"Not good!"
"He was killed by a ghost! Everyone, get back!"
At the sight of the corpse.
And such a bizarre death at that.
The villagers recoiled as if from snakes and scorpions, hurriedly backing away, not daring to remain gathered around the body.
"A living thing..."
"How could there be a living thing in the basket..."
The finger in the ore was still twitching faintly, making everyone's scalps tingle. What miners feared most was digging up something wicked, and among all wicked things, those that could move were the most dangerous.
"No!"
"I'm going home!"
"I don't want to stay here!"
One young man who looked rather timid could no longer bear it. He turned and rushed toward the mine exit.
"Come back!"
An older man immediately shouted for him to stop and tried to grab him.
But he was a step too late.
The man had already stumbled and scrambled into a crack in the rock wall, made it to the surface, and vanished into the fog beyond the cave entrance.
"Gouwa!"
"Gouwa, come back!"
An elderly villager stamped his feet anxiously.
But as he looked at the fog.
He did not dare go outside at all.
"Sixth Uncle, what exactly is that fog outside? Why can't we leave? This place is so scary..." Another young man glanced at the corpse on the ground and could not help asking.
They could not understand.
Something wicked had clearly happened in the mine, and several people had died. Why did they have to stay here instead of leaving?
The fog outside was frightening.
But surely it was better than waiting here to die?
Who knew whether something else might crawl out later.
After all.
When the ore had first been put into that bamboo basket, there had been no finger