"Clack-clack-clack-clack-clack..." Zhao Wu's teeth chattered uncontrollably, and his face had turned ashen.
He could not help being afraid. The Funeral Garment from before could perhaps have been something he had mistaken, but there was no way he could be seeing this bloodstained sack wrong. There really was a ghost!
"Th-th-th—" Just as Zhao Wu was about to cry out, Gouwa reached over and clamped a hand tightly over his mouth.
"Don't shout! It doesn't have eyes—it can't see us!"
Hearing Gouwa's hushed voice by his ear, Zhao Wu stared fixedly at the sack before him.
Sure enough, just as Gouwa had said, it continued hopping up and down as though it had not seen them at all.
"Go, go! Let's hurry and get people!" The two dragged each other backward, retreating in terror.
Just then, some muffled, indistinct sounds came from within the burlap sack, making their scalps prickle. They scrambled away head over heels.
The two fled quickly, and returned just as quickly. Swaying torches gradually lit up Oxheart Village.
"Quick, quick, quick! Follow the bloodstains on the ground—that thing is up ahead!" With his white-feather blowpipe back in hand, Gouwa felt capable again.
With that huge crowd behind him as well, it was as if the one who had wet his pants in fright just now had been someone else.
Everyone from Oxheart Village had come. The village militiamen, Killing Intent blazing in their eyes, held all sorts of weapons, while Yang Xiaohai hugged his Rotten Wood Ruyi.
It could be said that this was all the strength Oxheart Village could muster.
If this still did not work, they would likely have no choice but to go to Shang Jing City for outside help.
The firelight suddenly illuminated the lone burlap sack in the road. Its abrupt appearance