It was a dark and stormy night; the cold wind whistled, kicking up dust that blinded the eyes. The chill slipped down Chen Cripple’s collar, making him shiver violently. He pulled out half a Shao Daozi (a potent liquor) from his coat and took several hard swigs. A surge of bravado filled him. At this hour, who dared venture to the river dike, especially to dig up a grave? Only Chen Cripple had such guts. With this thought, Chen Cripple threw back his head and laughed three times. He imagined himself as Guan Yunchang, the iron shovel on his shoulder transforming into the Green Dragon Crescent Blade. He swung the imagined weapon a few times and strode toward the dike.

Since Zhang Deli died, no one dared sleep near the river dike anymore. Li Yang, having downed half a jin of strong liquor that evening, forced himself out of the house. He tried to arrange for men to stay and guard the dike, but no matter what he tried, no one would stay, all claiming they’d rather forfeit their work points. Li Yang had no choice but to organize five or six mule carts, making three trips back and forth just to move the machinery and tools. Since they had to haul them back the next morning, the dike was completely deserted that night.

Soon, Chen Cripple arrived at the section of the river dike where A-Lan was buried. The area was deserted, eerie, with countless graves clustered tightly together. The wind rustled the weeds atop the mounds, making a huala-huala sound, which in the darkness resembled figures clawing and brandishing their arms.

Seeing this scene, Chen Cripple, who prided himself on a "handsome face" that even ghosts dared not approach, felt a touch of fear. He downed the remaining liquor in three gulps, let out a few loud yells, and then approached A-Lan’s fresh grave. He snatched up the shovel and began to dig. After only a few scoops, a strange laugh echoed from above. Chen Cripple’s legs gave out, and with a gudong, he plopped onto the ground. Just then, a crow flew over his head.

It was just a false alarm, but the shock was immense. All his liquor-fueled courage evaporated, turning into cold sweat. Guan Yunchang was nearly frightened into a timid mouse.

Once he steadied his nerves, Chen Cripple picked up the shovel and resumed digging. Soon, the coffin lid was exposed. A thrill of delight shot through him, and he dug with renewed vigor. Before long, the entire coffin lay before him. Chen Cripple was already gasping for breath from exertion, but he didn't pause. Impatiently, he jammed the shovel into the crack of the coffin and pried with all his might. The coffin nails quickly came loose. With a few gaga sounds, the lid was pried open and flipped onto the ground. A-Lan lay perfectly still inside, as if sleeping. The terrifying appearance from when she hanged herself was gone, leaving only a deep ligature mark around her neck.

Chen Cripple swallowed hard. Lust truly sprouted from his heart, breeding wicked intent. All weariness and fear were tossed far out of his mind. If his thoughts could be summed up in one sentence, it would be: Better to die upon a corpse than live without a passionate thrill.

In a few swift movements, he pulled down his trousers and dove into the coffin.

After a long while, faint cries erupted from within the coffin. If the onlookers assume these are the wails of a ghost, they are mistaken. The cries were coming from Chen Cripple. Why was he crying? Let me explain.

Chen Cripple was bawling uncontrollably, stark naked, sprawled over the bare corpse. He was crying from sheer ecstatic joy. He thought to himself: My life’s greatest wish has been fulfilled! I have finally tasted a woman, been a real man! He was so thrilled that he kissed the body from head to toe. In a short two shichen (four hours), Chen Cripple climaxed five times. Finally too exhausted to move, he lay panting heavily atop A-Lan. Dawn was approaching, but he couldn't bear to leave. What to do?…

Suddenly, an idea struck him. He decided to take A-Lan’s body home with him…

Another day passed. Li Yang felt utterly exhausted by evening. He brewed a pot of tea and sat heavily in his chair, panting—a sign, he sighed inwardly, that at his age, his constitution was not what it used to be. After sipping tea for a while, he broke out in a cold sweat and felt slightly better. Li Yang let out a long breath, stood up, and slowly shuffled to the vegetable patch in the yard, pulling up a handful of coriander. Back inside, he chopped the coriander finely, mixed it with a little oil and salt, added a small spoonful of soy sauce, stirred it evenly, and started drinking with raw scallions dipped in the sauce. The weather was getting colder; soon, there would be no more fresh coriander.

After three rounds of drinks, the night was deep. The alcohol eased his fatigue, and his eyelids grew heavy. He gnawed on a hard bun and crawled into bed, falling asleep shortly after.

