The sounds of gongs and drums were intermittent and fragmented. Within the faint white mist, only the figures at the front and rear—likely wax corpses—bounced and hopped along. They were all wearing large, bright-red robes. At first glance, they looked quite festive. But a closer look gave one a distinct feeling: the color of their clothes wasn’t quite right.
Yes, not quite right.
Red is the color of celebration. But when the shade of red is off, all that remains is a sense of the macabre.
This feeling was especially pronounced against the backdrop of the surrounding environment.
Ordinary households wouldn’t hold a wedding procession in the dead of night, especially with fog suddenly rolling in. The procession seemed lively, yet as it bounced and swayed through the mist carrying the sedan chair, an unsettling quietness enveloped them. The red lanterns, flickering in and out of view, resembled floating, severed human heads.
Zhao Mingyue gulped audibly, silently offering a prayer for Lu Liangting in her heart.
This ghost bride was coming from Back Village; she was bound to be formidable.
Whether she was beautiful or not was hard to say, but one thing was certain: this bride was eternally youthful and ageless. Lu Liangting could die of old age, and she probably wouldn’t show the slightest change.
As for her personality, kindness and gentleness were likely out of the question. Upon meeting, she’d probably be very “attentive” and very “intimate.”
She just wasn’t sure if Lu Liangting had the life to enjoy it.
As Lu Liangting’s friend, Zhao Mingyue genuinely hoped he could escape. After all, there were still several other girls trapped there; they could at least help him a little.
“Bai Yu,” Zhao Mingyue whispered as they arrived in West Village and headed toward the ancestral hall, “if I had stayed, would my fate have been the same as Lu Liangting’s?”
“Probably not. You would have been immediately sacrificed to the Divine Mother of the Tongue.”
“Ah.”
“If you had been turned into a different woman, you’d likely be married off to Back Village, just like what we’re seeing now.”
Zhao Mingyue nodded, pondering for a moment. “Why is it like this? When our family moved away, connections between Front Village and Back Village had already been severed.”
“Merging,” Bai Yu’s voice was calm. “The evil gods in Back Village want to get out, but something is blocking them. What’s blocking them could be an even more powerful deity, or it could be Front Village itself.”
“What do you mean by ‘Front Village itself’? The houses?”
“Yes. The layout of these houses seems chaotic, but I suspect it’s some kind of magic formation. To know for sure, I’d need to fly up and take a look.”
Her investigation up to this point, with the Red-White Event concluded, the wax corpses eliminated, and the evil god statues destroyed, had given Bai Yu a basic understanding of this place. She now knew there were at least four evil gods, not just three. Back Village was their main stronghold, sealed there by some kind of power.
And Front Village was an opening—and the continued hope for the people of Back Village to survive.
The evil gods’ actions in Front Village were all aimed at assimilating it and then breaking the seal, allowing their malicious intent to spread. The more people afflicted by their curse, the stronger the evil gods would become.
When she thought about it, the abilities of these three evil gods were quite formidable.
Sight, hearing, and voice were the most fundamental aspects of a human being. If their curse were truly unleashed, its spread would be unimaginably fast.
Simply put, the potential of these three evil gods was immense.
Bai Yu found herself increasingly intrigued by the individual who had established Front Village. What kind of person could single-handedly imprison four such deities?
“Mingyue, do you know who organized the construction of Front Village?”
“Hmm… I don’t know much. I only heard my sister mention it once. The Old Village Chief invited a Master here, and then everyone started building Front Village. There were already some people living there, so they just slowly expanded it into what it is now.”
“A Taoist priest?”
“Not just a priest. It was a lot of people. My sister said that back then, loads of people came—Taoist priests, monks, shamans, even exorcists. But none of them could solve it, and many died. The village was thrown into chaos. It wasn’t until that final Master showed up that the problem was solved. Although, in the end… that Master was indeed a Taoist priest.”
Bai Yu didn’t ask any more, simply filing the information away in her mind.
So many years had passed. That Master might well be dead by now.
Still, she believed in the existence of hidden masters among the people. Zhao Mingyue’s mysterious store manager, for example.
Chatting as they walked, they arrived at the northernmost part of the village. They had already left the main village area, and Zhao Mingyue continued north along a small path, weaving through withered weeds and bushes. Less than ten minutes later, Bai Yu spotted a solitary, two-story old building standing apart from everything else.
In a place like Pingshan Village, most inhabitants shared the same surname and formed one large clan. Therefore, the ancestral hall belonged to the entire village, not just a single family.
The hall had its own task: enter and remain inside for ten minutes. There were no other hints whatsoever; what was inside was entirely up to luck.
“I’ve always been quite scared of this place,” Zhao Mingyue said. “The hall has more than just ancestral tablets. There are a lot of memorial portraits, too. I never knew why they put portraits in there. Anyway, when you go inside, it feels like dozens of people are staring at you all at once. It’s really creepy.”
When Zhao Mingyue reached the outside of the hall, it was immediately clear that no one had been here in a very, very long time. Even the small path leading here was overgrown with dead weeds.
She pursed her lips and said nothing, recalling something Bai Yu had said earlier.
