A pale glow spread across the horizon, the sky just beginning to lighten like the belly of a fish.
Before the first rays of dawn had fully fallen, the faint sound of a gong could already be heard from the eastern end of Liu Family Village, as if it were driving something away.
Soon after, a muddled, oddly intoned chant mixed with the villagers’ hushed whispers broke the chill silence around the thatched hut. It came in waves, like a cold breeze that made one’s heart tremble.
Liu Xiaoman lay on her bed, her expression completely calm.
She knew what this meant.
Old Madam Tian’s group of shamans had arrived right on time.
She pushed open the half-closed wooden door and stepped into the courtyard with Li Xiuxiu and Liu Congming.
The open space before the hut was already crowded with people.
Old Madam Tian stood at the very front. Her usually neat hair bun was slightly disheveled, and her face could not conceal her excitement and urgency. Her triangular eyes kept darting toward the hut.
Beside her stood a woman in her fifties, draped in a worn cassock of red and yellow, covered in crooked talismans. She held a peachwood sword, its tassel swaying.
This was the shaman—a figure that outwardly appeared sage-like, though a shrewd glint hid deep in her eyes.
Wang Jinhua and Liu Dashan flanked her protectively, while Liu Dabao shrank behind Wang Jinhua, his gaze evasive and his face pale.
Most of the crowd, however, consisted of villagers who had come to watch the spectacle. They formed a semicircle, pointing and whispering, their murmurs rising and falling like waves.
Some faces showed curiosity, others reverence for spirits and the supernatural, and still others thinly veiled schadenfreude.
Their whispers stirred up dust across the bare ground in front of the hut.
Liu Xiaoman’s gaze swept over the crowd before settling on the shaman’s deliberately arrogant face. A faint, almost imperceptible smile curved her lips.
She knew that the so-called misfortune and evil spirits in their eyes were nothing more than tools for her counterattack.
The previous night, she had exchanged for a colorless, odorless luminescent chemical reagent from the system and carefully applied it along the inner walls and roof crevices of the hut, waiting for its “magic” to reveal itself in the dark.
Several small sound-wave generators had also been cleverly hidden in various corners of the house. She had precisely tuned their frequencies—once activated, they would emit deep, terrifying growls.
Shielding Li Xiuxiu and Liu Congming behind her, her heartbeat remained as still as a deep pool.
That confidence made even the last trace of morning chill vanish.
When the shaman saw Liu Xiaoman and her companions appear, she immediately raised the peachwood sword high and shrieked, “Misfortune clings to this place—evil has entered this home! Resentment soars to the heavens—there must be demons at work!”
She waved her arms theatrically, pointing at the hut, then at Liu Xiaoman.
“This young girl bears the aura of death. She must have provoked something unclean! Today, I shall enter and perform a ritual to expel the demons and restore peace to Liu Family Village!”
Her voice was sharp and grating. As soon as she finished, Old Madam Tian stepped forward, clutching her handkerchief tightly.
“You heard her! Even the venerable shaman says it—it’s this wretched girl who brought in the evil!”
Pointing at Liu Xiaoman, Old Madam Tian fanned the flames. “No wonder Dabao is bedridden! Why are you still standing there? Let the shaman in! If we delay the exorcism, the whole village will suffer!”
As she spoke, she winked at the surrounding villagers, trying to incite them to storm the hut.
Liu Xiaoman watched coldly, her heart full of ridicule.
She knew full well that this grand display had nothing to do with exorcism.
Those calloused hands rubbing together—clearly, Old Madam Tian was scheming to use this chance to loot whatever little belongings they had painstakingly saved.
That greedy gaze was like a mirror reflecting demons, exposing their filthy intentions with absolute clarity.
She knew she could not let them succeed—not even a little.
Meanwhile, Li Xiuxiu and Liu Congming were trembling with fear.
Li Xiuxiu clutched Liu Xiaoman’s sleeve, her eyes reddening, her voice quivering. “Xiaoman… are they really going to force their way in?”
Liu Congming’s face was pale as he clung tightly to Li Xiuxiu’s leg, his eyes filled with terror.
