Chapter 51: The Drought Demon! (3)

The night was dark and windy, the cold gusts howling and sending dust swirling into the air, stinging people’s eyes and making them shut tight. The icy wind crept down Chen Quezi’s collar, making him shiver violently. He pulled out a half jin of strong liquor from his chest and took a few hearty swigs. Courage surged through him. At that moment, Chen Quezi felt like a hero. Who else but him would dare to go to the riverbank at midnight to dig up a grave? He laughed heartily three times, imagining himself as Guan Yunchang, his iron spade transformed into a Green Dragon Crescent Blade. Swinging it a few times, he strode forward toward the riverbank.

With Zhang Deli dead, no one wanted to sleep on the riverbank anymore. In the evening, Li Yang, having drunk half a jin of strong liquor, forced himself to walk out of his house. He tried to arrange for someone to stay on the riverbank, but no matter what he tried, no one would stay, claiming they’d rather have their work points deducted. With no other choice, Li Yang organized five or six donkey carts, making three trips back and forth to haul the machines and tools back. The next morning, they would have to be taken back again, so that night, the riverbank was completely empty.

Before long, Cripple Chen arrived at the riverside burial ground where Alan was buried. The area was desolate and eerie, with dense clusters of grave mounds looming in the darkness. The wind rustled through the wild grass on the graves, creating a eerie “whispering” sound that made the shadows seem like clawing, dancing figures in the night.

Seeing this scene, even Chen Quezi, who prided himself on having a “handsome face” that even ghosts dared not approach, felt a bit frightened. He quickly gulped down the rest of the strong liquor, shouted a few times, and approached A Lan’s fresh grave. He grabbed the spade and began digging. After just a few shovelfuls, a strange laughter suddenly came from above. Startled, Chen Quezi’s legs gave way, and he plopped down on the ground with a “thud.” At that moment, a crow flew past overhead.

It turned out to be a false alarm, but it had scared Chen Quezi badly, turning his liquor into cold sweat. The courage he had felt earlier vanished without a trace, and Guan Yunchang had nearly been scared into a petty rascal.

After calming himself, Chen Quezi picked up the spade and continued digging. Soon, the coffin lid appeared. He felt a surge of secret joy and dug even harder. Before long, the entire coffin was exposed. Already exhausted and panting, Chen Quezi didn’t pause for a moment. Eagerly, he inserted the spade into the crack of the coffin and began prying. The coffin nails soon came loose, and with a few “creaking” sounds, the lid was flipped onto the ground. There lay A Lan, motionless inside the coffin as if asleep, the appearance of her hanging gone, leaving only a deep mark around her neck.

Chen Quezi swallowed hard, truly stirred by lust and emboldened by wickedness. All fatigue and fear were cast aside. At that moment, if his thoughts were to be summarized into one sentence, it would be: “Better to die on a corpse than to die without experiencing passion.”

In a few quick movements, he took off his pants and jumped into the coffin.

After a long while, cries emerged from the coffin. If the audience assumes it’s the wailing of a ghost, they’d be mistaken. The cries were from Chen Quezi. Why was he crying? Let me explain.

There he was, stark naked, lying on the female corpse and sobbing uncontrollably. He was crying out of joy and excitement. In his heart, he thought, “In my entire life, my greatest wish has been fulfilled. I’ve finally tasted the flavor of a woman and become a real man.” Overwhelmed with emotion, he kissed the corpse from head to toe. In just two hours, Chen Quezi had done it five times. Later, completely exhausted, he lay panting on A Lan’s body. As dawn approached, he was reluctant to leave. What should he do?

Suddenly, an idea struck him. He decided to take A Lan’s body back home.

The next day passed quickly. That day, Li Yang felt particularly tired. In the evening, he returned home, brewed a pot of tea, and sat on a chair, panting. It seemed that as one aged, one’s physical condition wasn’t as good as before. Sighing inwardly, after drinking some tea and sweating profusely, he felt a bit better. Taking a deep breath, Li Yang slowly walked to the vegetable patch in front of his courtyard, pulled up a handful of coriander, returned to the house, chopped it finely, added a little oil and salt, a small spoonful of soy sauce, mixed it all together, and began drinking wine with scallions and soybean paste. Recently, it had been getting colder, and soon there would be no coriander to eat anymore.

After drinking three rounds of wine, the night deepened. After drinking, Li Yang didn’t feel as tired anymore. Gradually, his eyelids became heavier. He bit into a steamed bun and crawled into bed. Before long, he fell asleep.

