The villagers tried to persuade Jiang Cheng a little longer. Though his stomach was growling, he had plenty of backbone and refused to eat. Seeing how sincere and resolute he was, the villagers didn't press him any further.
"How about this? We'll set aside a few bowls of food for Brother Jiang and the others. They can eat whenever they get hungry," said a man named Fuqing.
After the meal, everyone dispersed. Fuqing found Jiang Cheng, and the two went to rest on a stone bench in a corner of the courtyard. "Brother Jiang, something like this happened as soon as you arrived. I hope you don't mind."
"Not at all. We're the ones who imposed on you," Jiang Cheng replied apologetically, looking somewhat ill at ease.
"Did you sleep well last night?" Fuqing asked.
"Very well. We'd spent the whole day walking through the mountains, so we were exhausted. We fell asleep not long after lying down and closing our eyes. We have you to thank for saving us, Brother Fuqing," Jiang Cheng replied without showing his thoughts.
Hearing that, Fuqing let out a breath of relief and nodded. "That's good. The village hasn't been peaceful at night lately. Since you're new here, you'll have to stay alert. If a stranger knocks on your door at night, don't open it."
"Brother Fuqing, that reminds me. Those things in the fog that killed our horses..."
At that, Fuqing's expression turned a little uneasy, but he still admitted, "You guessed right. It was those things. We call them evil cultivators. I don't know the details; it's all been passed down by the village elders. Supposedly, they were people when they were alive, and they cultivated all sorts of magical arts. But something went wrong in the end, and they went mad.