​​Chapter 171: Ghostly Shadows in the Abandoned Village​

​But then, Li Zhi reconsidered a puzzling detail.

If Zhou Xuan had truly returned from death for revenge, with her level of resentment, there shouldn’t have been any survivors in this village.

She might have spared women who suffered the same fate as her, but she would never have let the other villagers live. Those who had helped chase down fleeing women—whether or not they had participated in the abductions—were all accomplices in this hellhole.

Yet, from the past two days of investigation, it was clear that many people had escaped Liu Village back then.

If Zhou Xuan’s seal had truly been broken, and she had used Liu Daqiang to massacre those families, where had she gone afterward? Among the ghostly figures that had surrounded the village chief’s house last night, Li Zhi hadn’t seen one wearing a red dress.

Had she been laid to rest?

Li Zhi had a vague suspicion, but without evidence, she kept it to herself.

Finding no clues in the cellar, she retraced her steps through the tunnel and stood beneath the entrance. The villagers had taken the ladder with them after completing the suppression ritual, leaving nothing to climb on. At two meters deep, she couldn’t get out without using a teleportation talisman.

As evening approached, the sky outside had darkened. After leaving Liu Youcai’s house, Li Zhi quickened her pace toward the pond at the village entrance.

When she first arrived yesterday, she had encountered a water ghost there—one that had deliberately made splashing sounds to lure her in. At the time, she hadn’t known how this drowned ghost was connected to Liu Village’s serial massacres.

If Liu Youcai hadn’t died, Zhou Xuan wouldn’t have been forced to marry Liu Daqiang. Liu Youcai’s parents wouldn’t have kidnapped her for a ghost marriage, and Liu Daqiang wouldn’t have been driven into a murderous frenzy by the sight of Zhou Xuan hanging in a red dress, triggering the chain of massacres.

So Liu Youcai had been the spark that ignited the entire tragedy.

She had already stumbled upon the key to this story yesterday.

The pond’s water was foul and murky, its surface covered in floating trash. Swarms of insects hovered above the black silt, and a crow perched on a dead branch in the middle of the pond, drinking. When it noticed Li Zhi approaching, it let out an eerie caw and flapped away.

The sky was oppressively gloomy. Li Zhi took out offerings from her bag, then flipped open The Handbook of Supernatural Exploration to the page on summoning spirits. Following the instructions, she planted a candle on the ground and placed Liu Youcai’s spirit tablet—taken from the wedding hall—in the center.

After lighting the candle, she burned a stack of yellow paper and softly recited Liu Youcai’s birthdate along with the summoning incantation from the book.

By the third recitation, the white candle flame suddenly flickered violently, turning an eerie green. A cold wind swept through, lifting Li Zhi’s hair—yet the ghostly green flame remained unextinguished.

A splash came from the pond, as though something had emerged from the depths.

Li Zhi turned to look. Ripples spread from the center of the pond toward the shore. Though no figure was visible, muddy footprints began appearing on the black silt. The footprints climbed out of the pond and slowly made their way toward her.

Li Zhi stood. “Liu Youcai?”

The footprints stopped beside the candle. Three incense sticks burned before the spirit tablet, their flames devoured unnaturally fast—as though someone were greedily inhaling the smoke.

Soon, the incense burned out. Under the glow of the green candlelight, a faint figure materialized.

After “eating” the incense, the figure slowly raised its head to look at Li Zhi. Though his face was indistinct, she could feel the malice in his gaze.

The book had warned that summoning spirits was dangerous—especially those who had died violently. Once called, they might refuse to leave. And Liu Youcai’s family had been rotten in life; death hadn’t made them any better.

Li Zhi pulled out a stack of yellow talismans—taken from the tunnel walls—and smiled. “Stay put unless you want to be tagged.”

Liu Youcai’s restless expression immediately settled. He crouched in front of his tablet, knees hugged to his chest, water dripping endlessly from his body and pooling on the ground.

First exorcising ghosts, now summoning spirits—this adventure was getting more thrilling by the minute. And with the coffin-opening still to come tonight, the livestream audience was electrified:

—My friend sent me this link, but they didn’t mention this kind of plot! I thought I was here to watch a pretty streamer flirt with ghosts!

—The truth behind the sealed serial massacres is about to come to light! So hyped!

—This streamer’s got skills and guts! Once she releases Liu Daqiang’s family tonight, this abandoned village is gonna be wild!

—...

Night was falling fast. Li Zhi cut to the chase. “Did you drown by accident, or were you killed by Liu Daqiang?”

After a long pause, Liu Youcai’s throat produced a rasping voice—but his answer was unrelated. “...It was raining so hard... the sky was so dark... I couldn’t see the road...”

He’d been dead too long; his brain was probably waterlogged. Li Zhi gave him one more chance. “How did you fall into the pond?”

Liu Youcai hung his head, black sludge oozing from his mouth as he spoke in a garbled voice. “...The road was slippery... then there was this huge thunderclap... scared me... I fell in.”

So he hadn’t been murdered by Liu Daqiang. His death really had been an accident.

But Liu Youcai’s parents refused to believe it, blaming Liu Daqiang instead—leading to everything that followed.

