For thirty years, he has roamed the Northeast, his divine might overwhelming all immortals under hea

"Later... I don't know who instigated it, but they said there was a patch of wild land near the old forest west of our village. It was low-lying and never saw sunlight, so it was considered evil. Old Mrs. Hu believed in this superstition and forced Da Hong to clear that land and plant crops, saying, 'Use his yang energy to suppress the yin energy there and bring good luck to the family.' Was that land easy to clear? It was full of gravel and rotten tree roots, and the soil was black and icy cold to the touch. Da Hong, with his lame leg, worked there day and night for almost half a year, until he was so exhausted that he vomited blood."

When I heard this, my heart clenched.

"The old woods at the west end? Father, that place... isn't it not far from the old dilapidated temple?"

My dad looked up at me and nodded.

"Yes, walk a little further this way, and that's the construction site now. Back then, that area was all barren, nobody wanted it. Da Hong worked himself to the bone to clear two or three acres of land, but nothing grew the first year, just black seedlings. The Hu family mother and daughter scolded him again. But the second year, for some reason, the crops grew dark black, with strong stalks, but the ears of grain were pitifully small. The harvested grain had a musty smell, and people got diarrhea from eating it, and even the livestock didn't want to eat it."

The little fox's voice suddenly rang in my mind, with a hint of sharpness.

"The terrain is low-lying, the soil is dark, and the crops show unusual signs... Kid, that place was very likely a 'gap' in a place where yin energy gathers in the past! Long-term exposure to the yin energy of that place can cause serious illness or even death, and after death, the soul is easily bound and unable to be reincarnated!"

My father, oblivious to my odd behavior, continued.

"It was after that that Da Hong's health completely collapsed. He coughed up black phlegm. He didn't make it through that winter and died. When he died, he was so thin that he was just skin and bones. The Hu family buried him hastily and didn't even make a proper grave. The old people in the village all said in private that Sun Da Hong was exploited and driven to death by the Hu family, and then thrown into an evil place to be affected by the yin energy, which is why he died so tragically and so tragically."

"After he died, the Hu family also fell into ruin not long after. The old lady also passed away not long after, and Xiu'e couldn't hold onto the family business, so she remarried. Sanlu was still young at the time, so he went with his mother."

My dad seemed to suddenly remember something.

"In the period before Da Hong died, sometimes he would sit alone in the middle of the night, dragging his sick body, by the evil land he had cultivated, and no one knew what he was looking at."

After hearing what my father said, my heart started pounding.

"Wait a minute, Dad, I remember Third Brother saying that his parents died in a car accident, didn't they?"

"Hey, didn't I tell you, your mother remarried later?"

"Ah, yes, yes, yes."

"Sanlu was still young then, and I guess he probably doesn't even remember his biological father, Dahong."

"That man, Da Hong, has such a hard life."

As my father spoke, he sighed repeatedly, puffing on his cigarette one cigarette after another.

"By the way, Dad, do you remember the shaman from Zhujiakan back then? Think about it."

My dad looked at me and thought for a moment.

"The shaman from before..."

"Thirteen, is this really related to Sanlv?"

"That Sanlu kid is so good, so kind and righteous."

My mother held my hand tightly, as if afraid I would run away.

"Mother, I didn't say it had anything to do with Brother Sanlu. I was just asking about Father's past."

"Okay, okay, Mother understands."

"Thirteen, you know what, I just remembered something else."

My father tapped the pipe bowl he was holding on the ground, then refilled it.

The light from the match was like fireworks; that instant of light made the surroundings very bright.

"Zhang the Cripple... Ah, his real name is Zhang Long, the shaman of our village from the previous generation. His left leg, it is said, was injured by something when he was young while 'stepping on a mountain,' and he has been lame ever since. He walks with one limp, but no one dares to underestimate him."

My father lowered his voice. The courtyard was dim, with only the red glow of his pipe flickering.

"This man is solitary and doesn't like to associate with others. He lives in two thatched houses at the far east end of the village. But if someone is haunted by evil spirits, loses their soul, or something strange happens at their ancestral grave, they have to go to him for help. He's also strange in his dealings; sometimes he'll ask for some grain, and sometimes he won't ask for anything at all, it all depends on his mood."

