With the exception of Shen Yi, the “sinners” had already gathered in front of the old woman’s courtyard.
Wen Mo followed Shen Yi as they walked toward the group. A Night Watchman’s five senses are exceptionally sharp; while still half a street away, Wen Mo could already hear the sinners huddled by the gate, muttering amongst themselves.
A man’s voice rose in confusion: “Why isn’t that village woman reacting yet? Are we not all here?”
The Hell Game was, after all, a game, and the sinners were the players. When a new day’s task was set to begin, the game would not progress until all players were present; the NPCs would not react, standing silently in place. The sinners had to wait for everyone to arrive.
“Someone must be missing. I wonder how many people died last night,” another man said. “Those two newcomers should be dead by now, right?”
“Better if they’re both dead. If that guy called Shen Yi is still alive… it’ll be a hassle. He looks like a ghost.”
“Sigh, you’re right. It would be best if he’s dead, but things are never that easy in Hell,” another person replied. “Surely he’s still—oh.”
Mid-sentence, Shen Yi approached. The man immediately stopped talking, giving an ambiguous, forced laugh and shooting a few looks at the others.
Upon seeing Shen Yi, everyone exchanged meaningful glances, looking at him with varying expressions. Just as he reached the crowd, Shen Yi felt the weight of their diverse stares. He paused, stopped in his tracks, and raised his head to meet their gazes.
When their eyes met, some immediately looked away, while others didn’t care in the slightest, openly sizing him up. They were staring at the extra jacket he was wearing. Those gazes were filled with scrutinizing, inquisitive malice.
Shen Yi blinked, his round eyes wide and innocent.
Wen Mo, standing on the roof opposite the old woman’s house, felt his vision go dark at the sight of his Brother Yi acting like this. He covered his face in frustration Shen Yi’s gaze was truly too pure. It was obvious he hadn’t faced many storms in his life and couldn’t see through the ugliness of human nature.
“You’re still alive,” a man with dyed yellow hair said, reaching into the front of his shirt with ill intent. “Where’s the other newcomer who was with you?”
Wen Mo sensed something. He lowered his hand and narrowed his eyes at the yellow-haired man.
Shen Yi answered honestly and directly: “Dead.”
“Dead?” the yellow-haired man asked. “How did he die?”
“The Night Watchman killed him.”
“Wasn’t it you who killed him?” The yellow-haired man took a step forward. He was fumbling for something in his inner pocket.
Wen Mo’s eyes sharpened. He was about to jump down when he suddenly heard Shen Yi let out a laugh. Wen Mo paused, seeing Shen Yi actually narrowing his eyes and smiling.
“You want to say I’m a ghost again?” Shen Yi glanced at the hand inside the man’s pocket. “Do you have a knife?”
Wen Mo was stunned.
The yellow-haired man was silent for a moment, then clicked his tongue and pulled his hand out. He was indeed holding a butterfly knife.
Shen Yi let out a whistle: “So cool, a butterfly knife.”
Wen Mo: “…”
He straightened up from his crouch he had been about to leap down.
A thick smile remained on Shen Yi’s face, but there was a hint of unfathomable depth in his eyes. The naive look from a moment ago had suddenly vanished. Wen Mo realized then that Shen Yi might not be as fragile as he had thought.
The yellow-haired man twirled the butterfly knife twice in his hand and sneered: “Don’t play dumb. You’re a ghost, right?”
“Even if I really am a ghost, using that to deal with me is looking down on ghosts a bit too much,” Shen Yi said, jerking his head toward the man’s hand. “How could a ghost be killed by a single stab from you?”
“At least it’ll force you to show your true form.”
“If a ghost shows its true form, won’t you be in even more trouble?”
“…” The yellow-haired man was suddenly speechless.
“Hey.” The man in the suit stepped forward and pressed a hand on the yellow-haired man’s shoulder. “Stop it. He’s right.”
The yellow-haired man clicked his tongue and shrugged off the hand: “You’re so annoying! Are you really being led in circles by him!? He’s just saying that because he’s afraid of being stabbed, and you’re actually falling for it!?”
Yan Pan spoke up: “But what he said is true. The ghosts here won’t be stabbed to death by knives or swords. You’re not a newcomer; don’t you know that to destroy these ghosts and gods, you must find clues? Only through the guidance of clues can you know how to eliminate them.”
The yellow-haired man’s lip twitched.
The man in the suit agreed: “That’s right. We have too few clues right now to act rashly. If you really did stab him and he revealed his true form with the ability to kill, our progress would be even harder.”
“Exactly. These villagers are already stingy with information.”
“And he doesn’t seem to have killing intent. Perhaps the ghost’s memory is sealed by some clue and hasn’t awakened yet?”
“Yeah. Besides, if he really were a powerful ghost, he could have made his move yesterday during the day,” a girl in the crowd added. “Powerful ghosts don’t distinguish between day and night; they can kill whenever they want.”
“Tch.” The yellow-haired man put his knife away, looking disgruntled. “I get it! I won’t do anything, okay? You guys are unbelievable!”
