Sacrifice
The moment he spoke, the tense silence shattered.
The crowd, which had only just begun to calm down, was thrown into chaos again, like a lake disturbed by a sudden stone.
“What’s going on with you all?” The village chief asked, puzzled.
His seemingly oblivious reaction made Lu Congxing narrow his eyes slightly.
They were still on the villagers’ turf. Even though something felt off, the director chose to explain the situation—though he carefully avoided mentioning the gruesome details of the body’s condition.
The village chief’s previously kind and honest face took on an expression of apparent surprise and disappointment. “Something like this happened…?”
He then added, “The weather is getting worse. Perhaps it would be best if we took care of Miss Chen’s body for now.”
Despite his offer, he didn’t ask how she died. Nor did he show any interest in checking the scene himself.
The atmosphere grew heavy. Some members of the crew instinctively turned their eyes toward Lu Congxing.
In their minds, this young and composed ghost exorcist had already become their de facto leader.
With the director’s approval, Lu Congxing firmly rejected the village chief’s proposal.
The village chief didn’t insist, only reminding them once more before leaving not to go down the mountain at this time.
As soon as he left, the atmosphere grew even heavier. Everyone’s already tense nerves were stretched to the limit.
Wen Yi looked worried as well. She usually enjoyed reading novels and tended to overthink things more than most people. Lowering her voice, she leaned closer to Di Jiang and asked, “Who do you think killed Chen Xiangxiang?”
The murderer could be someone from their film crew, a villager, or perhaps… not even human at all.
The thought sent a shiver down Wen Yi’s spine.
Di Jiang reassured her not to overthink it.
With the heavy rain and the unexpected accident involving the female lead, filming was completely halted. The director had no choice but to send everyone back to their rooms.
Lu Congxing took out a small stack of talismans and handed one to each person as they left.
A talisman that might just save a life in a critical moment.
He could tell that some people didn’t take it seriously at all. They had no idea how valuable these talismans would be if auctioned within the industry. To those who didn’t believe in ghosts or spirits, they were nothing more than yellow paper. Even if they accepted them on the surface, there was no guarantee they would actually keep them safe.
Wang Xing, for example, and those standing near him seemed indifferent. They leaned toward the belief that it was a human act rather than anything supernatural. Wang Xing’s earlier action of dragging the unconscious assistant out of the room had also made some people see him as a reliable and down-to-earth crew member.
Beliefs about ghosts and spirits wouldn’t change overnight, and with everyone already exhausted and shaken, Lu Congxing didn’t bother explaining further.
Some dismissed the talismans, but many were deeply grateful.
With teary eyes, Wen Yi said she wanted to take hers home and frame it. Her assistant and the others who trusted Lu Congxing didn’t mock her but instead nodded in agreement.
Even if they didn’t go that far, they at least planned to carry it with them.
The biggest surprise came from Film Emperor Gu. When Lu Congxing handed him a talisman, he had already braced himself for the materialist’s rejection. To his astonishment, Gu Hanyin simply glanced at him with a hint of arrogance and took it.
He casually slipped the talisman into his shirt pocket, then strode forward with his long legs. “Let’s go. We should head back too.”
Everyone assumed the sudden loss of signal was due to the heavy rain. As they grumbled about the storm, they made their way back.
The rain had come so unexpectedly that Lu Congxing couldn’t just pull out an umbrella in front of everyone. Left with no choice, he walked through the downpour alongside them.
He Zhouyan flicked his tail discreetly and cast a minor spell. Instantly, an invisible barrier formed around Lu Congxing, keeping him completely dry.
So when they finally reached their rooms, Lu Congxing was the only one who remained dry. Realizing this, he quickly cast an illusion spell to make himself appear just as drenched as everyone else.
Didn’t they agree to pretend he was just an ordinary little puppy?
Lu Congxing helplessly patted the small Bai Ze on the head.
Ancient divine beasts were never to be touched on the head—unless someone had a death wish. Bai Ze, in particular, was known to be fierce. Even a single touch of his fur by others was usually off-limits.
