My words have become law; I truly have no desire to display my divine power before others.

Moreover, her strength is terrifying—the way the paper maid snatched Li Tiedao just now was no less powerful than that of a top-notch martial arts master.

What's even more terrifying is that they feel no pain and no fear.

How do I play?

"Form ranks!" Lin Zhenyuan roared. "Back to back! Don't let them get close!"

The five men quickly moved closer together, standing back to back in a circle with their weapons facing outwards.

The paper figures gathered around.

The movements were slow, but relentless.

The paper servant at the very front raised his paper knife and chopped it down at Wang Biao's head!

Wang Biao raised his knife to parry.

"when--!"

A deafening roar!

Wang Biao felt a numbness in his hand, and the knife almost slipped from his grasp.

And the paper knife belonging to the paper family... was completely intact!

"What the hell is this paper?!" Wang Biao cursed.

Another paper servant thrust his "sword" straight at Zhang Kui's throat.

Zhang Kui dodged to the side and slashed the paper figure in the waist with a backhand stroke.

"puff!"

The paper tore, and the bamboo strips broke.

The paper figure was cut in half at the waist; the upper half fell to the ground, while the lower half remained standing.

But then a terrifying scene unfolded—

With his upper body on the ground, he braced himself with his hands and began to crawl forward!

Its face was still frighteningly white, its ink-painted eyes were staring at Zhang Kui, and its wide-open mouth looked like it was smiling!

And his lower body, too, took steps, swaying and continuing forward!

"Separated?! It can still move?!" Zhang Kui's scalp tingled.

The battle has officially begun.

The five bodyguards were all seasoned veterans, and their excellent teamwork allowed them to fight the seven paper figures to a standstill for a time.

But they soon discovered that these paper figures were almost impossible to "kill".

Even if you cut off an arm, the arm can still move.

Even if you cut off a leg, the leg can still walk.

One of the paper figures was even cleaved in two by Li Tie's blade, with each half fighting its own battle, causing the bodyguards to scramble and panic.

Moreover, the paper figure was incredibly strong.

With each clash of weapons, the bodyguards felt their arms go numb. The paper figures, however, showed no signs of fatigue, launching wave after wave of attacks.

"This can't go on!" Lin Zhenyuan said, panting heavily as he forced back a paper figure with his sword. "They're not afraid of getting hurt, and we can't afford to waste this time!"

"What should we do?" Lin Fu had already been hit with a "stick," and his shoulder was burning with pain—hitting someone with a paper stick was not much lighter than hitting them with a real stick.

......

Lin Yunfeng pushed open the door to the side room very quietly.

The moonlight was swallowed up by thick clouds, and the courtyard was as black as if it had been soaked in ink.

He stepped barefoot onto the bluestone slabs, the icy touch sending a rush of cold air up his soles, but it did nothing to clear his muddled mind.

He felt his body was very light, so light that it was as if half of his soul had floated away, leaving only an empty shell walking around.

His chest felt empty, as if something had been taken away—he knew it, but he didn't care.

There was only one thing he cared about: Wan'er was waiting for him.

The thought burned like a warm fire within his cold body, driving him forward.

I walked through the familiar corridor, past the martial arts training ground specially reserved outside my father's study, and through the alley behind the kitchen that was piled with clutter.

The back door was ajar, and Old Wang, the gatekeeper, was dozing in the gatehouse, snoring loudly.

Lin Yunfeng squeezed through the crack in the door without making a sound.

Outside the security escort agency, the streets were deathly silent.

West Street, bustling with people during the day, was now deserted.

The doors of the shops on both sides were tightly closed, and the signs hanging under the eaves swayed gently in the night wind, making a "creak-creak" sound, like an old man groaning.

Lin Yunfeng, however, found the silence quite comforting.

He quickened his pace, the soles of his cloth shoes rubbing against the bluestone slabs, making a soft "shush" sound.

His direction was clear—West of the city, Willow Flower Lane.

