The old cat’s trembling cry came from behind an ancient tree. Chen Xiazi pressed himself against the trunk, cautiously peeking out. Born with night vision, he could generally discern shapes even on a moonless night. Tonight, though the clouds obscured the moon, his sight was unaffected. Following the sound of the cat’s miserable wail, he pushed through the brush and found a small clearing ringed by somber, ancient cypresses. The clearing was dotted with grave mounds, overgrown with wild grass and scattered stones, through which a clear spring meandered deep into the thicket. Behind the mounds, the darkness was veiled by a heavy mist generated by the thriving night vegetation.

Between two old trees just outside the graveyard stood half a crumbling stele. Too far to make out any inscription, the monument was over half a man’s height and partly covered with broken tiles. It didn’t look like a tomb entrance but perhaps the remains of a dilapidated ancestral hall’s archway. The old cat was huddled before it, shivering violently. It had already spat out Haozi Ergu’s ear onto the ground. The cat’s desperate cries grew more frequent, tinged with blood, as if pleading desperately with the stone monument.

Chen Xiazi relied on his cultivated skills, holding his breath and daring to keep his body hidden in the shadows cast by the moonlight. Watching the ceaselessly trembling, supplicating cat, he grew increasingly perplexed. He mused internally: Strange. What the devil is this cursed cat up to? Why is it so terrified of that broken stele? Cats are blessed with exceptional flexibility and agility, few natural predators, and legends say they have nine lives. Their hardiness and courage are as large as their curiosity. If the old cat hadn't lost a leg, it wouldn't resort to biting off a person’s ear. But cats, they grow more cunning with age—how could an ancient stone slab frighten it into this state? Could there be something else behind the tablet?

The more Chen Xiazi pondered, the more suspicious the situation seemed, stirring countless questions. He peered closely at the broken stele again, trying to see what lay behind it, but the swirling, demonic fog among the weeds made the monument appear at the very edge of his vision. He strained his eyes but still couldn't make out the scene behind the stone.

Just then, the moonlight mixing with the fluctuating night mist cast an eerie, hazy luminescence over the small area in front of the stele. Suddenly, a pair of beady eyes flashed out from behind the monument, gradually revealing a furry face. At first glance, he thought it was a fox, similar in size to the lame cat. Its build resembled a weasel—large head, wide mouth, and yellowish fur. Focusing his gaze, he realized the owner of those sly, cunning eyes was, in fact, a small lizi (raccoon dog/tanuki).

The lizi displayed a bizarre demeanor, walking up to the old cat and observing it. The lame cat’s cries began to change, shifting from sheer terror and despair to a strangely discordant low moan. This sound unnerved Chen Xiazi, filling his chest with a suffocating pressure. He felt an overwhelming urge to leap out and roar three times, but instead, he bit his tongue lightly, forcing himself to control the rising anxiety and calm his pounding heart.

The lizi wore a strangely malevolent grin as it stared at the lame cat for a moment before turning and swaggering toward the water. The three-legged lame cat let out a few more calls and followed the lizi stiffly and slowly, crawling to the spring to drink. Chen Xiazi thought: What a performance. So this cursed cat was just warming up its voice in the deep woods, and now it’s tired and thirsty. I was nearly fooled by this trick of diversion. I should take this chance to catch it, teach it a lesson, and break another of its legs…

As Chen Xiazi calculated his move, he noticed the cat’s drinking behavior was highly unusual. The three-legged lame cat drank as if it were a thirsty ghost returning from the dead, gulping down water noisily until it overflowed from its nose and mouth. Then, as if possessed, it collapsed backward, pressing its bloated stomach—swollen from the sheer volume of spring water—and vomited everything it had just swallowed. The lizi, ghostly in its stillness, remained beside it, watching the cat drink without moving.

Immediately after, the three-legged lame cat listlessly crawled back to the spring for another bout of frantic drinking. This cycle repeated endlessly. Chen Xiazi was utterly astonished. Despite his long experience with strange occurrences, he had never encountered anything like this. It seemed the old cat was purging its very intestines. Could the flesh from Haozi Ergu’s corpse have permeated the corpse-toxin? And had the lame cat realized it was poisoned after eating the dead flesh, resorting to this method of self-cure?

