A Good Doctor in Wude Village 5 (25)
Yin Gu Huai dared not openly comment on Yin Gu Ling—after all, that crazy woman could probably kill him without a second thought. So, he focused instead on examining the corpse.
“This body’s face looks… strange,” Su Qingtang said uneasily as soon as she entered. The whole burial hall felt wrong. And come to think of it—where were the little spirits? They’d been following her earlier. How had she lost them?
Yin Gu Huai leaned in closer, inspecting the corpse’s face. Then, at the jawline, he found a small tear in the skin. Following that mark, he grasped the edge and peeled it back.
Instantly, a foul stench filled the air. Even with her hand over her nose, Su Qingtang nearly gagged.
She stumbled back, grimacing. “Should I follow procedure or just… throw up?”
Yin Gu Huai silently pointed to a corner. She ran over and retched violently, coughing and cursing between gasps. Which sick bastard sewed another face on?
“….”
After a few moments, she wiped her mouth and came back to him. “Brother Huai, did you find anything?”
“The deceased is about your age,” Yin Gu Huai said, his voice calm but grim. “The skin on the face was added later. Take a look—who does he remind you of?”
Su Qingtang craned her neck, staring at the face beneath the peeled disguise. It was plain, forgettable. But then, a memory flickered—her eyes widened. “Wait… he looks like that man outside—the one carrying the sick child!”
Yin Gu Huai nodded. “Yes. It’s subtle, but the resemblance is there. And this preserved face—it was meant to protect the original one beneath. The preservation ointment smells exactly like what I sensed on that child.”
And he knew that smell well—he’d given the child medicine himself earlier, which had intensified the scent.
“Brother Huai… I have a bad feeling about this,” Su Qingtang murmured, anxiety rising. “If this was their house—those people outside—and they kept coming back here, making a scene every now and then… then what would’ve happened if we hadn’t arrived yesterday?”
“Would Doctor Hua have come out? Or would those villagers have broken in?”
“If they could enter, the gate wouldn’t have been covered in trash,” she rambled, trying to piece her thoughts together. “It’s just… this doesn’t feel simple. Maybe it’s not that Doctor Hua won’t heal them—but that he can’t.”
She frowned. “Think about it—he let us, total strangers, stay the night and even gave us medicine for free. If he’s so kind to outsiders, why not his own villagers?”
Her mind whirred. “Do you think Doctor Hua still has family here? A wife? A daughter? He’s not young, and look—this medicine jar he gave me earlier, it’s carved with intertwined branches!”
She pulled out the small jar of ointment. She’d admired the design before but hadn’t thought about its meaning.
Yin Gu Huai took it, glanced at the coffin, and said quietly, “I think… this might have been his wife.”
“What?” Su Qingtang froze. “You’re joking! You just said this man was one of your sister’s would-be suitors—a man. And now you’re saying it’s Doctor Hua’s wife? That’s impossible—”
Then it hit her. If Doctor Hua hid the body here, even within the mist’s protection, that meant outsiders couldn’t find it—but it also meant he feared someone might.
Hiding it in a burial hall—yes, the most dangerous place is often the safest.
“She’s wearing sleeves embroidered with intertwined branches,” Yin Gu Huai replied softly.
“I… I… what should I do?” Su Qingtang stammered, still reeling. “What’s going on here?”
Yin Gu Huai bowed toward the corpse. “The conditions are crude, but this will have to do. Investigator Su, take note—the cause of death appears to be…”
He stopped abruptly.
“What is it?” Su Qingtang asked, pulling out her little notebook.
“…Her heart is gone,” Yin Gu Huai said.
Su Qingtang’s eyes went wide. “Her… heart?”
“Yes. And her entire body’s blood essence has been drained dry. This is Blood Exchange—someone used her life to sustain another’s.”
He had read about it in ancient texts. For the victim, death was not instant—it was agony and terror beyond measure. And for the one receiving the stolen heart and blood, it was a lifelong torment—a heart that never truly belonged, a body always rejecting itself. It was a curse for both.
Suddenly, Yin Gu Huai grabbed her hand. “Do you remember the way we came in?”
Su Qingtang blinked. “Yes, of course.”
“Then run. Don’t stop. Don’t look back. No matter who calls you, don’t turn around,” he said sharply, pushing her toward the door.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, panicking.
