in her mind. “No… but what about you?” she asked, attempting to redirect the conversation.

“I…” Xiao Yu’s voice faltered as his eyes filled with tears again. “I’m going to die.”

Lin Chu felt her heart skip a beat. She had known Xiao Yu for years and had never seen him like this before. She guided him inside and sat him down, trying to remain calm even as her mind raced with questions.

Xiao Yu’s real name was Yu Xian Guang (余衔光), but he was called Xiao Yu as a nickname. He was Lin Chu’s closest friend. She couldn’t bear to see him in such a state.

Then she heard something that made her blood run cold.

“Anyway, that’s it. The task that I had you log in to the website and the task that was approved, was actually my personal experience. The posts that you saw were also from their personal experiences,” Xiao Yu said in despair. “Next, I’m going to participate in the second task. What should I do? I won’t be able to survive.”

Lin Chu felt a surge of shock and disbelief. It was too much to take in all at once. Why was he saying so similar to what she had just heard in her head? 

She couldn’t help but wonder if the voice she heard just now was real?

Xiao Yu beseeched once more, his tone desperate and imploring. “Can you help me? Can you analyze it for me? You’re the best, and all the survival strategies you sifted through on that website were spot on.”

Lin Chu’s complexion drained of colour, her features taut with tension. “Are you being serious right now? Just a moment ago, I heard a voice instructing me to undertake a task. Right when you called.”

“What? What?!” Yu Xiang Guang’s countenance was frozen in disbelief, as if he never envisioned Lin Chu would be ensnared in this game.

Lin Chu’s expression contorted as if she had glimpsed a phantom. “If I hadn’t undergone the same thing, I would’ve thought you were pranking me. Who on earth could’ve devised such a bizarre thing?”

Now, it was Yu Xiang Guang’s turn to console her. “Don’t be crestfallen. You can ask for assistance on the website. Everyone is in the same boat, and you can certainly make it through with your intellect.”

Before he could finish, Lin Chu’s demeanour left him astounded. There wasn’t a scintilla of the panic he envisioned. She was brimming with enthusiasm!

“What’s gotten into you?”

Lin Chu tried to suppress her glee, but it burst forth in laughter. She sprang up abruptly, placing her fingers above the laptop and slamming it shut, her eyes dancing excitedly. “I never envisaged something like this. Life can get tedious if it continues for too long. Tsk… it’s merely a task, right? I’m in!”

Her voice grew in intensity, leaving Yu Xiang Guang speechless.

“Now, let’s discuss the task. Oh, right, my task is to go to the Village of the Heavenly Immortals. It told me that I’m the daughter of a family who’s been studying away from home for years. My name remains the same. It’s almost Chinese New Year, and I must return to pay homage to my ancestors. Once the ritual is complete, the task will conclude. What about you?”

Yu Xiang Guang’s mind took a while to emerge from the fog. “Ah, um, me too. By the by, did you just receive the task?” he muttered, head lowered. “It shouldn’t be this way. The tasks are always released simultaneously, so why was one person added at the last minute?”

“Maybe I’m some kind of bug. Oh, and could it be that you leaked the task details to me?”

The accusation made Yu Xiang Guang turn pallid. “No, I didn’t intend to harm you.”

“Chill. I was just fretting about not finding the true meaning of life.” Lin Chu was thrilled, licking her lips, and said, “It’s so exhilarating to experience the feeling of walking on the edge of death.”

Yu Xiang Guang trembled for a while before returning to his usual self. “I attended a gathering a few days ago. You see, the participants of the same batch of tasks would convene on the website after the task details were published. There were five people in total in this batch, and with you, that makes six. There was also a high school student who was particularly good and had already completed many tasks.”

He looked at Lin Chu expectantly. “Master, I’m counting on you.”

But Lin Chu was more interested in the high school student. “High school? What’s his name? How many times has he done this?” Her round eyes narrowed slightly. “I feel like he’s a bit suspicious…”

“What’s suspicious?”

“Nothing.” Lin Chu kept her thoughts to herself.

To Lin Chu, the whole situation felt like a twisted game with life-or-death stakes. It was like an infinite-flow novel come to life. The stakes were high, and failure was not an option. Those who didn’t participate or failed the task were doomed to die. It was no wonder that there had been a surge of strange cases in recent years. How many of them were related to the task?

“Why do people who want to do the task still gather to open a website?” Lin Chu mused aloud. “Hasn’t this website been discovered by the relevant departments?”

She couldn’t help but wonder if the task also screened its takers. After all, with so many people participating, someone was bound to spill the beans. But no news had surfaced yet, meaning something was suppressing it.

But then again, why had Yu Xiang Guang confided in her? Was it the survival rate of small-scale dissemination, or did she have something special? Too many questions were piling up, and she needed answers.

That’s why Lin Chu decided to investigate the site before coming to any conclusion. She was particularly interested in the high school student and hoped to learn more information from advanced task takers. Additionally, the idea of another world was quite intriguing.

**

“We’re almost at the Village of the Heavenly Immortals,” the woman in the red robe announced. “This village has always been relatively exclusive. Our people only recently learned about it after inquiring for a long time.”

Despite the deep winter, the car was driving on a winding path, surrounded by dark green and thick trees. The atmosphere was bone-chilling. In the car, a man and woman were present. The man was driving attentively, while the woman in the red robe in the back seat looked dignified and holy. She was introducing the situation of the village to the person in front.

“It is said that the original Village of the Heavenly Immortals was very prosperous and covered a large area. However, after being wealthy for a period of time, the entire village immediately encountered a curse. The specific cause and manifestation of the curse are still unknown. In short, the entire village almost became extinct. But later, they invited the Five Great Immortals to the village, and the people in the village began to survive smoothly.”

“The Five Great Immortals?” repeated Lu Yan.

Lu Yan had heard of many strange things, so the legend of the Five Great Immortals was familiar to him. Up in the northern regions, folks believed in the five “great immortals” – Hu (fox), Huang (yellow weasel), Bai (hedgehog), Liu (snake), and Hui (rat). This belief system was rooted in folk legends and influenced by shamanism and Taoist culture.

Despite his familiarity with these stories, he didn’t need to show off his knowledge to the priest who had accompanied him on this trip. 

“It’s just a folk legend, a bunch of low-level animals, they don’t know what real gods are,” the woman said dismissively, her expression still sacred and gentle. “Remember, don’t forget your identity.”

She wasn’t trying to admonish him but instead reminding him. They had found a villager from the Village of the Heavenly Immortals living outside to make a fake ID. Their plan was to claim that they were villagers from the Village of the Heavenly Immortals who had lived outside for many years and returned to worship their ancestors.

“Understood, I won’t forget,” Lu Yan replied, his tone confident.

As he spoke, something caught his eye. Lu Yan noticed a brownish-yellow weasel brushing past the car and the path’s edge. He looked back in the rearview mirror and saw it standing on a bare, protruding rock. Its shiny fur gleamed in the sunlight, and its round black eyes were looking right at them through the mirror.

Suddenly, the weasel jumped down from the rock and disappeared. But before it vanished, Lu Yan saw that the weasel’s two front paws were folded across its chest like a human, and its mouth was curved in a smile similar to a human’s.

