Chapter 102: Aku

“So, is this your attitude?” Luo Hanya sneered, sweeping his gaze around the room. He took in the looks of those surrounding him, shrugged, and realized he could no longer remain here. It was best to leave this place of trouble—the teahouse—for now. Plastering a smile on his face, he bowed his head to the old gentleman and said, “I’m sorry to have disturbed you. I’ll be on my way.”

Then, with a carefree grin, he wove through the crowd, carving a path for himself, and jogged away, his steps light and lively to the rhythm of rock music.

The onlookers outside didn’t trouble him either; they parted to let him pass. Luo Hanya walked on with an air of nonchalance, hands clasped behind his back, head held high as he ran forward.

The old street wasn’t long. In the time it took for a single song to play, Luo Hanya had reached the edge of the town, finally free from the strange stares of the crowd. The houses here were all very old, exuding a cold and decaying atmosphere. There were scarcely any signs of life.

Who would have thought the people here would be so unfriendly, he mused as he wandered alone. The sky was darkening, evening was upon him, and a chilly wind blew from the east, tinged with the salty tang of the sea—it seemed the ocean wasn’t far away. Yet a new problem arose: the story summary had warned that nights here were far from peaceful, and now dusk was falling... Luo Hanya pursed his lips and decided to wander a bit, hoping luck would favor him.

Suddenly, a ghostly voice sounded behind him. “Sir, do you need help?”

Luo Hanya didn’t look back, striding onward, ignoring the voice behind him.

“Sir, if you keep going without stopping, I fear you won’t reach the Misty Inn tonight…” The voice was frail, as if spoken by someone gravely ill, struggling to suppress their pain, yet it was laced with a strong confidence, as though the speaker was certain that uttering these words would make Luo Hanya halt.

But contrary to expectation, Luo Hanya paid no attention, not even showing the slightest sign of stopping.

“Heh, what a cautious fellow. Stranger, you can stop now; I mean you no harm.” The voice came again from behind, now mellow and sounding like a peaceful middle-aged man.

Only then did Luo Hanya come to a stop, though he still didn’t turn around. Instead, with an odd, almost theatrical move, he spun his whole body around in a single motion.

“You're being overly cautious, aren’t you, outsider?” A plain-looking country man chuckled.

“An old saying in my family goes, ‘Never look back when someone calls to you in the wilds,’” Luo Hanya replied, watching the country man with a playful look and speaking slowly.

“You…”

“Hey, after all this time, I still don’t know your name!” Luo Hanya interrupted the man abruptly, feigning familiarity.

“My name is Aku. I live right here,” the farmer replied, pointing to an old house behind him. He took a few steps toward Luo Hanya and said softly, “I heard everything outside the teahouse earlier. Are you looking for the Misty Inn?”

“You know where it is?”

Aku nodded, a strange smile curling his lips.

“So, what are your terms?”

“Heh, I just want to make things easier for people, not asking for anything in return, but—” Aku rubbed his fingers together in the universal gesture for money.

“Money? Name your price.”

“I don’t want money. What I want is…”

“What exactly do you want?” Luo Hanya narrowed his eyes, his muscles tensing as he prepared for the worst.

“Sir, do you truly not know?” Aku approached quietly. “Perhaps it’s better if you don’t. You might be spared some… But it depends—do you absolutely have to go?”

“Yes! Of course I do.”

“Then when shall we set out?”

“Right now.”

“Very well. Please wait here for a moment. As for the payment, we’ll settle that when we arrive. How does that sound?”

With that, Aku hurried into the old house. Luo Hanya quietly weighed his options, watching the house with growing unease. The place seemed even more gloomy and foreboding the longer he looked. He knew full well he was making a bargain with a tiger, but with no retreat left, he could only grit his teeth and press on.

Soon after, Aku emerged from the house, driving a horse-drawn cart. He wore a battered conical hat, head bowed, his figure shrouded entirely in shadows. He called out, “Sir, hurry and get in.”

Luo Hanya raised an eyebrow. He knew that once he boarded this cart, he’d be a lamb at someone else’s mercy. He didn’t rush to get in, instead asking suspiciously, “Aku, where did this cart come from?”

“What, you don’t trust me?”

“Of course I do. It’s just that I enjoy taking in the scenery. If I can’t see outside, I get uneasy.”

“That’s easily solved. We’ll both sit on the edge, and I’ll tell you about the place as we go.”

Luo Hanya blinked, realizing this was the best arrangement he could hope for, so he climbed onto the cart without further delay.

Aku tugged the reins and shouted, “Sir! Hold on tight!”

The cart lurched forward, bouncing violently along the rough road. After several minutes of teeth-rattling jolts, Aku finally steered onto a country lane. The road was still uneven, but an improvement over the previous path. Low hills rose and fell on either side, and Aku drove wildly, laughing heartily as he pointed out various sights, while Luo Hanya, jostled beside him, felt battered and shaken to his core.

As Aku spurred the cart onward, Luo Hanya shouted over the wind, “Aku, why don’t the people of Dreamshadow Town want to talk about the Misty Inn?”

“You really want to know?”

“Of course I do!”

“Then you should ask those old folks! I only know you shouldn’t go there, no one should. The townspeople have been using that place to frighten children for years, but as for the actual reason… I don’t know.” Aku’s words were halting, offering little of substance, mostly rambling.

“Have you ever been there?”

Aku was silent for a moment. “A long time ago, I went. But only to observe from afar—I never dared go inside.”

“What does it look like?”

“You’ll see for yourself when we get there.”

The sky grew ever darker, shadows gathering from every direction. Rain threatened.

After about twenty minutes, they passed through a village. Luo Hanya frowned, noticing that there wasn’t a single two-story building—only scattered, low, dilapidated houses. He couldn’t help but ask, “Why is this village so poor? Does it have a name?”

“It’s called Wu Village.”

“Wu Village?”