In his dream, Li Yang suddenly felt someone lying beside him again. He slowly opened his eyes and saw a pale, naked body next to him. He was terribly afraid and desperately wanted to get up to light a lamp, but his body wouldn't obey; it seemed completely controlled by desire. Unconsciously, he stripped off his clothes and climbed onto the flesh.

Li Yang woke before dawn. He looked around—no one was there. Lifting the quilt, he found himself naked, just like the day before. Everything that happened felt like a dream, yet not quite. If it were real, why was he alone now?

Thus, every night Li Yang had the same dream. In it, he thrashed about with a naked woman, reaching the heights of ecstasy, yet unable to stop. What baffled him was that the dream felt too real, but if it wasn't a dream, it defied explanation, as he always woke up inexplicably after falling asleep, finding a naked woman beside him, and then losing control as he engaged with her wildly… Sometime later, he would drift back to sleep, and upon waking, the woman would be gone. In the darkness, he never managed to see her face. He couldn't get up to light a lamp because the moment she appeared, his mind was completely captivated.

Before long, Li Yang lost weight. His eyes were sunken, his face pale, and he staggered when he walked as if he couldn't keep his balance. When villagers saw him, they looked at him as if he were a ghost. Li Yang felt uneasy under their astonished gazes. He spent his days staring in the mirror, watching his complexion grow whiter and bloodless by the day. An intense itch developed across his body—an itch that clawed at his mind and heart, impossible to stop no matter how much he scratched. Later, spots appeared, growing larger until they were the size of bottle caps. When scratched, they oozed yellow fluid.

One day, Li Yang took Old Man Hu’s tractor to the town to see the elderly physician. The physician poked and prodded him for a long time before declaring that he had contracted venereal disease—incurable. He prescribed some anti-itch medicine and sent him away. After leaving the doctor’s, Li Yang bought some rouge in town. By the time he got off the mule cart at home, he was weak and collapsed onto the kang (heated brick bed) after slowly shuffling inside, leaning against the wall. After gasping for air, he fumbled for the rouge in his coat. Looking in the mirror, he smeared it on his face. Once evenly applied, he scrutinized himself, feeling his cheeks had a rosy hue beneath the white, no longer the sickly pallor of before…

The next morning, Li Yang, with rouge on his face and leaning on a stick, hobbled out of his house. The villagers stared, astonished. They had just seen Li Yang looking like a ghastly, colorless ghost; how could he suddenly look as red as a monkey’s backside? Had Guan Gong possessed him? The villagers exchanged bewildered glances.

Liu Laoshi, on his way to collect eggs from the chicken coop, bumped into Li Yang and inwardly smirked at his appearance.

“Oh dear, Secretary, where are you off to?” Liu Laoshi asked with a sly, grinning face.

“Hmph…” Li Yang coldly snorted weakly, ignoring him and continuing forward, his back hunched over, looking from behind like an eighty-year-old man.

You think you’re so great, Liu Laoshi cursed inwardly with schadenfreude as he walked, this is your karma, a gift from heaven! Soon, he arrived at his chicken coop. He gently moved the stone slab blocking the door. Usually, the chickens would squawk and hop out the moment the stone was moved, but today there was no sound. Liu Laoshi found this odd. He leaned his face close to the dark opening, unable to see anything inside. Suddenly, he smelled blood.

Something’s wrong, Liu Laoshi thought with a jolt. He retrieved a flashlight from home and returned to the coop. Shining the beam inside, he gasped sharply. He saw his dozen or so chickens lying stiffly inside, motionless, their abdomens slit open, their entrails missing.

During the Liberation Era, chickens were treasures! Not to mention so many dead. Liu Laoshi was heartbroken and shocked. How could the chickens have died like this? And in such a strange manner? He examined them closely; none showed any sign of struggle, as if they had lain there waiting to be slaughtered. Their insides were simply gouged out. If a person did it, the coop door was too small for a man to squeeze through. There were local legends about Lao Lizi (mountain spirits), but if it were a fox, the stone slab was wedged tightly against the frame, completely blocking entry. Even a cunning fox couldn’t get in. Even if it did, it couldn’t possibly eat all the chickens, and if it could, why only eat the innards? And why wouldn't the chickens struggle? He thought of ghosts, and a chill ran down his spine. Recalling the strange incident involving his son, he sighed. This village hasn't been peaceful lately. Without another thought, he gathered some iron scraps and lumber to reinforce his own front door. He certainly didn't want to be sleeping in his house in the middle of the night only to have his heart scooped out by a ghost.

