Inside a desolate courtyard.
The cold wind sighed, and fallen leaves fluttered everywhere. It was already late autumn, bitterly cold, and ordinary families had long since put on thick clothes.
Yet Xiaodie wore only thin clothing. Her face pale, she huddled in the darkness, trembling, looking utterly terrified.
Strange incidents had plagued the village for three months straight. Someone died every day.
Some drowned, some were hanged, and others simply starved to death, even though steamed flatbread lay right beside the person who had starved...
Everything had already proven that Little Black Village had changed.
"Blood, who wants blood? Blood from someone freshly dead, perfect for offerings to the Blood God."
Outside, a hoarse voice rang out.
It was so cold and sinister.
It sounded as though someone's vocal cords had been brutally scraped, carrying the filth of some ancient object.
Xiaodie shuddered, reached out, and pushed hard against the coffin lid before climbing out.
Then she lit an oil lamp with a flint and, holding it in trembling hands, walked outside.
The night was pitch-black. Sinister gusts swirled outside, sweeping up the spirit money in the courtyard. Trembling all over, Xiaodie reached the gate and peered through the crack.
Then...
She saw another eye pressed against the gate, staring fixedly at her. Its owner wore a savage expression, her face covered in wrinkles, her eye clouded as though covered in cobwebs.
Her withered hands even reached through the crack, seemingly trying to grab Xiaodie's collar.
Terror filled Xiaodie's eyes. She abruptly stumbled two steps back, then, as though remembering something, snatched up the woodcutting blade beside her and chopped down.
The blade struck the two fingers that had just poked through.
"Ah!"
Blood spurted amid an agonized scream.
A stream of curses came from outside.
"Bitch, you dare cut