Chapter 167: Shadows of the Abandoned Village
Outside the courtyard gate, on the south-facing slope, stood a thick, gnarled old tree, its branches bare of leaves. Li Zhi climbed onto one of the forked branches, using the higher vantage point to survey the area until she located the graveyard.
In rural areas, burials were traditionally confined to specific zones, and in Liujia Village, the graves were clustered at the foot of the western mountain. Following the village path, Li Zhi soon reached the cemetery, now completely overgrown with withered branches and weeds. Only the dark tombstones peeked faintly through the tangled undergrowth.
The village had long been abandoned, and the graveyard was no exception.
Untended for years, the burial mounds had become little more than weed-covered hillocks. Li Zhi used an iron pick to part the thick grass, carefully examining the information on each tombstone. She noted the birth and death dates, cross-referencing them to identify which belonged to victims of the massacre.
These victims had died in the same year as the village chief’s family of six, all on the same day, making them easy to distinguish.
Pulling out a notebook and pen from her backpack, Li Zhi recorded the details as she worked. By noon, she had combed through the entire graveyard.
The good news? She had gathered information on all the victims of the massacre.
The bad news? Zhou Xuan’s grave was nowhere to be found.
During her search, Li Zhi also noticed signs of many relocated graves. Judging by the disturbed earth, the exhumations had happened years ago—likely when survivors secretly returned to move their ancestors’ remains.
Among the remaining neglected graves, four households matched the massacre victims:
- Liu Dajun’s family: three dead—Liu Dajun, his nearly seventy-year-old mother, and his ten-year-old son.
- Liu Dafu’s family: three dead—Liu Dafu, his mother, and his three-years-younger sister.
- Liu Guiren’s family: four dead—Liu Guiren, his parents, and his eight-month-old son.
- Liu Jianguo’s family: five dead—Liu Jianguo, his parents, his sister, and her son.
The night before, Li Zhi had seen the ancestral tablets of the village chief’s family. Zhou Xuan and her unborn child had died on July 14th—Ghost Festival, when the gates of the underworld were said to open. The village chief’s family of six had died on August 10th of the same year, nearly a month later.
The four massacres in Liujia Village had occurred within that month.
The first was Liu Dajun’s family, killed on July 17th—three days after Zhou Xuan’s death.
Next was Liu Dafu’s family, killed on July 24th.
Liu Guiren’s family died on July 30th, and Liu Jianguo’s on August 6th.
Li Zhi studied the dates in her notebook and realized that, aside from Liu Dajun’s family, the other three households had died on the seventh-day memorial (头七) of the previous victims. Four days after Liu Jianguo’s family was slaughtered, the village chief’s household met their violent end.
And all these victims shared one striking commonality.
Both the in-game and real-world audience noticed it too:
—None of the dead include the wives of these families!
—Husbands, parents, children, even sisters-in-law and nephews were killed—but never the wives!
—Did Liu Daqiang spare them because he lost his own wife and fixated on theirs?!
—Could this massacre actually be a crime of passion?!
Li Zhi compiled the data from the graveyard.
Zhou Xuan had died first—cause unknown, and her grave was missing. Three days later, Liu Dajun’s family was wiped out. The proximity suggested Zhou Xuan’s death was linked to them.
Then, on Liu Dajun’s 头七, Liu Dafu’s family was slaughtered.
Public accounts blamed Liu Daqiang’s violent episodes, but after the first massacre, the village chief should have restrained him. Could Liu Daqiang really have slipped out at night to kill again?
Li Zhi circled Zhou Xuan’s name in her notes, adding a question mark.
The key to this massacre lay with her.
How had Zhou Xuan died? Where was she buried? Why, as Liu Daqiang’s wife and the village chief’s daughter-in-law, had she left no trace in that household?
Had her existence been erased after death—or had it never been acknowledged to begin with?
Li Zhi recalled the iron chain in the bedroom.
Had it really been meant for Liu Daqiang, the so-called “violent madman”?
Or… had it been used to restrain Zhou Xuan?
Her gaze swept over the names of the victims in her notes.
What if they weren’t victims at all?
Why kill every family member—even infants—yet spare the wives?
Because, like Zhou Xuan, they were the real victims.
Li Zhi closed her notebook and exhaled slowly, staring at the ruins of the village in the distance.
Human trafficking.
This wasn’t a story about a haunted massacre—it was about trafficking.
Zhou Xuan had been trafficked here, sold to Liu Daqiang as a wife. She must have tried to escape, failed, and been chained for it.
That was why no trace of her remained in that house.
Because it had never been her home.
This was a crime scene. The entire village was a den of traffickers.
Approaching noon, Li Zhi left the graveyard and returned to the village, sitting on a flat rock at a crossroads. She removed her phone from its head mount and saw the livestream had surpassed 2.5 million likes.
Looks like she’d really have to open a coffin tonight.
Switching to the front camera, she greeted the audience before pulling out water and food for lunch.
The viewer count had exceeded 100,000, and the chat was buzzing:
—What’s next, streamer? Still not digging up graves?
—Are you really opening a coffin tonight? What if a zombie pops out?!
—Daytime exploring is boring—come out after dark and face the ghosts!
—Find anything in the graveyard? If not, just log off already!
—Why did you circle Zhou Xuan’s name? What’s her connection to the massacre?
Munching on compressed biscuits for energy, Li Zhi skimmed the chat but saw no messages from Li Jianxi. No survivors had come forward with useful clues.
But if they were watching, it was time to provoke them.
She took a sip of water and cleared her throat. “Of course I found something.” Holding up her notebook, she summarized her theory for both in-game and real-world audiences.
“I believe Liujia Village was a hub for trafficking women. Zhou Xuan was one of them—and so were the surviving wives of the massacred families.”
The chat exploded:
[HOLY SHIT!!! The whole village was evil! Serves them right!]
[So Zhou Xuan’s ghost possessed Liu Daqiang to take revenge? Killing the buyers but sparing the trafficked women?]
[But if the village suppressed her spirit like they did the chief’s family, how could she still retaliate?]
[How Zhou Xuan died is still a mystery—maybe we’ll know once her grave is found.]
[Is Zhou Xuan the final boss? I hope not! She’s a victim too!]
[Li Zhi’s solving this way faster than other players! IQ diff!]
The real-world chat was invisible to her, but the in-game reactions were telling. Among the chaos, a few panicked voices stood out:
—Baseless speculation for clout! Reported!
—How dare you slander the dead? Hope you die here as penance!
—The news confirmed it was the madman’s doing—stop making up crap for views!
Amid the noise, one comment caught her eye:
—The truth doesn’t matter anymore. Digging this up only disturbs the dead and torments the living. Leave now and spare them.
Scrolling up, Li Zhi saw the username: Wishing for Peace.
The same person who’d warned her earlier.
She’d initially thought they were a survivor from the village—but now, she reconsidered.
Not a survivor.
One of the rescued victims.
After the massacres, where had the surviving women gone? With the village abandoned, escape was their only option.
In such remote, lawless places, trafficked women rarely broke free.
But the massacres had given them a chance.
With their captors dead and the village in chaos, no one could stop them.
Zhou Xuan’s death had paved their way out.
Wishing for Peace.
Peace—such a simple, desperate wish.
How many times had she prayed for it during her captivity?
For a moment, Li Zhi wanted to stop digging.
Even if this was just a fabricated world, the horrors mirrored reality. Somewhere beyond the screen, another Zhou Xuan might be watching.
Without another glance at the chat, she reattached her phone, dusted off her backpack, and headed toward a collapsed earthen house in the distance.