My dad looked at me.

"He and Hu Youcai, who is Sanlu's maternal grandfather, have some acquaintance, but it's not very deep. It's like... they're wary of each other."

"The year Da Hong was seriously ill and coughed up black phlegm."

"Zhang the Cripple suddenly became erratic. He would wander around the village with his crutch, especially around the old woods and the dilapidated temple in the west, sometimes spending most of the day there. When he came back, his face was ashen, and he would tell everyone he met: 'That dilapidated temple area in the west is utterly eerie! Everyone keep an eye on their own kids and make sure the livestock are securely tied up. Nobody is allowed to go near there!'"

"When people asked him what was wrong, he wouldn't go into details. He just kept repeating, 'The earth's energy is twisted, the yin orifices are open, something terrible is going to happen...' By then, the dilapidated temple was long abandoned, half of the walls had collapsed, and no one remembered what kind of deities were enshrined inside. Usually, apart from teenagers going to raid bird nests, who would go to such an unlucky place? Everyone just thought he was having hysteria and didn't take it too seriously. After all, he didn't interact with people much and didn't know much about them."

"But a few days later, strange things started to happen."

My father's voice became even deeper.

"First, the village dogs would all howl towards the west in the middle of the night, giving people the creeps. Then someone got up in the middle of the night and saw that the western sky was covered with a gray veil, and the moon looked bluish-white when it shone on it. The strangest thing was that two half-grown piglets somehow ran to the vicinity of the dilapidated temple. When they were found the next day, they were dead and stiff in the ditch. They had no injuries, but their eyes were wide open, as if they had seen something that terrified them."

"This caused widespread panic in the village. Zhang the Cripple became even more anxious, knocking on windows from house to house and shouting in a hoarse voice, 'Trust me, whatever you do, don't go west! That place eats people alive!' But what about himself?"

My dad paused, the fire in his pipe almost went out, and he quickly took two more puffs.

"Just when people's hearts were in turmoil, Zhang the Cripple did something that made the whole village's jaws drop: he carried a tattered bedding roll, leaned on his crutch, and limped into the dilapidated temple!"

I gasped in shock.

"Oh? He moved in!"

"Who can argue with that?"

"Someone went to persuade him, peeking through the dilapidated temple's door that was about to fall down. It was pitch black, and they saw Zhang the Cripple sitting on a pile of rotten straw with a small oil lamp lit. There seemed to be some compass and copper coins in front of him. Without turning his head, he waved his hand and said, 'This is a calamity I can't escape. You all go back, and remember my words, no one comes here!'"

"After that, no one dared to go near the dilapidated temple anymore. Only at midnight could you occasionally see a faint light from the temple, flickering on and off. Sometimes you could hear Zhang the Cripple chanting incantations, or arguing with someone, a few words drifting over on the wind. You couldn't hear them clearly, but they were eerie. The dogs in the village stopped barking, but that suffocating feeling that made it hard to breathe still lingered over the village."

"He lived there for about half a year, from late autumn to early spring."

"That winter, the snow was particularly heavy, and the dilapidated temple was almost buried in snow. Everyone thought he had died inside. But not long after the ice thawed in the spring, one morning, someone saw Zhang the Cripple come out of the dilapidated temple."

"How is he?"

I asked hurriedly.

My father shook his head, his face showing a mixture of fear and pity.

"He was unrecognizable. He was just lame at first, but when he came out, he was so thin he was unrecognizable. His eye sockets were sunken, his cheeks were all gone, and his hair and beard were completely white. He looked like he had aged twenty years in an instant. He could barely walk and had to hold onto the wall. The scariest thing was his eyes. They were vacant and stared at people, but sometimes they were frighteningly bright, like they were burning with the last embers of life."

He returned to his two thatched huts, closed the door, and refused to see anyone. Less than three days later, the village was abuzz with the news that Zhang the Cripple was gone.

"How did it disappear?"

"It happened so quietly. The neighbor smelled something was wrong, pried open the door, and found the man lying on the kang (a heated brick bed), already erect. He was covered with a thin quilt, and his expression was calm. But inside the room..."

