Chapter 36: "The Village of Virtuous Women"

At that moment, the system’s belated voice finally echoed, sounding almost like a prank:

—Encountered a key NPC. Plot triggered: You are orphans adopted by the troupe leader, traveling with the opera troupe to Lienü Village to perform traditional opera for a festival five days from now.

—Current mission: Help Zhenzhen fulfill her wish.

The mechanical voice dragged the players out of their eerie dread. Pink Hair spoke first, “Help Zhenzhen? Who’s Zhenzhen? And what’s her wish?”

“Maybe she’s someone from the troupe? We can just ask the boss.”

As they mentioned the troupe leader, he rounded the corner, scolding them with a sour expression, “What are you all standing around for? Move the troupe’s luggage to the lodging! And go buy a rooster from the villagers!”

He glanced at the white silk hanging from the stage beam, muttering with a troubled face, “What bad luck, pulling that kind of stunt on the stage. Now we’ve gotta perform the breaking ritual.”

Chi Yi stepped forward. “Uncle Kuang, do we have anyone named Zhenzhen in the troupe?”

“Zhen what? Never heard of her!” Kuang snapped irritably. “Go pack up! Move the luggage first, then get that rooster!”

Behind the stage was a makeshift shelter made of tarps, stacked with props and costumes. Actors who had performed earlier were in the middle of removing their stage makeup. In a typical opera troupe, roles and duties were carefully divided, but this ragtag group lacked such formality. The ten players were assigned to miscellaneous chores, while the other NPCs were the performers.

Troupes like this survived by traveling from place to place, performing in remote towns and villages in exchange for food and lodging. With few entertainment options back then, villagers welcomed opera troupes gladly.

Besides the props, the shelter held some daily living supplies, and a donkey was tied to a post outside. The players loaded the luggage onto a donkey cart, and villagers waiting outside led them to their temporary lodgings.

It wasn’t far—right at the edge of the village. Surprisingly, it was a large, four-courtyard residence. In a village like this, only the wealthy or influential would own such a home. Yet, this one was deserted, covered in dust and dead leaves, its windows and doors blanketed with cobwebs.

By horror movie logic, this place practically screamed haunted.

Pink Hair whispered, “Is this place haunted?”

The leading villager gave him a sideways glance, clearly displeased. “What nonsense are you spouting?”

Chi Yi stepped forward with a soft smile, “He’s young—don’t take it to heart. But… why’s such a nice place empty?”

The villager seemed mollified by her good looks and sweet voice. “Used to be owned by a local landlord family. After the land reform, they ran off with their kin. Since then, the house has sat empty. Visitors usually stay here, but it’s been years since anyone came through. That’s why it’s so dirty.”

He brought out cleaning tools from a side room. “You can clean it yourselves. Plenty of rooms to sleep in. There’s a well in the front courtyard—use that for water.”

With that, he left. The players carried their luggage inside and picked a room to stash it in, lighting kerosene lamps to brighten the gloomy house and doing a simple cleanup.

Wen Qianxue suggested, “We should buy that rooster before it gets too late—the villagers might go to bed soon.”

No one knew if buying the rooster might trigger any death conditions in the instance, but wandering around at night was generally riskier than staying put.

Seeing everyone’s hesitation, Li Zhi spoke up, “Whoever wants to go with me can come. The rest, stay here and keep cleaning. Sound good?”

After exchanging glances, everyone agreed. Some stayed to clean, others followed her out.

As they headed into the village, they passed NPCs returning to their quarters. Hearing they were off to buy a rooster, one reminded them, “Better hurry—the boss is getting impatient.”

Night in Lienü Village was even quieter than during the day. Occasionally, dogs barked, roosters crowed, and frogs called from the nearby wheat fields. But after witnessing what they did earlier, no one found this place peaceful anymore.

Fortunately, roosters were common in the village. By the time they knocked on the door of the second household still awake with lamplight, they managed to buy a large rooster with a bright red comb. Its round eyes darted nervously around, full of vitality.

Still, why the boss needed a rooster at this hour was anyone’s guess.

They hurried back to the compound. It was far livelier than before; most of the opera troupe had returned. As was customary, the performers stayed in the central courtyard, while the players, as stagehands, lodged in the outer rooms near the front courtyard. The two groups were separated by a small courtyard, giving each their own space.

The front courtyard had seven or eight rooms. Players grouped up and each claimed a spot. Chi Yi, who previously swore not to room with Li Zhi after their last mission together, still ended up following her like a nervous cat when it came time to pick rooms.

