Chapter Six: Hiding

I asked my grandfather to light a match and look for something because, according to folk legends, ghosts are afraid of fire. If a ghost sees the glow of a flame, it will at least retreat, if not flee altogether. Fortunately, my grandfather happened to come over, so he could strike a match and take a look.

Soon, my grandfather pulled out a match from his pocket and struck it: “Let me see, what’s wrong with your foot?” His face, half-illuminated and half-shrouded in darkness by the match’s light, showed nothing strange or sinister, and I felt a bit of relief.

Yet before I could let out a sigh, my peripheral vision caught sight of something on the ground—a rodent skull, dark red like blood-soaked wood, about the size of a wild pear. My heart sank instantly—this was bad! A ghost-faced tumor must have fallen in this temple.

Back in the day, Hu Sanqi had lured a pack of mountain rats to carry away the ghost-faced tumor, but those rats had scattered randomly into the mountains, where they finally stopped was left to fate. I’d even asked Hu Sanqi how far those mountain rats could run. He told me that the ghost-faced tumor carried an evil aura; if a human held it, the aura would quickly claim their life, but the rats could only survive for a day at most.

Moreover, once the mountain rats died, only their heads remained intact—their skulls would turn a deep, blood-red as though soaked in gore. If you found such a rat skull somewhere, it meant a ghost-faced tumor had once landed there.

I had later looked up books about mountain rats to see how far they could run. The texts said that, if a rat ran at full speed without stopping, it could cover about eighty kilometers in a day. But that was a theoretical maximum—factoring in the terrain and other realities, a rat wouldn’t manage more than twenty kilometers in a day.

Which meant those sixteen evil spirits hadn’t gone far from me at all. As I grew up, they too were lying low, waiting for their chance. By the time they came for me, they would no longer be ordinary malevolent ghosts.

Still, I never imagined that one of those ghost-faced tumors would end up so close to me.

I didn’t have time to think further, because the match in my grandfather’s hand was burning out. By the time he tossed it aside, even the moonlight, which moments ago streamed into the temple, seemed blocked; the place was enveloped in utter darkness. Even though my grandfather was less than a foot away, I could no longer see his face.

And suddenly, a profound silence fell around us, unsettling in its completeness. In the ruined temple, nothing could be heard but my grandfather’s and my own breathing, not a sound outside the door. It was as if the world itself had paused.

People who grow up on the mountains know that at night, noises in the woods aren’t a cause for fear. Even if you hear a night owl calling behind you, you don’t need to worry—just steel yourself and keep walking. But if the mountains fall silent, that’s when you must be careful. Birds and insects are acutely sensitive to danger; anything that can frighten them into utter silence must be truly terrifying.

Just a moment ago, I could still hear the insects outside. Now, even they had fallen silent—something was in the temple with us.

I gripped the tiger tooth tightly. “Grandpa, could you light another match?”

“What for? Some things are better left unseen—better not to look, or you’ll only frighten yourself more!”

That wasn’t my grandfather’s voice!

My heart seized with fear. Then I felt something breathing against my leg, icy cold air pricking my skin, stabbing deep like needles.

By my leg? The half-eaten roast chicken?

Just now, my grandfather had kept urging me to finish the chicken. Was there something wrong with it? Something hidden inside it? Could it be that a ghost-faced tumor had attached itself to my grandfather as well?

Later, I realized the thing clinging to my grandfather must have been the ghost-faced tumor from the temple.

Feigning calm, I said, “Grandpa, what are you saying? Just take a look at my foot—it hurts so badly.”

My grandfather let out a chilling laugh. “Fine. But don’t be scared when you see.”

Taking advantage of the sudden flare of light, I grabbed the roast chicken beside me and hurled it at the face across from me.

With a sharp slap, a piercing, ghostly wail erupted in the temple. I didn’t even glance at what was before me; I scrambled to my feet and dashed outside.

As I fled the temple, I deliberately shouted, then dove headlong into the tall grass without looking back.

Hu Sanqi had warned me: those sixteen ghost-faced tumors all wanted my life. My grandfather had crept over to find me, and the others surely suspected something. They were probably leading people this way, too.

Only by making them turn on each other first would I have a chance to escape.

Things unfolded more or less as I expected. Soon after my shout, people came down from above and surrounded the Mountain God Temple.

As I ran up the mountain without looking back, I heard anguished screams from the ruined temple behind me. Glancing down from the slope, I saw five or six bodies already sprawled in front of the temple.

The ghost-faced tumors had started killing?

They no longer cared to hide from the villagers. With those people dead, they could fully focus on hunting me.

If I didn’t run now, I might never get another chance.

I hadn’t gone far when I heard the sound of feet scrambling on the soil behind me. Turning back, I saw five figures—moving on all fours like wolves—racing up the mountain.

Looking around, I saw the only place to hide was a muddy pit left by rainwater. Without a second thought, I dove in, wading through the muck to the edge of the pit. I squatted down and covered my head with wild grass, leaving only my eyes exposed to watch for danger.

According to my adoptive father, Hu Sanqi, ghosts seek out human vitality—the warmth of living breath. If you can suppress that aura, not even the ghost messengers can find you. When there is no escaping a soul-seeking ghost, don’t hesitate, whether it’s a cesspit or a mud hole—hold your breath and jump in. Those places can smother your life force. If there’s a coffin or water jar nearby, that works too—climb in and shut the lid, and you might just get away.

I didn’t know if his advice would work, but at that moment, I had no other option. I could only test my luck with this muddy pit.

Before long, I saw people arriving at the edge of the pit.

Someone said, “His scent has disappeared. Did he jump into the mud pit?”

My heart sank. If they searched the mud pit, I’d be a trapped rat.

Suddenly, my grandfather’s voice rang out: “That kid isn’t stupid—why would he jump into a pit? This place isn’t far from the fox spirit shrine that saved him all those years ago. Maybe the fox spirit is helping him hide his aura.”

My mother asked, “If the fox spirit is protecting him, can we still catch him?”

My grandfather replied, “It’s come to this—let everyone show themselves! There’s no need to hide. Let’s talk and see what we should do.”