After pausing, the Village Chief continued, "Rats capable of mimicking voices have long since become spirits. Not only do they pilfer grain like ordinary rodents, but they also imitate humans, gathering treasures like gold and silver."

The villagers listened, utterly captivated; clearly, none had imagined such bizarre creatures existed.

After relaying this, the Village Chief suddenly called for paper and a brush, leaving everyone wondering what he intended.

The Chief then wrote a line on the paper for them to see: "A rat’s ears are exceptionally keen. That spirit-rat has likely heard everything we’ve said today, and it won't show itself for the next three days. Once these days pass, if it reappears to steal, do not alert it—old Old Man Smoker is likely versed in sorcery. Wait until it finishes stealing, then follow it back to its lair. We will all go together during the daytime to deal with the beast."

Few in the village were literate, but once they read what the Chief had written, they passed the message along discreetly, fully understanding the plan.

Indeed, for the next three days, no one reported anything missing.

It wasn't until the night seven days later that movement was again detected at Er Zhuzi’s house—the same home that had first heard the cough.

This time, Er Zhuzi, hearing a disturbance in the main hall as usual, grabbed a stick and headed out.

The sound this time wasn't a cough, but a low, tuneful humming.

It was a tune his own father often hummed, but Er Zhuzi immediately sensed this sound was far more insidious than his father’s, confirming the intruder was not his father.

However, Er Zhuzi rigorously remembered the Chief's words and did not rush out to strike the entity immediately.

He remained hidden behind the doorframe connecting the room to the living area, listening intently.

At first, he heard the faint crunch-crunch of something gnawing, followed by the thump-thump of drawers and boxes being overturned, and finally, the swish-swish sound of a sack being dragged.

Er Zhuzi knew Old Man Smoker had succeeded; the sack of rice he had locked in the cabinet was being hauled away.

Still, Er Zhuzi held back, only following after the sound of the sack had passed out the main door.

As he walked out, Er Zhuzi pondered: "My door was bolted shut. For Old Man Smoker to pry it open, steal things, and then swagger out the front entrance—the door should logically be ajar. Yet, after the last theft, when I checked the door this morning, it was perfectly intact. Could it be that Old Man Smoker truly possesses some form of wall-passing magic?"

Arriving at the living room, Er Zhuzi heard a chattering noise coming from above the door. Peering closer, he saw several rats, each the size of a straw sandal, linked tail-to-tail. One end was dangling from the door lintel, while the other end hung down, manipulating the unlatched door bolt back into place.

Er Zhuzi understood everything then: the opening and closing of the door had been performed by Old Man Smoker’s offspring.

Not daring to alarm Old Man Smoker, who hadn't gone far outside, Er Zhuzi merely waved his hand, scaring the annoying rats away, then quietly opened the door.

Through the crack, Er Zhuzi saw a stooped, humanoid shadow slipping out of his yard and heading away.

Er Zhuzi crept out the door and followed the figure from a distance.

About thirty meters behind the figure, Er Zhuzi caught a whiff of a bizarre, foul stench so potent it gave him a headache.

Enduring the intense stench, Er Zhuzi cautiously trailed the figure toward the edge of the village.

Outside the village was a muddy track used by oxen and horses. The road was flanked by fields, with two small bamboo groves situated between several parcels of farmland.

The stooped figure, shouldering the sack, waded across the fields and followed the embankment into the grove on the left.

The woods at night were exceptionally eerie, but thankfully, Er Zhuzi was known throughout the village for his immense bravery, and he followed without hesitation.

Once inside the grove, however, Er Zhuzi realized it was too dark to see his own hand, and he immediately lost sight of the figure.

Yet, Er Zhuzi pushed forward courageously. As he walked on, his foot suddenly found no purchase, and he tumbled into a pit.

Fortunately, the pit wasn't excessively deep. Er Zhuzi struggled to stand up, only to find his hands brushing against piles of pearls, jade, and large sacks of grain all around the bottom of the hole.

“I’m rich!” Er Zhuzi exclaimed, a mix of shock and joy surging through him. He initially considered taking all the gold and jewels, but then paused, considering the recent years of famine and how many villagers struggled just to eat their fill.

Just then, a woman's voice, unsettlingly neither fully human nor ghostly, spoke beside him: "Zhuzi, get out of there quickly! This is Old Man Smoker’s trap."

Startled by the uncanny voice, Zhuzi hesitated, wondering who was speaking to him. A chill ran down his spine, and he scrambled out of the pit, bolting back toward his home.

Er Zhuzi returned home but tossed and turned sleeplessly. The very next morning, he sought out the Village Chief.

Upon hearing the account, the Chief immediately gathered all the sturdy young men of the village, and they hurried toward the bamboo grove.

