Chapter Fifteen: Proceed with Caution

If the daughter of the Guo family were just an ordinary human, there’d be nothing to fear. With dozens of men, young and old, in the village, could we not handle a yellow-haired girl? But she was no longer human—how were we supposed to catch her then?

The villagers debated for a long time before finally scraping together enough money to hire a Taoist priest from outside. The priest declared that the Guo family’s daughter had been a demon from birth. In the past, she hadn’t killed only because she wasn’t yet grown. After she devoured several members of the Guo family, she matured, and if she was not killed now, disaster would befall us all.

The priest picked a few strong young men from the village and led them up the mountain. They were gone for over ten days. When the villagers realized their sons had not returned, anxiety swept over everyone, and they clamored to search the mountain. But no one knew where to look—such a vast mountain, where could one even begin?

So the villagers waited for a full month before finally seeing two blood-soaked men stumbling back into the village, supporting each other. As soon as they entered, they muttered a few words and fainted. One never woke again; the other, after regaining consciousness, was left mad, unable to explain anything.

Before collapsing, the two men managed to say that, though the Taoist and the village lads had slain the Guo family’s daughter, all the rest perished as well—only the two of them escaped. In the end, one was driven insane, and nothing more could be learned from him.

After that, no one else in the village died.

Here the village chief paused. “That’s the whole story—just a tale from the old almanacs. We’ve all heard it from the elders, but no one can say when it truly happened.” He gestured toward the house with his pipe. “If Old Guo didn’t keep spouting nonsense about that woman’s return, people would hardly remember it at all.”

“If you ask me, you’d best pay him no mind. He’s only putting on airs and making trouble because he’s got no one to talk to.” The chief sat for a while longer, then, seeing no one else returning, stood up and left.

As he walked away, I suddenly called after him, “Uncle, what if I really do run into that thing?”

He paused, then said, “You… just let your imagination run wild! There’s no such nonsense in this world. Don’t listen to Old Guo’s ramblings.”

Something wasn’t right.

His reaction was all wrong—he clearly knew more than he let on.

I considered keeping the chief here, but quickly dismissed the idea. Old Guo lived alone on the mountain; if I wanted to detain him, it’d be easy. But if I tried to keep the chief, people would be searching for him before nightfall, putting me in greater danger.

I watched the village chief disappear in the distance before returning to the house. When I went to drag Old Guo out, I found the trunk wide open—he was long gone. I picked up the rope from inside and my heart turned cold. Judging by the torn ends, it had been snapped apart by brute force.

Who could possess such strength?

My first instinct was to run.

But I quickly calmed myself—Old Guo wouldn’t have sent me away just because of a dream. He must have noticed something wrong with me and was desperate to get me out. If there really was a special mark on my body, it meant a ghost had already laid claim to me.

Once marked by a ghost, it would hunt you to the ends of the earth—there was little point in running. It would be wiser to stay and see if I could find a way to save myself.

I rummaged through Old Guo’s place for a long time before finally finding a mirror. When I held it up to my face, I saw a fine line encircling my eyes, as if drawn with a pen—especially clear at the corners, almost like I’d applied eyeliner in the night.

I’d heard Hu Sanqi say that in the past, executioners would draw a line around the eyelids to mark where to cut when gouging out eyeballs. Only if the knife followed the line precisely could the eyeballs be removed intact; otherwise, they’d come out crushed.

This mark must have appeared last night; otherwise, Old Guo wouldn’t have been so eager to send me away.

The chief had been so close to me just now—why hadn’t he noticed?

No, he had noticed, but had chosen to keep quiet.

Could it be that the chief had left me here deliberately, as a sacrifice?

He knew perfectly well that the Guo family’s daughter had returned, and that the village needed to offer someone up to appease her. They couldn’t bear to sacrifice one of their own, but since I’d come along, I was the perfect offering.

Old Guo, holding me at gunpoint last night, might have been trying to save me—or perhaps just didn’t want me dying in this mountain house and dragging him down with me.

But now wasn’t the time to ponder Old Guo’s intentions or feel sorry for him—survival was all that mattered.

I circled the house and found traces behind it, as if something heavy had been dragged away. Judging by the marks, someone had seized Old Guo by the leg and dragged him from the back of the house all the way to a tree.

Looking up, I saw blood smeared on both the trunk and the leaves. It seemed he’d been killed up in the tree.

I could have dragged someone by one leg, but carrying a living man up a tree single-handed? That was beyond me. Just from that feat of strength, I knew I was no match for whatever it was.

Climbing up to investigate would be foolish—humans are no match for wild beasts in the trees, let alone a ghost that might be lurking there.

So I pretended as if I hadn’t seen a thing, strolling back into the house. Once inside, I gathered anything that might ward off evil and set up several traps from the door to the inner room. I reloaded Old Guo’s foreign pistol and didn’t let go of it until nightfall, huddled on the heated brick bed.

Before long, I felt the temperature in the room plummet. Though it was July, the house grew as cold as if winter had just set in—enough to make me shiver.

The unclean thing was coming.

Only when it drew near and the yin energy thickened would the air turn so icy.

Moments later, the oil lamp I’d left in the outer room flickered with a green flame.

According to folk belief, a green flame means a haunting.

Though I’d closed the inner door, the gap still admitted that eerie green light.

From the kitchen came the sudden clatter of pots and bowls, as if someone were rummaging through them.

The elders say that when the kitchenware rattles, the dead have come inside, searching for food. Once they’ve eaten their fill, they leave.

But I knew the thing outside hadn’t actually entered. It was merely testing whether I’d set any traps inside.

I had indeed placed many barriers, and if it wanted to come in, it would have to work for it. Sensing something amiss, it tried to frighten me out—hoping I’d bolt from the safety of the house, so it could kill me.