Holding his breath, Ding Shi peeked into the backyard, only to find Zombie San Niang sitting inside the chicken coop, feeding with relish. He turned back to the front parlor, grabbed Sun Qi, and made for the door. "To your place."
Sun Qi hesitated. "My place? Isn't that a bad idea? What was that noise in the backyard just now?"
"It's fine. Let's go."
The school was a good spot—no poultry was kept there, the grounds were spacious enough, and it was enclosed by a wall. Under normal circumstances, Zombie San Niang wouldn't enter the school in search of prey.
Stepping into Sun Qi's dormitory, Ding Shi shut the door and drew the curtains over both the front and back windows. Sun Qi started growing nervous. "Wang Wu, we don't really know each other that well."
"I know." Ding Shi peered outside through a gap in the curtains. "You'd better mentally prepare yourself. There's a zombie in the village, and a malevolent ghost might appear tonight as well. Does anyone live next door?"
The moment Sun Qi heard him mention ghosts and zombies, he tensed up immediately. "No need to go next door."
Ding Shi glanced at him. "If we stay together and a zombie breaks into the room, do you think I'll step in front to protect you, or will I throw you in its way so I can escape?" Sometimes, following the strong wasn't a good thing; staying around the weak could actually increase one's chances of survival.
Sun Qi was left speechless.
The crux of the matter was simple: the strong person you followed couldn't merely be stronger than you—
Seeing that Sun Qi didn't answer, Ding Shi grabbed a safety pin from the table and went next door to pick the lock.
The room was roughly thirty square meters, consisting of a central aisle flanked by bunk-style communal beds. Ding Shi had asked around earlier; this was supposed to be the dormitory for fifth grade, the graduating class of the elementary school. Because of the sacrificial ceremony, classes had been suspended for the week.
Ever since entering this so-called casual instance, Ding Shi had been pulling all-nighters every single night, running up quite a sleep debt. Lying fully clothed on the worn straw mat, he drifted off into dreamland in no time.
He had no idea how much time had passed when knocking came from outside. Ding Shi opened his eyes but neither moved nor replied. After three more knocks, the village chief's voice drifted through: "Xiao Ding, it's 11:20. You need to head to the village entrance to assemble."
Ding Shi rolled out of bed, straightened his clothes, and opened the door. "Village Chief, you're truly gifted. You even managed to track me down here."
Shining his flashlight, the village chief let out a sigh. "What choice do I have? I'm the village chief. Hurry along now."
Ding Shi asked, "Village Chief, hypothetical question: if you're exceptionally satisfied with my work, what reward will you give me?"
The village chief was taken aback. "What reward do you want?"
"Do you have something like a jade tablet?"
The village chief shook his head. "No."
Fair enough. Ding Shi patted the village chief on the shoulder and walked toward the village entrance. Since you don't have anything good, from now on you won't be Village Chief anymore—just Little Village. Still, Ding Shi wasn't sure whether the system would reward him based on the village chief's satisfaction. In the end, this was only his first instance, and he had yet to figure out the system's quirks.
Some villagers emerged from their houses holding flashlights, while others walked along the field ridges carrying pine torches. Gathering in twos and threes, they converged at the village entrance, where about a dozen able-bodied young men were already waiting.
The man in charge of the bridal procession affairs was a villager in his forties named Tiezhu. He assigned each role's duties, which encompassed a wide variety of tasks: groomsmen tasked with drinking down nine cups of road-blocking wine, sedan chair carriers, people distributing wedding candy to onlookers, and even someone specifically assigned to drive off beggars. By comparison, Ding Shi's task of setting off firecrackers was fairly normal. But Ding Shi preferred abnormal things—at a glance, he spotted a villager holding a fowling piece.
After some negotiation, Ding Shi spent two dao to secure the fowling piece and gunpowder. In wedding ceremonies, fowling pieces were loaded only with gunpowder, without iron sand or steel pellets. Each measure of powder was wrapped in gunpowder paper, and there was a touchhole above the trigger for loading the powder.
During that era, fowling pieces lacked uniform specifications; most were forged by local blacksmiths, while higher-end ones were produced in factories. Later on, when the authorities imposed strict controls on saltpeter, fowling pieces bowed off the stage.