Meanwhile, the woman in the back seat continued to speak. “Let’s check again. Your name doesn’t need to change, it’s still Lu Yan. My name is Luo Ying (罗莺), and we’ve both been living outside with our parents and have never returned to the village. We’re here this year to worship our ancestors. Do you remember?”

“Don’t worry, I won’t make any mistakes,” Lu Yan reassured her, his voice calm and steady.

Luo Ying’s eyes narrowed as she leaned forward and hissed, “Remember, our mission is to ensure that the villagers worship my Lord, no matter the cost. And the best way to do that is to tear down everything they hold sacred.” Her last words were almost a whisper, but the venom in her voice was unmistakable.

As the vehicle rumbled towards the village, the sun descended, casting an amber glow over the surrounding fields. They soon arrived at the village entrance, where a middle-aged man stood waiting. His face was rugged and leathered from years of exposure to the elements, and his lips were already cracked from the dry heat. But his smile was genuine as he rushed forward to greet them.

Lu Yan rolled down his window and was met with a warm welcome. “You must be the boy from the Lu family, right?” the man said. “I’ve been waiting for you. Is this your first time back? Take a look around the village when you enter. You young men will have to contribute to the ancestral temple when the time comes.”

Luo Ying emerged from the back seat, shedding her vibrant red robe in favour of a plain tracksuit. “Zhang Bo (张伯), I, too am here to pay my respects to our ancestors,” she said, flashing a bright smile. “I am Luo Ying, from the Luo family.”

Zhang Bo’s eyes widened in recognition. “Luo family… Oh, your father is Luo Rong Shan, right? I remember now.” He clapped his hands together. “I never knew that Luo Rong Shan had such a stunning daughter. Come, come, let us go inside.”

With Zhang Bo leading the way, the car passed through the village. As they drove, they were met with friendly waves and warm greetings from the villagers. They slowed as they entered the village’s parking area, savouring the sense of community that pervaded the atmosphere.

The village sprawled, a vast expanse that revealed its economic underdevelopment due to its remote location. Most villagers inhabited adobe houses with scarce tiled abodes that dotted the landscape. But occasionally, exquisite wooden buildings stood tall, their grandeur unmistakable. Zhang Bo enlightened them, “These are sanctums reserved for the Five Great Immortals.”

Zhang Bo’s parking space lay within arm’s reach of his home. After disembarking, he ushered them and, with a vigorous rub of his hands, declared, “On your first day back, there’ll be nothing in that old house. Spend the night at mine, and we’ll fix up your dilapidated shack tomorrow. Once it’s done, how about you take up residence?”

The duo agreed and trailed behind Zhang Bo, a large pine tree looming near his abode. Verdant foliage enveloped the tree, making the season appear more vibrant. They followed a path that wound under the tree and were welcomed by the sight of a brand-new tiled house.

Curiously, the doorstep to Zhang Bo’s house was unnaturally high, almost reaching Luo Ying’s calves. The two of them awkwardly stepped over it, barely maintaining their balance. As soon as they crossed the threshold, the shrine in the hall’s centre came into view.

62 ☆ Strange Little Girl

As the sun sets in the sky, it casts a sharp divide between light and shadow in the room’s centre, illuminating an old lady statue in a shrine. The statue’s white hair and gentle smile conveyed a sense of tranquillity, while the shrine itself was cloaked in incense ash, signifying its history of worship.

The temperature dropped upon entering the room, and a faint musky odour permeated the air. Luo Ying’s expression softened, but her eyes betrayed her terrifying coldness. She had no patience for nonbelievers and longed to rid them of her presence. However, Zhang Bo failed to notice her peculiar behaviour, instead kneeling before the statue and lighting three incense sticks.

“Come on, Xiao Lu, Xiao Luo, both of you should also pay your respects and ask Old Lady Third Whisker for her blessings,” Zhang Bo urged cheerfully.

Lu Yan hesitated before glancing at Luo Ying, who remained frozen. It was dark inside the room, but Zhang Bo’s shadow betrayed him, showing a curved spine and a swaying tail.

“Aren’t you going to pay your respects, Xiao Lu? Xiao Luo?” Zhang Bo’s wide smile belied his true intentions.

Luo Ying’s nails dug into her palms as she struggled to maintain her composure. Lu Yan watched curiously, wondering what Luo Ying’s endgame was. If she bowed her head, it would prove that she was not there to preach, which could only mean trouble. But why would she worship these low-level creatures while hiding her beliefs unless they had bigger plans?

After hesitating, Luo Ying took the incense from Zhang Bo and approached the shrine. Lu Yan followed her lead and knelt beside her, bowing respectfully.

But sincerity was crucial for the ritual’s success, and Luo Ying was anything but sincere. Lu Yan could not help but wonder what their true intentions were. Was Luo Ying willing to endure this charade for the sake of the village?

Lu Yan pretended to be ignorant, bowing thrice with respect, hoping to unravel the mystery before him.

[TN: If you are not reading this novel on puukkiss.wixsite.com/inkydragon, please support the original translator by visiting my website. Thank you! :)]

On the god shelf, an old lady with a powdered face and white hair grasped a jade sceptre with a benevolent smile, yet Lu Yan saw beyond the facade. The lady’s eyes curved up but were steeped in darkness, revealing unhidden murderous intent.

Light and brisk footsteps echoed from a nearby room, catching Lu Yan’s attention. A little girl, no more than six or seven years old, bolted out of the room, her bright red flowered dress fluttering behind her. Her eyes ignited with delight at the sight of Zhang Bo, and she sprinted straight into his arms, declaring, “Grandpa, you’re back!”

Granted, the little girl was adorable, with snow-white skin and vivacious eyes, but something about her was unnerving. Upon closer inspection, one would notice that her lips were a ghastly shade of red. She would pursue them even when smiling, never exposing her teeth.

Zhang Bo tenderly patted her head and hushed her, saying, “Don’t be noisy, we have guests.”

A soft reprimand emanated from the room, “Li Li (丽丽), don’t make noise. Old Lady Third Whisker enjoys tranquility.”

A pallid and fragile young man ambled out from behind the curtain, his movements sluggish, indicating his poor health. Li Li, the little girl, obediently disengaged herself from Zhang Bo’s embrace and rushed over to hold the man’s hand, staring at the two strangers with her big black eyes.

Zhang Bo introduced them, “Xiao Lu, Xiao Luo, this is my son, Zhang Hui Xuan (张慧萱), and my granddaughter, Li Li.”

Despite being unmistakably male, he was bestowed with a decidedly feminine name. After exchanging names, Lu Yan appeared perplexed. Zhang Hui Xuan took the initiative to explain, “I was born frail, and Old Lady Third Whisker conferred my name after scrutinizing my fortune. She said I required a girl’s name to subdue my fate, or else I wouldn’t survive.”

Zhang Bo chuckled and gave him a thumbs up, “Old Lady Third Whisker is remarkably accurate. Since changing his name, he barely fell ill, and even found a wife and had children.”

At the mention of children, Li Li’s big eyes widened, and she suddenly piped up, “Daddy, I saw my auntie again yesterday. She was shivering with cold and asked for clothes to wear.”