In his dream, Li Yang suddenly felt someone lying beside him. Slowly opening his eyes, he saw a white, naked body next to him. He felt very frightened, wanting to get up and light a lamp to see, but his body wouldn’t obey. It seemed completely controlled by desire. Unconsciously, he stripped off his clothes and climbed onto that naked body.

When Li Yang woke up, it was still dark outside. Looking around, he saw no one. Lifting the blanket, he found himself naked, just like the day before. What had happened felt like a dream, yet not quite. If it was real, why was there no one beside him now?

Thus, every night, Li Yang had the same dream. In his dreams, he did everything he could with a naked woman, tossing and turning like dragons and tigers, gradually becoming unable to stop. But what puzzled him was how real this dream felt. Yet if it wasn’t a dream, how could it be explained? Because every night after falling asleep, he would inexplicably wake up, and upon waking, there would be a naked woman beside him. Then he would uncontrollably engage in wild activities with her… not knowing when he would fall asleep again, and upon waking, the woman would be gone. In the darkness, he had never clearly seen the woman’s face. Wanting to get up and light a lamp, he couldn’t, because whenever the woman appeared, his heart would be completely bewitched.

Before long, Li Yang had lost weight, his eye sockets sunken, his face pale, his walk shaky as if he couldn’t stand. Villagers who saw him felt as if they had seen a ghost. Li Yang felt uneasy when he saw others looking at him with such surprise. He stayed home every day, looking in the mirror at his face, watching his complexion grow paler and more bloodless day by day. His body began to itch, an unbearable itch that wouldn’t stop no matter how much he scratched. Later, spots appeared on his body, growing larger until they were the size of bottle caps. Scratching them caused yellow fluid to ooze out.

One day, Li Yang rode with Old Hu on a tractor to town, asking the old doctor to examine him. After a long look and palpation, the old doctor declared he had a venereal disease that couldn’t be cured and sent him away with some anti-itch medicine. After leaving the old doctor’s house, Li Yang bought some rouge in town. When he got home and got off the tractor, he was already out of strength, leaning on the wall and slowly moving into the house, collapsing on the kang bed. After catching his breath for a while, he took out the bottle of rouge from his chest, looked in the mirror, and applied it to his face. After smoothing it, he looked left and right in the mirror, feeling his face was now rosy and no longer pale.

The next morning, Li Yang walked out of his house with rouge on his face, leaning on a stick. The villagers saw him and looked at each other in astonishment. Previously, Li Yang’s face had been ghostly pale and bloodless. Now, suddenly, it was as red as a monkey’s butt. Could it be that he had been possessed by Guan Gong? Everyone looked at each other, puzzled.

Liu Laoshi, who was going to collect eggs from the chicken coop, happened to meet Li Yang and couldn’t help but laugh at his appearance.

“Hey, Secretary, good morning. Where are you going?” Liu Laoshi asked with a sly smile on his face.

“Hmph…” Li Yang let out a weak grunt, ignoring him as he continued walking forward, hunched over. From behind, he looked like an eighty-year-old man.

“You think you’re so great? This is your retribution, given by heaven!” Liu Laoshi thought to himself, secretly delighted as he walked away. Soon, he arrived at his chicken coop, gently removing the stone that blocked the entrance. Usually, as soon as the stone was removed, the chickens would jump out, but today there was no sound at all. Liu Laoshi felt something was wrong. He leaned his face close to the entrance but saw nothing in the darkness. Suddenly, he smelled a bloody odor.

Liu Laoshi thought to himself, “Oh no, something’s definitely wrong.” He went home to get a flashlight and returned to the chicken coop. Shining the light inside, he couldn’t help but gasp in horror. He saw his dozen or so chickens lying motionless inside, their bellies cut open and their entrails missing.

In the days of liberation, chickens were precious treasures! Let alone so many deaths. Liu Laoshi was both heartbroken and shocked. How could the chickens have died like this? And in such a strange way. He carefully checked them and found no signs of struggle. They seemed to have lain still, allowing themselves to be slaughtered, their entrails removed. If it was done by a person, the entrance to the chicken coop was too small for a person to crawl through. There had always been legends of old foxes in the village. If it was a fox, the stone was wedged in the post, blocking the entrance so tightly that a fox couldn’t get in. Even if a cunning fox got in, it couldn’t eat all the chickens. Even if it could eat them, why would it only eat the entrails? And the chickens wouldn’t have struggled, allowing themselves to be eaten. It was like seeing a ghost. Thinking of ghosts, Liu Laoshi felt a chill in his heart. Remembering the strange incident his son had encountered, he sighed inwardly, realizing that the village had been quite unsettled lately. Without hesitation, he went to gather some iron and wood to reinforce his front door. He didn’t want to be sleeping at home in the middle of the night and have his heart ripped out by a ghost.