That thunderclap in the rain might have been divine retribution for Liu Youcai’s family—and for all of Liu Village. Those who committed atrocities would not die well.

Li Zhi asked one last question. “Was your sister named Liu Xiaoyan?”

Liu Youcai nodded.

Satisfied, Li Zhi packed up her things and slung her bag over her shoulder. “Alright, back to the water with you.”

Liu Youcai stared at her, resentment flashing in his eyes.

Li Zhi smiled. “You’re not thinking of making me your replacement, are you?”

Her smile was far more terrifying than her beauty. Liu Youcai shrank back. Just then, a low rumble of thunder rolled across the dark sky. Terrified of the sound, he turned and fled back into the pond, vanishing beneath the water.

Li Zhi glanced at the storm-heavy clouds. Rain was coming.

She hurried toward the village chief’s house.

But darkness fell too quickly. Within minutes, the thick clouds blotted out the last of the light, plunging the village into near-total blackness. A cold wind rustled through the overgrown grass, filling the air with a eerie shushing sound.

Li Zhi looked back—and saw countless ghostly figures emerging from the crumbling yellow-earth houses.

That wasn’t the sound of wind through grass.

It was the sound of their footsteps.

Li Zhi broke into a sprint.

The rustling grew louder, closing in from all directions. The villagers who had died in the massacres pursued her, leaving trails of blood in their wake.

The camera shook violently as the livestream audience watched, hearts pounding. The village chief’s wall came into view—then Li Zhi shoved through the gate and slammed it shut behind her. The viewers collectively exhaled.

—She made it! Now I finally get why the streamer said this was the safest place in the village yesterday. Even I feel safe here now!

—Six coffins standing guard—how dare these ghosts cause trouble!

—Streamer’s working hard! Rest up, then get ready to open those coffins later!

—After the coffins are opened, will this still be a safe zone? If it’s dangerous inside and outside, where’s the streamer gonna go?

—...

Just as everyone thought the danger had passed, the camera suddenly panned to the courtyard wall.

Li Zhi turned from the main hall’s doorway and saw the ghostly figures lingering outside the wall. Last night, they hadn’t dared approach—but now they pressed against it, trying to force their way in.

The gate she had propped up after its collapse shook under their assault. Pale hands began clawing over the weed-choked wall.

They were getting in.

Li Zhi realized the dungeon’s death conditions were evolving. What had kept them out last night wouldn’t work tonight.

If she treated the village chief’s house as a safe zone now, she’d be dead before morning.

Before the villagers could break through, Li Zhi acted. She pulled a pickaxe from her bag and strode into the main hall, ready to open the coffins.

The livestream erupted:

—It’s happening! Coffin time!

—Open them! Release Liu Daqiang!

—Oh no, oh no—after this, where’s the streamer gonna go? With Liu Daqiang’s family loose, won’t she be in even more danger?

—Relax! The streamer’s a pro—she’ll figure it out!

—Wait, what’s she doing? Why’s she putting on that red dress?

—...

Li Zhi had found the red dress in another villager’s house—one that closely resembled the one Zhou Xuan had died in. Once she put it on, the hem reached her ankles. Recalling what she’d seen earlier, she let down her hair.

Now clad in a red dress, hair disheveled, she wielded the pickaxe to pry open the coffin. The phone camera captured the scene, and the audience agreed—she looked scarier than the ghosts outside.

Chaotic footsteps trampled through the grass, closing in on the main hall.

Li Zhi broke the coffin’s four corners. The octagonal bronze bells fell to the ground with a crisp chime, and the red threads tied around the coffin snapped one by one.

A cold wind swept through the dark room.

Li Zhi turned—and saw six figures standing before the altar against the wall.

They wore the clothes they had died in, their bodies drenched in blood, faces pallid and expressionless.

Li Zhi recognized Liu Daqiang immediately.

He was as tall and burly as described—a brute in life, even more fearsome in death. Just as the six pairs of eyes began to focus on her, Li Zhi spun and bolted for the door.

The massacred villagers had already appeared outside. The courtyard, overgrown with weeds, was thick with ghostly energy. When Li Zhi—still in the red dress—charged into the crowd of ghosts, their reactions were immediate.

She couldn’t make out their faces, but she felt their emotions—some furious, others terrified.

Were they afraid of Zhou Xuan in her red dress?

Pale, skeletal hands reached for her. As the ghosts closed in, Li Zhi cast a desperate, fearful glance toward the main hall. “Daqiang... save me...”

The red dress fluttered in the weeds, as though she might be torn apart at any moment.

Liu Daqiang roared and charged out of the house.

A bloody cleaver materialized in his hand. He swung at everyone in sight—starting with the village chief, then the chief’s sister, then the chief’s youngest son.

The massacre that had once unfolded in this courtyard was now repeating itself.

Amid the chaos of ghostly figures and howling winds, Li Zhi—having quietly shed the red dress—slipped away unnoticed. She dashed upstairs to Liu Erqiang’s bedroom, plastered the wardrobe with yellow talismans from the cellar tunnel, and climbed inside.