Auntie? Lu Yan’s heart stirred, though he kept his expression placid. Zhang Bo had more than one child, it seemed.

Zhang Hui Xuan blanched, his face ashen. “What nonsense are you talking about again?” he snapped at Li Li.

Undeterred, the young girl persisted, “Dad, can I give Auntie some of my clothes to wear?”

Zhang Hui Xuan opened his mouth to scold the girl, but no words came. A violent cough shook his body, and he gasped for air.

Oddly enough, Zhang Bo didn’t stop Li Li’s pestering. Instead, he watched his son’s hacking with a pained expression etched on his face.

Li Li stopped giggling, observing her father’s suffering. In a small, timid voice, she asked, “Dad, can’t we? Auntie said she’s freezing.”

“No!” Zhang Hui Xuan roared as he struggled to catch his breath. “No! Go back to your room!”

Li Li whined and retreated to her room, her pigtails swinging as she went.

As soon as the door slammed shut, Zhang Hui Xuan apologized to Luo Ying, “I’m sorry. We’ve spoiled Li Li.”

[TN: If you are not reading this novel on puukkiss.wixsite.com/inkydragon, please support the original translator by visiting my website. Thank you! :D]

“It’s alright,” Luo Ying nodded sympathetically. Then, she asked, “Who’s the auntie Li Li mentioned earlier? Do you have any sisters?”

The air in the room grew thick with tension. Zhang Hui Xuan paled even further, his skin blending with the white walls. His reply came out cold and sharp, “What does it have to do with you? Don’t ask what you shouldn’t.”

But Luo Ying didn’t back down. She smiled sweetly, “I’m also a member of Village of the Heavenly Immortals. Of course, I want to know.”

Zhang Hui Xuan’s eyes narrowed to slits, and his voice turned shrill, “Get out of here!”

Undeterred, Luo Ying stood her ground. “Even if you don’t tell me, I’ll investigate it myself.” And with that, she spun on her heel and left.

Lu Yan and Luo Ying arrived together, but Zhang Hui Xuan’s anger was directed only at Luo Ying. Lu Yan attempted to walk with her, but Luo Ying gestured for him to stay behind. Lu Yan halted his steps, watching her walk away with countless thoughts filling his mind. It was clear that Luo Ying had intentionally provoked them just so she could leave alone. What was she trying to achieve?

After Luo Ying left, Zhang Hui Xuan’s attitude improved visibly, as did Zhang Bo’s. Lu Yan couldn’t help feeling their warmth was excessive, and he secretly increased his vigilance. This family must be up to something.

As they sat in the main hall chatting, the sound of stir-frying could be heard coming from the kitchen, and the aroma of the food drifted over, making everyone’s stomachs growl. Lu Yan had little appetite, but Zhang Hui Xuan was different. When the fragrance of the roasted chicken wafted over, he swallowed his saliva, and his sharp, thin tongue licked his lips. It was a rather animal-like behaviour.

During dinner, everyone in Zhang Bo’s family came out. It was Zhang Bo’s wife cooking in the kitchen, a short and chubby woman with a round face and a pair of fox-like eyes.

“You must be Xiao Lu, right? Just call me Auntie,” Zhang Bo’s wife said, her eyes narrowing even more. Lu Yan complied and called her Auntie, which made her even happier. “Good, good, you haven’t been back for a long time. Hurry up and eat.”

Everyone sat around the dining table, but Zhang Bo’s wife didn’t take a seat. She picked up one of the whole chickens on the table and walked through the courtyard to the main hall. Lu Yan followed suit and said, “Let me pay my respects too.”

Zhang Bo’s wife took small steps to the shrine, placing the plate of chicken in front of the deity. She prostrated herself and continuously chanted blessings. After only two or three minutes, the steam rising from the dish emitting a tantalizing aroma visibly disappeared.

Zhang Bo’s wife breathed a sigh of relief and picked up the plate to leave. Lu Yan asked softly, “Auntie, how do we handle this?”

Zhang Bo’s wife didn’t even turn her head. “It needs to be buried. Only Old Lady Third Whisker has tasted it, and no one else can eat it.”

With this answer, Lu Yan returned to the dining table and waited with everyone else.

To his surprise, Li Li, the youngest child in Zhang Bo’s family, sat at the head of the table, a plate of roast chicken in front of her. While the others had not yet touched their chopsticks, she had already begun tearing into the meat with her hands, revealing two rows of sharp, animal-like teeth that looked particularly vicious as she ripped into the meat. As she ripped into the meat, Lu Yan noticed Li Li’s teeth were sharp, like those of a wild animal. It was clear why Li Li never smiled with her teeth showing. The others at the table were not surprised by this sight, as Zhang Hui Xuan even patted Li Li’s back lightly, telling her to eat slowly and not choke.

With a table full of family members, Lu Yan noticed that Li Li’s “aunt” and mother were absent. He didn’t want to pry, so he asked Luo Ying about it the next day.

As soon as dinner was over, Zhang Bo revealed some insider information. With the New Year coming up, every family in the village would hold ancestral ceremonies, and their family was no exception. Coincidentally, the village head’s elderly mother was in poor health, and Hu San’s wife said she was close to death. Each family would need to send someone to carry the coffin, but Li Li was too young, and Zhang Hui Xuan could not do it. Zhang Bo hoped that Lu Yan could replace Zhang Hui Xuan.

Lu Yan didn’t answer immediately. He still didn’t know the procedures for ancestral ceremonies in this village. What if he rashly agreed and ended up walking to his death? “Did Old Lady Third Whisker agree to this?” he asked, trying to gather more information before making a decision.

This question stumped Zhang Bo for a moment. After a while, he hurriedly stood up and looked like he was about to enter the main room. 

The dining room was adjacent to the kitchen, the dim light flickering from the single light bulb hanging on a wire above the table. Li Li sat at the head, her young voice cutting through the air just as Zhang Bo rose. “No need to ask; he can go.”

A sudden gust of wind blew in, carrying with it the musky scent of a fox. Li Li’s expression was no longer that of a six-year-old girl. Her voice was sharp and insistent, her narrow eyes locked on Lu Yan. “You can go in his place. This is Old Lady Third Whisker’s meaning.”

The bulb swayed, casting ominous shadows on the wall. Two pointed ears protruded from Li Li’s shadow head, stark against her silhouette.

Lu Yan’s heart plummeted, but he reluctantly agreed. Only then did Li Li revert to her childish form, bouncing away as Lu Yan watched her shadow on the ground.

If they needed him to replace Zhang Hui Xuan in offering ancestral sacrifices, then he was safe until the ceremony. At least, they would try to ensure it. Therefore, he accepted Zhang Bo’s invitation to stay the night. A guest room awaited him at the end of the hallway.

“This is how we live in the countryside. We sleep early.” Zhang Bo’s wife said, tucking in the bedding. “If you hear anything during the night, don’t respond and don’t come out, understand?”

She pulled an oil lamp and box of matches from the bedside table, placing them within easy reach. “There are often power outages at night. This will be your only source of light.”

As if on cue, the room plunged into darkness, the sound of crackling electricity filling the air. “See? Just as I was saying,” Zhang Bo’s wife muttered, striking a match and holding it to the wick. A flickering flame illuminated the room.