The story didn’t end there. The day after Liu’s chickens died mysteriously, the village again heard of two families whose chickens and ducks died overnight, all in the same way, their entrails removed. Then, as if it were contagious, in the following days more chickens and ducks were found dead with their entrails removed, including geese. The villagers who raised poultry were terrified, saying it must be the work of a chicken-eating ghost. No one dared to go out at night, let alone check the chicken coops. They tied their dogs next to the coops, but it was of no use. The chickens still died as usual. Strangely, no one heard the dogs barking at night. The next day, the dogs looked as if they had depression, not eating, not drinking, not barking, lying on the ground with gloomy expressions, looking extremely distressed. The chicken-eating ghost seemed to be interested only in poultry, not harming other animals or people. In just seven or eight days, all the poultry in the village were dead, except for one chicken left at Ma Erpi’s house.

Why did Ma Erpi’s house still have one chicken? That, of course, had a reason. Ma Erpi was over sixty years old. Two years ago, his wife died. He had no children, only a nephew, nicknamed Ma Dada.

Ma Erpi was also a well-known figure in Xiushui Village, famous for his stinginess and greed. To illustrate his stinginess, here’s a well-known story about him. One day, it rained heavily. Ma Erpi’s neighbor had to go to town and found his boots were broken. The rural paths became muddy when it rained, making it impossible to walk without boots. So the neighbor asked Ma Erpi to borrow boots, promising to buy a new pair in town and return them. Reluctantly, Ma Erpi lent the boots, repeatedly warning the neighbor not to damage them. Still not reassured, he watched the neighbor walk away in the rain. As the neighbor walked, he accidentally stepped into a puddle and twisted his ankle. Seeing this, Ma Erpi was heartbroken. When the neighbor returned from town and gave back the boots, Ma Erpi saw they were covered in mud and was heartbroken beyond words. He didn’t say anything on the surface but secretly resolved to get his revenge.

He waited and waited until one rainy day finally came. Excitedly, Ma Erpi rushed to his neighbor’s house and asked to borrow the boots, claiming his own were broken. Without hesitation, the neighbor handed them over. Ma Erpi secretly rejoiced, finally getting his revenge. After putting on the boots, he deliberately walked through the muddiest areas, continuing until it was dark and he was too tired to walk anymore before heading home. When he got home, he still felt unsatisfied, so he went to bed with the boots on, kicking and thrashing violently. Eventually, he fell asleep from exhaustion. The next morning, Ma Erpi opened his sleepy eyes, took the boots out from under the covers without even looking, and went to his neighbor’s house. The neighbor took the boots and thanked him repeatedly. Only then did he notice the boots were shining like new. Surprised, he returned home, lifted the covers, and found the inside of the bed was completely ruined by mud.

That’s just the kind of person Ma Erpi was. If someone used one ounce of his, he’d make sure to get a pound back. If he found a scrap of iron on the street, he’d take it home, polish it, and sleep with it. Ma Erpi raised only one chicken. Why only one? Because he couldn’t afford to feed more. Even with just one, he complained that the chicken only ate and laid one egg a day. He chased this chicken to fight for food with others’ chickens. Recently, the village chickens and ducks died for no apparent reason, and Ma Erpi became frightened. He then treated this chicken as a treasure, locking it inside the house, and feeding it bite by bite while he ate. This chicken had never experienced such treatment from birth. The chicken, seeing how doted upon it was by its master, began to act without restraint, defecating everywhere in the house. As for Ma Erpi, he never left the chicken’s side, even sleeping with it at night. In short, he had only one thought: as long as the chicken lived, he lived; if the chicken died, he would die too. Therefore, all the chickens in the village died, but his alone remained alive.

That night, Ma Erpi was hugging a chicken as he slept. In the middle of the night, he loosened his grip and the chicken leaped from his arms. He had forgotten to close the window before falling asleep, so the chicken jumped out through it.

