At the break of dawn, before the first rays of sunlight fully spread, the faint sound of a copper gong came from the east of Liú Village, as if trying to drive something away.
Soon after, a mix of indistinct, strangely intoned chanting and villagers’ whispers broke the morning silence around the hut, like cold gusts of wind, sending shivers down one’s spine.
Liú Xiǎomǎn lay on her bed, her heart utterly calm.
She knew what this meant.
The shaman group led by Tián Lǎotài had indeed arrived on schedule.
She pushed open the slightly ajar wooden door, bringing Li Xìuxiù and Liú Cōngmíng into the yard.
The empty space in front of the hut was now crowded with people.
Tián Lǎotài stood at the forefront, her usually neat bun somewhat disheveled, her face radiating undeniable pride and anxiety, her triangular eyes glancing frequently at the hut.
Beside her was a woman in her fifties, draped in a tattered red-and-yellow robe, decorated with crooked talismans. In her hand, she held a peachwood sword, the tassel swaying unsteadily.
This was the shaman, appearing otherworldly, yet her eyes betrayed a cunning intelligence.
Wáng Jīnhuā and Liú Dàshān flanked her, while Liú Dàbǎo shrank behind Wáng Jīnhuā, his face pale, eyes evasive.
More villagers had gathered to watch, forming a semicircle, pointing and whispering, their murmurs rolling like waves.
Some were curious, some respectful of spirits and ghosts, and some gleefully malicious.
They whispered as they trampled the bare ground in front of the hut, raising dust.
Liú Xiǎomǎn’s gaze swept over the crowd, finally resting on the shaman’s deliberately haughty face, a faint, almost imperceptible curve appearing at the corner of her lips.
She knew the misfortune and evil these people feared were merely tools for her counterattack.
Last night, she had exchanged with the system for a colorless, odorless luminous chemical reagent, carefully applied it inside the hut walls and in the roof gaps, waiting for the magic to manifest in the dark.
Several small sound wave generators had also been cleverly hidden around the hut, their frequencies precisely tuned. Once activated, they would emit deep, terrifying roars.
She kept Li Xìuxiù and Liú Cōngmíng behind her, her heartbeat as calm as a deep pool.
This confident composure left no room for the remaining chill of the early morning.
The shaman, upon seeing the three of them, immediately raised her peachwood sword high, shouting sharply: “Cursed by misfortune, invaded by evil! This place is filled with resentment, demons must be at work!”
She gestured wildly at the hut, then at Liú Xiǎomǎn.
“This little girl’s face shows deathly energy; she must have provoked unclean forces! Today I shall enter to dispel the demons and return peace to Liú Village!”
Her voice was sharp and grating. Tián Lǎotài immediately stepped forward, clenching her handkerchief into a knot.
“Did you hear that? Even the old shaman says it’s this wretched girl attracting evil!”
Tián Lǎotài pointed at Liú Xiǎomǎn, her tone harsh, fanning the flames. “No wonder Dàbǎo can’t get out of bed! Why not let the shaman in at once? If we delay exorcism, the whole village will suffer!”
She winked and gestured at the villagers, trying to incite them to storm the hut.
Liú Xiǎomǎn watched coldly, full of scorn for the shaman’s theatrics.
She knew Tián Lǎotài’s grandstanding wasn’t for exorcism.
Those calloused hands, twisting nervously, were clearly scheming to seize whatever little the family had painstakingly saved.
Tián Lǎotài’s greed was like a demon mirror, revealing their true intentions clearly to Liú Xiǎomǎn.
She knew she couldn’t allow them to succeed, not by a fraction.
Meanwhile, Li Xìuxiù and Liú Cōngmíng trembled at the scene.
Li Xìuxiù clutched Liú Xiǎomǎn’s sleeve, eyes red, voice quivering: “Xiǎomǎn, are… are they really going to break in?”
Liú Cōngmíng, pale, clung to Li Xìuxiù’s legs, eyes wide with fear.