“Thank you,” Lu Yan murmured, stepping aside to let her leave. “I’ll be careful.”

As Lu Yan stood beside his room’s door, his eyes fell upon Li Li standing at the other end of the corridor, draped in a red dress that burned like coals in the glow of the kerosene lamp she held. Her face, as white as snow, gleamed under its light. Her long hair tumbled like tendrils of night, framing her shiny black eyes that fixed themselves upon the room he occupied. Whether she peered at him or something beyond him, he could not tell.

Li Li parted the side door and slipped inside, the wood quivering gently as it closed. Zhang Bo’s wife, following close behind, entered the room and drew the door shut. Lu Yan shut his door and sat on the edge of the bed. As he was preparing to lie down, a blurry black shape appeared on the yellowed curtain at the room’s right flank.

The farthest room to the right sat entirely alone, separated from the rest of the house. Its window looked out upon the back mountain. Zhang Bo had warned him beforehand that to thwart insects and creeping things from infiltrating the room, they had sealed its window and draped its thick curtains. To ventilate it, one needed to open the door.

Lu Yan’s breath caught in his throat.

At that moment, with the group of taskers yet to arrive and the world unchanged, he resolved to act as he always had in such circumstances, pretending he had seen nothing. He shrugged off his coat, and climbed into bed. Extinguishing the kerosene lamp, he shut his eyes and pretended to sleep.

Hold on! Something’s off.

A startling thought crossed his mind, leaving him short of breath. He struggled to quell the urge to flee. With a household guardian spirit at their beck and call, they should have nothing to fear… Shouldn’t they? And the team of taskers, they would arrive soon enough, wouldn’t they?

**

“Chu Chu, do you really think this is wise?” Yu Xiang Guang trailed behind Lin Chu, his expression troubled.

Lin Chu was armed to the teeth with weapons and recording devices, filling every available space on her body. She grinned wickedly as she heard the remark from her friend. “This is a great opportunity to conduct research in another world. Of course I have to be fully prepared,” she answered. 

“But,” Yu Xiang Guang was hesitant. “They all said not to bring too much stuff with us. Otherwise, if we encounter ghosts, we won’t be able to run,” he warned.

Lin Chu shrugged off his concerns. “If we can’t run, then we’ll just die,” she said nonchalantly. “It’s not a bad thing to end a boring life.”

Yu Xiang Guang was fearful, “Hey, don’t say that. We will come back safely.”

“Okay, okay, I won’t tease you anymore,” Lin Chu replied. “By the way, is it really as you guys said? Less than a second in reality?”

Yu Xiang Guang nodded. 

“Is the technology in that world similar to ours?” Lin Chu asked again.

“Yes, but their country’s history and some significant events differ. We’ve tried to investigate when the changes started, but we haven’t found out,” Yu Xiang Guang explained.

Lin Chu pondered deeply. According to their accounts, no matter how long they spent on their mission – a week, a month, or even half a year – only less than a second had passed when they returned to their world. The speed of time in the two worlds was clearly different, yet the dates on their return were close. Why was this so?

Yu Xiang Guang probably couldn’t provide helpful answers, so Lin Chu decided to investigate it herself. It had been a long since she encountered something as challenging as this.

Finally, they arrived at the designated location in a university town near a small supermarket. The entrance to the other world was an inconspicuous alleyway. After midnight, if they walked to the end of the alley, they could enter the other world.

Lin Chu and Yu Xiang Guang were the first to arrive half a day early, thanks to Lin Chu’s coercion and persuasion. Yu Xiang Guang nervously guarded the entrance, peering inside.

The alley was dark and eerie, with tall, old-fashioned buildings blocking the sunlight. As they walked further in, the darkness seemed to engulf them.

Lin Chu meticulously plucked a small piece of dark green moss with her tweezers, tapping down some pieces of soil and sealing them in a transparent bag. She’d cross over to the other world at midnight to gather more materials, eager to compare and contrast the differences. Carrying several storage bags in her bag, she knocked and tapped on the wall before sticking her legs in the gap. Swiftly, she installed a mini camera on the high wall, followed by another in the corner. Within moments, the area of less than one square meter was equipped with five or six cameras.

As time went by, the weather grew increasingly sombre.

As Lin Chu emerged from the alley, Yu Xiang Guang awaited her anxiously, sighing in relief at her appearance. They decided to eat first, as Yu Xiang Guang had arranged to meet the others at the small supermarket entrance at ten o’clock that night.

As the minutes ticked by, more and more students arrived to dine and drink. Located within the university city, the eatery attracted a considerable crowd. Lin Chu blended in with the college students, skillfully hiding in plain sight.

Yu Xiang Guang trembled with fear, the coward that he was. Although the other taskers insisted that ghosts only existed in the other world, he remained frightened. Despite no ghosts, peculiar incidents have been reported in the area recently.

With time running out, the bustling university city showed no signs of slowing down; more students continued to flock to the area. Yu Xiang Guang urged the excited Lin Chu to hurry, exclaiming, “Come on, Chu Chu, it’s time to go on a mission.”

Lin Chu returned to reality, replying, “Oh, right.” She quickly called out to the boss, “Boss, please hurry. I need to return to the dormitory to check in.”

The pair hauled their bounty of barbeque to the meeting point. Four people were already waiting by the small supermarket entrance, their eyes widening at the sight of the food. Lin Chu introduced herself, “Hi, I just received the task, so I didn’t make an appointment with you guys earlier. My name is Lin Chu. It’s my first time doing a task. How many times have you guys done it?”

As the jumbled food was passed around and Lin Chu revealed it was her first time on a mission, the corners of everyone’s mouths twitched, betraying their amusement. An Xing Yu, the youngest in the team, came forward with a blank, almost robotic expression in his gaze. “I’m An Xing Yu,” he introduced himself, “I’ve done seven missions already.”

Lin Chu had spotted him before. He was the only one who appeared youthful yet lacked the liveliness of the rest. She chuckled and switched the plastic bag to her other hand before greeting him with a handshake. “Nice to meet you, boss,” she said.

With An Xing Yu leading the way, they all reintroduced themselves and arrived at the entrance of a narrow alley. They formed a circle and began discussing the possible paths for the mission ahead.

Lin Xue Yuan (林雪原), a woman with the same surname and gender as Lin Chu, noticed her and asked, “Oh, it’s your first time on a mission. Have you registered on our website?”

Lin Chu smiled, her dimples deepening. She raised her phone and shook it. “I joined, and my ID is [The first time the lights come up in the evening].”

“You’re [The first time the lights come up in the evening]?” Lin Xueyuan was taken aback.

Lin Chu had a level one account, but she had earned a name for herself by solving all the challenging tasks in the forum with unconventional methods. Her solutions were creative and practical, as confirmed by the senior executors. They had thought she was a veteran tasker using a new identity, but they were shocked to find out she was a genuine rookie. 

Everyone’s eyes changed, now looked at her with admiration and respect.

Lin Chu patted her chest. “I’ll try not to hold you guys back,” she promised.

63 ☆ A pleasant addition

An Xing Yu reviewed the task and shared his ideas. He looked at her with his emotionless black eyes, awaiting her input.

