If they leave, more than half of the people in the village have a long-standing feud; if they don't leave, they'll be killed one by one.
This difficult choice left everyone in the village on tenterhooks.
After much discussion, they decided that Chen Gang, a guard with no prior grudges against them, would lead a small group to search for the legendary female exorcist Su Ruoruo.
Speaking of Su Ruoruo, she's a real oddball. She has no age, no description of her appearance, and no mentor—she's a complete "three-nothing" product.
Legend has it that even the most ferocious ghosts would back down in the face of Su Ruoruo.
Although the stories about her were all based on hearsay, this became the last straw for Xiejian Manor.
No one dared to question the existence of this legend.
Or rather, no one dared to destroy the last hope.
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The formation remained the same, with three men in the front and four in the back, a group of burly men surrounding the carriage.
The carriage swayed and rocked, and Isoro's buttocks ached from sitting inside.
They were in such a hurry that sometimes they couldn't even find accommodation and had to camp out in the wilderness.
On the other side, at the counter of Youfenglaiyi, Young Master Luo held Xiao Wushilang's note in his hand, his eyes deep and he remained motionless for a long time. After half a cup of tea, he suddenly laughed in extreme anger.
On the short note, scrawled in a mess, was written: Young Master Luo, an emergency has arisen, I must go ahead.
Luo Jinfeng clearly didn't believe Wu Shilang's message; what urgent matter required a woman with absolutely no martial arts skills to save him?
Although he had thrown a bit of a tantrum yesterday, leaving her in a mediocre room, and felt guilty and regretful, she couldn't just leave like that; her abrupt departure had deeply angered him.
From childhood to adulthood, which girl hasn't been chasing after you and running around behind you?
This guy, Wu Shilang, really is the type who won't listen to polite advice but wants to suffer the consequences!
Thinking of this, Luo Shao's anger intensified. He twisted and deformed the small piece of paper, making a cracking sound, and watched as the paper turned into fragments.
Then, with a gentle flick of his wrist, countless white fragments flew out from between his fingers, like countless white jade butterflies, drifting and slowly falling from mid-air.
The early morning sun shone obliquely through the lintel of the inn, making his face appear even whiter and more delicate, like porcelain and jade. The small smile at the corner of his mouth, combined with his refined and handsome appearance, captivated the passersby.
Only after the last fragment was carried away by the wind did Luo Jinfeng slowly clench his fist, grit his teeth, and laugh hatefully, "Wu Shilang, I'll make you regret running away."
His teeth were clenched so hard they were grinding together, completely ruining his refined and scholarly demeanor.
Far away, sitting in the car, Isoro, rubbing his backside, suddenly shivered violently for no reason. Then he shrank back, hugged his legs, and shook his head with a sigh.
It really is late autumn; the weather is getting cooler so quickly...
On the third day, Isoro finally found a place to stay at the inn.
A sign hung upside down above the door, dangling there because a nail had fallen in. Anyone of average height could bump into it on their head as they walked by, and it creaked and groaned. Two bright red characters were boldly engraved on it: "Haunted House."
This name is indeed very apt.
The entire inn was shrouded in darkness, with occasional flashes of green light appearing around it. The person who opened the door carried a small oil lamp, pushed the door open with a creak, and the lamplight cast an eerie glow on his face.
"How many guests are there, sir?"
The burly man at the head hesitated for a moment before finally speaking, "Except for the young lady who has a superior room, we'll all stay in the shared rooms."
Ishiro almost couldn't resist the urge to poach the servant. What a good servant! Even when he was away on official business, he didn't forget to save money for his master. So he looked at the big man with even more eagerness.
She didn't know that the expenses in the manor were all paid in full. These big men had all been outlaws in their younger days, some of them extremely destitute. When they saw money, they couldn't help but hoard it, and they would split every penny into ten parts to use.
Over time, in such a powerful atmosphere, a tradition spontaneously formed at Xiejian Manor.
For example, some of the ladies are cheap shopaholics. When they see fabric being cleared out, they can transform into strong women and carry back several bolts by themselves, which they then use year after year.
For example, the burly guards, when they went out on official business, would always save every penny of their travel expenses, and then collectively drag them out late at night to slowly count them.
Hearing the jingling of silver coins in the quiet night would make everyone excited and passionate as they fell asleep.
Over time, saving money has become a fine tradition of Xiejian Mountain Villa.
Even the peerless young master always wore a black robe, wearing it inside and out. When there was no dust, it was a matte fabric, but if it got dusty, he could rub it and it would turn into a pearlescent fabric, which was incredibly magical.
One piece of clothing that can be worn for ten months or so without needing to be changed.
This is truly an essential robe for any martial arts practitioner.
"Then, miss, come with me." The toothless proprietress grinned at Ishiro in the dim light.
Surprisingly, a few of the exposed teeth were sparkling under the light.
The wooden plank building creaked and groaned as it narrowed, the dark corridor stretching endlessly into the darkness. Suddenly, Wu Shilang remembered the martial arts chronicle from the month before last.
One of the articles is really impressive; it specifically introduces the shady shops in the underworld.
If a shop is dimly lit and the owner looks rugged and disheveled, like someone who has been through a natural disaster, there's definitely something wrong with it. Furthermore, if the accommodation is dilapidated and there's a faint smell of blood in the air, then congratulations, because you've almost certainly entered a notorious black market inn.
It's a 100% rip-off.
