Entering the village! Old Granny Black Tooth?

The lantern's skin was incredibly thin, casting a pale, ghastly glow. They knocked against each other in the wind, emitting a sound like whimpering ghosts.

Each lantern was adorned with bizarre, twisted runes drawn in cinnabar. Though faded from wind and sun, they still exuded a nauseatingly bloody aura.

"What a display!" Yan Wangchou took a deep breath, a flicker of apprehension in his cloudy eyes.

"This doesn't look like the work of ordinary bandits. These are Soul Guiding Lanterns, an evil art from the Western Desert, used to lure passing lone spirits inside, or to trap whatever's within and prevent it from leaving."

Qian Dagui stared at the swaying paper lanterns for a moment before opening a chest in the corner of the carriage.

Instantly, a treasure trove of auspicious light nearly blinded Fang Mo.

Inside the chest lay neatly stacked talismans, magical artifacts, and elixirs.

There was a Heart Protection Mirror emitting a faint golden light, a peach wood sword inscribed with runes, and even a few round, black orbs that were clearly potent weapons—Thunder Fire Beads.

"This is the Five Thunder Talisman from Dragon Tiger Mountain, this is a Vajra Pestle blessed by the Great Xiangguo Temple, this is..." Qian Dagui listed them off like a proud parent.

Fang Mo looked at the chest full of equipment that could buy half of Wannian County and fell silent.

He suddenly felt that his own Golden Bones, which he was so proud of, seemed utterly plain and dull in front of this "money-powered" warrior.

"Golden Light Talisman! Protective Talisman! Exorcism Talisman! Calming Talisman!"

He chanted as he slapped talismans onto himself as if they were free.

In the blink of an eye, his brocade robe was covered in yellow paper, making him look like a zombie that had achieved sentience. After covering himself, he tried to slap the remaining talismans onto Fang Mo.

Fang Mo's mouth twitched, and he pushed away the fat hand. "You keep them for yourself."

As expected of the rich, foolish son of a landlord, truly wealthy. This stack of talismans alone must be worth tens of thousands of taels of silver.

Ignoring the clown any further, Fang Mo narrowed his eyes slightly. "Still Water Mirror, activate!"

The world before his eyes instantly lost its color, leaving only black, white, and lines.

The gray mist was no longer mist, but countless tiny particles of resentful energy, like insects.

They drifted and gathered in the air, eventually flowing towards the depths of the village.

And beneath the seemingly dead village, Fang Mo saw thick, blood-red streams of energy, like colossal veins, slowly writhing as if they were the pulse of the earth.

"Quite the undertaking."

Fang Mo whispered, his voice betraying no emotion.

"Using an entire village as a furnace, and the living souls as fuel, what earth-shattering thing are they trying to refine?"

"Enter the village."

Fang Mo placed a hand on his sword hilt and took the first step.

"Boss, this place is seriously creepy. How about we just hang around outside?"

Yan Wangchou shivered, though he followed closely behind Fang Mo, just half a step back. The copper pipe he usually used for smoking was now gripped in his hand, its tip glinting with a hidden sharpness.

Iron Bull said nothing, pulling out the large iron hammer he had used for years from under the carriage and slinging it over his shoulder. The hundred-pound hunk of iron was as light as a feather in his hands.

Qian Dagui followed at the rear, clutching a handful of talismans, looking around with the air of someone on a leisurely spring outing.

Fang Mo had already secretly released Iron Bone Liu to collect the lone spirits at the village entrance into the Prison Suppressing Realm. After all, even a mosquito's leg is still meat, and more Soul Debris was always good.

As he stepped into the village entrance, the surrounding temperature plummeted as if they had gone from midsummer straight into late autumn.

Beneath the large locust tree at the village entrance, several stone tables, long since weathered beyond recognition by wind and rain, were set up.

Several villagers sat stiffly on the stone benches. Even as Fang Mo and his companions approached, their postures remained unchanged.

Fang Mo stopped, his gaze sweeping over the group.

An old woman was apparently sewing a shoe sole, an old man held a pipe but hadn't lit it, and two young children squatted on the ground playing with pebbles.

He had already asked Yuanjue and the other two on the road; Liuxi Village was not their assigned route, and they had no specific information.

Since there were still living people here, things would be much easier.

Every person had a weakness.

Fang Mo composed his expression, adopting the authoritative yet inquisitive demeanor of an official on duty, and walked towards the great tree.

"Auntie, I need to ask you something."

He approached an old woman who was facing away from him, seemingly mending clothes.

The woman's movements stopped.

She didn't turn immediately. Instead, her shoulders twitched, and she let out a low chuckle that sounded like a night owl.

Then, she slowly turned her head.

It was a face covered in age spots, the skin so loose it looked like tattered cloth hanging on bones.

But her eyes were terrifyingly bright.

"Sir, please ask."

The old woman grinned, revealing a mouth full of teeth as black as ink. The blackness wasn't from cavities but looked like it had been stained by some dark juice over years of immersion.

Her gaze swept over Fang Mo, then past him, greedily eyeing the fair-skinned, tender-fleshed Qian Dagui behind him. She licked her dry, cracked lips.