The innkeeper saw a woman standing outside the door, and I saw her too, though likely not as clearly as he did. After a gasp, the innkeeper nearly collapsed to the floor, instinctively bracing himself with his hands and dragging his rear end backward.

I also knew something was wrong. I stepped back a few paces and reached for the table lamp on the nightstand, but surprisingly, the light didn't come on when I pressed the switch.

At that moment, I felt an intensely cold aura, and the woman outside the door moved into the room as the innkeeper retreated.

Now, a chill ran down my spine. What entered the room wasn't a real woman at all, but the plastic mannequin I had seen on the second floor. On the sculpted face, the wide-open eyes were flashing with an eerie red light.

The mannequin's feet slid silently across the floor, moving forward slowly. Its left plastic arm was extended, and the red-painted nails seemed to gleam with a cold light.

Almost purely by reflex, I leaped onto the *, my back hitting the corner of the wall by the headboard.

The innkeeper was still practically prone on the floor, pushed almost to the nightstand by the mannequin. Perhaps fueled by desperation, he suddenly pushed himself halfway up, grabbed the table lamp from the nightstand, and hurled it violently toward the mannequin.

Just as he turned, the mannequin's extended plastic hand made contact with his back, right at the spot over his heart.

I saw the innkeeper’s body visibly stiffen, and I expected the worst, but he merely straightened slightly. The innkeeper still managed to grip the lamp and swung around to smash it down onto the mannequin's head.

Although the lamp was metal, it was actually quite light. Whether it was the innkeeper’s immense strength or the mannequin’s fragility, the blow landed squarely on the right side of the mannequin's head, shattering a large chunk of it, even breaking one of the eyes in half.

The point where the plastic head connected to the body didn't seem very secure either; the head tilted sideways and fell off its frame, tumbling onto the floor, rolling endlessly.

To be honest, when I saw the mannequin touch the innkeeper’s body, there was a moment I truly believed the plastic hand would plunge right into his back, but now it seemed like just a touch before the innkeeper smashed its head off. It appeared there was nothing truly terrifying about it after all.

Once the dummy's head fell, the body immediately froze, and even the innkeeper seemed visibly stunned, holding the lamp uncertainly. But before either of us could breathe a sigh of relief, the unimaginable happened.

I watched the innkeeper raise the hand that wasn't holding the lamp and scratch the right side of his scalp, perhaps feeling an itch. Then, he inexplicably turned his head to look at me. To my astonishment, several fine cracks had appeared on the right side of his forehead. At first, they were faint, and I hadn't paid much attention, but gradually, I saw the fissures expanding, even starting to shatter piece by piece. Huge cracks instantly covered half his face, and fragments continued to drop from his head onto the floor.

I watched as half of his head broke into shards, making it impossible to discern any expression on his face. I only saw his head tilt backward, and the remaining half fell backward off his body at the neck, hitting the ground. There wasn't a single drop of blood at the severed edge, as if the innkeeper, too, had been a dummy.

The headless innkeeper still reached a hand out toward me, as if beckoning, before finally settling into the same posture as the plastic mannequin and going still.

A sudden realization struck me: that mannequin was here specifically to take the innkeeper’s life and perhaps had no intention of dealing with me. I should have fled immediately, but subconsciously, my thoughts drifted to my own clothes, especially the money tucked inside.

I don't know how I summoned the courage, let alone how I recalled taking the clothes from beside the innkeeper’s headless body. In any case, I not only retrieved my belongings but also walked out of the room I was staying in.

I forgot to check the time, I don't know what time it was, but the sky outside was still pitch black, suggesting a long wait until dawn. Yet, by then, the idea of not entering the mountains after dark was gone. I started walking onto the mountain path almost mechanically.

I think I was in a daze during that period, completely unaware of my direction. As dusk approached, I slowly came to my senses only to realize I was lost. Worse still, apart from the little money I had left, I hadn't purchased any supplies for entering the mountains.

After that, I was constantly trying to find the direction to the temple. I actually had a hand-drawn map, but I had left it in the luggage compartment of the bus.

I walked on, regretting my mistake, having lost track of how many times I circled the mountain or how many days had passed. Fortunately, I used to spend time wandering the mountains back home, so I knew a little about basic wilderness survival. Food and water weren't an issue, and the mountain seemed remarkably clean; there were few wild beasts, and I never encountered that thing again.

Perhaps it was due to the temple being on the mountain, I mused aimlessly.

Even so, I couldn't find the right path. Frustration and physical exhaustion finally left me too weak to walk any further.

In my semi-conscious state, I suddenly saw Uncle Ye.

I thought I was hallucinating or seeing things, but when he helped me up, I knew it wasn't a dream.

Uncle Ye soon helped me back to the temple. Only then did I realize I hadn't been that far from the temple, just heading in the wrong direction. After resting for half a day, I felt like I had finally come back to life.

Uncle Ye told me that for some reason, he had felt uneasy since morning, sensing something was wrong, so he had come out to look around, coincidentally finding me.

I couldn't help but give a wry smile, unsure what to say. I simply told Uncle Ye about the ghostly encounters I’d been having recently. He speculated that perhaps the trouble from that place, combined with the experience of using the relic to save my father, had caused my yang energy to gradually wane, leading to these occurrences.

Since it was just speculation, I didn't press the matter further, turning instead to ask about Pi Hou.

Uncle Ye said that Pi Hou had left the temple shortly after I did, likely to search for a way to locate Ye Wenmo. He was planning to go to the town post office that afternoon to see if there was any news from Pi Hou.

He didn't say much upon learning I had left the relic for my father, only advising me to stay with him for safety’s sake.

I nodded repeatedly, wondering if being with Uncle Ye would keep those sights away.

A few days later, when I went to town with Uncle Ye, we passed the inn. I overheard several people discussing the innkeeper’s sudden death late at night. They said the next day, the owner was found dismembered, prompting an immediate police report. However, before the police could identify the killer, they found the body of the tailor who had been living on the second floor in the kitchen behind the premises, leading to the initial suspicion that the innkeeper was the murderer.

Suddenly, I began to understand. The plastic mannequin killing the innkeeper might have been revenge for the tailor, or perhaps the tailor’s ghost had possessed the mannequin. A week ago—was that night the tailor’s seventh day? It seemed the innkeeper wasn't a good person either; that made sense, considering he had pretended to be a ghost to steal my money.

Luckily, I hadn't left identification details like my ID number when checking in, so there was no evidence proving I had been there. It shouldn't trace back to me.

Pi Hou’s departure left us in silence for a long time; Uncle Ye and I were left mostly staring into space. Perhaps the relic had truly worked its magic, as the days I spent in the temple felt utterly calm—perhaps the most peaceful time I’d had.

Gradually, I started to enjoy life at the temple. It was simple, serene. I tended vegetables, occasionally chanted sutras, and every now and then, I would go into town with Uncle Ye, partly to solicit donations and partly to check if Pi Hou had sent us any messages.

But as time passed, Uncle Ye and I grew worried again. Pi Hou hadn't sent any word back, and we couldn't even ascertain his current whereabouts.

We were at a loss.