The trouble didn’t end there. The day after the bizarre death of Liu’s chickens, rumors spread that two other families had lost all their chickens and ducks overnight. The manner of death was the same for all: entrails removed. It spread like contagion; in the following days, more chickens and ducks had their innards dug out. Besides chickens and ducks, there were geese too. Villagers who raised poultry were terrified, claiming it must be the Chi Ji Gui (Chicken-Eating Ghost). No one dared go out at night, let alone check their coops. They tied their dogs next to the coops, but it was useless. The chickens still died, and strangely, no dog bark was heard that night. The next day, the dogs were listless, refusing to eat or bark, lying on the ground looking utterly dejected. The chicken ghost seemed interested only in fowl, harming no other animals or people. In just seven or eight days, all the poultry in the village was wiped out, save for one chicken at Ma Erpi’s house.

Why did Ma Erpi’s house still have a chicken? There was a reason, of course. Ma Erpi was over sixty; his wife had died two years prior, and he had no children, only a nephew nicknamed Da Naozi (Ma the Bold).

Ma Erpi was also a notorious figure in Xiushui Village, famous for his stinginess and greed. How stingy was he? Here is a well-known story: One day, it rained heavily. Ma Erpi’s neighbor needed to go to town but found his boots broken. The rural paths were impassable mud pits in the rain without boots. The neighbor asked to borrow Ma Erpi’s boots, promising to return them immediately after buying a new pair in town. Embarrassed, Ma Erpi reluctantly agreed, cautioning his neighbor repeatedly not to ruin them. Not satisfied, he watched the neighbor walk away in the rain. As the neighbor walked, he accidentally stepped into a puddle and twisted his ankle. Ma Erpi shuddered with distress upon seeing it. When the neighbor returned the boots, Ma Erpi saw the mud clinging to them and felt near death from heartache, though he said nothing outwardly, resolving inwardly to get compensation.

After much anticipation, a rainy day finally arrived. Ma Erpi excitedly ran to his neighbor’s house and demanded to borrow the boots, claiming his own were broken. The neighbor handed them over without hesitation. Ma Erpi inwardly gloated; he’d finally get his due. After putting on the boots, he sought out the deepest mud pits, walking until dark, too tired to move before heading home. Back home, he still felt unsatisfied. He put on the boots and climbed into bed, kicking and stomping in the covers until he finally fell asleep from exhaustion. The next morning, Ma Erpi opened his sleepy eyes, pulled the boots from the covers without looking, and returned them to the neighbor. The neighbor thanked him profusely. Only then did the neighbor notice the boots were gleaming. Astonished, he went home, lifted his quilt, and found it caked with mud and shredded from the kicking.

That was the kind of man Ma Erpi was: if someone borrowed an ounce, he needed to reclaim a pound. He would pick up a piece of scrap metal from the street, take it home, polish it repeatedly, and sleep hugging it. Why did Ma Erpi keep only one chicken? Because he was too frugal to feed many; he even grudged the single chicken for eating so much just to lay one egg a day. He constantly chased the chicken out to fight with others’ chickens for food. Recently, all the village chickens and ducks died mysteriously, which frightened Ma Erpi. He treated the remaining chicken like a treasure, keeping it inside the house. He held the chicken while eating, feeding it a bite for every bite he took himself. This chicken had never been pampered like this since it was hatched. The chicken grew bold! Seeing its owner doting on it, it became unrestrained, constantly soiling the room. Ma Erpi never left the chicken’s side, even holding it while sleeping. His sole thought was: If the chicken lives, I live; if the chicken dies, I die. That’s why all the village poultry died except his.

That night, Ma Erpi held his chicken while sleeping. Midway through the night, his grip loosened, and the chicken hopped out of his embrace. He had forgotten to close the window before bed, and the chicken jumped out.

When he woke at dawn, Ma Erpi found the chicken gone. He scrambled off the kang, panicked, and ran outside barefoot. After searching for a long time, he found his chicken in a vegetable patch, its heart and liver already gouged out. The chicken stared up at him, its eyes filled with resentment, as if to say: Damn you, if you couldn’t hold me tight, why didn’t you even close the window, making me jump out only to have my organs eaten by that monster!