At dawn, Ma Erpi woke up and discovered the chicken was gone. He immediately jumped from his bed in panic, ran outside barefoot, and after searching for a long time, finally found the chicken lying dead in a vegetable patch. Its heart and liver had been ripped out. The chicken stared at him with wide, mournful eyes, as if saying, “You couldn’t even hold me tight, and you didn’t even shut the window! Because of you, I had to jump out and got eaten by some monster.”

Ma Erpi was so heartbroken that he gasped and fainted. When he came to, he clutched the chicken and cried bitterly. Then he took off his belt and prepared to hang himself in grief, determined to die alongside his beloved chicken. Villagers passing by tried desperately to stop him, but nothing they said could change his mind.

Liu Dashao heard about the incident and rushed to the scene. Seeing the old man sobbing uncontrollably, Liu couldn’t help but shed tears himself. Liu had always dreamed of being a hero. Once, he even bet someone and spent a whole night sleeping in a graveyard, earning himself a bit of a reputation. Recently, he had been secretly laughing at the villagers’ fears about the deaths of chickens and ducks. Now that even the chicken of this stingy old man had died, Liu felt it was finally time for him to step in as the hero.

He secretly resolved to find the culprit behind the chicken’s death, so everyone would admire him like a hero. After calming Ma Erpi down a bit, Liu stood in front of the crowd and boldly declared that he would personally capture the chicken thief. He decided to start his investigation at the riverbank, a place known for foxes and ghosts. Whether it was a fox spirit or a ghost, no evil would dare stir trouble in front of Liu Dashao. As he thought this, a surge of confidence filled him, making him feel like a mighty warrior ready to conquer all. But Liu was clearly overestimating himself—he had no martial arts skills, nor any knowledge of magic. If he really encountered a ghost or spirit, he would be helpless and doomed.

That night, Liu changed into a patched cotton robe, grabbed a straw rope and tied it around his waist, and tore a strip of cloth from an old shirt to tie around his head, instantly feeling like an ancient martial hero. Heroes needed weapons, of course. He ran into the inner room and soon returned holding a short iron fork, which he now treated as a staff. Swinging it around, he heard the wind whistle through the air. Full of determination, he stepped out of his house, only to rush back in again to grab a bottle of strong liquor, which he tucked into his chest before finally marching out with a sense of purpose. Some might wonder why he drank this kind of alcohol. It was because this strong, cheap liquor was popular in old Northeast China—fiery and potent, it warmed the body and gave courage.

But did Liu really need courage?

That night, Ma Erpi once again slept with the chicken in his arms. In the middle of the night, he loosened his grip, and the chicken jumped out of his embrace. He had forgotten to close the window before sleeping, and the chicken leaped out through it. When dawn broke, Ma Erpi woke up to find the chicken missing. He sprang out of bed in a panic, running out barefoot without even putting on his shoes. After searching for a while, he found his chicken in a vegetable patch. It had already been gutted and was dead, its eyes wide open, filled with resentment, as if saying, “You couldn’t hold me tight, and you didn’t even close the window, letting me jump out and get my heart and liver eaten by a monster.” Ma Erpi’s heart ached so much that he fainted on the spot. When he woke up, he hugged the chicken and wept bitterly, even taking off his belt to hang himself, ready to commit suicide for the chicken. Villagers passing by tried to persuade him, but nothing worked.

Liu Dashao heard the news and arrived at the scene. Seeing the pitiful state of Old Man Ma, he also shed tears. Liu Dashao had always had a hero complex since childhood. It was said that he once slept in a graveyard on a dare, earning him some reputation. Recently, he had been secretly laughing at the villagers for being scared of the deaths of chickens and ducks. Now that even the chicken of this miser’s family had died, he felt it was time for him, the hero, to step forward. He secretly decided to find the culprit who had eaten the chicken, so that everyone would worship him like a hero.

After making up his mind, Liu Dashao comforted Ma Erpi for a while, then boasted in front of everyone that he would catch the chicken thief alive! He decided to start his investigation from the riverbank, as it was a place where foxes and ghosts were said to frequent. Whether it was a fox spirit or a ghost, they would not dare to cause trouble in front of Liu Dashao. Thinking this, he felt a surge of heroism, as if all living beings would be trampled under his feet. However, Liu Dashao was being overly confident. He didn’t consider that he had no martial arts skills or knowledge of magic. If he really encountered a ghost, he would be helpless and at its mercy.