No, it's not Willow Flower Lane.

It's a place even further away.

He paused at the entrance of Willow Flower Lane, then turned without hesitation into the side road leading out of the city.

The road narrowed as we walked, and the houses on both sides gradually became fewer, replaced by weeds and scattered rocks.

The wind picked up, carrying the chill of early autumn, making his thin clothes cling tightly to his body.

But he couldn't feel the cold.

He could only feel a fire burning in his chest, burning so hard that his mouth was dry and his steps were unsteady.

Two miles outside the city, the official road forks.

One road continues westward to the neighboring prefecture, while the other turns north into a low-lying mountain valley.

Lin Yunfeng walked onto the road to the north.

He shouldn't have known this road—his father had strictly forbidden him from going near this place since he was a child.

But at this moment, his feet seemed to have their own memory, precisely stepping over every pothole and avoiding every thorny thicket.

The air smells different now.

The city was filled with the mingled smells of cooking smoke, cosmetics, and animal excrement.

Here, there's a damp, earthy smell, mixed with a faint... rotten smell.

It wasn't the stench of decay, but a more subtle smell, like a mixture of old wood buried deep underground, wet clothes, and rust.

It gets into the nasal cavity, sticks in the throat, making you want to cough, but you can't cough it up.

Lin Yunfeng took a deep breath.

The scent reminded him of Wan'er—of her faint fragrance, like that of old rouge or withered flowers and grass.

She said it was a family heirloom incense, and he believed her.

The scene along the roadside began to look eerie.

At first, they were just some crooked mounds of earth, scattered here and there among the weeds.

The further in you go, the more mounds there are, densely packed, like the earth covered in scabies.

Some of the mounds had wooden signs stuck in front of them, but the writing on them had long been eroded by wind and rain and was no longer legible.

Many of them didn't even have wooden signs; they were just bare, raised mounds covered with weeds.

wildfire.

Green, little by little, floating among the graves.

They didn't look like fire; they looked more like some kind of glowing insect, or... eyes.

When Lin Yunfeng passed by, the phosphorescent flames would tremble slightly, as if they had been startled.

One or two even drifted over and hovered around him, their green light reflecting on his pale face.

He reached out to touch it.

The phosphorescent flames scattered with a "poof," turning into wisps of blue smoke that seeped between his fingers.

A cold, stinging sensation came over him, and he withdrew his hand, looking at his fingertips—there were faint bluish-black marks there, like frostbite.

But he doesn't care.

Ahead, at the end of the darkness, there is light.

It wasn't the green light of phosphorescence, but... the light of a lantern.

Warm yellow light.

His heart skipped a beat, and he quickened his pace.

After passing through the last patch of chaotic graves, the view suddenly opened up before us.

This is a relatively flat open space, as if someone had deliberately cleared it.

In the center of the open space stood a mansion.

The high walls made of blue bricks extend to both sides and disappear into the darkness, making it impossible to tell how big the house is.

The walls were covered with bluish-gray tiles, and the eaves tiles were carved with blurry animal heads, casting ferocious shadows in the moonlight.

The vermilion gate was tightly closed, and the door knocker was a brass animal head holding a bowl-sized ring.

The plaque above the door was as black as ink, with two large gilded characters that gleamed eerily under the lantern light:

婉宅

The characters are in beautiful regular script, with rounded strokes, as if written by a woman.

Two large red lanterns hung on either side of the door.

The lantern paper is made of fine silk gauze, embroidered with lotus scroll patterns in gold thread.

The candlelight filtered through the silk gauze, casting a soft, warm yellow glow that illuminated the area three zhang in front of the door.

The light was so warm, so out of place with the eerie mass graves around it.

Lin Yunfeng, however, only felt joy.

He straightened his clothes—though they were just ordinary cloth clothes, and some grass clippings from the road were still on them.

He tidied his hair again, then took a deep breath and stepped forward.

Footsteps clattered on the bluestone slabs in front of the door.