Ma Erpi choked in sorrow and fainted. When he woke, he wept inconsolably over the bird, then untied his belt, intending to hang himself to die with his chicken. Villagers passing by tried to dissuade him for a long time, but he wouldn't listen.

Liu Dashao arrived at the scene after hearing the news. Seeing Old Man Ma weeping miserably, he too shed tears. Liu Dashao had always harbored heroic aspirations since childhood; rumor had it he once slept in a graveyard on a dare, giving him some local notoriety. Lately, he had secretly laughed at the villagers’ fear over the dead poultry. Now that even this miser’s chicken was gone, he felt it was time for him, the hero, to step forward.

He resolved to find the culprit behind the chicken slaughter so everyone would worship him like a hero.

Having made up his mind, Liu Dashao soothed Ma Erpi for a moment, then loudly boasted before the crowd that he would capture the chicken thief alive! He decided to start his investigation at the river dam, the legendary haunt of foxes and ghosts. Be you fox spirit or haunting specter, you won’t cause trouble under my watch, Liu Dashao! A wave of heroism washed over him, making him feel as if all living things would soon be beneath his feet. This Liu Dashao was perhaps overly ambitious; he didn't consider that he knew no martial arts and no magic. If he truly encountered a ghost, he would be helpless, left only to await his fate.

As night fell, Liu Dashao changed into a patched cloth shirt and wrapped a rope used for binding hay around his waist. He cut a strip of cloth from an old shirt and tied it around his head, instantly feeling like a knight-errant from ancient times. A knight needed a weapon, so he dashed into the inner room. Soon he emerged holding an iron rake without its prongs, perfectly level with his brow. After swinging it a few times, he heard the wind whistle. Filled with ambition, he strode out the door. He immediately doubled back, opened the kitchen cabinet, tucked a bottle of Shao Daozi into his coat, and only then walked out with firm resolve. Some friends might ask: Why is everyone drinking Shao Daozi? Because in old Northeast China, this liquor was popular; it was potent, flavorful, and cheap. One sip warmed the whole body, dispelling the cold and boosting courage and alertness.

Did Liu Dashao also need a boost of courage?

Pah! Do you think he was truly bold? He had made a public pledge; there was no turning back. If he didn't dare go, wouldn't they start calling him Liu Xiaodai (Liu the Coward)?

The weather that night was clear, with a light breeze. The crescent moon hung like a hook in the pitch-black sky. Everyone was sound asleep; silence reigned everywhere. The cold moonlight struck the branches, casting flickering shadows on the ground, adding to the strangeness. Liu Dashao soon arrived at the river dike. The moon was high now, and everything was clearly visible. After taking a few swigs of Shao Daozi, he wandered the dike for a long time, carrying his rake. All he saw was a stretch of barren graves and fallen leaves; not even the shadow of a ghost was in sight. After wandering aimlessly, he felt tired and sat down heavily on a clear patch of ground. Just as he pulled out the Shao Daozi to take a drink, he heard a ga sound. He jumped up, throwing the liquor aside, and flattened himself on the ground. Then he heard another ga, clearer this time, coming from a graveyard not far away. Liu Dashao lay frozen, afraid to move. As he wondered about the sound, he heard a swoosh as a white shadow shot out of the graveyard, drifting toward the village like lightning.

Because the white shadow moved so fast from its emergence to its disappearance, Liu Dashao couldn't make out what it was before it vanished. Could there really be a ghost? Cold sweat instantly broke out on Liu Dashao’s skin. But having come this far, even a ghost deserved investigation. Making up his mind, Liu Dashao gritted his teeth and stood up. He saw the white shadow drifting toward the village, so he staggered back in that direction.

Liu Dashao crept through the village for a long time. He even began to suspect that he was the chicken thief. The moonlight was already shifting west; dawn would break in an hour or two. He had clearly seen the white shadow float toward the village, but why couldn't he find it after following?

Puzzled, Liu Dashao walked and thought. Just as he reached the entrance of Old Third’s house, he heard a ceng sound, and a white shadow shot out of the neighboring house belonging to Li Yang.

Just as Liu Dashao rounded the corner behind Li Yang’s house, he heard a ceng, and a white shadow darted out of Li Yang’s dwelling next door. The shadow rapidly drifted northeast, vanishing in the blink of an eye.

Liu Dashao rubbed his eyes hard and stood on his tiptoes, peering in the direction the shadow had flown, but saw nothing. Could this white shadow be the same one he saw at the river dike? But why would it fly out of Li Yang’s house?

