Chapter 9: The Corpse in the Village

In traditional folklore, cats were often seen as spiritual creatures, capable of connecting the worlds of the living and the dead. Some even claimed they possessed nine lives. It was said that if a cat approached a corpse, the dead could borrow one of its lives to reanimate and return as the living dead.

Black cats, in particular, were viewed as omens of misfortune. Connecting the dots with the eerie cat cry they’d heard at midnight, Li Zhi was certain now—that cry must’ve been one of the necessary conditions for the village chief’s corpse to reanimate and kill.

Given the situation, releasing the cat would be out of the question. Who knew if it would come back again?

After a brief thought, Li Zhi decided, “Let’s lock it in my room for now.”

She carried the black cat back to her room, where Chi Yi, wide-eyed, was climbing up from bed. “Why are you still awake?” Li Zhi asked.

Chi Yi looked slightly embarrassed. “I… couldn’t sleep alone.” Then, nervously, “I heard you and Xu Shu shouting earlier. What happened?”

“Nothing serious,” Li Zhi said flatly. She lifted the black cat from her arms. “Do you like cats?”

Chi Yi’s face instantly lit up. “I love them! Where did this little one come from?”

Seeing her delight, Li Zhi felt relieved. She placed the cat on the bed. “Found it outside. Let it stay with you tonight—but don’t let it outside. Black cats can’t be near corpses.”

Chi Yi shivered and hugged the cat tightly. “Got it!”

Li Zhi left her with the cat and returned to the mourning hall. After witnessing the corpse’s attempted resurrection earlier, Xu Shu was on high alert, reacting to every rustle of wind around the courtyard. As Li Zhi passed the coffin, she glanced inside. The village chief lay there with his hands folded over his chest, head resting on the rooster-crowing pillow, its red comb starkly vivid against the dull surroundings.

Maybe because its attempt at murder had been thwarted, the corpse looked distinctly… displeased, its lips curled downward in silent resentment.

Not so different from that blubbering wax monster in the ancestral hall, Li Zhi mused.

Apparently, even the ghosts and monsters in this twisted game weren’t allowed to kill at will; they too had to obey certain “game rules.”

Xu Shu waited impatiently for her to sit before blurting out, “Did you find anything in the ancestral hall?”

Li Zhi leaned against her elbow, tapping her fingers slowly on the chair’s armrest. “I’m still organizing my thoughts. I’ll explain everything in the morning when everyone’s here.”

Xu Shu stared at her for a while before speaking seriously: “You’re definitely going to explode in popularity after this show.”

Li Zhi raised an eyebrow and looked at him. Candlelight reflected in her eyes, adding a mesmerizing brilliance. “What’s the world you come from like?”

The question caught Xu Shu off guard. He hesitated, then replied, “I can’t say too much, but the [Specter] system will usher in a whole new era for humanity. The higher your popularity, the greater your benefits. You’re destined to be among the top players.”

A fanatical glimmer flashed in his eyes as he murmured, “Where I come from, players with immense popularity… are akin to gods.”

Li Zhi was thoughtful but didn’t press further. They passed the night without incident, keeping watch until midnight. When it was time for Lian Qinglin and Chi Yi’s group to take over, Li Zhi gave a few simple instructions and retired to rest.

The black cat, now calmed by Chi Yi, purred softly at the edge of the bed. Li Zhi scratched its chin before turning off the lights.

Soon after lying down, she heard the gentle patter of raindrops on the tarp outside. The combination of the cat’s steady purring and the distant rain lulled her into a deep sleep.

When morning came, the drizzle was still falling. It was the kind of rain that southerners called misty rain—fine and persistent, blanketing the village in a cold, damp fog.

Last night had been peaceful, with no casualties. Seeing all six of them gathered together for breakfast brought an unspoken relief to everyone’s hearts.

Xu Shu glanced repeatedly at Li Zhi, watching her slowly nibble on a steamed bun, utterly composed. Finally, he couldn’t hold back anymore. “Everyone’s here now. Can you tell us what you found last night?”

Chi Yi almost spat out her food. “You went back to the ancestral hall last night?!”

The others all looked at Li Zhi with a mixture of disbelief and admiration. Chi Yi suddenly realized, “No wonder you wouldn’t team up with me to keep watch—you were worried if you left me alone I’d be too scared! Zhi Zhi, you’re the best!”

Li Zhi let her rub against her arm like a clingy kitten, swallowing the bun before replying, “The village chief only had one son, who died young. We were indeed his adopted children.”

Even though she had already hinted at this last night, hearing it confirmed was still hard for them to accept.

Gao Shijun put down his chopsticks, suddenly without appetite. “So… do we really have to go through with his burial? He’s not even family!”

