At first, I thought there was a ghost in Huixiang who hated outsiders and attacked them, making them all disappear. The Guide was merely a local administrator in Huixiang. If we could find him, that would save us a lot of trouble. Besides, all I knew was the Guide's name. I had no idea who the ghost actually responsible for the attacks was.
But after what happened in Crooked-Neck Village, especially after what we went through with Daoist Falian, I became more and more convinced that the Guide was the real culprit. What he had done went far beyond simply setting the rules.
Zhuang Huai drove straight to the Huixiang archives.
The archives rarely had any visitors, and with the disaster response underway, no one was coming by now.
When I entered the two-story building, I felt how deserted it was. It was so cold that the place almost seemed filled with yin energy.
I stood still for a moment. Zhuang Huai and Lü Qiaolan both looked over at me, and only then did I continue walking.
It wasn't yin energy. The building just had poor lighting. Buildings surrounded it, and they were so close together that they blocked the light.
There was a reception desk in the lobby, with an old man sitting behind it.
He looked to be in his fifties or sixties, with a stubbly beard and plain clothes. His trouser legs were rolled up, exposing his hairy legs, and his shirt was unbuttoned down to his chest. On the desk in front of him sat a pair of slightly damp leather shoes and a pair of soaked socks. His bare feet were propped up on a chair.
His posture was anything but proper. When he saw us come in, he looked surprised, but didn't change position.