“This ritual—it drains one life to prolong another. That little girl, that Nan-nan, clearly can’t handle it. And right now, you’re the only viable replacement. Go! Head for Fengming Mountain!”
Even before he finished, the mist around them began to surge again, thick and blinding.
From within the fog came a young man’s mocking voice. “Your Highness, Miss Su—since you’ve come all this way, why rush to leave? Stay a while.”
A burst of blue light flashed—Yin Gu Huai’s sword aura. “Su Qingtang!” he shouted.
She understood. If she stayed, she’d only hold him back. “Brother Huai, wait for me! I’ll bring Her Highness to save you!”
And with that, she turned and ran without looking back.
Yin Gu Huai faced the white-clad figure perched atop the wall. “You got close to my royal sister just to use her blood to save that child, didn’t you—Yan Chi.”
Yan Chi didn’t deny it. He’d expected to be found out eventually. “Yes and no. I did covet the Princess’s phoenix bloodline. But the fire phoenix’s blood isn’t something ordinary people can endure.”
He jumped lightly down, his robes fluttering. “I was only helping Uncle Liu. If Doctor Hua’s wife’s lowly life wasn’t enough, I’d have to find another noble lady as replacement.”
Yin Gu Huai’s gaze turned icy. “Do you actually think you can beat me?”
Yan Chi laughed. “Of course not! Even a few of me couldn’t.”
Yin Gu Huai’s expression darkened. “You let the villagers in, didn’t you?”
Yan Chi smiled. “That’s right. The fog that once covered the whole village—it’s all gathered here now. Miss Su… well, she’s probably already surrounded.”
He chuckled and flexed his fingers, forming intricate gestures. “I may not beat you in combat, Your Highness, but I do know a few tricks. A proper formation—far superior to Qin Qinyuan’s pitiful ghost summoning.”
At his command, the dried corpses within the hall began to move—one after another sitting upright, their empty eyes glowing faintly.
Meanwhile, Su Qingtang had barely escaped the burial hall when she ran straight into the mob of villagers—and the man cradling the little girl.
Yin Gu Huai’s warning echoed in her head. She instinctively stepped back.
“There she is! That woman—right there!” someone shouted, and every head turned toward her.
“Catch her! Whoever brings me my daughter back gets her as a reward!” yelled the man holding Nan-nan.
The mob surged forward.
Su Qingtang screamed and bolted down the road.
Every door and window was shut tight. Even the ones she and Yin Gu Huai had opened earlier were now locked.
She tried to find somewhere to hide, but the streets were bare, and the villagers’ voices grew closer from both directions.
Coinwort spirit, Evergreen spirit, Money Tree spirit, Ginseng spirit—where are you?!
She covered her mouth to keep from crying out, waiting for a response—but none came.
Seriously? When I need you, nothing. When I don’t, you won’t shut up!
Then, looking at the red-painted doors before her, a realization struck her.
If the spirits here were plant spirits—like the sacred bodhi tree’s spirit at the ancient crossing or the naturally born ones at Mount Wunian—then they should’ve been ancient and strong.
But these spirits? Coinwort, Money Tree, Evergreen, Ginseng—plants humans kept indoors. Small, decorative, shallow-rooted. They couldn’t possibly have gained spiritual awareness on their own.
Wait—unless she had seen their true forms already… and just overlooked them. Like the intertwined branch pattern earlier—she had been too distracted by the glitter of gold and jade. The Money Trees beside the jade screens, the Coinwort near the carved pillars, the potted Evergreens under the paintings…
They weren’t born of divine energy. They were fed by blood.
Her skin crawled.
“So you… you spirits,” she whispered, trembling, “you were born from the blood of the victims—the ones in the burial hall, weren’t you?”
A deep voice came from the shadows. “Clever girl.”
Su Qingtang backed against a wall, heart hammering. Now she understood—the village wasn’t a normal place at all. It was circular, enclosed. No matter where a victim ran, once they were spotted, the shouts would spread, and the entire village would join the hunt.
Because everyone here was part of it.
All of them.
There was no “Wude Village with a good doctor.”
There were only monsters wearing human faces—demons born from greed and blood.
Compared to them, the devils of hell would seem merciful.