After a moment’s contemplation, Lin Chu put forward a hypothesis, “The task requires us to perform ancestor worship, but the specifics are not specified. Perhaps we should obtain information on ancestor worship from the villagers of Village of the Heavenly Immortals. Then, could we set the process of ancestor worship ourselves? For instance, just offering incense and then leaving?”

If they had adopted the identity of villagers, could they decide how to perform the ancestor worship ritual?

The group fell silent, each lost in their thoughts, considering her conjecture. An Xing Yu shook his head, his voice flat, “It’s better not to. In the past, we had similar experiences. We might encounter even greater terrors if we deliberately modified the rules to avoid risks.”

Lin Chu conceded defeat, “Okay, let’s discuss it later.” She wondered what kind of world they’ll end up in. 

**

Meanwhile, Lu Yan lay on the bed, his breathing steady and eyes closed. However, as soon as he closed his eyes, he felt something was off. He saw a black shadow outside the window, but it was pitch black outside, and the room was well-lit. The shadow he saw was not outside but inside the room with him!

He remained motionless, feigning sleep, as the rustling sound grew louder, the source still indistinguishable. 

Then, something crawled onto the bed, its weight heavy and oppressive. He couldn’t discern what it was, neither a person nor an animal. The thing was ice-cold, with an unnatural stiffness that made it grow heavier and colder as it pressed against him. Its damp, cold breath pervaded the room, seeping into his soul.

[TN: If you are not reading this novel on puukkiss.wixsite.com/inkydragon, please support the original translator by visiting my website. Thank you! :)]

Lu Yan had feigned sleep, lying motionless on the bed, but now he was indeed paralyzed. His limbs were rigid and pinned to the mattress, his fingers unable to even curl. ‘Damnation, I’m in the grip of sleep paralysis!’ In the days before the world changed, he might have sought a scientific explanation for this horror, but now he knew better. There were ghosts in this world, and one was on him. He fought to keep calm, slowing his heart and ignoring the gooseflesh that prickled his skin. He wondered what anyone would make of this sight if they dared to open the door. A dark shape was sprawled over him, face to face, as if trying to burrow into his flesh. 

A little longer, he told himself. Just a little longer…

The door flew open with a deafening crash, and a gale-force wind tore through the room. The curtains whipped and twisted like mad snakes, and every object not nailed down – doors, windows, tables, chairs, wardrobes – rattled and banged as if possessed. The oil lamp smashed on the floor, spilling its flame. Chaos reigned in the cramped space, and amid the din, one could barely discern the shrill scream of a fox and the eerie wails of some nameless beast.

The noise was deafening, but no one emerged from the other rooms. Perhaps they were deaf to the chaos or preferred to stay hidden.

A primal instinct warned him not to open his eyes or cry out. He felt the thing’s claws digging into his flesh, drawing blood. Sweat poured from his brow, but he clenched his teeth and endured the agony.

The wind raged outside, threatening to tear the roof off. Zhang Bo’s protector, deity, fought with the black shadow, a furious struggle that seemed to last an eternity. Then, all at once, Lu Yan felt a release – the thing was gone. 

Silence fell over the room, broken only by his ragged breaths. Had it all been a nightmare? No. The throbbing wounds on his shoulders and arms were proof enough that it was real. He opened his eyes and saw the chaos around him. The door had been flung open, revealing a dark corridor beyond. A blast of cold air swept in, bringing with it the piney smell of the yard. He staggered to his feet and made his way to the door. He reached for the handle but stopped when he heard a faint voice. “Lu Yan…” It was barely a whisper, yet so clear, as if someone was caressing his ear with their breath. He felt a strange pull, a compulsion to answer it.

“If you hear anything during the night, don’t respond and don’t come out, understand?” Zhang’s wife’s warning echoed in his mind. He ignored the voice and returned to his room. He lay on the bed, pulled the covers over his head, and tried to sleep. But the voice followed him, persistent and sweet. “Xiao Lu, it’s me, open the door.” It sounded just like his mother, how he remembered her from long ago. 

He heard a soft knock on the door. 

[TN: If you are not reading this novel on puukkiss.wixsite.com/inkydragon, please support the original translator by visiting my website. Thank you! :D]

“Xiao Lu? Are you asleep?” 

“Xiao Lu, it’s so cold outside, can you open the door for Mommy? Mommy misses you so much.” 

“Xiao Lu, don’t ignore Mommy….” 

Lu Yan felt a surge of irritation. He wished the voice would leave him alone.

He had learned their tricks long ago. These things…these things would always try to lure him with familiar faces and voices. He was fooled the first time, but after ten times, a hundred times, he became numb. Even if they crawled up to him with his mother’s face, he would not spare them a glance! 

The voice outside changed from sweet to frantic. “Xiao Lu! Xiao Lu, for God’s sake, open the door! It’s here; it’s coming for me!!” She pounded on the door, desperate to get in. He heard a snarl, like a hungry beast, close behind her.

“Open the door! Please, help me! Xiao Lu, help Mom….” She screamed as the beast tore into her flesh. He heard the wet sounds of ripping and chewing and the beast’s triumphant growl. Her screams grew weaker until they were barely a whisper. “Help…help me…why won’t you help me? Why won’t you help Mom?!” 

“Ah-” She gave one last shriek of agony. Then, nothing. Lu Yan lay still on the bed, his eyes shut and his face blank. A tear escaped from under his eyelid and rolled down his cheek. He wiped it away with a twitch of his lashes.

He heard several knocks on the door before dawn, each pretending to be someone he knew, each begging or ordering him to open the door. They had been tormenting him all night.

Then, Zhang Bo’s wife’s voice came: “Xiao Lu, are you alright? It’s over now, Old Lady Third Whisker chased that thing away.”

Lu Yan was about to reply when a warning flashed in his mind. He looked up and saw the darkness still hanging behind the thick curtains. He kept quiet.

“Xiao Lu? Are you alright? Please, don’t frighten me, Xiao Lu?” The knocking grew more frantic. “Just say something if you’re alright, don’t scare us….”

Lu Yan checked his watch. It was barely four o’clock. He didn’t know what was outside the door but knew it wasn’t Zhang Bo’s wife. He yawned and wondered.

The first time, he had been saved by the protective diety. Why didn’t he care the second time? Was it because it couldn’t harm him?

He was curious to open the door and see for himself, but he quickly dismissed it. He tried to think of something else.

As the dawn approached, a rooster crowed loud and clear.

The knocking on the door stopped at once.

He knew he was safe now, so he slept profoundly. A few hours later, when the sun was high, he heard Zhang Bo’s wife knocking on the door. “Xiao Lu, are you awake yet?”

He opened his eyes and got up to open the door.

Zhang Bo’s wife greeted him with a smile. She didn’t seem bothered by the chaos in his room. She took him by the arm and led him outside. “Were you scared last night? Don’t worry, Old Lady Third Whisker protected you. Go wash up and join us for breakfast. I’ll clean up your room.”

Lu Yan nodded and thanked her. “Thank you, and thank Old Lady Third Whisker too.”

She beamed at him.