Yet now, the once-mighty He Zhouyan allowed himself to be patted and smacked like it was nothing. In his eyes, the cub’s actions were no different from a kitten playfully swiping its claws—it wasn’t offensive, just adorable.
The heavy rain continued throughout the night and finally stopped at dawn.
Before sunrise, He Zhouyan slipped out of the cub’s arms, silently shifting back into his human form. Standing by the bedside, he gazed down at the sleeping cub with a contemplative expression.
After spending two nights here, he was certain that what he had been searching for wasn’t in this place. Yet, he had no intention of leaving.
He couldn’t just abandon the cub here.
Perhaps it was the subtle tension in the air, or maybe it was the absence of the warm, fluffy bundle in his arms, but Lu Congxing’s curled lashes fluttered slightly as he stirred.
The moment before he fully woke up, He Zhouyan swiftly transformed back into his harmless little furball form.
So when Lu Congxing opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was the pitiful sight of the small Bai Ze lying on the floor. Hearing movement, the little furball lifted its head and gazed at him with round, pale-blue eyes.
Feeling a pang of guilt, Lu Congxing quickly scooped him up. “Did I push you off in my sleep?”
He Zhouyan shook his head.
In fact, it was quite the opposite. The cub’s sleeping posture was just as well-behaved as its owner’s. It even liked to curl itself up.
The carefree Di Jiang once again slept soundly until breakfast was delivered.
As soon as he stepped into the courtyard, the corners of his mouth twitched.
A palm-sized white furball had taken his spot, completely replacing him. Its round little paws were peeling peanuts at lightning speed, feeding the cub one by one.
Even when Di Jiang arrived, the furball showed no intention of moving, not even sparing him a glance.
Di Jiang was furious but didn’t dare say anything. Instead, he dragged over another stool and sat down in the corner.
This time, the person delivering breakfast wasn’t Tian Rourou, the village girl, but a burly man instead.
His face was filled with unconcealable joy as he took out the food from the basket.
Unlike the usual plain porridge and pickled vegetables, today’s meal included buns and stuffed pancakes, with both meat and vegetarian fillings that smelled delicious.
It had rained heavily all day yesterday, and the water hadn’t completely receded by this morning. Logically speaking, the village’s crops should have been flooded, so the villagers shouldn’t be this happy.
His instincts told him something was off.
Lu Congxing casually asked, “Why isn’t that girl here today?”
“You mean Rourou?” The man scratched his head. “Because our village is holding a traditional ritual today, and she has to help out.”
“No wonder the food is so good today,” Di Jiang said, stuffing a pancake into his mouth. The rich, meaty flavor made him squint in satisfaction.
“The ritual is a major event in our village. Lunch will be even better,” the man said proudly.
It was clear that this ritual held great significance for them.
Lu Congxing’s eyes gleamed with curiosity. “Can I go take a look?”
The man hesitated for a moment. “You’ll have to ask our village chief about that.”
The director, who had just witnessed such a gruesome scene yesterday and spent the whole night unable to sleep with the sound of rain in the background, felt nauseous at the smell of meat this morning. Just looking at it reminded him of Chen Xiangxiang’s missing internal organs…
Di Jiang, being considerate, handed over his vegetable bun while swiftly snatching Gu Hanyin’s meat bun and devouring it.
Gu Hanyin had little appetite anyway, he was more concerned about another issue. “Can we leave today?”
The burly man shook his head. “No, we checked again this morning. The path down the mountain is completely blocked. And with all the equipment you need to transport, it’s best to wait a couple of days until we’ve cleared the road.”
He sounded sincere. Though frustration flickered in Gu Hanyin’s eyes, he could only nod.
As soon as the man left, Gu Hanyin’s expression darkened, and he stood up. “I’m going to check for myself.”
“Where are you going?” The director jumped up anxiously to stop him.
“Someone has to confirm if the road is truly blocked.” Gu Hanyin’s tone was cold.
“Little Lu, talk some sense into him,” the director pleaded, nearly grabbing him outright. In his panic, he even dropped half of the vegetable bun he had been eating.