Even in daylight, the grove remained terrifyingly dark. This area housed the village’s ancestral graves and was rarely visited, making it especially bleak.

Relying on their numbers and carrying torches, the villagers advanced inward until they spotted a massive hole nestled among a cluster of grave mounds.

Reaching the mouth of the cave, they saw nothing but blackness stretching endlessly downward.

When asked about the previous night's experience, even Er Zhuzi found it hard to believe he had fallen into such a deep pit, as there was no way to climb back out from the bottom.

Without further discussion, the villagers poured the lamp oil they had brought into the great hole and ignited it.

As flames roared upward, a significant commotion erupted from within the cave, and countless rats, large and small, streamed out frantically.

Some were incinerated by the flames before they could escape, while those that made it out were smashed to death at the cave entrance by the villagers wielding hoes.

They burned the hole for a full half hour, killing over a thousand rats, yet Old Man Smoker still had not emerged.

After a long while, just as the villagers began to relax their guard, a gust of black wind suddenly erupted from the cave, blowing everyone to the ground. Er Zhuzi felt as if someone had pulled him, narrowly avoiding the black wind’s assault.

After the black wind passed, the fire died down. When the smoke cleared, the villagers cautiously entered the cave with their torches to investigate.

The cavern floor was littered with dead rats, but no body belonging to Old Man Smoker was found. Although much of the grain was burned, enough remained to delight the villagers. However, no treasure was spotted either.

Transporting the remaining grain back to the village, the community successfully navigated that year's famine.

Nevertheless, every villager struck by the black wind fell ill, covered in black spots, and several died.

Later, when Er Zhuzi discussed the mysterious helper with his father, his father mentioned that his maternal grandmother had been buried in that grove after she passed. His grandmother had adored Er Zhuzi during her life, though she died before he turned three.

As for Old Man Smoker, he was never seen again after the rat den was burned. Eventually, news spread that a bizarre, sharp-featured, monkey-faced man had been found dead in a neighboring village’s paddy field. The corpse was so decomposed that no one recognized him, yet he was wearing several strands of pearl necklaces and a few large thumb rings. Fearing disease, the neighbors chose not to claim the body or the treasures, burning both the man and the valuables together.

My great-grandmother claimed that Old Man Smoker must have been so suffocated by the smoke in the cave that he transformed into a gust of wind to escape, but the smoke must have irreparably damaged his internal organs, leading to his death shortly thereafter; otherwise, he would surely have sought revenge on Er Zhuzi.

My mother later told me that my great-grandfather’s nickname when he was young was Er Zhuzi, a revelation that sparked endless fantasies in my mind.

The Old Man Smoker from the story—cunning, capable of dark arts—had always been one of the primary spectral beings I feared as a child.

Especially the ability to mimic human coughs and speech made it an incredibly unsettling trait.

Now, these childhood memories rushed back, fueling infinite imaginative scenarios about what was about to appear before me.

Tinged with a mixture of fear and curiosity, I fixed my gaze intently on the direction from which the cough originated.

However, at that very moment, I also missed my mother deeply. I wondered what she was doing now; if she knew my current predicament, she would surely be worried sick.

Thinking of this, my eyes grew moist. I resolved that no matter the danger, I had to strive to survive—if only to fulfill my filial duties to my mother once more.

Gritting my teeth, I drew an arrow from my back quiver, notched it, and aimed in the direction of the cough.

Within seconds, I saw it: in that precise spot, a hunched figure, perhaps five feet tall, bent over like a tiny old woman, materialized.

The figure moved slowly toward me. The surrounding rats, exhibiting a mixture of excitement and fear, retreated while squeaking incessantly.

I knew this was the perfect moment to strike, as the light from the burning rat corpses on the ground illuminated the figure clearly, while it surely couldn't see me yet.

Clenching my jaw, I re-aimed and loosed the string.

The arrow hissed past my ear, flying straight toward the humanoid shape.

This time, as the arrow flew, I saw the faint green mist enveloping it.

With a thought, I used my consciousness to guide the arrow toward the center of the target’s brow.

I expected the figure opposite me to try and evade it somehow.

But instead, I only heard a whoosh, and the arrow pierced directly through the creature's head, embedding itself deep into the earth.

All the rats fell silent instantly, seemingly incredulous that such a thing could happen.

Yet, with an expression of disbelief and shock, the humanoid figure collapsed to the ground, convulsed twice, and then lay still.

I was about to utter a triumphant, "YES!"

Suddenly, I saw a plume of black vapor rise from the fallen corpse. It coalesced in the air into an unstable shape and began flying toward me.

Simultaneously, the rats, as if injected with adrenaline, charged toward me in a wave.