Zhang Bo was already at the table, ready to go to the fields after he ate. He had a hoe by the door. He saw Lu Yan and invited him to sit and eat with him. He said his son had to sleep more because of his poor health.

[TN: If you are not reading this novel on puukkiss.wixsite.com/inkydragon, please support the original translator by visiting my website. Thank you! :X]

Li Li was there too, a little girl in red, her braids bound with ribbons of the same hue. She tore at the meat with her sharp teeth, famished and fierce. Between bites, she mumbled: “You’ll play with me later”, her mouth bloody. She looked at Lu Yan with a predatory gleam in her eyes.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he smiled and countered, “What would you like to play?”

She pondered momentarily, then said, “I want to take you to the reservoir. We’ll catch some fish there.”

Zhang Bo hissed at her. “Don’t be foolish. That place is forbidden.”

“I’m not hunting ghosts, only fish. Why can’t I go?” She snapped back at him. “If not for me, he’d be dead by now. He owes me. I’m going, whether you like it or not!”

Lu Yan kept silent as he watched the old man and child bicker, though it hardly seemed a fair fight. Zhang Bo was plainly wary of Li Li and never raised his voice to her. She grew more defiant by the minute, and he had no power to stop her.

But Lu Yan had other thoughts on his mind. Li Li had claimed that she had saved his life last night. What did that mean? And what about her sharp teeth and the family’s reverence for her? He began to suspect something.

Li Li finished her meal and cleaned herself up. Then she grabbed Lu Yan’s hand and dragged him out. Her grip was cold as death, and he shuddered.

Li Li darted ahead, her smile radiant as she greeted the villagers who crossed their paths. They were all heading to the fields or the mountains, leaving the road to the reservoir untouched. She dragged Lu Yan along, her pace swift and nimble, unlike any other little girl. Lu Yan had to sprint to keep up with her.

“Look, look! That’s our village reservoir!” Li Li exclaimed, pointing to the distance.

Lu Yan saw a fence and a bridge that arched high above it. The bridge looked oddly out of place in this rural setting.

“Nobody from the village can come here unless I say so. You couldn’t either, but you’re helping with the funeral tomorrow, so I’ll make an exception for you.”

As they approached the reservoir, Lu Yan caught a whiff of something foul.

It was not the stench of stagnant water that clogged a river for too long. It was the stench of death!

Li Li led Lu Yan onto the bridge. It was a strange construction. From afar, it seemed like a vast and sturdy bridge. But up close, it was only half-finished, abruptly ending in the middle. Lu Yan leaned over the edge and looked down. He saw where the stench was coming from.

On the water’s surface, one bloated corpse after another bobbed up and down. Some had already swollen and burst apart, with chunks of flesh floating up and down, revealing white bones underneath. At a glance, there were at least thousands of corpses! The dense mass of them stretched as far as the eye could see.

Were it not for Lu Yan’s familiarity with death, any ordinary soul would have spewed their guts on the spot.

Li Li laughed once more.

She drew back her lips to reveal the needle-like teeth that gleamed in her mouth, a wicked smile of ivory daggers. Her eyes, round and bright as a fox’s, glinted with inexplicable malice. “These are all disobedient people and thieves,” she snarled. “Look, that thing from last night is here too.”

‘Thieves?’ Lu Yan’s ears pricked up. The village was impoverished everywhere, so what could be valuable enough for outsiders to risk their lives to steal?

He shook his head and said, “I only came to honor my ancestors.”

Lu Yan knew that more talk would only lead to more mistakes, so he kept his tongue until he could make sense of the madness. He also avoided asking Li Li how she intended to catch fish. What if she told him to dive into the river and grab them with his teeth? How could he refuse?

Li Li pursed her lips and clapped her hands together. “Come on, let’s catch some fish. Lucky is hungry and wants to taste their flesh.”

Lu Yan breathed a small sigh of relief when he saw two fishing rods, a bucket, and a bait bucket on the bridge. Li Li gestured towards the fishing rods and sat beside one of them, beckoning to Lu Yan.

He joined her and, for the moment, forgot about the possibility of falling off the bridge. He slowly reeled in the fishing line like a little girl and planned to put bait on the hook. But as soon as he opened the lid, he froze.

The small bucket was filled with human fingers and eyeballs. Li Li giggled when she saw the expression on his face. “Don’t worry,” she said, “these baits are very fresh, and the fish will love them.”

Lu Yan nodded and said nothing. He picked up a finger, threaded it onto the hook, and then cast it into the water.

Li Li was right. This kind of bait was indeed very attractive to fish. One bloated corpse after another swayed and crowded towards the bait. Other corpses could also be seen rushing over through the murky water.

And then, the float shook.

Something was hooked.

Li Li rested her chin on her palm and gazed at him, toying with bait in her fingers. “You better catch one,” she said, “or you’ll be my fish!”

Lu Yan slowly reeled in the line.

The stench of decay wafted from the waterlogged female corpse. The corpse’s black hair was matted with water plants and tightly clung to her face, obscuring her features. The fishing line extended from her mouth, which was a ghastly sight even with the veil of her hair. With muscles flexed, Lu Yan gritted his teeth and dragged the “fish” onto the shore.

While it was still in the water, everything was fine. But once the whole “fish” was out of the water, it wriggled in distress as it was hauled out of the water, struggling as though it were a live fish that had been caught. Lu Yan exerted strength to drag the corpse towards the bridge, and its weight increased by the water.

Unhelpful and cheering Li Li, indifferent to the gruesome reality before them, clapped as she taunted him, “Faster, faster! Lucky’s getting hungry, and if you’re not quick, you’ll end up being the catch of the day!”

Finally, it reached the bridge, but a high railing blocked its path. Lu Yan gritted his teeth and pulled with all his might. In one heaving effort, the corpse was flung into the air and crashed to the ground with a sickening thud.

Li Li clapped in delight. “Wow! You’re so amazing!” Then she put her hands to her mouth and shouted towards the forest. “Lucky! Lucky, come out, there’s food!”

The sound of a beast growling filled the air, and the stench of decay grew stronger. A half-rotted dog covered in exposed bone emerged from the forest, racing towards them with incredible speed. Li Li greeted the creature with open arms, patting its decomposing head as it began to feast on the corpse’s remains.

She urged it to eat, “Go ahead, eat your fill, then you’ll have the strength to guard the door.”

The dog growled and lowered its head to gnaw on the corpse. Suddenly, Li Li jerked upright and looked into the distance, “Quick! Let’s go back!”

64 ☆ The Nailed Coffin

With a swift motion, the little girl raised her hand and delivered a resounding slap to the big dog’s forehead: “Go back quickly!” Lucky, the dog whimpered and exhaled a gust of putrid air, vanishing into the forest at lightning speed.

Lu Yan trailed behind Li Li, his mind plagued with confusion: “What’s wrong?” 

Li Li’s countenance was solemn and foreboding: “Something is coming.”

Her expression did not resemble that of a little girl but rather a fierce beast – her features contorted with ferocity, her eyes sharp and piercing. She glared at Lu Yan, her entire being seemingly transforming into a wild beast as her pupils dilated and her hair bristled. Even so, she remained adorned in a beautiful red dress. Like a child, she reached out to Lu Yan, imploring him to take her home.

