Volume One, Chapter 12: The Malevolent Spirit Enters the Village

“The windows are all completely shut… So why does Yi keep saying they weren’t closed? Zhang Li, did you check carefully enough? Should we check again?” Zhu Qianqian said awkwardly.

Nervousness made her short hair cling wetly to her forehead, her cheeks smudged with dirt, looking utterly disheveled.

Zhang Li’s hair and collar were covered in cobwebs, and dirt filled the gaps under his fingernails.

“I’m absolutely certain—every window was checked more than three times and fully closed…” Zhang Li answered hoarsely.

“Let’s check once more, please? It’s getting dark, and I’m really scared. Brother Xu died horribly yesterday,” Zhu Qianqian trembled.

Zhang Li remained silent, his gaze fixed on Gu Yiren.

Gu Yiren still tilted her head, maintaining her gaze on the gate of the Mountain God Temple, murmuring, “The windows weren’t closed.”

Suddenly, a thought flashed through Zhang Li’s mind.

Could it be that Luo Shan, across the way, didn’t close his window?

“Zhang Li?” Zhu Qianqian cautiously suggested, “Why don’t we go invite Luo Shan over? Having a local here might make us safer…”

“That’s right, I’ll check again. You go get him quickly—it's almost dark.” Zhu Qianqian’s eyes brightened slightly.

But Zhang Li shook his head. “He might not come. I think it’s better for us to stay here.”

He strode swiftly to the door and latched it.

Through the window crack, Zhang Li saw the small wooden house opposite and the figure of a young boy.

He didn’t want to warn him.

First, in this village, closing doors and windows properly was basic knowledge; even if something happened, it was their own problem.

Second, if he spoke up, wouldn’t it be like hiding silver in a place where no one would believe it—indirectly exposing Gu Yiren’s “ability”?

Zhu Qianqian said nothing, hiding at the bottom of the Mountain God’s arm, staring at the ever-burning oil lamp. She pressed her hands tightly over her chest, silently praying to the gods.

…

The gentle rain drizzled nonstop, making Luo Bin somewhat restless.

Glancing again at the Mountain God Temple’s gate, the darkening sky made the candlelight glimpsing through the door and window cracks stand out even more, suffusing the air with a thick, mysterious gloom.

“Phew…” Luo Bin exhaled heavily, thinking silently.

It should be nothing; even if something happens, it will be tomorrow.

Yes, tomorrow, not tomorrow night.

Xu Kaiguo’s note said three days later but didn’t specify that it had to be at night.

The village’s hypersensitivity to nighttime had skewed Luo Bin’s previous thinking.

He stood up, went to close the door, and then, in the fading light, lit the oil lamp.

Standing by the lamp, he tried to clear his mind, staring at the flickering flame.

The steady orange flame, initially warm and comforting, gradually grew harsh to the eyes; his throat itched and felt dry.

It’s coming!

Photophobia and coughing up blood.

Inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly, Luo Bin tried to endure it to the utmost.

He knew that the amount of lamp oil needed to barely stay awake through the night was already being depleted over the past two days. He planned to drink more oil soon, but the oil would barely last past midnight tomorrow night.

If the village head didn’t come by dawn, he would have to find him to get more oil.

—

His thoughts wandered.

Where was the lamp oil stored?

The aversion to light and coughing up blood were like cancer cells; the lamp oil was his targeted medicine!

…

Suddenly, Luo Bin heard footsteps.

There was an evil presence on the road, but it didn’t disturb his thoughts.

The next moment, Luo Bin sensed something was wrong.

He walked to the wooden house door and peeked outside through the crack, heart pounding.

The road at the end of the village was densely packed with “people.”

These people wore various clothes, but their expressions were almost identical—lips pressed slightly together, smiles without showing teeth.

Luo Bin breathed heavily, suppressing the urge to open the door and step out.

His attention focused on the gate of the Mountain God Temple.

His first instinct was that this was abnormal—was the mass appearance of these evil spirits connected to the outsiders?

On the first day after being awakened by the spirit-summoning, everything was fine.

On the second day, outsiders arrived in the village, and that night one died.

Now, on the third day, these evil spirits looked like a locust plague.

Any sane person would connect these events.

But the swarming evil spirits did not approach the Mountain God Temple; instead, they headed into the village.

Then Luo Bin’s gaze followed the spirits’ origin—the pitch-black forest at the end of the road…

His breathing grew heavier; he stepped back to the oil lamp and took small sips of the oil, easing his throat dryness and photophobia.

The urge to go out and collude with the evil spirits receded equally.

“Knock, knock, knock.” The door rattled.

Luo Bin’s eyelid twitched sharply; he watched the door warily.

“It’s lively outside; why are you staying inside?” a magnetic voice spoke.

Luo Bin said nothing.

“The village head here is a liar. He weaves a lie to keep you all locked in your rooms every night, afraid to come out.”

“But if you really don’t come out, will nothing happen? Does this village still have people dying from time to time?”

“The evil spirits are fake, they don’t exist at all. It’s all his doing.”

“We’re outsiders who can’t stand this any longer. We’re here to save you.”

“Don’t you want to come out and see? See how we punish him, how he’s killed.”

“Soon, you’ll be free.” The voice grew more seductive.

Sweat beaded on Luo Bin’s temple. He approached the door and peeked through the crack, seeing a face pale and waxen, with narrow cheeks.

The other person stared deeply back through the crack.

“Hurry up, many of us escaped from this village. They hate the village head deeply. If you delay, you’ll miss the show,” the man urged.

—

Luo Bin’s breathing grew heavier; his eyelid twitched uncontrollably, almost unable to open his right eye.

With a thud, his hands slammed heavily against the door, making a loud muffled sound.

“I know you. You can’t fool me!” His voice was hoarse as he glared fiercely at the man.

“Hehe.” A childish laugh came from behind the man, then the head of a seven- or eight-year-old boy popped out, making a funny face.

The man laughed but said no more, turning away toward the distance.

Luo Bin didn’t leave the door, still staring through the crack at the man and boy’s backs.

The boy raised an arm, waving triumphantly.

The door crack seemed to writhe, as if trying to press against his eyelids.

Fragmented and chaotic images flashed before his eyes.

A masked doctor holding a defibrillator pounding on his chest, his body convulsing and rising, then falling heavily.

“Adrenaline! Quick!” the doctor shouted.

Nearby, a nurse held a syringe, stabbing his side!

The harsh surgical light transformed into a large, round moon; the man pounding his chest became someone else—a clean-faced man with waxy skin, deep eyes, and a strange yet oddly comforting smile.

Crack… the ribs snapped.

Sharp chest pain, as if pierced by bone.

The pinky finger also throbbed with excruciating pain; the smiling nurse became a laughing little boy, holding a small pinky fingernail and waving it.

The images shattered.

In their place was the cold, slightly darkened door crack.

The chest pain slowly eased and settled.

Luo Bin gasped heavily.

Those two “evil spirits” were the ones who killed the original owner!

That flashback was his only understanding of the original owner so far!

A new question arose in Luo Bin’s mind: why was the original owner killed by the evil spirits?

Did he not know that at night one must not open doors or windows, must not leave the house?

Moreover, the number of evil spirits on the road had clearly diminished; they hadn’t even tried to deceive Zhang Li and the other outsiders—they all entered the village!

Could the village head really be killed?

Luo Bin’s head buzzed, his right eyelid still twitching uncontrollably.

The last time his eyelid twitched like this…

His thoughts abruptly stopped. Luo Bin pinched his forearm hard, silently scolding himself for overthinking, for being reckless and naive, for speaking without restraint…