Ding Shi slipped five dao to a certain man. The man slipped away quietly, returning seven minutes later with a box containing twenty-five portions of fowling piece gunpowder, as well as a plastic box containing over a hundred small steel pellets.
As the auspicious hour arrived, a clash of cymbals rang out, and the musical ensemble took the lead to open the path. It was the first time in Ding Shi's life hearing this mixed ensemble for a wedding procession. He didn't know what tune they were playing and couldn't tell whether it sounded good or bad—only that it had a strong, distinct rhythm.
When one section of the melody ended, during a brief lull, Ding Shi fired his fowling piece toward the sky with a booming crash. The other gunner fired his fowling piece immediately afterward, producing another loud boom. The ensemble picked up the rhythm once more, repeating the previous phrase of music.
As they moved into the village, lights were on in every household, and many people stood by the roadside. The groom, Zhang San, cupped his hands in greeting while the groomsmen tossed out candies, doing their best to recreate the wedding procession scenes of the past.
A hundred meters away, on the boundary between light and darkness, lingered a smear of red. It was not drawn by the bustling procession, but merely wandered aimlessly. Blood smeared the corners of its mouth, and its bridal gown looked as though it had been drenched in fresh blood.
Inside San Niang Temple, the moment the auspicious hour struck, the wooden statue began to vibrate. Daoist Baiyun used his body lightening technique to leap onto the altar table. Pressing his left palm against the wooden statue's forehead, he formed hand seals with his right and chanted incantations under his breath. Halos of talismanic light flickered across the wooden statue's body.
The wooden statue resisted with mounting ferocity. Tears of blood streamed from its eyes, and its form trembled incessantly, seemingly ready to break free from the binding at any second.
Daoist Baiyun took a step back, drew out the bamboo slips, and unfurled them. Under the direction of his hand seals and incantations, the bamboo slips moved like a spiritual serpent, continually coiling around the wooden statue. After several minutes, the wooden statue finally fell quiet. Daoist Baiyun retrieved the bamboo slips, uttered "Immeasurable Heavenly Lord," and sat back down upon his prayer mat.
Suddenly, a fierce gust of wind lunged from behind. Before Daoist Baiyun could even react, a sharp knife plunged straight into his heart from behind. Daoist Baiyun slowly turned his head, blood welling up from his mouth.
The intruder thrust a right hand into his sleeve and seized the bamboo slips. Daoist Baiyun gripped the man's right hand with all his might, refusing to let him take them. "Blind Zhao, you..."
Blind Zhao snatched the bamboo slips away. "'You' what? The Wordless Heavenly Book rightfully belonged to our Zhao family all along!" In his youth, Blind Zhao's grandfather had attended to Baiyun's master, essentially making him half a disciple. Alas, he possessed no spiritual root and could only serve as an odd-job handyman disciple. In the end, Baiyun's master accepted Daoist Baiyun as his disciple and passed the Wordless Heavenly Book down to him.
Blind Zhao unrolled the bamboo slips, only to find not a single character written on them. Shocked and bewildered, he said, "I clearly saw writing on it!" Earlier today, when Daoist Baiyun cast the divination hexagram, he had used the Wordless Heavenly Book, and back then, everyone had seen it covered in dense lines of characters.
Daoist Baiyun sighed. "Isn't the Wordless Heavenly Book supposed to be wordless? If you wanted to take it, you could have just taken it, but why choose today of all days? You're going to get everyone in the village killed."
Blind Zhao retorted, "So what? My grandfather was beaten to death, preferring to die rather than reveal the location of Baiyun Temple. Yet the villagers just stood nearby, watching coldly. They knew he was protecting the village's secret, but they stood there and watched him get beaten to death without lifting a finger!"
Daoist Baiyun sighed once more.
Seeing that Daoist Baiyun offered no reply, Blind Zhao said, "You didn't know, did you? I tricked Ding Shi into lifting San Niang's coffin lid. With how sly that brat is, nine times out of ten, he's already broken San Niang's seal."
Daoist Baiyun let out one last sigh. "Immeasurable Heavenly Lord."
With that, his body slumped, and he collapsed to the ground, dead.
Chapter 29