What could Li Li have sensed? Was it the task-giver or an invader lurking in the village? Lu Yan remained silent, choosing not to ask, but instead, he pulled Li Li back towards their home. With haste, Li Li’s demeanour returned to that of a regular child, nothing out of the ordinary.

Upon arriving home, Zhang Bo’s wife paced in the yard, anxiously awaiting their return. Her countenance eased as soon as she spotted them, particularly Li Li as if she had found a beacon of hope. She approached them hurriedly: “Li Li, what do we do? Someone from the village chief’s house informed us that his wife was possessed and has vanished.”

“Vanished?” Li Li’s face puffed up as she raised her eyebrows, “What could have taken her?”

Zhang Bo’s wife shook her head, “I don’t know. The village chief claims that something called out to her by name, and when she opened the door, she was gone.”

“I’ll go take a look!” Li Li responded, still seething with anger.

Zhang Bo’s wife hesitated, “Well… It’s chaotic in the village nowadays. If you’re not here, those things in the back mountain…”

Ordinarily, it would be fine for Li Li to leave and play, but it was clear that now she had something important to attend to. If those things in the back mountain emerged…

Li Li furrowed her brow, taking a moment to consider before retrieving a bone whistle from around her neck. She cast a fleeting glance in Zhang Bo’s wife’s direction before tossing the whistle to Lu Yan. “If you have any problems, blow the whistle and call Lucky over. But if you summon it, you must feed it fish and make sure it’s full.”

Lu Yan clasped the whistle in his hand. “Alright.”

Zhang Bo’s wife’s covetous gaze lingered on the bone whistle, but she hesitated for some unknown reason and dared not ask for it. After reminding Li Li to stay safe, she returned to the house to prepare dinner. As Li Li departed, she stealthily peeked out of the door and inquired in a low voice to Lu Yan, who was standing in the yard, “Did she take you fishing just now?”

Lu Yan responded, “Yes, and we caught one.”

Zhang Bo’s wife’s eyes bulged with momentary terror. After verifying that he was unscathed, she clicked her tongue twice and remarked, “No wonder she gave it to you. You can rest in your room now. I’ll clean up for you.”

Lu Yan discerned from Zhang Bo’s wife’s expression that the “fishing” excursion was also some sort of trial.

Under Zhang Bo’s wife’s scrutinizing gaze, Lu Yan dared not resist impulsively. She displayed a bashful grin before dutifully entering the house.

Before he entered, he could still see Zhang Bo’s wife’s head craning out of the kitchen door, peering out.

Lu Yan sat down in the room and surveyed his surroundings. The layout of this house was peculiar, oriented towards the side of the mountain. The window where the shadow had appeared the previous night coincidentally faced the mountain.

What lurked on that mountainside, exactly?

Contacting Li Li about the “theft” she mentioned, Lu Yan added the fact that Luo Ying deliberately angered Zhang Hui Xuan and left her alone without carrying out any missionary activities and speculated that this village must be guarding something.

Luo Ying’s goal was guarded by the village, and the mountain behind the village seemed to be the most likely place to find it. Lu Yan pinched the bone whistle, and the ice-cold and piercing touch made him clear-headed. He longed to take a look at the mountain behind the village, but…

Rewind three days.

In a private room of a restaurant dozens of kilometres from the village, six people had been gathered for hours, poring over maps of the area. With a note of suspicion in her voice, Lin Chu said, “Speaking of which, this Village of the Heavenly Immortals is really strange. Other villages know to move outwards, but they keep going deeper into the mountains. What would make a group of people willingly live in the deep mountains? Either it’s to hide some secret, or there’s something that makes them have to stay away from the crowd. These two could also coexist.”

She gnawed on a beef tendon barbecue, her mind racing with possibilities. “We’re returning to the village to pay respects to our ancestors… but it’s strange. Our surnames are all different, which is not common in a village. Usually, a few surnames dominate a village, especially in remote areas. But we are not like that. Do the villagers not suspect anything, or is it because this is not unusual in the village due to the interference of the mission?”

When Lin Chu stepped foot into this world, she began gathering numerous samples. She delved deep into this realm’s historical tomes and perused popular TV dramas on various video platforms. Ultimately, she begrudgingly admitted that this world was akin to a distorted mirror of their world; alike in some aspects, yet vastly different in others.

The audacity of the newcomer’s actions left the others in shock, causing them to follow her lead. However, Yu Xiang Guang was at a loss and weakly glanced around before inquiring, “When do we enter?”

Lin Chu finished a meat stick, wiped her mouth, and nonchalantly replied, “No need to hurry. Our mission is to pay respects to our ancestors in our hometown, so we need to only return before the specified time. Moreover, that village sounds dangerous, so it’s best to prepare beforehand.”

Yu Xiang Guang gazed at the mountain of supplies Lin Chu had accumulated and became ensnared in his thoughts. Metal knives, ropes, miniature flashlights, and other essentials cluttered the space. Lin Chu had already amassed an arsenal of weapons and was equipped with all the necessary tools. She bobbed up and down, feeling somewhat weighed down, her baby faces contorted into a distressed look.

An Xing Yu pointed to the dozens of storage bags on the table and asked, “What are these for?”

Lin Chu shot a glance towards the bags and retorted, “Maybe we can take some samples for research.” She lowered her voice and continued, “Don’t you want to know the structure of ghosts? I’ve read on websites that we might encounter zombies, ghosts, and other phenomena beyond scientific explanation. Can’t we use science to study these things?” Her eyes sparkled with curiosity. “If I can get some zombie tissue this time, that would be awesome.”

Yu Huan (于桓) shivered and rubbed his arms. He glanced at his companions and asked nervously, “Don’t you feel scared? What if we run into trouble with these things?”

Lin Chu lifted her head and expelled a protracted sigh. “I fear aimless living more than I fear death with purpose. Death, in itself, isn’t frightful, but dying in ignorance and foolishness is the most petrifying thing to me,” she said.

One by one, the others retreated.

Lin Chu scanned her surroundings, shrugged, and smiled. “It’s alright, I know I’m weird. I’ve been this way since I was young. Besides, I’ll handle these affairs myself. I won’t burden you nor will I seek death deliberately,” she said.

Yu Xiang Guang immediately interjected. “Don’t speak nonsense.”

An Xing Yu chimed in. “We’re not concerned about you being a burden.”

Lin Chu divested herself of several items, retaining only a few metal knives and a portable flashlight. She stowed everything in her pack and smiled at An Xing Yu. “Losing one’s life is indeed terrifying, but if it’s for the sake of uncovering the truth, then for me, it’s a death worth dying.”

“You…” Yu Xiang Guang wanted to interrupt, but Lin Chu waved her hand. “Alright, alright, I won’t say any more.”

The group remained outside for a few more days, determined the location of the Village of the Heavenly Immortals, and rented a car to journey into the mountains.

“The more I gaze at this place, the more desolate it appears,” Lin Xue Yuan said, lamenting as the vehicle manoeuvred through the serpentine mountain road.

The further they ventured into the mountains, the chillier it became. Peculiar rocks jutted from the narrow roadside, while on the opposite side, there was an impenetrable forest. Despite approaching winter, the foliage remained lush and dense. The frigid wintry air, mixed with the verdancy, sent shivers down one’s spine.