Liu Dashao couldn’t make sense of it. Although he hadn't clearly seen the object, he was now mostly certain it was either a fox spirit or a ghost. A creeping chill ran through him. After hesitating for a moment, he walked in the direction the shadow had drifted.

Soon, Liu Dashao arrived at the eastern edge of the village, a sparsely populated area. Besides the house where A-Lan once lived, there was only the old willow tree behind it. It was still more than an hour before dawn. Under the bright moon and scattered stars, a gentle breeze rustled the leaves in the canopy, making a huahua sound, as if countless insects were crawling within. Legend held that the ancient tree had developed a spirit, and an old fox spirit lived inside.

Liu Dashao crouched in the undergrowth opposite the willow tree, peering out, but could make out nothing in the darkness save for the sound of wind rustling the leaves. He suspected the white shadow might be a fox spirit, perhaps lurking within that massive tree. After hesitating and deliberating for a long while, he reasoned, how powerful could a fox be? Even if it became a spirit, it could only beguile people. A man like Liu Dashao wouldn't be easily fooled by it. A mere little fox was nothing to worry about. Thinking this, he glanced down at the "Qi Mei Gun" in his hand, and felt significantly more settled. Let it be any fox spirit or ghost; the moment it showed itself, he would beat it senseless. Damn it, if it didn't die, it would certainly be maimed.

Liu Dashao tightened his belt, gripped the staff firmly, and approached the willow tree cautiously. He was exceedingly alert, daring not to be careless in the slightest. His feet trod upon the dry twigs and fallen leaves, feeling as if he were stepping on soggy mud. Each step was tentative, as if afraid of sinking in if he wasn't careful. Suddenly, he felt like he had stepped on something hard and spherical. He stomped down twice, and the object actually squirmed a bit. Terrified, Liu Dashao let out a loud fart with a Teng!, spun around, and prepared to bolt back. The object suddenly squeaked, "Zhi zhi." Looking closely, it turned out to be a large hedgehog.

Liu Dashao patted his chest and gasped for breath, sighing inwardly that his lifelong sagacity had nearly been ruined by a hedgehog. He poked the creature with his "Qi Mei Gun," and the hedgehog immediately waddled away, twisting its backside.

Liu Dashao thought to himself, I’m truly formidable, remaining calm in the face of danger. What can a tiny hedgehog, even if it were a spirit, do to me? Although he thought this, he truly dared not let his guard down again. He bent over, using the staff to prod the ground as he searched deeper into the reeds. After searching for a long time, he found nothing—just withered grass, decaying leaves, and nameless insects. Not even a single strand of fox fur. Amidst his disappointment, there was a hint of relief.

After searching for ages, Liu Dashao felt a deep ache in his lower back. He straightened up and began rubbing the muscles strained from bending over. By now, dawn was beginning to break, and morning dew was settling on the blades of grass. Feeling helpless, Liu Dashao had no choice but to carry his Qi Mei Gun upside down and knock on the door of Village Head Tian’s house.

After Liu Dashao downed three massive mugs of water and recounted everything that had transpired the previous night, Village Head Tian shook his head. Although he found the situation somewhat peculiar, he couldn't spend every day imagining enemies in every bush and tree, living in perpetual suspicion.

But strange occurrences in the village became more frequent. One day the Zhang family lost a chicken; the next day the Li family was short a duck. The villagers began to whisper amongst themselves, nodding in agreement with Liu Dashao’s experience. The focus of their gossip quickly settled on the Great Willow Tree. As rumors circulated, the village elders decreed that the ancient tree must have attained spiritual status and must be devoutly worshiped by the villagers. Otherwise, if the immortal being became offended, the entire village population would face imminent catastrophe!

Seeing the rumors growing increasingly bizarre throughout the village, Village Head Tian pondered for a moment before saying, "If the strange events in the village truly originate from the Great Willow, then this tree might indeed possess some significance! However, from a scientific perspective, no matter how large a tree gets, it can’t possibly become an immortal!"

Still, he resolved to take time to investigate the base of that great tree himself.