My dad paused for a moment.

"The things in the room were arranged strangely. There were incomprehensible drawings on the floor made of incense ash, and the cracks in the windows and doors were all sealed with yellow paper talismans. On the kang table was his old compass, the needle pointing fixedly to the west. That was the direction of the dilapidated temple and the evil land that was later reclaimed by the Great Flood. There was also a tattered booklet with some talismans drawn in blood and some words written on it. Later, the commune cadres who came over confiscated it as 'Four Olds' and burned it. No one could see what was written on it."

"Did he say anything to anyone before he died?"

I can not be reconciled.

My dad thought about it carefully.

"Oh, right, after he moved out of the dilapidated temple, he bumped into the village's old Party Secretary on his way home. The old Party Secretary seemed to ask him, 'Have the things in the temple been suppressed?' Zhang the Cripple seemed not to hear him, and walked straight ahead with his eyes wide open. After taking a few steps, he suddenly turned around and said something nonsensical to the old Party Secretary, his voice terribly hoarse..."

"What did he say?"

My father imitated that weak, chilling tone.

He said, "Secretary, people's hearts are colder and more poisonous than the things underground. Debts... can't be evaded; someone has to pay them back, and double the amount." Then he left. The old secretary was stunned, his face ashen, and he didn't move for a long time. He told this story later when he was drunk.

"Okay, I got it, Dad. Remember to tell me if you remember anything."

"Mom, I'm going to bed."

After I finished speaking, I walked into the house.

I lay on the kang (a heated brick bed), staring at the dark beams, my mind a jumbled mess.

The little fox beside me was curled up in a ball, its gray fur gleaming faintly in the moonlight filtering through the torn window paper.

I turned to the side and poked it.

"Hey, stop pretending to be asleep. You said last time that you and Zhang the Cripple sealed that thing together back then, what exactly happened? What were you all doing in that dilapidated temple?"

The little fox didn't move, but that familiar, slightly aged voice rang directly in my mind, like a bubble rising from the bottom of deep water.

It changed its posture, resting its head on its front paws, its emerald green eyes half-closed in the darkness.

"Hey, the situation didn't allow it that day, did it?"

"Back then, it was similar to now. Although Zhang the Cripple had a limp, he was still quite capable. He had long sensed that something was wrong under the dilapidated temple at the west end. In the summer, snakes and insects wouldn't come there, and in the winter, the snow would melt first, leaving the ground always damp with an indescribable fishy-sweet smell, like rust or blood that had been drained for a long time."

"He went to check several times with his compass, and each time he came back, his face was so gloomy it could be wrung out. Later, he invited me to his family's ancestral hall, where he offered three kinds of sacrificial animals and lit incense to invite the gods. That meant he was really in trouble."

The little fox paused for a moment.

"He told me that under that dilapidated temple, there was a 'big guy' lying there. It wasn't an ordinary corpse that had turned into a zombie. It was filled with a murderous aura and carried an extremely heavy 'noble' and 'resentful' aura. The two were mixed together, which was extremely troublesome."

"Luxurious?"

I couldn't help but ask.

"Um."

The little fox nodded.

"Ordinary zombies, even the black and white ones, have an aura that is 'turbid' and 'wild.' But the one under the temple, its 'evil' aura is wrapped in a layer of 'golden exterior but rotten interior,' it is the resentment and violence suppressed by rules and etiquette. Zhang the Cripple's father, that is, the shaman of your great-grandfather's generation, left a message saying that back in the early Qing Dynasty, this place was not a village, but a wasteland. A Manchu prince or some other member of the imperial family committed a crime and was secretly executed. His body was not allowed to be returned to the ancestral grave, for fear of disturbing the dragon's aura. So a few loyal old servants secretly carried it out and buried it in this evil 'White Tiger Carrying Corpse' grave, the original intention was to make him never be able to rise again, even his soul was trapped and killed."

"But those idiots don't understand!"

The little fox raised its voice slightly, tinged with sarcasm.

