Since all these rules and superstitions are outdated, what's wrong with me indulging in some me

Park Bo-soo did not speak or make a sound.

He simply took a step back and closed the door again.

His lips twitched slightly, the smile vanishing in an instant, so fast it was almost imperceptible.

Park Bo-soo turned around and walked towards the next door.

Leo's door was ajar, just like before.

Park Bo-soo pushed open the door.

Leo remained seated on the kang (a heated brick bed), his back against the mottled earthen wall. His severed leg stretched out in front of him, wrapped in bandages soaked in medicine, but at this moment, his attention was clearly not on his leg.

He was holding a nail in his hand.

It was a very ordinary iron nail, about two inches long, and it was already a bit rusty.

Leo was staring at the nail, rubbing the nail head repeatedly with the pad of his thumb.

Shake—shake—shake—

The sound of fingernails scraping against rust was exceptionally clear in the deathly silent room.

Park Bo-soo stood at the door, looking at him.

Leo did not look up.

His gaze remained fixed on the nail, and the rubbing motion with his fingertips grew slower and slower until it was almost imperceptible.

Park Bo-soo's gaze shifted from the nail in his hand to his face.

Leo's face was still terribly pale, and faint traces of medicine were still seeping from under the bandages on his broken leg.

Park Bo-soo slowly approached, stopped by the kang (heated brick bed), and looked down at the nail in Leo's hand.

"What are you doing?"

he asks.

Leo paused for a moment.

Then he looked up at Park Bo-soo.

There was no emotion in those eyes.

"grind."

He only said one word.

Hoarse, dry, like sandpaper rubbing against stone.

Park Bo-soo nodded, as if the answer was perfectly normal.

His gaze lingered on Leo for a few seconds before he turned and left.

The courtyard remained quiet.

Park Bo-soo stood under the eaves, his gaze sweeping over the remaining doors.

He walked over and pushed open the doors one by one.

Go in, search, and then come out.

Finally, in just five or six minutes, he had visited all the rooms. Then he came to the center of the courtyard, breathed a sigh of relief, and the next second he quickly left the courtyard, closed the door, and walked in one direction.

The moment the door closed, An Zhiyu emerged from the back of the courtyard. Her eyes were indifferent, her aura restrained, like a sword ready to be drawn at any moment.

-

Meanwhile, it took about fifteen minutes to walk here.

A blurry outline emerged from the fog ahead.

Courtyard wall.

A string of dried herbs hung on the wall, swaying gently in the windless mist, like countless withered hands beckoning. Beside it stood a faded cloth banner, embroidered with illegible runes, damp with the mist and hanging limply.

That was the shaman's courtyard.

Cheng Caijun's breath hitched, and he subconsciously slowed his pace.

Lu Changsheng also stopped.

He didn't step forward immediately, but instead turned slightly to the side, pulled Cheng Caijun into a narrower alley, and disappeared into the shadows of the mist.

Cheng Caijun was taken aback and was about to ask a question when Lu Changsheng stopped him with a look, gesturing for Cheng Caijun to look towards the courtyard gate.

Cheng Caijun quickly looked over.

The courtyard gate opened.

A figure walked out from inside.

It was an old woman.

She was shockingly thin, like a skeleton draped in human skin. She wore a black, coarse cloth dress that hung loosely on her body, swaying slightly with her steps, as if a gust of wind could blow her away.

His hair was sparse and gray, lying loosely on his scalp, revealing the bluish-gray scalp underneath.

The wrinkles on his face were deep and etched, like they had been carved with a knife, from his forehead to his jawline. His skin had an unhealthy grayish-white hue.

Her eyes were deeply sunken in their sockets, and her pupils were cloudy. She was walking slowly.

Her steps were slow and light, her feet barely touching the ground. Her black figure moved slowly through the mist, like a floating ghost.

She walked towards the direction of the village chief's house.

Lu Changsheng's pupils contracted slightly.

Go see the village chief?

At this time?

The old woman's figure grew farther and farther away, becoming increasingly blurry, until it was finally completely swallowed up by the thick fog.

The courtyard gate was ajar behind her.

Seeing the strange shaman leave, Cheng Caijun finally let out a long sigh of relief.

"Brother Lu..." His voice was extremely low, almost a whisper, "She...she's gone?"

Lu Changsheng did not answer.

He kept staring in that direction, into the depths of the mist where the old woman had disappeared.

I waited for a full minute.

Only after confirming that there was no movement did he turn his gaze to the half-closed courtyard gate.

"Walk."

He only said one word.

Then he stood up, stepped out of the shadows of the alley, and strode toward the door.

Cheng Caijun quickly followed.

The two walked through the mist and arrived at the courtyard gate.

The door was ajar, and a sliver of darkness peeked through the crack.

Lu Changsheng reached out and pressed his hand on the door.

The door was unlocked.

A gentle push—

"Squeak—"

The door opened.

The courtyard was eerily quiet. Lu Changsheng stepped across the threshold, followed closely by Cheng Caijun, who then closed the door behind him.

The doors and windows of the side rooms were tightly closed, and the window paper was yellowed and torn, revealing dark, empty spaces inside.

Lu Changsheng did not immediately enter the main room.

He stood in the center of the courtyard, slowly looking around, his brows slightly furrowed.

Cheng Caijun noticed his expression and asked in a low voice, "Brother Lu, what's wrong?"

Lu Changsheng did not answer.

There was definitely an indescribable awkwardness in the courtyard.

Cheng Caijun followed Lu Changsheng's gaze but couldn't discern anything. It was just an ordinary farmhouse courtyard, no different from any other courtyard in the village.

But Lu Changsheng's furrowed brows did not relax.

He slowly turned around, his gaze moving from the main house to the side rooms, then from the side rooms to the courtyard wall, and finally settling on the ground in the center of the courtyard.

"Stay here and don't move."

Lu Changsheng said something softly, then began to walk around the courtyard.

His steps were slow, each one as if he were measuring something. When he reached the entrance of the main house, he paused, looked up at the eaves, and then looked down at the stone steps in front of the threshold.

Cheng Caijun watched him walk back and forth, feeling uneasy, but dared not ask a question.

Lu Changsheng finally finished the last lap, stood back in the center of the courtyard, and stood side by side with Cheng Caijun.

"I can tell," he said softly, as if talking to himself.

"What did you see?" Cheng Caijun couldn't help but ask.

Lu Changsheng did not answer directly, but instead pointed to the door of the main room.

The door faces south.

He then pointed to the side rooms on both sides.

"The east and west wing rooms are symmetrical."

Then he pointed to the courtyard wall.

"The wall is straight."

Cheng Caijun nodded. What's the problem? Isn't this how houses are built in the village?

Lu Changsheng noticed his confusion, and his lips twitched as if he wanted to laugh.

"The door faces south, the house is symmetrical east to west, and the walls run in a straight line—that's how a normal house is built." He lowered his voice even further. "But think about it, whose house is this?"