At the peak of the sun’s scorching heat, Jinshu and Chen Fuzhou swaggered out of Yang Dafu’s mansion, heading straight for the ancestral hall with clear purpose.
Villagers often took shifts guarding the ancestral hall. The two made no attempt to disguise themselves, precisely to see if these villagers would try to stop them from entering.
High steps piled up outside the ancestral hall, setting a threshold for anyone who wished to enter.
As the two climbed the steps and were about to push open the main door, they were predictably blocked by several villagers.
“Taoist masters, you cannot enter here,” said a simple-looking villager, spreading his arms to block their way with an apologetic smile. “This is our village’s ancestral hall. Outsiders are not allowed inside.”
Jinshu frowned. “Can’t we even search for clues about the demon? This concerns your safety—” Jinshu drew out the words “concerns your safety” at length.
The villagers were indeed intimidated by the word “demon.” They exchanged glances, wavering slightly, but then seemed to remember something and firmly replied, “It really isn’t possible. We were all ordered by the village chief to guard this place. If we let you in without his permission, he’ll hold us accountable. Please don’t make things difficult for us, masters.”
Chen Fuzhou stared at the heavy, red-lacquered door, its paint peeling and mottled. His gaze darkened as he chuckled softly. “How obedient.”
Several villagers stood guard before the door, blocking the two like door gods, refusing to yield an inch.
Having anticipated this, the two didn’t press further. Under the villagers’ tense gazes, they turned and left.
“I knew it. This place is definitely suspicious. They wouldn’t just let us in,” Jinshu grumbled, kicking the white outer wall of the ancestral hall in frustration. A conspicuous black footprint appeared on the wall, as if declaring that they, like this out-of-place mark, were unwelcome outsiders in Yanjian Village.
Chen Fuzhou nodded. “It seems we’ll have to resort to that method.”
“Senior sister, take it slow. Be careful not to fall.”
Jinshu nearly stumbled as she jumped down, letting out a startled gasp. Hearing the reminder, she quickly made a zipping gesture over her mouth, indicating she wouldn’t make any more noise.
She just wasn’t used to it yet. After all, in her previous life, she had always been a well-behaved girl. How did she end up climbing walls like a thief every day after crossing over?
Pouting, Jinshu muttered quietly, “Does every cultivator have to learn how to scale walls?”
The ancestral hall’s courtyard was spacious—otherwise, it wouldn’t have been able to accommodate all the men of the village. Jinshu paced around the courtyard, surveying her surroundings.
The ancestral hall was regularly cleaned, and no one entered except on important occasions, so everything appeared quite ordinary. If one had to point out something, this courtyard wasn’t much different from an ordinary household’s, looking utterly simple.
“I don’t think there’s much to see in this courtyard. Let’s go inside and take a look.”
After all their efforts, dusk was approaching. The sky was hazy and dreamlike, the sun not yet fully set but mostly obscured by layers of clouds. The light shifted with the gathering and dispersing of the clouds, alternating between brightness and shadow, ever-changing.
The main hall of the ancestral hall was locked. Chen Fuzhou nudged Jinshu aside, fiddled with the lock for a moment, and easily removed it.
Jinshu pushed open the door and cautiously stepped inside. “Junior brother, I didn’t know you were skilled in such underhanded tricks.”
Chen Fuzhou simply explained, “I learned it because it came in handy.”
Though curious about where they were going, Jinshu refrained from asking, respecting the other’s privacy.
The unmanned ancestral hall was unlit. The square room had no windows. Standing at the entrance with the door wide open, the two watched as the evening glow slanted in, casting the entire space into shifting light and shadow. Their tall, slender figures stretched across the hall’s floor, their shadows swaying all the way to the cushions before the memorial tablets.
A pale yellow light crept up the cheeks of the divine statue, which smiled down as if a deity had descended to gaze lovingly upon its people.
Yet Jinshu couldn’t help but shiver. “Why does this place feel so eerie?”
Chen Fuzhou asked, “Scared?”
Without any pretense, Jinshu firmly admitted, “Yes, I’m scared!”
Chen Fuzhou sighed softly. “I’m scared too. I was hoping my senior sister would protect me.”
Having grown much closer, Chen Fuzhou now spoke with an unconscious dry humor that often made Jinshu laugh, as it did now.
Her fear subsided somewhat, replaced by an inexplicable surge of protectiveness. She immediately stepped in front of Chen Fuzhou.
Chen Fuzhou glanced around, his gaze finally settling on the divine statue behind the memorial tablets. He walked over, picked up a lampstand nearby, and with a spell, lit the candle. Then, with no trace of reverence, he took a memorial tablet and examined it carefully. Jinshu followed curiously, her eyes fixed on the tablet as well.
However, she couldn’t discern anything unusual.
After his inspection, Chen Fuzhou casually tossed the tablet back and took two steps back, crossing his arms as he stared intently at the small divine statue.
Jinshu carefully returned the tablet to its original place. “Don’t let anyone find out we were here. Did you figure anything out from staring so long?”
Chen Fuzhou collected his thoughts and said, “The divine statue in this room, the colored paintings on the walls, and the inscriptions on the memorial tablets all relate to one deity—Hariti.”
