The appearance of the well sent every member of the [Southern Branch Troupe] into a panic again.
"T-Troupe master... it really is her!"
"No... I'm not going! She'll kill us!" a short but sturdy stunt performer shouted, trembling.
He turned and ran back the way he had come. He wanted to get back to the river and row away from this godforsaken place!
Seeing him do this, the others began to waver too. Not everyone had wanted to come. They had only reluctantly agreed because the troupe master had said that performing an opera for her offered a slim chance of survival, while refusing meant certain death.
But nothing about the situation before them suggested any chance of survival!
That ghost had no intention of watching an opera. It wanted all of them dead!
Rather than walk straight into its trap, they might as well take a chance. There were so many of them, after all. At worst, they could spend the rest of their lives hiding in Buddhist or Taoist temples. They refused to believe this female ghost would dare enter the abodes of gods and buddhas!
But before anyone else could act, they saw the two neatly arranged rows of paper figures suddenly turn their heads toward the fleeing, short stunt performer. Then... their deathly white fingers shot out!
The densely packed white fingers caught up with him at incredible speed. Then, with a squelch, they stabbed into the middle of his back.
"Pfft..."
The short stunt performer had no way to defend himself at all. Blood spurted from his mouth, and he lowered his head to look at his chest...
The paper figures' fingers had all pierced his torso, their deathly white lengths hung with scraps of flesh and blood.
Thud-
Life rapidly drained from his body.