However, Chen Xiazi dismissed this idea after a moment’s consideration. First, the corpse-toxin from Haozi Ergu’s body had not yet seeped into the surrounding skin; Chen Xiazi, being experienced, would know this. If the cat had only bitten the dead woman’s face a few times, it shouldn't be severely affected. Furthermore, the lame cat’s lethargic state suggested it was possessed by a malevolent spirit, completely drained of vitality. Its earlier spine-chilling howls had certainly not been fake. The lizi in this old forest must have terrified it. The lizi must possess some kind of black magic or evil sorcery. Thinking this, Chen Xiazi’s palms began to sweat. Yet, he reckoned that with his own skills, escaping wouldn't be difficult. He planned secretly: Fleeing now from a distance might alert the spirits in the forest, which would be counterproductive. I should remain calm and see this through. I want to observe exactly what the lizi is doing. If I can eliminate it along the way, I can brag endlessly to Luo Laowai when I return. With such a bizarre and strange encounter, they will have to see me in a new light.

In the dim moonlight, Chen Xiazi was positioned downwind, making it nearly impossible for the lizi emerging from the graveyard to detect his presence. He focused his attention, holding his breath, and continued to secretly observe the three-legged cat’s abnormal actions. Strangely, the old cat continued the cycle of drinking and vomiting—drinking, vomiting, drinking—until it had purged all the bile from its stomach and began spitting up dark, reddish fluid. Yet, it uttered not a sound. Finally, having nothing left to expel, it collapsed, staring up at the full moon with desperate, vacant eyes, its claws and tail twitching spasmodically, awaiting the arrival of death.

It was then that the lizi began circling the fallen, convulsing lame cat. Chen Xiazi knew this was the crucial moment. He immediately focused all his attention, staying vigilant while carefully monitoring the movements in the woods. Simultaneously, he quietly lowered his center of gravity, bending his knees slightly, prepared to spring away instantly if the situation turned sour.

The lizi seemed to stroll casually under the moon. Its entire body of yellow fur, interspersed with variegated patterns, appeared exceptionally rare. Chen Xiazi had never seen a lizi with such markings and inwardly questioned: I often hear that lizi like to dig dens in graves to hide. They are adept at bewitching people. Could this lizi truly have crawled out of a tomb? Is that cursed cat under the lizi’s control? In the Xiangxi mountains, lizi are called Yellow Devils. I’m afraid I’ve encountered a Yellow Devil...

Chen Xiazi’s mind was teeming with doubts. In that moment of distraction, the lizi slowly approached the lame cat and gently stroked the exposed belly with its forepaw, emitting a series of heh-heh-heh sounds like a night owl’s laugh. The three-legged lame cat had completely lost consciousness and showed no reaction to the lizi’s handling, though its body trembled slightly, as if sensing its end was near. However, its muscles were stiff and unresponsive. In those vacant eyes, a flicker of sorrow and bitterness suddenly appeared, filled with unwillingness and helplessness, and two lines of tears actually streamed down.

The lizi occasionally poked the cat’s soft spots with its paw, seeming to savor the sight of its pitiful plea, clearly enjoying itself immensely. Once it was done playing with the cat, it lowered its head and extended its tongue to lick the cat’s belly. One couldn't tell how the Yellow Devil's tongue was shaped, but wherever it licked, the cat's fur fell out instantly. This old cat was already inherently rat-like and unattractive; once all its downy fur was gone, only its two eyeballs moved across its sleek, naked skin—a sight even more bizarre under the moonlight.

The lizi then extended a forepaw and repeatedly stroked the cat’s thin belly. Before long, the pitiful lame cat was being vivisected alive. The coiled intestines inside the cat’s abdomen were laid out before the lizi like a feast spread on a table. The lizi pulled out the thoroughly cleaned cat intestines, one segment at a time. The cat was not yet dead; its four paws and tail continued to twitch uncontrollably from the unbearable pain. The lizi showed no mercy, and after extracting the intestines, it bit open the cat’s neck to drink the blood. Only then did the three-legged lame cat close its wide eyes and draw its last breath.

Chen Xiazi watched in secret amazement: In this world, one thing conquers another. The lame cat met its nemesis here, unable to offer any resistance. It was scared into cleaning its own guts for the other to consume. I wonder what sorcery the lizi used to cloud its mind, making it endure such torment before eating the entrails and drinking the blood. Its methods are truly vicious.