"This burial site is evil, yet it can gather yin energy and nurture corpses. That prince lived a life of luxury and ease, but when he died violently, his resentment was overwhelming. His 'noble aura' as a member of the imperial family hadn't dissipated, and he entered this corpse-nurturing ground. Over the years, instead of his soul being scattered, he absorbed enough yin energy from the earth's veins and the violent energy of the wasteland, gradually becoming powerful. By the time Zhang the Cripple realized it, it was already on the verge of turning into a corpse, but it was suppressed by a thin layer of the talismans and temple foundation that those old servants had haphazardly laid out back then, and it hadn't fully awakened yet."

"Zhang the Cripple knew its fate; it couldn't be destroyed. Its natal deity, my old friend, was highly skilled, but due to a major karmic debt from its early years, it couldn't directly attack the thing and could only assist it. Zhang the Cripple figured that while it wasn't fully awake, they could combine the remaining incense and prayers from the dilapidated temple with the power of our families to set up a 'Seven Star Dragon Locking Suppression' to completely seal it underground. They would wait until a hundred years later, when the earth's energy shifted, or when a descendant's cultivation was sufficient, to deal with it."

"We prepared for forty-nine days. Zhang the Cripple drew the talismans, and I helped him harmonize the spiritual energy and connect with the earth's veins. During that time, he lost a lot of weight, but his eyes were frighteningly bright. In the dilapidated temple, you could feel the cold wind seeping into your bones during the day, and at night, you could hear faint scratching sounds from underground, as well as sighs. They were very soft, but they carried a kind of cold arrogance that permeated to the bone marrow, as if a sleeping king had been disturbed from his peaceful dream."

"Finally, the night of the formation arrived; it was dark and windy."

The little fox's voice trailed off, as if it had returned to that night.

"Zhang the Cripple lit seven oil lamps in the dilapidated temple and arranged them according to the Big Dipper. I guarded the center of the formation. His hair was disheveled, and he was walking in the Yu Step, holding a broken bronze mirror and a peach wood sword passed down from his master. A talisman soaked in his heart's blood was attached to the tip of the sword. I mobilized the spiritual energy of the mountains and forests to help him stabilize the formation."

"At first, things went smoothly. As the talismans were cast one after another, the commotion underground gradually subsided. But just as the last main talisman was about to be inserted into the array's core, a sudden change occurred!"

The little fox spoke faster.

Suddenly, a plume of black mist shot out from beneath the ground, carrying a bone-chilling cold and an oppressive force that made one's legs go weak. Within the mist, one could vaguely make out a shadowy figure dressed in a tattered brocade robe, wearing a crooked official hat with a peacock feather, its face pale, eyes tightly closed, but its mouth gaping open, revealing jet-black teeth. It was instinctively resisting even in its sleep! Zhang the Cripple immediately coughed up blood, which splattered onto the peach wood sword, causing it to hiss and emit wisps of smoke. He gritted his teeth and desperately pressed the last talisman down…

"I could see things were going badly. The resentment and noble energy of that thing, mixed with the yin energy of the earth's veins, was surging back too fiercely. Even if Zhang the Cripple risked his life, he might not be able to suppress it. In that critical moment, I couldn't care less about anything else. I separated a portion of my primordial spiritual energy and rushed it in along with Zhang the Cripple's talisman. This was like a red-hot iron being dropped into ice water. With a loud 'boom,' the entire dilapidated temple shook three times, and dust fell down in a flurry. The shadow in the black mist let out a silent shriek and suddenly retreated into the ground."

"The formation is complete."

The little fox's voice sounded weak, as if it had not yet recovered from that ordeal.

"The flames of the seven oil lamps turned a ghostly green and remained fixed in place. Zhang the Cripple lay paralyzed on the ground, unable to get up for a long time. After that, he was severely weakened. I also suffered considerable damage and fell into a deep sleep for a long time."

"We all thought it would keep it in check for at least a hundred or two hundred years. In an inconspicuous place on the outer wall of the dilapidated temple, Zhang the Cripple used mud mixed with cinnabar to paste a few special symbols, which served as reinforcement and also as a mark left for future generations."

The little fox sighed.