It’s just sharing a room, she thought determinedly. For everything else—I’ll rely on myself!

Outside, the tied-up rooster fluttered on the ground, letting out a sharp, shrill crow.

Everyone gathered outside. Li Zhi lifted the rope holding the rooster and asked, “Are you coming?”

After some thought, they all decided to go. Something about this late-night rooster business felt odd—if they didn’t follow, they might miss critical clues. Besides, the audience would definitely want to see what happened next. Staying behind meant being cut from the broadcast.

The ten of them headed out together.

It was dark now.

The deep, layered layout of the four-courtyard residence made the place feel like a labyrinth. The narrow corridors stretched endlessly, one courtyard leading into another. The flickering light from Pink Hair’s kerosene lamp barely pierced the gloom.

Passing under a hanging archway, they reached the well the villager had mentioned. Misty moonlight filtered into the small courtyard. By the well stood a figure.

She wore a blue opera costume, elaborate jeweled hairpins glinting in the dark, black hair flowing down her back. Beneath the costume, embroidered silk shoes peeked out. Hearing footsteps, she slowly turned her head. Her face was painted with stage makeup—under the pale moonlight, the rouge on her lips looked like fresh blood.

That costume, that look—wasn’t that Fang Lin, the woman who had just hung herself on stage earlier that night?!

Pink Hair let out a terrified shriek, dropping his kerosene lamp. He scrambled backward in panic. The narrow passage caused the group to trip over each other, collapsing into a tangled mess.

A sharp female voice cut through the commotion: “What are you screaming for?!”

Li Zhi steadied Chi Yi, who almost fell, and stepped forward to pick up the lamp—but the oil had spilled, rendering it useless.

“Fang Lin” stepped up onto the stairs, watching them with cool amusement. “I just came to fetch some water, and you’re this scared? Thought I was Fang Lin’s ghost, did you?” She covered her mouth, letting out a peal of laughter. “Mistook me for her?”

Pink Hair stared at her, horrified. “You’re… not a ghost?”

The woman rolled her eyes. “Ghost your ass! I’m alive and well—unlike that short-lived Fang Lin, throwing her life away over a man. Embarrassed us all, she did!” She adjusted her hair disdainfully. “But since she’s dead, I’m the star of the troupe now. Lucky me.”

Everyone finally relaxed, realizing she really wasn’t Fang Lin. Pink Hair, still mortified, scowled, “Then why the hell are you dressed like her, sneaking around scaring people?!”

Her expression darkened. “You think I wanted to wear this? The boss told me to dress like this for the ritual. Think I like this unlucky getup?” Tossing that over her shoulder, she stormed off.

The players exchanged glances. Li Zhi said, “Let’s go.”

They followed, heading toward the stage. Torches still lit the platform, illuminating everything clearly. The curtain had been taken down, leaving an empty stage where an actor in a spirit exorcist’s costume stood, face painted wildly, with a mane of red hair and beard, exuding fierce authority.

Uncle Kuang stood nearby, shouting, “Quit dawdling! Get over here!”

The woman in the Fang Lin costume—apparently named Tao Yu—climbed onto the stage. Kuang’s tone softened toward her, “Tao Yu, thanks for handling the ritual. What a headache, all this nonsense.”

Tao Yu snorted. “Hurry it up. I want to go to bed.”

All along, the players had heard Kuang talking about “breaking the stage,” but now, with drums pounding and Tao Yu being chased across the stage by the exorcist, they finally understood.

It was a ritual performance—acting out a scene to scare off vengeful spirits.

After the short performance, the actor took something from a box and placed it in his mouth. Tao Yu glanced at the dumbfounded players and sneered, “Why’re you all standing there? Come over here!”

They hesitantly gathered around. Tao Yu shoved small bundles into their hands. “Acting scared of me just now, but now you’re brave? Bite on this!”

Li Zhi examined it: a pouch of cinnabar.

No explanation was given, but they all followed suit, clenching the packets between their teeth.

Nearby, Uncle Kuang grabbed the rooster, slitting its throat cleanly. The rooster let out a miserable cry, flapping its wings feebly before falling still.

They watched as he carried the bird around the stage, sprinkling its blood along the perimeter. Then, he lit a string of firecrackers.

The sharp crackle of firecrackers echoed far across the fields, as if scaring away every lurking evil. With a resounding clash of a gong, Uncle Kuang, his voice elongated in a ritualistic tone, called out:

“Breaking the stage—completed. Evil spirits—disperse. Fang Lin, you may now rest in peace.”