Lu Congxing wasn’t sure why he was being asked to intervene, but he tilted his head slightly and asked, “Can you promise that once you see the blockage, you’ll come straight back?”
Gu Hanyin, who had looked irritated just moments ago, suddenly flushed red at the sight of Lu Congxing’s clear, dark eyes. “Why are you acting all cutesy?” he snapped.
Lu Congxing: ?
“Woof.” He Zhouyan suddenly knocked over a small mountain of peanut shells, interrupting the strange tension in the air.
Lu Congxing shifted his gaze back to him, scooped up the furball, and patted off the dust, carefully brushing away any peanut shell fragments stuck to its fur.
The small Bai Ze lay obediently in his hands like a plush toy, but its gaze toward Gu Hanyin was anything but friendly.
No one paid much attention to the furball, though. Meanwhile, He Zhouyan, looking displeased, gently bit the cub’s finger—only to then lick it lightly, so quickly that no one noticed.
Satisfied that the cub didn’t react, he suddenly felt much better.
He was completely unaware of how childish his actions were, as if his mentality was shrinking along with his transformation.
In the end, Gu Hanyin didn’t get far. They had barely reached the village entrance when they saw the blocked road from above—a landslide, disastrous beyond words.
The assistant director sighed heavily. “Looks like we really have no choice but to wait for a signal so we can call for help.”
On their way back, they found that the village center had been set up with a large altar, surrounded by people. In front of each villager stood a covered offering dish draped in red cloth.
This must be the ritual the burly man had mentioned earlier.
Lu Congxing glanced around and noticed that aside from the villagers, some curious crew members had also gathered to watch.
Wen Yi spotted them and waved them over.
Di Jiang asked, “What’s the ritual for?”
Lowering her voice so as not to disturb the proceedings, Wen Yi explained, “I just asked the village chief. It’s a harvest blessing ceremony. He said we can observe, but once the ritual starts, we can’t do anything that might disrupt it.”
Just as she finished speaking, the village chief began shaking a ceremonial bell.
The ritual had officially begun.
The atmosphere in the village grew heavy in an instant. The onlookers barely dared to breathe, yet the villagers, in contrast, wore wide smiles.
A hint of obsession was subtly mixed into their smiles.
Lu Congxing noticed that the altar was filled almost entirely with fruit, suggesting that the meat offerings had been prepared separately.
The village chief, still shaking his bell, signaled to a small group of girls dressed in plain white robes. Led by Tian Rourou, they carried a live sheep to a pre-dug pit and threw it in.
Ding-ling-ling…
The sheep, bound tightly, let out desperate cries from the pit, but the villagers paid no heed, shoveling dirt over it one scoop at a time.
They only stopped when the sheep’s mouth and nose were completely covered with dirt, and the entire sheep was buried alive.
Throughout this time, the rhythmic ringing of bells never ceased. Perhaps it was just an illusion, but the sound seemed to grow increasingly piercing.
The onlookers wore expressions of discomfort, while the villagers, in contrast, looked as if they were listening to a beautiful melody, their faces filled with longing.
Ding-ling-ling…
At last, the bells stopped. The village chief skillfully raised both hands high and knelt before the altar.
He shouted, “A sacrifice to the Mountain God!”
The villagers below followed suit, kneeling in unison. Each one lifted an object that had been placed beside them from the very beginning, raising it high above their heads as they chanted in perfect harmony, “A sacrifice to the Mountain God!”
The coldness in Lu Congxing’s eyes deepened.
This posture immediately reminded him of Chen Xiangxiang. When she died, she had also been kneeling, arms raised high above her head, as if offering something.
At that time, Chen Xiangxiang had been facing the door—the same direction in which these villagers were worshipping.
The villagers remained utterly still, as if waiting for something.
Even as their arms trembled from the strain, not a single one showed any sign of pain. Instead, they all smiled, as if awaiting the Mountain God’s attention.
Suddenly, a strong gust of wind swept through, blowing away the red cloth covering their plates.
The already uneasy film crew finally saw, clearly and unmistakably, what they had been holding up.
It was a collection of severed internal organs—sliced and arranged.