As the gods’ malicious intent deepened, life in the village would gradually wither. The dead weeds along the roadside were the simplest, most direct indicator.
There had been a time when this place was lush and green, vibrant, and teeming with life.
Although she feared this place, she had to admit it was incredibly scenic, nestled against the mountains and by the water. Amid her fear-dominated memories, it had once offered splashes of entirely different colors.
The ancestral hall was very old. Its walls were yellowed, cracked, and covered in dust. The old, decaying wooden doors were traced with spiderwebs. As Zhao Mingyue approached, she noticed the long-rusted lock had been broken open and was lying discarded on the ground.
Taking a deep breath, she grabbed the iron ring on the wooden door and pulled it open gently.
Just as she had said, the moment she entered, she immediately felt the sensation of countless eyes upon her. Looking up, shelves stacked high and deep were filled with spirit tablets, all blanketed in dust and cobwebs. Beside each spirit tablet stood the memorial portrait of the deceased.
The hall was vast. There were at least twenty to thirty spirit tablets, perhaps more, on the upper and lower levels. A single glance revealed they were all portraits of elderly people. It was clear that many of these portraits had been added later.
Zhao Mingyue pressed her palms together and bowed slightly. “I’m sorry, esteemed elders. This junior has some matters to attend to and must disturb your rest. My apologies.”
“I will leave quickly. Very quickly.”
Straightening up after her apology, she surveyed the inside of the hall. It was much as she remembered from her childhood, just far more dilapidated. On the memorial portraits hanging beside the spirit tablets, the faces or eyes of the elders had been smudged out, or their mouths and noses. It looked like water droplets had been smeared across an oil painting, blurring the image.
“But… why are there offerings on the altar?”
Zhao Mingyue moved closer, shining her phone’s flashlight forward. She saw that the altar table had been wiped clean. Resting upon it was a freshly severed human head. A faint expression of terror was still discernible on its face, as if its owner had witnessed something utterly horrifying before death.
“Bai Yu… why is there a human head here? A fresh one?”
Zhao Mingyue stumbled back two steps. After all she’d been through, she was much braver now. Otherwise, the sight of that head would have made her jump out of her skin.
Just as her words fell, Zhao Mingyue’s eyes caught something else.
Something on the ceiling was dripping blood. Drip, drip. A small puddle had already formed.
Zhao Mingyue’s pupils constricted. She stiffly tilted her head up, and her phone’s flashlight followed.
Splash!
A headless corpse plummeted from the ceiling rafters, landing directly in front of Zhao Mingyue. Immediately after, a whooshing sound followed as a black shadow dropped from above, leaped over Zhao Mingyue, and bolted out the main door. It was too fast; all Zhao Mingyue could make out was that the fleeing figure seemed to be a girl.
Before Zhao Mingyue could even process what was happening, Bai Yu’s voice rang out.
“After her!”
In a flash, darkness consumed the whites of her eyes. Without a second thought, Zhao Mingyue spun around and burst out of the hall in pursuit, her movements swift and agile. Bai Yu had possessed her body.
“Who is that? Why are we chasing her?”
“An acquaintance of mine.”
Charging out of the ancestral hall, Bai Yu glanced left and right, then darted off in the direction the black shadow had vanished. She was almost certain that figure just now was the Dragon Girl!
The events in Pingshan Village were nearing their end. She had learned almost everything she could, with only one thing left undone: the redemption task. The problem was, the main subject of this task, the Dragon Girl, had never shown herself. Not even during such a pivotal event as the Red Event in East Village.
Now Bai Yu finally knew what this girl had been up to.
East Village and West Village were each controlled by a Divine Mother. The Divine Mother of the Tongue in the east, along with her representative, had been killed by Bai Yu. And the representative of the West Village had never been seen.
It wasn’t that he hadn’t shown up—it was that the Dragon Girl had killed him.
The headless corpse that had just fallen from the ceiling belonged to this very representative from the West Village.
His head had been severed and placed as an offering in the ancestral hall. Without a doubt, the Dragon Girl had brought him here to apologize to the ancestors of this village. Why else bring the body, place his head on the altar, and specifically wipe the table clean?
His corpse was peculiar. The god statue of the Ear Deity was strapped to his back, almost as if it was embedded into his flesh, fused with his very skin and bone, inseparable.
Two representatives. One with a god statue fused to his body; the other with sacrificial runes tattooed beneath his skin.
As for the Dragon Girl being a member of Pingshan Village, Bai Yu wasn’t surprised. If she had no connection to this place, the redemption task wouldn’t have been triggered.
This was a good thing. Judging by the Dragon Girl’s actions, she was not on the same side as the evil gods.
The enemy of my enemy is my friend. And since this person was also her redemption target, cooperation was the best-case scenario. Joining forces against a common foe would at least be safer.
Compared to Shen Shuyun, she felt far more at ease with the Dragon Girl. As long as Dragon Girl didn’t go crazy, she was the absolute best teammate.
Strong enough, experienced enough, clever enough, and with no underhanded schemes.
“But why would the Dragon Girl run away? That’s not like her at all.”
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