Lin Chu sat at the rear, her eyes fixed on the screen.

The drone was Lin Chu’s eye in the sky, a mechanical bird that soared above the car. But the fickle signal kept cutting out, leaving her staring at a frozen screen. The view shuddered whenever it climbed too high, forcing her to lower it an inch ahead at a snail’s pace.

The navigation system chimed in, dutifully announcing, “Seventy-five kilometers to Village of the Heavenly Immortals, approximately…”

“Ay, why is it so far? The mountain road here is too winding!” exclaimed someone in the car upon hearing the distance.

Even though the village wasn’t far in a straight line, the sinuous mountain road stretched out the journey.

Lin Chu’s screen flickered and went black, and she scanned the view beyond the car. Tumbling through the air, her drone crashed into a thrashing sea of green.

“Shit…” she breathed.

Lin Chu fiddled with the drone’s controls as they approached a tunnel but eventually gave up. 

Emerging on the other side, the navigation system chirped again, “Eighty kilometres to Village of the Heavenly Immortals, approximately…”

“What’s going on? Why are we getting further away? Did we take a wrong turn?” asked Xie Zi Qing (谢子清), puzzled.

Even Yu Huan, the driver, was confused. “There’s only one mountain road here, how could I have taken a wrong turn? I followed the navigation system.”

With the drone mishap fresh in their minds, the team fell silent, leaving only the car and the intermittent voice of the navigation system to fill the void.

After a while, Lin Chu announced, “It seems that we won’t arrive until tomorrow afternoon.” She didn’t mention that, despite the car’s full tank, they might not make it to the Village of the Heavenly Immortals before running out of gas.

**

In the village, Lu Yan sat in his room, yanking at the curtains. The glass was frosted and nailed shut, defying his efforts to peer outside.

He pushed open the door and stepped out into the yard, but Zhang Bo’s wife appeared from the kitchen, asking him what he was doing.

Lu Yan feigned a casual stroll, moseying around the yard.

Lu Yan’s phone buzzed with a message from Luo Ying. She had successfully executed her plan: the village head’s family had hastily arranged an early funeral for the deceased villager. She pressed Lu Yan to seize this opportunity and infiltrate the funeral procession as a mourner, hoping to discover where they hid the body. The Zhang family also wished Lu Yan to attend the funeral. 

Lu Yan was baffled by their request. Given his frail condition, he could comprehend why Zhang Hui Xuan could not shoulder the coffin. Still, he found it bizarre that he was not even allowed to follow the procession. He glanced out the window and saw Zhang Hui Xuan’s house sealed off from the outside world. It appeared that he never ventured out of his home and remained isolated. 

Lu Yan went to the kitchen, where Zhang Bo’s wife was busy preparing food. She raised her eyebrows when she spotted him and asked, “What brings you here at this hour?” 

“I have some spare time,” Lu Yan replied casually. “I thought I’d lend you a hand.” He brushed aside her protests and picked up a knife and a cutting board. He began to chop vegetables with swift and precise movements.

Zhang Bo’s wife welcomed the relief of having someone to share the burden with, and the two of them exchanged meaningless chatter in the kitchen. Lu Yan casually approached the conversation and inquired, “Why doesn’t Li Li’s dad come out more often? It would be good for his health to move around a bit.” He lied effortlessly, without a hint of guilt, “I was weak when I was young too, but my family made me come out and play with other kids. We ran and jumped around, and it was only later that I slowly got better.”

Zhang Bo’s wife shook her head with dismay at Lu Yan’s suggestion. “No, he can’t come out often.”

“Well, on the day of the old lady’s funeral, will he not go?” Lu Yan persisted.

Zhang Bo’s wife was in the middle of picking up a chicken when she heard this. She wiped the kitchen knife across the rooster’s neck, letting the thick chicken blood flow into the bowl. She frowned and said, “Don’t ask so many questions!”

Lu Yan couldn’t help but feel like she had imagined putting the knife to his throat at that moment and silencing him forever.

At noon, Zhang Bo returned, but Li Li was nowhere to be found. He explained that Li Li was still helping at the village chief’s house.

“You don’t know, the old lady is cursed. I heard that something that shouldn’t opened the door. A wild bobcat from nowhere came into the room. The old lady turned into an jumping undead, jumping up and running around…” Zhang Bo recounted the story while eating, his face brimming with relief from surviving a disaster. “You don’t know, the old lady’s face turned into a wildcat’s, yellow and white stripes, and she suddenly grew claws to bite people. If it weren’t for Li Li, the village chief’s family wouldn’t have been able to control her.”

Zhang Hui Xuan scooped up a bowl of soup and pondered, “Where did the bobcat come from?”

Zhang Bo’s head shook with uncertainty. “I’m in the dark on this one. With the New Year coming, chaos abounds. My guess is something slipped out from the back mountain.” He scarcely finished when Zhang Hui Xuan nudged him in the side, shooting a subtle glance at Lu Yan. Zhang Bo wasted no time diverting the topic.

Zhang Bo’s wife clucked her tongue in response. “If that’s the case, shouldn’t we put Granny Qian to rest quickly?”

“You’ve got it. Li Li’s orders were to bury her tonight and send her off,” Zhang Bo said, cramming a spoonful of rice into his mouth.

“Tonight?” Zhang Bo’s wife’s surprise was palpable.

“Can’t dally. Nightfall ushers in more than just dreams. Best we bury her fast and stifle the malevolence lurking in that place.” Zhang Bo gestured to Lu Yan. “I need to call upon you tonight to stand in.”

Lu Yan nodded his agreement.

He was equally curious about what the villagers meant by “that place,” which was strictly taboo.

The whole village banded together to orchestrate a swift and dignified funeral. The mourning hall stood erected, with the old woman’s corpse neatly tucked in a coffin and laid to rest inside the main house.

What truly caught Lu Yan off guard was the coffin’s robust construction. Sealed tightly with nails all around, chicken blood smeared over it as if anticipating a desperate bid for escape.

Beside the black-and-white memorial photograph, two statues of Old Lady Third Whisker stood stoic, one on either side. The grandsons and granddaughters of the deceased knelt upon cushions in the yard. At the same time, her sons and daughters-in-law burned paper money, gold and silver ingots, and several pallid, papier-mâché figures.

After a chorus of tears and wails had filled the room, the suona horn let loose a deafening blast, its shrill notes echoing through the pitch-black mountainside. 

“It’s time-” 

The mourning grew more tumultuous. The village chief flung himself in front of the coffin, howling and weeping with abandon. But his sorrowful cries were cut short by a swift kick to the leg, courtesy of Li Li, resplendent in her red dress. “Enough. You’ll wake her up if you keep howling like that. Shut up!” Her sharp rebuke was all needed to bring the wailing to an abrupt end. All eyes in the mourning hall turned to Li Li.

“Now, everyone must leave the room and allow the old lady to rest. Return after midnight to see her off.” Li Li spoke with the practised cadence of a seasoned funeral director. “And remember: no one is permitted to enter!”

With her command, the mourners withdrew to the other side of the yard for a banquet.

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