The three-legged lame cat was quite large. The lizi was full after drinking only a few mouthfuls of blood. It spared the disemboweled corpse another glance, turned, and dragged the extracted intestines toward the ancient stele in the woods. Chen Xiazi estimated it was returning to its lair after eating its fill. This was no place to linger. He quickly retrieved the female corpse’s ear, which would serve as proof for Luo Laowai and the others, preventing him from merely boasting empty claims.

With this thought, he used the moment the creature disappeared behind the stele to silently spring out from behind the tree. The bloody scene of the lizi eating the cat had made him queasy. Unaware of the lizi’s true power, he dared not make any rash moves, only intending to snatch the fallen human ear and flee back.

The forest was permeated with an ominous, ghostly atmosphere. Even when the mountain wind swept through, the fog rising from the grass never dissipated, remaining suspended only two to three feet above the ground. As Chen Xiazi approached the human ear on the ground, he drew closer to the broken stele. His field of vision shifted, but the area behind the monument remained pitch black, revealing nothing.

Chen Xiazi held his breath, frowned, and cautiously reached the vicinity of the cat’s carcass. He picked up Haozi Ergu’s ear from the grass, thinking he had finally recovered it. This would allow Haozi Ergu to be buried with a complete body. She had lived a hard life; in the next, she wouldn't have to suffer as a disfigured person missing facial features. By securing her a whole body now, he upheld the reputation of the Xieling Bandits. Otherwise, letting a lame cat escape right under his nose would sound bad if word got out.

Chen Xiazi felt a surge of secret satisfaction. He had no intention of disturbing the lizi behind the stele. After retrieving the ear, he tried to slip away quietly. But before he could turn, he heard a faint, sucking and chewing sound of meat coming from behind the broken stele. He instinctively glanced up, and that single glance instantly locked his muscles into rigidity; his gaze could no longer move. He saw a frail, bone-skinny old woman, clad entirely in funerary attire, riding a small donkey as white as snow. With an unnervingly neutral expression, she stood fixedly behind the stele, staring intently at him.

The thin old woman’s eyes glittered with sharp light, but she was incredibly emaciated, like a dried corpse crawled from a tomb—perhaps nothing but skin over bone. Not a trace of flesh was visible. Her skin was rough and withered, like old tree bark, entirely devoid of color. Moreover, her stature was extremely short, standing barely three feet tall. She wore a small, white-dotted cap, and her tiny feet were encased in white shoes, still bound into three-inch golden lotuses. She was chewing on half a cat intestine in her mouth, her cheek puffed out, grinding it with loud crunching sounds. The lizi that had just killed the old cat crouched obediently beside the white donkey, also eyeing Chen Xiazi with ill intent.

Chen Xiazi’s scalp prickled, and he cried out internally: Damn it, Mother of my grandmother! This is the spirit of the Old Lady Bai. She is absolutely, definitely not human. God knows what kind of monster she is. Encountering her in this deep mountain forest, I am surely done for. Although he knew things were dire and he should turn and run, he couldn't explain why the old woman's eyes held him captive. Under that vicious gaze, he began to shiver from the inside out. Chen Xiazi’s legs gave way, and he collapsed, only his eyeballs still able to move. The Old Lady Bai chewed the cat intestine, a few strands of blood clinging to the corners of her mouth. She tilted her head, looked at the fallen Chen Xiazi, and suddenly let out a strange, gloomy laugh, urging the white donkey toward him.

Gazing upon by the Old Lady Bai in the grave patch, Chen Xiazi felt his soul flutter, his hair stand on end, and a wave of icy dread wash over him. His knees buckled, and he sank to the ground. Though he understood his peril, his limbs refused to obey. Beyond his eyes and throat, he couldn't move an inch.

Xiazi thought grimly: This is bad. I heard that during the Five Dynasties period, there were many strange and miraculous Sword Immortals who possessed arcane arts, capable of traveling thousands of miles in an instant. Some rode black or white donkeys, capable of traveling a thousand li in a day, yet their donkeys were usually unseen, conjured from cut paper and brought to life with a puff of breath when needed. This Old Lady Bai’s white donkey is flawless, pure white without a single stray hair; it doesn't seem like an ordinary earthly beast. It’s highly likely she is one of those practitioners. Next, she will likely use a flying sword to take my head, Chen.