After nightfall, Liu Dashao changed into a patched cloth robe, tied a straw rope around his waist, and cut a strip of cloth from an old shirt to tie around his head. Instantly, he felt like an ancient knight-errant. Naturally, a knight needed a weapon. He ran into the inner room and soon came out with a staff (a de-headed iron pitchfork). After swinging it a few times, he heard the whooshing sound of the wind and walked out of his house with great confidence. But he soon turned back, opened the kitchen cabinet, and took out a bottle of strong liquor, tucking it into his chest before resolutely walking out. Some friends might ask, why drink strong liquor? In the old days of Northeast China, this kind of liquor was popular—strong, flavorful, and cheap. A sip would warm the body, not only driving away the cold but also boosting courage and alertness.

But did Liu Dashao really need courage and alertness?

Bah, did you think he was truly brave? He had boasted in front of everyone and had no way back. If he didn’t dare to go, wouldn’t he have to change his name to Liu Xiaodan (Little Coward)?

That night, the weather was clear, with a gentle breeze and a crescent moon hanging in the dark sky. Everyone was sound asleep, and the surroundings were eerily quiet. The cold moonlight shone on the tree branches, casting ghostly shadows on the ground, adding to the strangeness of the scene. Liu Dashao soon arrived at the riverbank. The moon was high in the sky, and everything was clearly visible. He took a few sips of the strong liquor and wandered around the riverbank with his staff. Apart from a few desolate graves and fallen leaves, there was no sign of any ghostly presence. After wandering aimlessly for a while, he felt tired and found a clearing to sit down. He took out the liquor and was about to drink when suddenly, he heard a “caw” sound. Startled, he threw the bottle and fell to the ground. Then he heard the sound again, this time clearly coming from a nearby graveyard. Liu Dashao lay on the ground, not daring to move. Just as he was wondering what the sound was, a white figure flew out of the graveyard and floated swiftly toward the village.

The white figure moved so quickly that Liu Dashao couldn’t make out what it was before it disappeared. Could it really be a ghost? Cold sweat poured down Liu Dashao’s body, but he had come this far, and even if it was a ghost, he had to investigate. With this determination, he gritted his teeth and stood up. Seeing that the white figure had floated toward the village, he staggered back.

Liu Dashao tiptoed around the village for a long time, even suspecting that he might be the chicken thief himself. As the moon dipped westward and dawn approached, he wondered why the white figure he had seen floating toward the village was nowhere to be found.

As Liu Dashao walked and pondered, he reached Old San’s house. Suddenly, a white figure darted out from Li Yang’s house next door.

Just as Liu Dashao reached the corner behind Old San’s house, a white figure shot out from Li Yang’s house and quickly floated northeast, disappearing in the blink of an eye.

Liu Dashao rubbed his eyes and stood on tiptoe to look in the direction the white figure had gone, but he saw nothing. Could this white figure be the same one he had seen on the riverbank? But how could it have flown out of Li Yang’s house?

Liu Dashao was puzzled. Although he hadn’t seen what it was, he was now almost certain it was either a fox spirit or a ghost. A chill ran through his heart, and after a moment of hesitation, he walked in the direction the white figure had gone.

Soon, Liu Dashao arrived at the eastern end of the village. It was sparsely populated, with only the house where A Lan had lived and an old willow tree behind it. It was still more than an hour before dawn, and under the bright moon and sparse stars, the breeze rustled the leaves of the tree, making a rustling sound as if countless insects were crawling inside. Legend had it that the old tree had become a spirit, inhabited by an old fox spirit.

Liu Dashao crouched in a bush opposite the willow tree, peering out into the darkness. He could see nothing, only hearing the sound of the wind in the leaves. He suspected that the white figure might be the fox spirit, possibly hiding in the tree. After much deliberation, he thought, how powerful could a fox be? Even if it had become a spirit, it could only bewitch people. Someone like him, Liu Dashao, wouldn’t be easily fooled. A little fox was nothing to worry about. Thinking this, he looked at the staff in his hand and felt more at ease. Whatever it was—fox spirit or ghost—if it showed itself, he would beat it mercilessly. Damn it, even if it didn’t die, it would be crippled.

Liu Dashao tightened his belt, gripped his staff, and cautiously approached the willow tree. He was extremely alert, not daring to be careless. His feet stepped on the dry leaves and branches, feeling as if he were walking on mud. Every step was taken with great care, as if he might sink in at any moment. Suddenly, he felt as if he had stepped on something hard and round. He stepped on it a few times, and the thing wriggled. Liu Dashao was so scared that he let out a loud fart and turned to run. The thing suddenly squeaked, and upon closer inspection, it turned out to be a large hedgehog.