Liú Xiǎomǎn grasped their hands, her warmth giving them strength. She knew she was their only anchor, and she had to make them believe she could handle it, without faltering.
The shaman stomped arrogantly to the hut, the broken wooden door creaking in the autumn wind as if ready to collapse.
Just as she was about to push it open, Liú Xiǎomǎn stepped forward like a gust of wind, blocking the door, and commanded coldly: “Stop! You demons dare enter my home.”
Her voice wasn’t loud, yet carried undeniable authority, like a clear mountain spring overpowering all the clamor.
Her gaze was sharp. Without giving the shaman a chance to react, her fingers flicked inside her sleeve, activating the hidden mechanism.
The next moment, ghostly green lights suddenly appeared along the roof and corners of the hut.
They flickered mysteriously like the legendary will-o’-the-wisps, eerie and unsettled.
At the same time, strange low growls and metallic scraping emanated from the hut’s interior, deep and hoarse, as if some massive creature were trapped inside, struggling restlessly.
An invisible chill crawled up the spines of the villagers.
The shaman, terrified by the sudden spectacle, screamed—a sound shriller than her earlier chants.
The peachwood sword clanged to the ground. Her face turned pale as paper, sweat beading on her forehead, her chants breaking into stammers as if her tongue were tied.
Her legs gave way, collapsing onto the ground, her eyes filled with unending fear, completely abandoning her previous air of authority.
A foul stench filled the air.
Liú Xiǎomǎn seized the moment, shouting with a voice that carried over the eerie lights and sounds, each word striking like a hammer on the villagers’ hearts:
“You dare slander my family’s spirits, invoking heavenly punishment! Withdraw immediately, or your souls shall be lost!”
Her eyes were cold and unwavering, like the brightest stars in the night sky, silencing all potential objections.
The crowd, once noisy, instantly quieted. The timid began retreating, whispering that the Xiǎomǎn family was truly “protected by spirits.” Curiosity turned to reverence, and reverence to fear.
A stir ran through the crowd. Many instinctively stepped back, afraid of being caught in sudden divine retribution. The air grew tense and unexplainable.
Tián Lǎotài and Wáng Jīnhuā, seeing the shaman flee in terror, were themselves shaken, trembling involuntarily.
Yet they remained unwilling to give up, their eyes fixed on Liú Xiǎomǎn, pointing and shouting insults.
“You… stop pretending! You must be using some evil magic! How could a decrepit hut harbor spirits? It’s you, you little wretch, with ill intentions!”
Wáng Jīnhuā’s shrill voice cut through the air, attempting to save face, though even her tone betrayed a faint tremor.
Liú Xiǎomǎn ignored their outbursts, instead turning to the villagers with a calm, authoritative gaze.
Her eyes swept over every face, radiating a force that brooked no denial.
“Today, all of you have witnessed the events.”
Her words were clear and firm. “My family is innocent and needs no interference. If anyone dares to slander us further, they conspire with this witch, and the spirits will not tolerate it!”
Her last words fell like hammers, carrying an implicit threat that silenced any villagers who had thought to gossip.
Though Tián Lǎotài and Wáng Jīnhuā were afraid, seeing the green ghostly lights emerge from Liú Xiǎomǎn’s home only reinforced their suspicion that treasures were hidden inside.
The lights, in their eyes, no longer seemed like evil spirits but glittering gold and silver.
A flash of crazed greed and unwillingness crossed their gaze, like vipers fixating on Liú Xiǎomǎn, ready to devour her.
That obsession deepened amidst the fear.
The shaman, terrified beyond measure, fled head over heels, not daring to look back.
Tián Lǎotài’s group, unwilling but restrained by the watchful eyes of the villagers, had no choice but to retreat, muttering curses yet not daring to advance further.
The villagers now viewed Liú Xiǎomǎn’s family with awe and curiosity; no one dared underestimate them.
Liú Xiǎomǎn smirked inwardly. This was only the beginning; the old house would not rest easy.
She gently closed the hut’s wooden door, shielding all prying eyes—but not the greed that stirred outside.