As I walked, Ichiro shivered.
Upon reaching the last step of the stairs, the proprietress suddenly turned around, chuckled, and said, "Young lady, it's very quiet here, very quiet..."
Mo, Goruro and she looked at each other. Of course it would be quiet without any guests.
"Listen, there's not a sound at all."
Just then, a sharp, crisp sound came from the quiet stairwell, like something snapping a wooden beam. Isoro immediately gave the landlady a disdainful look.
The proprietress's eyes narrowed into slits with delight as she said, "Young lady, I forgot to tell you..."
Wu Shilang was very annoyed by her speech, which was delivered in segments. He hated these kinds of people from the underworld the most. They didn't say anything constructive, and all they did was talk nonsense. When they got to the point, they would take a long breath.
Disgusting, utterly disgusting...
Seeing that Fifty-Lang neither screamed nor panicked, the landlady immediately lost interest in telling the story and continued listlessly, "This place is haunted!"
Isoro opened his mouth symbolically, intending to look flustered, but instead, he couldn't help but let out a big yawn.
Then, with teary eyes, she looked at the proprietress's pale and dark face and said apologetically, "I'm sorry, I couldn't help it. I originally wanted to look more terrified."
His attitude was extremely sincere.
The proprietress was so frustrated that she couldn't even muster the energy to summarize the exciting story that followed.
Then the two of them moved in silence, one after the other.
Until they entered the so-called upper room.
Isoro couldn't catch his breath. This place was so shabby. There were no bed curtains, but thick spider webs instead. The table only had three legs, and the remaining one was made up with two round stools, one large and one small. The most bizarre thing was the half-open window, which was so badly deformed that it creaked and rattled in the wind.
That's so classy.
The proprietress handed over the oil lamp with a cold face, and before leaving, she pinched Ishiro's arm hard.
Like pinching a fat sheep waiting to be slaughtered.
"Little girl, stay here quietly. Something fun is coming up."
Isoro was finally completely frustrated.
The night was cool and still, and the wind whistled in through the broken and warped windows.
There wasn't even a place to sit in the whole room. Isoro looked out the window. It was foggy and dark outside, with occasional flickering green lights.
There are no ghosts in this world.
Wu Shilang didn't believe in ghosts, and neither did Master Xiao. Why? This has to do with the history of the Xiao family's rise to power.
The ancestor of the Xiao family was a steamed bun maker. His steamed buns were famous throughout Yangzhou. For many generations, they made a living from this. But when it came to the ancestor of Xiao Wushilang, there was a natural disaster one year. Not to mention flour, there wasn't even a single piece of tree bark left.
Business has reached its lowest point.
After a week of agonizing reflection, the patriarch of the Xiao family made a great and enlightened decision, a decision that led the Xiao family to a bright future and a comfortable life. It was a truly epoch-making event.
This decision... is... to excavate ancient tombs.
Initially, with the intention of robbing the rich to help the poor, the Xiao family ancestor would dig up half of the burial goods of the rich and stuff some into the graves of the poor in the neighborhood.
Later on, the more they dug, the smoother it became, and the more professional they became, so they simply started digging into both the rich and the poor.
Many of the items acquired have been passed down, but one of them was Master Xiao's favorite: a piece of fine white jade that, after being soaked in the blood of the dead for many years, had turned a beautiful dark red.
When held up to the sunlight, the blood inside seems to disperse like mist.
When Wushilang was five years old, he took a liking to this ancient jade at first sight. He threw a tantrum and finally snatched it from Master Xiao's hands. From then on, he wore it properly around his neck.
A series lasts for five years.
The Xiao family made their fortune by digging up other people's ancestral graves, going from initial fear and trepidation to later transcendence. This process spanned several generations.
Therefore, Master Xiao did not believe in ghosts, and Wu Shilang believed even less.
After thinking it over, Xiao Wushilang decided to make the bed himself.
As he lay down, the wooden planks creaked, and occasionally one or two cockroaches would scurry past. So, Goruro simply gripped his shoes in his hands, ready to fight at any moment.
From the moment she came out until now, Ishiro's father can be relieved; she has strayed further and further from the virtuous path of a lady.
In the middle of the night, Ishiro groggily turned over and felt as if something was watching him.
He squeezed his eyes open and froze instantly.
Beside the bed stood a female ghost dressed in white, her hair reaching her abdomen and hanging down to block her eyes. Her breathing was as loud as a bellows, panting heavily.
Seeing that Isoro was staring at him with wide eyes, he suddenly became excited.
It twisted its body while making strange hoarse noises.
Then slowly stick out a very long tongue from its mouth.
Isoro slowly sat up, then stared at the female ghost with a serious expression, his hands gripping the two cloth shoes tightly, his knuckles tightening.
He looked very nervous.
The female ghost became even more smug, tossing her hair and letting her bright red tongue dance around.
The female ghost shook her head triumphantly, her tongue swinging wider and wider. Suddenly, with a whoosh, the long tongue flew out and landed on Isoro's head, draping down from her head to her stomach.
Isoro tightened his fingers again with restraint, closed his eyes in despair for a moment, and then opened them again.
Seeing the female ghost looking at him with a face full of shame, her hands clasped together in embarrassment, he realized that her acrobatic attempt had failed.
Soon the female ghost reverted to her initial terrifying appearance, her hair hanging down again to cover her face, her voice sinister and trembling as she asked in a ghostly tone, "Aren't you afraid of me?"