Zhu Zhibo added, “But adopted counts as family, right? We don’t even know who our birth parents are or where they are. Besides, maybe the mission isn’t that complicated, and all these clues are just distractions planted by the system.”

Both arguments made sense. The group fell into silence, caught between two difficult choices.

Li Zhi picked up a boiled egg, tapping it gently on the table to crack the shell.

Everyone stared at her in unison. Gao Shijun grew agitated. “How can you still be peeling an egg at a time like this?”

Li Zhi gave him a surprised look. “Because I’m still hungry.”

Gao Shijun: “…”

Lian Qinglin spoke up. “You decide. Whether we keep burying the village chief or go looking for clues about our real parents—we’ll follow your lead.”

They all stared at her expectantly, waiting for their team’s anchor to steer them through this storm. Li Zhi sighed and motioned toward the doorway. “We don’t really have a choice right now. We need to keep going with the main questline.”

Outside the courtyard wall, Uncle Jiu paced up and down, holding that rusty old axe. Every so often, he’d glance at them with thinly veiled threats in his eyes.

Sure enough, before Li Zhi even finished her boiled egg, Uncle Jiu barged in, barking orders: “The village chief’s burial is tomorrow. Today you need to go up the mountain and cut down some willow branches to make mourning banners and spirit guide sticks. The geomancer’s already chosen the burial site. After cutting the branches, go dig the grave. Here’s the axe—don’t dawdle!”

Lian Qinglin glared daggers at his back as the man left, flipping him off in silent fury. “After we clear this game, I swear I’m beating the crap out of that guy.”

Li Zhi popped the last bite of egg into her mouth and calmly wiped her hands. “Let’s go cut some trees.”

The drizzle hadn’t stopped, and there were no raincoats or umbrellas in the courtyard. They could only shoulder the rusty axe and head out into the cold, wet world. The mountain paths were wrapped in mist, the dense rain reducing visibility to a gray blur. The village itself had no willows, so the six of them agreed to search further up in the hills.

As they trekked, Li Zhi shared her suspicions. “Since the founding of the nation, Guanping Village’s population has been dwindling. With fewer people, the village slowly decayed. It’s likely that Guan Maode adopted us in hopes of changing that.”

Lian Qinglin pondered. “Adopt a bunch of kids, raise them up, and hope they’d come back one day to rebuild the hometown?”

Chi Yi’s eyes lit up with sudden understanding. “But we didn’t return—we stayed in the big city. That’s why the villagers here hate us so much!”

It was a reasonable guess. Yet something about the whole story still felt… incomplete to Li Zhi.

The rain turned the mountain trails into slick mud. Each step was a struggle, their soaked clothes clinging cold and clammy to their skin.

After who knew how long, a sudden, panicked scream split the monotony.

“There’s someone hanging from that tree!”

Zhu Zhibo’s shriek sent him slipping to his knees, splashing mud everywhere. The others quickly helped him up and looked where he pointed—nothing. Just the gray blur of trees swaying in the rain.

“Are you sure you saw something?” Lian Qinglin asked, frowning. “It’s broad daylight—no ghosts out now.”

Zhu Zhibo blinked furiously, now doubting himself. Was I seeing things?

The group stood in tense silence. Between the rain and the chill, their shivering only worsened.

Li Zhi thought for a moment, then strode toward the tree. “Let’s go check it out.”

The closer they got, the clearer the shape became. Nestled in the fog and rain was… a willow tree. Its drooping branches swayed in the wind, slender and long, resembling the vague outline of a hanging figure.

Zhu Zhibo let out a breath of relief, breaking into a grin. “I must’ve imagined it. But hey—this is exactly what we came here for!”

They didn’t need the whole tree, just a few sturdy, straight branches. To be fair, everyone took turns swinging the axe. Unfortunately, the blade was rusty, heavy, and dull. And cutting upward was exhausting work.

“Figures,” Lian Qinglin grumbled, “dragging that axe around all day and never bothering to sharpen it.”

They were nearly done when Zhu Zhibo stepped up to swing at the last branch. Each impact shook water loose, soaking his sleeves. But then—something soft brushed his scalp, again and again.

Annoyed, he reached up, thinking it was just a branch.

But what he touched wasn’t wood.

It was soft. Damp. Cold, with the faint friction of fabric.

Like… the sole of a shoe.

Zhu Zhibo froze. Slowly, his head tilted upward.

Directly above him—just inches from his scalp—hung a pair of feet. Pale. Bloated. Wearing black cloth shoes. Dangling slightly with the breeze, brushing against his hair with every swing.

Back and forth. Back and forth.