Liu Dashao patted his chest and took a few deep breaths, thinking to himself that his heroic reputation had almost been ruined by a hedgehog. He poked the hedgehog with his staff, and it scurried away.

Liu Dashao thought, I’m still the best, staying calm in the face of danger. What could a little hedgehog do to me, even if it had become a spirit? Though he thought this, he didn’t dare to be careless anymore. He bent down, using his staff to probe the ground as he ventured deeper into the reeds. After searching for a while, he found nothing but dry grass, rotten leaves, and some unknown insects. Not a single fox hair was in sight. Disappointed, he couldn’t help but feel a bit relieved.

After searching for a long time, Liu Dashao felt sore and straightened up to massage his back. By now, the sky was beginning to lighten, and dew had formed on the grass. Helpless, Liu Dashao carried his staff upside down and knocked on Village Chief Tian’s door.

After drinking three large mugs of water and recounting everything that had happened the previous night, Village Chief Tian shook his head. Although he found it strange, he couldn’t let the village live in constant fear, suspecting ghosts at every turn.

But the strange occurrences in the village were increasing. Today, the Zhang family lost a chicken; tomorrow, the Li family was missing a duck. The villagers began to discuss Liu Dashao’s experience, nodding in agreement. They focused their suspicions on the big willow tree. Gradually, the village elders concluded that the tree, having stood for so long, had become a deity and must be worshipped devoutly. Otherwise, if the deity were angered, the entire village would face disaster!

Seeing the increasingly wild rumors in the village, Village Chief Tian pondered for a moment and said, “If the strange events in the village are truly caused by the big willow tree, then there must be something to it! But from a scientific perspective, no matter how big a tree is, it can’t become a deity!”

Nevertheless, he decided to take some time to investigate the tree himself.

At dawn, Village Chief Tian went to the big willow tree and brought up the matter of the tree’s mischief. The villagers chattered about their own experiences. Zhang Cheng from the west end of the village said, “My house is closest to the sacred tree (since the tree had shown strange phenomena, the villagers had started calling it the sacred tree out of respect). I’ve offered countless chickens to it, though my tone was proud, my face showed pain. Many small livestock that went near the tree disappeared. I think we should just cut the tree down!” Liu Dashao chimed in, but he was immediately scolded by the village elder, Bai Tuzi.

Village Chief Tian suggested using some chickens and ducks to test the tree that night. Zhang Cheng’s family volunteered to donate a chicken, but none of the adults in the village wanted to accompany Village Chief Tian to the tree at night, fearing they might offend the deity. Fortunately, Liu Dashao volunteered at the critical moment to accompany him.

After tying the chicken to the tree, the villagers went home to sleep. Village Chief Tian and Liu Dashao set up a table about three meters away from the tree, drinking tea and chatting while keeping an eye on the tree, waiting for the result.

By midnight, nothing unusual had happened. Both men were so tired that they kept dozing off. Liu Dashao kept saying that Village Chief Tian was making a fuss over nothing. Village Chief Tian was beginning to think that nothing would happen that night and laughed at himself for being too credulous. Perhaps the strange events under the tree were just made up by Liu Dashao. As he thought this, he glanced at the tree again.

That glance made him freeze.

The chicken tied to the tree had disappeared without a trace.

Seeing this, Village Chief Tian was initially surprised but quickly calmed down. He gently woke the drowsy Liu Dashao, who, upon seeing the chicken was gone, exclaimed, “Damn it, it’s really been eaten! What kind of deity or dragon king is this, only causing trouble for our village!” Village Chief Tian gestured for him to be quiet and then walked quietly to the tree, circling it.

Suddenly, he saw something wearing red sitting in the tree hollow, facing away from him. It looked like a person, but how could someone fit into such a small hole?

The woman seemed frozen, sitting motionless. Time seemed to stand still, and the air felt heavy with an eerie atmosphere. Village Chief Tian stood there, not daring to breathe, his heart racing.

After what felt like an eternity, the woman slowly began to turn around. To Village Chief Tian’s shock, as she turned, he gradually saw her profile and then her full face. In a daze, he felt the face was familiar. Upon closer inspection, he was so startled he almost cried out—the woman was A Lan, who had died long ago in the village.

A Lan sat there stiffly, her eyes empty, dressed in a red wedding gown. Her slender, graceful figure was fully revealed to Village Chief Tian, but he wasn’t admiring her body. Instead, he was fixated on her hands, which were tightly clutching a mass of black, bloody animal entrails.