The man in the suit wasn’t provoked at all; he simply smiled and nodded. “Good. That’s for the best.”
The yellow-haired man’s lip twitched violently again.
“Alright, everyone inside. Let’s find that village woman,” the suit-man called out. “Even though a night has passed, we’re essentially still at the start. We have too little information, so let’s get on with the tasks.”
The crowd swarmed into the courtyard. Shen Yi stood at the very back, seemingly planning to be the last one in. Just as two people stepped over the threshold, the sound of a child’s innocent laughter suddenly echoed from not far away.
The laughter was clear, like river water in early summer innocent, belonging to a child who knew nothing of the world. Everyone heading inside stopped in their tracks. Those who were already in the house walked back out, and those outside turned toward the sound.
Then, two clangs rang out the sound of someone hitting a gong.
Shen Yi turned his head.
The rain drizzled, the sky was gray, and the white mist was thin. The grass and soil were damp from the rain. Before the sound of the gong could dissipate, a group of people dressed in red appeared, flickering in and out of the thick fog at a four-way intersection in the distance.
They were a line of blood-red that stood out sharply in the white mist. They were carrying a bridal sedan chair. Two people led the way, while others carried the sedan. At the very back were two people hitting gongs. Following this wedding procession were several small, skipping figures four or five children.
The gong sounded once or twice every so often, echoing through the rainy mist. The procession moved slowly and stiffly, advancing inch by inch. The children, however, were jumping and skipping about. From a distance, their joyous laughter drifted over.
“The new ▆▆ is here, ghost ▆▆, ghost bri▆, going to ▆▆?”
“Ghost bri▆, ▆▆ groom—” the children began to sing. “The sky ▆ black, ▆▆ rain; the new ▆▆ leaves the ▆ house, feeling panic in their heart, Mother ▆▆ ghost sees ▆—”
“Ghost bri▆▆, ▆▆▆, do not hold an umbrella, do not find pea▆…”
“Don’t ▆▆ see ▆▆ again, drown▆▆▆▆…”
Because they were too far away, the nursery rhyme they sang was difficult to hear clearly. The sedan chair moved further away, and the children’s singing faded into the mist. The wedding procession crossed the intersection and vanished.
Shen Yi turned around and saw that the group of sinners had all entered the house at some point, hiding behind the courtyard gate to peek at the procession. He was the only one standing alone on the road in front of the old woman’s house.
Shen Yi: “…”
Sensing his gaze, the sinners finally shifted their attention back. The group glanced at him and walked inside without a word. The yellow-haired man gave a loud, cold snort.
Shen Yi let out a helpless laugh and followed them in. He was the last to enter the courtyard, closing the heavy iron gate. The gate creaked shut.
Wen Mo leaped forward lightly, his toes landing on the wall next to the old woman’s courtyard gate. With another leap, he landed on the roof of the main house. He crouched there, looking down.
The sinners were already in the courtyard. A village woman greeted them and led them toward the main room. She stopped in front of the door, and the sinners stopped with her.
“You all know we’re holding a funeral service for those two who died yesterday a ghost wedding. There are many rules for such things,” the woman said. “You must enter one by one to hear the old lady’s instructions. Weren’t you assigned tasks yesterday? Those assigned to the same job go in together; the rest wait outside.”
The woman continued, “Which of you were told to go to the ruined temple to find the sedan chair?”
The man in the suit and Yan Pan stepped forward, and Shen Yi followed from the back of the crowd. The woman nodded to them and pointed inside: “Go on in.”
The three entered. It wasn’t a good day; it was gray outside, and the inside of the house was as pitch-black as yesterday, with only a dim yellow hanging lamp in the center. The old woman still sat in the shadows where the light couldn’t reach.
The three stepped forward. Just as they stood still, the sound of grinding teeth came from the old woman.
Her aged voice followed: “Go out the door, turn right, and keep walking toward the west entrance of the village. Stop at the crossroads with the Earth Bodhisattva, then turn right and keep walking… you’ll see the ruined temple.”
“The sedan chair is behind the ruined temple. Carry it back. Remember, never lift the curtain to look inside, and once you lift it, never look back…”
“Why can’t we look? Is there a specific reason?” the suit-man asked.
The old woman didn’t answer. She ground her teeth again for a moment, like a broken record, and started her words from the beginning: “Go toward the west entrance, don’t leave the village…”
Suit-man: “…”
Shen Yi felt a sense of frustration: “Why is she starting from the beginning again?”
Yan Pan said, “They’re all like this. NPCs rarely answer exactly what you ask. If what you ask doesn’t trigger a keyword, she won’t answer. Some just repeat the same line, others won’t speak at all.”
Shen Yi was speechless. The suit-man asked a few more questions, but the old woman ignored him, only muttering her script.
Giving up, the suit-man turned and said, “It looks like she won’t say anything more. Let’s go. Let’s do the task.”
“Yeah.” Yan Pan turned back. “Let’s go, Shen Yi.”
“Oh, okay.”
The three walked out of the house.