When daylight arrived, Village Head Tian went to the Great Willow. Bringing up the matter of the tree causing trouble, the villagers started chattering about their own sightings. Zhang Cheng, who lived in the west of the village, stated, "My house is the closest to the Divine Tree (since the tree began exhibiting strange phenomena, the villagers had called it the Divine Tree to show respect). I’ve sacrificed countless chickens to the old one!" Though his tone suggested pride, his face betrayed a flicker of distress. "Many small livestock that wander near the tree have disappeared. I say we should just cut the tree down!" Liu Dashao interjected, but was immediately chastised by Bai Tuzi, one of the village elders.

Village Head Tian proposed setting a trap with some chickens and ducks that very night. The Zhang family volunteered to donate a chicken. However, none of the village adults were willing to accompany the Village Head to the tree at night to observe the trial, fearing they might offend the deity. Fortunately, Liu Dashao bravely volunteered at the crucial moment to keep the Village Head company.

After tying the chicken beneath the tree, the villagers gradually returned home to sleep. Village Head Tian and Liu Dashao set up a small table about three zhang away from the Great Willow, sipping tea and chatting, their eyes constantly fixed on the area beneath the tree, awaiting the outcome.

Nothing unusual occurred until deep into the second half of the night. Both men were drowsy and kept dozing off. Liu Dashao kept muttering that the Village Head was making trouble out of nothing. Village Head Tian was pondering that perhaps nothing would happen tonight, then laughed at himself for being too trusting, speculating that perhaps this whole strange affair was fabricated by that rogue Liu Dashao. As he thought this, he glanced towards the tree again.

It was that single glance that held him captive.

The chicken tied beneath the tree had vanished without a trace sometime before.

Seeing this, Village Head Tian was initially startled, but regaining his composure quickly, he felt a measure of calm. He softly called to the half-asleep Liu Dashao. Upon seeing the chicken gone, Liu Dashao panicked. "Damn it! It really got eaten!" he exclaimed. "What kind of immortal dragon king is this, only good for plaguing our village people!" Village Head Tian signaled him to be quiet, then slowly walked to the base of the tree and circled the trunk once.

Suddenly, he spotted something clad in red sitting with its back to him inside a hollow in the tree. It looked like a person, but how could someone fit inside such a small opening?

The woman seemed frozen in place, sitting motionless. Time appeared to stop, the air seemed to congeal, and a bizarre atmosphere permeated the dim recess. Village Head Tian stood there, not daring to breathe, his heartbeat accelerating wildly.

It was uncertain how long he stood there, but then, the woman slowly began to turn. To Village Head Tian’s astonishment, as she rotated, he gradually discerned her profile, and slowly, her full face. In a daze, Village Head Tian felt that this face was strangely familiar. Upon looking closely, he was so shocked he almost cried out—this woman was A’Lan, who had died in the village long ago.

A’Lan was nestled there stiffly, her gaze vacant, completely draped in a bright red wedding dress. Her exquisite and graceful figure, with its lovely contours, was entirely visible to Village Head Tian. He didn't linger on her body; instead, his eyes were fixed intently on her hands. In her grip, she clutched a large, dark mass. Upon closer inspection, it turned out to be the heart, liver, and other internal organs of an animal, still dripping blood.

A’Lan stiffly raised the hand clutching the organs to her mouth, opened it, and began to bite down. She chewed and swallowed large mouthfuls, her entire mouth stained with blood. Village Head Tian, standing outside the tree, trembled uncontrollably. Soon, A’Lan finished the viscera, stuck out her tongue to lick the blood from her lips, and then licked her hands clean, smacking her lips as if savoring the taste.

The scene was too unbelievable. Village Head Tian lost all sense of who he was or where he stood; he only knew he was shivering uncontrollably. Suddenly, he accidentally knocked his head against a branch, producing a sharp Pang! sound that seemed piercingly loud in the profound silence. A’Lan, who had been smacking her lips inside the tree hollow, suddenly stopped. After standing motionless for a moment, she poked her head out of the tree.

Village Head Tian's feet felt rooted to the spot; his body seemed no longer his own. He stood there foolishly, unable to move except for trembling, watching as A’Lan fixed him with a pair of dull, lifeless eyes, staring straight ahead, while a chill wind swept towards him.

Village Head Tian could not hold his position any longer. He scrambled away, half-crawling, half-running, back towards the village.

Several hours later, more than a dozen militiamen carrying rifles suddenly arrived in the village. All of them had bluish faces from the cold, stamping their feet while rubbing their hands. The villagers were immediately alerted and emerged from their homes to see what was happening. They saw Village Head Tian trailing behind them.