A Lan stiffly raised the hand holding the entrails to her mouth and took a bite. She chewed and swallowed voraciously, her mouth full of blood. Village Chief Tian stood outside the tree, trembling like a leaf. Soon, A Lan finished the entrails, licked the blood from her mouth, and then licked her hands clean, smacking her lips as if savoring the taste.

The scene was so bizarre that Village Chief Tian forgot who he was or where he was, only knowing that he was trembling uncontrollably. Suddenly, he accidentally bumped his head against a branch, making a loud “thud” sound that echoed in the silence. A Lan in the tree hollow seemed to hear it too. She stopped smacking her lips and, after a moment of stillness, poked her head out of the tree.

Village Chief Tian’s feet felt rooted to the spot, and his body seemed no longer his own. He stood there dumbly, unable to move except to tremble, watching as A Lan stared at him with lifeless eyes. A cold, eerie wind blew toward him.

That night, the weather was clear and calm, with a gentle breeze and a crescent moon hanging like a hook in the dark sky. Everyone was asleep, and the world was silent. Cold moonlight cast eerie shadows among the trees, adding to the eerie atmosphere. Soon, Liu arrived at the riverbank. The moon was high, and everything was clearly visible. Liu took a few gulps from his bottle, then wandered along the riverbank with his staff for a long time. All he saw were graves and fallen leaves—no ghosts or creatures. Feeling tired, he sat down on a patch of open ground and was about to take another drink when suddenly he heard a “gaa!” sound. Startled, he dropped the bottle and threw himself to the ground. Then he heard it again—it came from a nearby graveyard. Liu stayed motionless on the ground, puzzled. Then, with a “whoosh,” a white shadow shot out from the graves and flew like lightning toward the village.

The white figure moved so fast that Liu couldn’t even get a good look before it vanished. Could it really be a ghost? A cold sweat broke out on Liu’s back. But having come this far, he steeled himself—ghost or not, he had to follow it. With a determined bite of his lip, Liu stood up and saw the white shadow heading toward the village. He staggered after it.

Liu wandered quietly through the village for a long time. At one point, he even doubted whether he himself was the chicken thief. The moon was sinking westward—dawn would come in one or two hours. He had clearly seen the white figure heading this way, so why couldn’t he find it now?

Lost in thought, Liu was walking past Old San’s house when he heard a “swoosh!” sound. A white shadow darted out from Li Yang’s house next door.

Just as Liu turned the corner behind Old San’s house, he heard another “swoosh!” and saw a white figure shoot out from Li Yang’s house, quickly vanishing to the northeast.

Liu rubbed his eyes hard, stood on tiptoe, and looked in the direction the figure had gone—but saw nothing. Could this be the same white figure he had seen at the riverbank? But how had it come from Li Yang’s house?

Liu was baffled. Though he hadn’t seen what it was, he was now almost certain—it had to be either a fox spirit or a ghost. A chill ran through him. After hesitating for a moment, he followed the direction the white figure had taken.

Before long, Liu arrived at the eastern edge of the village. It was quiet here, with few people. The only structures were an old house once lived in by a woman named Alan, and a large old willow tree behind it. It was still over an hour before dawn. The moonlight shone brightly, and the wind rustled the willow leaves, making a sound like insects crawling inside. It was said that this old tree had lived so long it had become a spirit, and a fox spirit lived inside.

Liu crouched behind some bushes opposite the willow tree, peering out. In the darkness, he couldn’t see much, only hearing the rustling of leaves. He suspected the white figure might be the fox spirit hiding inside the tree. After thinking for a while, he told himself, “How powerful can a fox be? Even if it’s a spirit, it can only bewilder people. I, Liu Dashao, am not so easily fooled. A little fox spirit is nothing to fear.” Looking at his iron fork, he felt a little braver. “No matter what spirit appears, I’ll just beat it senseless. Hmph, it’ll be lucky to escape with just a few broken bones.”

Liu tightened his belt, gripped his staff, and slowly approached the tree. He was alert and cautious, stepping carefully on the dry leaves and broken branches, as if walking on soft mud. Suddenly, he felt like he had stepped on a hard, round object. He pressed down a couple of times, and it started to move. Liu let out a loud fart in fear and turned to run—but the object suddenly made a “squeak!” sound. Looking closely, it was just a large hedgehog.

