The Strange Village

Xia Lun and the others entered the village.

The village was eerily quiet, with hardly any pedestrians on the streets.

Occasionally, a few people would hurry past, casting curious glances at Xia Lun's group before lowering their heads and walking away.

From the shadows, numerous eyes peered at them through half-cracked doorways or behind yellowed glass windows.

"The atmosphere here feels... strange," Liyana muttered, straightening her previously carefree gait and adopting a more composed demeanor.

Mo Lini warily scanned their surroundings, hiding behind Liyana.

Xia Lun walked at the rear, one arm tightly held against Aina's chest, savoring the pleasant sensation.

"It feels like... the people here are unwelcoming to outsiders," Liyana remarked under her breath.

No sooner had she spoken than a hunched old man seemingly materialized out of nowhere, appearing right in front of her.

"Ah!" Mo Lini yelped in fright.

Her reaction was understandable—the old man's sallow, gaunt face, deeply sunken eyes, and straw-like hair made him look rather unsettling.

"Outsiders? What brings you to Xialun Village?" the old man rasped. "I am Qiaolei, the village chief."

Xia Lun noticed the thick calluses on Qiaolei's hands.

But the frail man didn’t resemble a swordsman. Given his wiry frame, Xia Lun guessed he was more likely a farmer who wielded a hoe.

Though... there were no fields in sight nearby.

"We're just passing through, hoping to buy a carriage in the village," Liyana replied. "If possible, we’d also like to stay the night..."

It was already too late to reach the next city today, and staying in the village at least promised a soft bed.

Liyana pulled out a pouch of gold coins from her robe, deliberately loosening the opening to let the glimmering gold catch the light.

Under normal circumstances, anyone would have beamed at the sight.

But Chief Qiaolei only furrowed his brow.

"Please, Chief! Life on the road hasn’t been easy—we haven’t slept in a proper house in ages..." Seeing Qiaolei hesitate, Liyana immediately put on a tearful act.

Mo Lini gaped, stunned by Liyana’s exaggerated performance... They had only just left the academy, after all.

Qiaolei’s frown deepened, but he finally clicked his tongue. "Fine, you can stay. But on one condition—you must not leave the house at night."

"Of course! No problem!" Liyana agreed without hesitation.

After all, they had no ill intentions—they truly just wanted to secure a carriage for Mo Lini.

No leaving at night... What was that about? Did the village hold some secret ritual after dark?

Or perhaps some man-eating monsters roamed the streets at night? If that were the case, the hero behind her wouldn’t stand idly by.

Liyana’s mind raced with possibilities.

Qiaolei led them to a house.

The building was old, its walls covered in emerald moss, but traces of recent habitation lingered, as if the owner had only just departed.

"The person who lived here passed away last week... You can stay. I’ll arrange a carriage for you—leave at first light tomorrow," Qiaolei said, his tone impatient, though his efficiency was undeniable.

"And remember... don’t step outside tonight. You’ll be watched."

With that, Qiaolei left without even asking for the pouch of coins.

"What a strange place... Why all the secrecy?" Liyana muttered. "It’s not like they’re bandits."

It was the first time she’d seen villagers so indifferent to money.

"They must be hiding something," Xia Lun observed, scanning the gloomy, oppressive atmosphere around them. "But we’re just passing through. Best not to pry."

"What if they’re trying to summon an evil god? As the hero, shouldn’t you stop them?" Liyana said seriously.

"Summoning an evil god isn’t that easy. Stay put tonight and don’t cause trouble," Xia Lun waved her off.

The rituals and sacrifices required for such a feat were beyond the means of a small village.

Even if they were attempting it, it wouldn’t be a problem.

He could always deal with the evil god after it was summoned.

...

Night fell.

The house had two bedrooms.

The interior was neatly arranged, with a withered wildflower still sitting in a vase on the table... The previous occupant likely hadn’t been elderly.

Yet Qiaolei said the owner had died last week—was it due to illness or an accident? The thought was unsettling.

Xia Lun remained alone in his room, performing light stretches.

Aina had been temporarily borrowed by Liyana for a "girls’ sleepover."

Though strictly speaking, only Mo Lini still counted as a girl...

Maybe Liyana did too? Xia Lun wasn’t sure.

At least he didn’t have to worry about Liyana getting any improper ideas about Aina—she wouldn’t dare.

Outside the window, Xia Lun noticed faint gazes fixed on the house. Qiaolei hadn’t lied.

This only deepened his curiosity—what exactly were the villagers of Xialun Village up to?

He quietly extended his awareness outward...

...

"Any movement from them?" Qiaolei asked the villagers behind him.

"None. They’re behaving—lights are already out in their rooms," one villager replied. "Seems they really are just passing adventurers."

Qiaolei nodded. "Then we proceed with tonight’s work."

"Yes, Chief!"

The night grew darker.

A large group of villagers silently gathered in front of the granary, each carrying a lantern, shovel, or hoe.

They pushed open the granary doors and swarmed inside, pulling aside a haystack to reveal a hidden wooden trapdoor leading underground.

A middle-aged villager lifted the trapdoor, exposing a tunnel that stretched into unknown depths.

The dark passage resembled the gullet of a monstrous beast, and the villagers, like chewed-up morsels, wound their way through its twisting path.

"How’s the progress?"

"Almost there. Just two more years..."

"I can’t take this anymore!"

"Hold on! We must endure—this is all for the hero!"

Someone’s shout reignited their spirits, filling them with fervor.

"Yes, that’s right—for the hero!"

"Our deeds will be carved into history!"

"For the hero!"

"For the hero!"

Shovels and hoes swung tirelessly as the pitch-black underground welcomed the overture of their labor.