Liu Xiaoman gripped their hands, warmth flowing from her fingertips into theirs.
She knew she was their only support at this moment. She had to give them strength—she could not falter.
The shaman strode arrogantly to the hut. The old wooden door creaked in the autumn wind, as if it might collapse at any moment.
Just as she was about to push it open and step into what she called a place of evil, Liu Xiaoman suddenly stepped forward like a gust of wind and blocked the doorway.
“Stop!” she shouted coldly. “You wicked fraud—how dare you trespass into my home?”
Her voice was not loud, yet it carried an unquestionable authority, like a clear spring echoing through the mountains, instantly suppressing all noise.
Her eyes were sharp. Without giving the shaman any time to react, her fingers moved subtly within her sleeve, activating the hidden mechanism.
The next moment, eerie green lights suddenly flickered to life along the roof and corners of the hut.
They appeared and disappeared, like the ghostly flames of legend, drifting unpredictably—strange and terrifying.
At the same time, strange low growls and the scraping of metal echoed from deep within the hut, as if some massive creature were trapped inside, struggling restlessly.
An invisible chill crept up the villagers’ spines.
The shaman let out a piercing scream, even sharper than her earlier chanting.
The peachwood sword clattered to the ground. Her face turned deathly pale, beads of sweat forming on her forehead. She stammered, unable to complete a single incantation, as if her tongue had tied itself in knots.
Her legs gave way, and she collapsed onto the ground, her eyes filled with sheer terror. All her earlier pretense of wisdom vanished.
A foul odor spread through the air.
Seizing the moment, Liu Xiaoman rebuked them. With the eerie lights and sounds behind her, her voice carried overwhelming authority, each word striking like a hammer against the villagers’ hearts.
“You slander with foul words and dare insult the deity of my home, bringing down heavenly punishment! Leave at once—or your souls will be scattered!”
Her gaze was cold and resolute, like the brightest star in the night sky, choking off any attempt at rebuttal.
The murmuring crowd fell quiet. Some of the more timid villagers had already begun to retreat, whispering that Liu Xiaoman’s home was truly “protected by a deity.”
Curiosity turned to reverence, and reverence to fear.
A ripple of unrest passed through the crowd as people instinctively stepped back, afraid of being caught up in the supposed divine punishment.
Old Madam Tian and Wang Jinhua trembled as they saw the shaman reduced to such a state.
Yet they were unwilling to give up. They glared at Liu Xiaoman and began shouting curses.
“Y-you stop pretending! You must have used some kind of trick! How could a broken hut house any deity? It’s you, you little wretch, up to no good!”
Wang Jinhua’s shrill voice cut through the air, trying to salvage some dignity, though it trembled slightly.
Liu Xiaoman ignored them and instead turned to the villagers, her expression calm but commanding.
“You have all witnessed today’s events.”
Her voice was clear and firm. “My family is innocent and needs no judgment from others. Anyone who spreads nonsense again will be considered in league with this fraud—and the deity will show no mercy!”
Her final words landed with force, carrying an unspoken threat that silenced anyone who had intended to gossip further.
Though Old Madam Tian and Wang Jinhua were afraid, seeing the ghostly green flames emanating from Liu Xiaoman’s home only strengthened their belief that she possessed hidden treasures.
To them, the glow was no longer terrifying—it shimmered like gold and silver.
A flicker of greedy madness crossed their eyes as they stared at Liu Xiaoman like venomous snakes, as if they wanted to devour her whole.
Their obsession only deepened alongside their fear.
The shaman, utterly terrified, scrambled away in panic, stumbling as she fled without looking back.
Though unwilling, Old Madam Tian’s family could only slink away under everyone’s gaze, still muttering curses but no longer daring to step forward.
The villagers now regarded Liu Xiaoman’s family with awe and curiosity. No one dared to look down on them anymore.
Liu Xiaoman sneered inwardly. This was only the beginning—the old household would not let things rest so easily.
She gently closed the wooden door of the hut, shutting out all prying eyes—but unable to shut out the restless greed lurking beyond.