Liu patted his chest and sighed in relief. He muttered to himself, “Almost ruined my reputation over a hedgehog!” He poked the hedgehog with his staff, and it quickly waddled away.

Liu thought to himself, “Still got guts, didn’t flinch at all. What can a hedgehog do, even if it’s a spirit?” Though he thought this, he dared not be careless anymore. He bent down, used the staff to poke around the ground, and searched deeper into the reeds. After a long search, he found nothing—just dead leaves, weeds, and unknown insects. Not even a single fox hair. He felt both disappointed and relieved.

After a long search, Liu’s back ached and he stood up to stretch. The sky was beginning to lighten, and dew had formed on the grass. Liu sighed and returned to the village, dragging his staff behind him, and knocked on the door of the village head, Tian.

After drinking three large bowls of water and recounting the night’s events, Tian shook his head. Though he felt something was strange, he didn’t want to be overly suspicious of every shadow. However, the village was plagued with more and more strange incidents—Zhang’s chicken gone today, Li’s duck missing tomorrow. Villagers began to talk, nodding in agreement with Liu’s story, and their suspicions focused on the big willow tree.

The village elders declared that the tree must have become a spirit from its age, and the villagers must worship it sincerely. Otherwise, the spirit might bring disaster upon the entire village.

Hearing the rumors grow wilder, Tian pondered for a moment and said, “If these strange events really stem from the willow tree, then it must have something to do with it. But from a scientific perspective, even the biggest tree can’t become a spirit.”

Still, he decided to personally investigate the tree.

At dawn, Tian went to the willow tree with villagers gathered around, sharing their stories. Zhang Cheng from the west side of the village said, “My house is closest to the sacred tree. I’ve offered it many chickens, but still strange things happen. I say we cut the tree down!” Liu added, but was immediately scolded by the village elder, Bald Bai.

Tian proposed testing the tree with a chicken or duck that night. Zhang Cheng volunteered a chicken, though no adult dared to stay with Tian at night, fearing the wrath of the spirit. Fortunately, Liu volunteered to accompany him.

They tied the chicken under the tree and returned to a small table about ten meters away, where they drank tea and chatted, watching the chicken closely.

Nothing happened until the early hours of the morning. Both were drowsy, nodding off. Liu kept muttering that Tian was making a fuss over nothing. Tian was beginning to think the whole thing might be a hoax by Liu when he suddenly glanced toward the tree.

The chicken was gone—vanished without a trace.

Tian was initially surprised but quickly calmed down. He gently woke Liu, who, upon seeing the chicken missing, shouted, “Damn it! It really got eaten! What kind of god eats chickens like this? It’s just a monster!”

Tian signaled for silence and quietly approached the tree, circling it.

Suddenly, he noticed a red-clothed figure sitting motionless inside a hollow of the tree. It looked human, but the hole was too small—how could she have gotten inside?

The woman sat like a statue, frozen in time. The air was thick with an eerie stillness. Tian stood frozen, heart pounding.

After an unknown length of time, the woman slowly turned. To Tian’s shock, he saw her profile first, then her full face. As he looked closer, he nearly screamed—this woman was Alan, who had died long ago.

Alan sat stiffly, eyes hollow, wearing a red wedding dress. Her body was clearly visible—slim and shapely. But Tian wasn’t looking at her body. His eyes were fixed on her hands. In them, she tightly held a mass of black organs—animal hearts, livers, and intestines, still dripping with blood.

Slowly, Alan raised the bloody organs to her mouth and began chewing—bit by bit, swallowing loudly, her mouth smeared with blood. Tian stood outside the tree, trembling like a leaf. After finishing, Alan licked her lips clean, then her hands, savoring the taste.

The scene was beyond comprehension. Tian had forgotten who he was or where he was. He could only tremble. Then, accidentally, he hit a branch with his head, making a loud “thud.” In the silence, it sounded like thunder.

Alan stopped licking her lips. After a moment, she slowly turned her head and peeked out from the tree hollow.

Tian’s legs were frozen. His body no longer felt like his own. He stood there, trembling, staring at Alan’s dull, lifeless eyes staring back at him. A cold wind blew in his face.

Village Chief Tian could no longer stand still and rolled and crawled back to the village.

A few hours later, more than ten militiamen with guns suddenly arrived in the village. One by one, they had frozen, bluish faces, their hands tucked in their sleeves, continuously stomping their feet to keep warm. The villagers were immediately alarmed and rushed out of their homes to see what had happened. They saw Village Chief Tian had also come along.