"But who could have imagined that something like Sun Dahong would happen later? He started clearing land near that 'acupoint,' and the yang energy and blood of a living person, especially his resentment and unwillingness, acted like a key, or a bucket of cold water poured on a hot oil pan. Although it didn't explode directly, it loosened the seal, causing the yin energy underground to leak out even more, which in turn accelerated Sun Dahong's death, creating a vicious cycle. Later... the feng shui was deliberately altered, a yin-gathering array was formed, and that thing was nourished, prematurely reaching its potential and breaking free of the seal... Alas, it was fate, destiny, and calamity!"

I lay on the kang (a heated brick bed), my hands and feet were ice cold.

I never imagined that such a thing would happen in a small place like Zhujiakan.

I sat up abruptly, kicking up a cloud of dust from the kang mat.

Moonlight streamed in through the torn window paper, casting a dim light on the room. The shadows of the furniture stretched long and menacing, looking rather eerie.

"no."

I lowered my voice and spoke to the curled-up little fox.

"We can't just lie here like this. The thing that Zhang the Cripple sealed with his life was pried open by Sun Dahong's resentment, and now someone has tampered with it, turning it into a complete menace. This whole thing is sinister, there's definitely someone involved! You said this is related to the people around me, isn't it... related to Sanlu's maternal grandfather, Hu Mancai?"

The little fox didn't look up, but its emerald green eyes flashed in the darkness, and its voice resonated directly in my mind.

"Hu Mancai? Hmph, that old fellow is as cunning as a monkey. There was a reason why Zhang the Cripple was wary of him back then. But Third Donkey's father only started clearing land after Hu Mancai died, so it shouldn't be Hu Mancai."

"Besides, you've never even met Hu Mancai, so what connection could he possibly have with you?"

"And there's Brother Sanlv."

My heart clenched even tighter.

"His father died such a tragic death, and he grew up with his mother after she remarried. He told me his parents died in a car accident. Was someone deliberately hiding it from him, or is he... also hiding it from me?"

The more I think about it, the more confused I become, like a ball of hemp thread torn to shreds by a cat.

The foundation pit was still eerily quiet. There was no word on what happened to the Yin-Yang Dog and the Flying Zombie—whether they were dead or alive.

My heart is like it's being torn apart by twenty-five mice—it's like a hundred claws scratching at my heart.

I couldn't lie still any longer, so I quietly got up and put on my tattered cotton-padded coat.

My mother seemed to turn over on the kang (heated brick bed) in the outer room and mumbled something, but I couldn't hear her clearly.

I quickly held my breath and waited until there was no more noise before tiptoeing to the outer room.

"Hey kid, where are you planning to cause trouble in the middle of the night?"

The little fox's voice rang in my ears. It had quietly followed me out and was now crouching by the door frame, watching me intently.

"I need to go and look around."

I kept my voice low.

"Let's go take a look around the foundation pit at the construction site. I wonder if there's any outcome for the Yin-Yang Dog and that flying zombie. I'm not at ease."

The little fox also sighed.

"Hey, I really don't understand you. People need to rest too, right? Are you made of iron?"

"Fine, I'll go with you."

I nodded and gently opened the door.

The wind howled in the middle of the night, carrying the rustling sound of leaves from the crops in the fields and the occasional mournful cry of an unknown night bird in the distance, making one's hair stand on end.

The village was asleep, pitch black, with only a few scattered windows letting out dim, yellowish light, presumably also kept awake by the daytime commotion. Like a shadow, I shuffled along the wall, stumbling and inching my way toward the construction site.

I saw a dark shadow from a distance at the construction site, but I couldn't make it out clearly for a while.

Is there anyone else who can't sleep in the middle of the night besides me?

I suddenly shrank behind an old elm tree, held my breath, and my heart was pounding in my throat.

Although the moonlight was dim, that figure looked so familiar that I didn't dare blink and stared intently at it.

Suddenly, the person seemed to turn around, but only turned halfway before turning back.

When I saw his profile, my heart was filled with a storm of emotions.

Third Brother Donkey.

Why is he sneaking around in the middle of the night instead of sleeping?

Could it be that all the recent events in Zhujiakan are related to Brother Sanlv?

I stared at Brother Sanlu's retreating figure, lost in thought and puzzlement.

It even felt somewhat unfamiliar.

Did he really know nothing about what happened back then...?