“Hariti?”
“Hariti is a deity commonly worshipped by mortals, usually for seeking children. However, ordinary people pray to the child-giving Hariti, but the one before us is the child-devouring Hariti, not a true goddess of fertility. She is an evil deity created tens of thousands of years ago by demonic cultivators to drain mortals of their vitality. Originally intended merely as a vessel, no one expected that as more people made offerings, the incense offerings to Hariti increased, and under this worship, she actually gained a divine statue and a half-strand of divine soul.”
“At that time, the immortal-demon war was raging, with constant friction between Cultivators and demonic cultivators. Conflicts large and small consumed the attention of both humans and demons, so no one noticed that such an evil deity had emerged in the mortal realm. It wasn’t until the two factions reached a truce and peace gradually returned to the world that people discovered Hariti and her followers had thrown the mortal realm into chaos.”
“After gaining her divine statue and half-strand of divine soul, the child-devouring Hariti grew dissatisfied with mere incense offerings from mortals. To forge a complete divine soul, she bewitched her followers, using the guise of granting children to persuade them to offer young boys and girls as sacrifices. Some of weaker will succumbed to her influence, losing their minds and capturing children everywhere to offer as tributes.”
“Finally, to prevent Hariti from wreaking havoc, the various sects and clans joined forces to suppress her divine soul and imprisoned her divine statue in the Land of Extreme Cold. Cultivators cleansed all ancestral temples related to her in the mortal realm, and since then, she has never appeared in the world again.”
A chill ran down Jinshu’s spine, and she couldn’t help but ask, “Then why would these people worship this divine statue? Who told them about it?”
Hariti stood high on the altar, smiling as she gazed ahead, yet Jinshu felt as though that gaze was faintly fixed on her, sending shivers down her spine.
Jinshu asserted, “The entire village worships an evil deity, but I wonder if the villagers are aware of it?”
“Whether they are aware or not, I suspect Yang Dafu knows.”
“You mentioned earlier that Hariti loves to eat children…” Jinshu thought of the mad mother Yan Lin had encountered, and a bizarre idea formed in her mind. The thought unsettled her: “Could these people also be offering children for her to eat? Could the so-called sacrifices actually be offerings?”
Chen Fuzhou had naturally considered this possibility: “Hard to say.”
Suddenly, a fierce wind howled outside. With a sharp “bang,” the wooden door was slammed shut by the gust. The relentless wind did not spare the candles on the altar either—the light that had illuminated the space quickly extinguished. Only then did Jinshu realize that night had fallen. The ancestral hall was now pitch black, with not a single source of light. She could only see the faint glimmer of the gold powder painted on the eyes of Hariti’s divine statue before her.
Terrified, Jinshu reached out to grab Chen Fuzhou beside her, her voice trembling as she asked, “Are… are you still there?”
Her hands shook uncontrollably as she groped the air several times before finally grasping the sleeve of Chen Fuzhou’s robe. She fumbled her way closer to him.
Slowly leaning against him, the warmth of the person beside her brought a slight sense of relief. She tentatively called out Chen Fuzhou’s name a few more times.
Chen Fuzhou did not respond. The moment the light went out, he had broken into a cold sweat, his fists clenched tightly, his vision growing hazy.
Memories frozen in Yongwu Tower shattered, flooding in with the darkness.
Despair, pain, and rage surged uncontrollably within him. Chen Fuzhou felt the Soul-Severing Curse stirring violently inside him, stirring up countless strands of Spiritual Power that clashed recklessly through his meridians. The familiar agony made it increasingly difficult for him to discern where he truly was.
The ancestral hall and the cage that had imprisoned him in his childhood merged into one, catalyzed by the darkness. His mind grew dizzy as the Soul-Severing Curse stirred restlessly, coursing through his body.
In his daze, the cold expression of the woman called “Mother,” Chen An Ran’s sweet smile, and the petals fluttering around Ji Jinshu beneath the flowering tree that night—all of it unfolded before his eyes like a shadow play. Overwhelmed and parched, he wanted to scream and make everything stop, but he could only open his mouth helplessly, unable to utter a sound.
No one would come even if he cried for help, he thought despairingly. During those days in Yongwu Tower, he had wept and begged his mother to let him out every day, yet no one had ever come.
As if drowning, he was submerged in a torrent of thoughts, on the verge of giving up hope entirely.
Suddenly, a sharp, clear pain jolted him awake.
Chen Fuzhou suddenly opened his eyes, the fiery pain on his face reminding him that Ji Jinshu had just slapped him several times hard.
Beside him was the anxious call of a young girl: “Junior brother? Chen Fuzhou? You’re not really possessed, are you? Say something, please? Are you deliberately trying to scare me?”
Chen Fuzhou was stunned for a moment, the heart-wrenching pain still lingering.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hit you, but could you please stop scaring me? I’m timid, I’m really scared!”
Chen Fuzhou lowered his head to see the young girl tugging at his sleeve and shaking it vigorously, practically rocking him back and forth like a tumbler doll.
Slowly, he raised one hand, his fingertips gathering a warm, yellow, comforting glow.
Sure enough, the girl let go of his sleeve as if nothing had happened, and he suddenly felt an emptiness in his heart.