That blue-black handprint, like a branding iron mark, was deeply engraved on Lu Yao's skin.

He reached out his hand, fingertips trembling, yet dared not touch it. That cold energy crept up from his fingertips, as if trying to penetrate into his bones.


The Taoist priest had approached without notice, leaning against the doorframe, with a foxtail grass stem of unknown origin between his lips.

"Don't touch it," his voice was lazy, yet carried an unquestionable command, "The resentful energy has condensed. If you touch it, it won't dissipate."

Lu Yao quickly withdrew his hand, as if he had been scalded.


He turned his head, looking at the Taoist priest's cynical face, his throat dry.

"Who... who exactly are you? Why do you know these things?"


The Taoist priest spat out the grass root from his mouth and chuckled.

"Me? Just a passing Taoist priest, that's all."

"As for why I know..."

He pointed to the direction of the village entrance, then pointed at the handprint on Lu Yao's neck: "Isn't it obvious? They've already come knocking at your door, they're just short of handing you a business card."

Lu Yao's lips quivered, but he couldn't utter a single word. Fear, like a large net, had enveloped him completely, rendering him immobile.

Seeing his condition, the Taoist priest dropped his joking manner, his expression becoming more serious: "Do you want to live?"

Lu Yao nodded almost instinctively.

"Then follow me."

The Taoist priest turned and walked toward the depths of the village.

His pace wasn't fast, but it was steady, his faded Taoist robe swaying gently in the morning breeze.

Lu Yao bit his lip and followed him.

The atmosphere in the village was terrifyingly oppressive.

Every household had their doors tightly shut, and even the elderly who usually loved to chat at the village entrance were nowhere to be seen.

The dogs continued to howl, though their voices had become hoarse, conveying a sense of desperation.

The Taoist priest led Lu Yao through many twists and turns, finally stopping in front of an ancient building.

The Lu family ancestral hall.

The entrance consisted of two heavy wooden doors, their red paint long peeled away, revealing the original color of the wood. The stone lions at the entrance were covered with moss, their dignified expressions appearing somewhat eerie under the gloomy sky.

"Go in," the Taoist priest said concisely.

Lu Yao pushed open the heavy wooden doors, and a smell of dust mixed with old incense rushed toward him.

The light inside the ancestral hall was dim, with only a few rays penetrating through the cracks in the roof tiles, forming beams of light in the air where countless dust particles danced.

Directly ahead were rows of neatly arranged memorial tablets, with unfamiliar names written in gold powder on the black wooden plaques.

The ancestors of the Lu family.

The Taoist priest walked in, not looking at the memorial tablets, but went straight to the center of the ancestral hall.

He squatted down and tapped his finger on the dust-covered bluestone floor.

"Dong."

"Dong."

"Dong."

The sound was muffled.

He changed position and knocked again.

"Knock."

This time the sound was a bit crisper.

He raised his head, looking at Lu Yao: "You try."

Lu Yao didn't understand why, but still walked over and imitated him by knocking on the stone slab.

"Knock."

"This is the spot."

The Taoist stood up, dusting off his hands.

"Your Lu family ancestors hid something good here."

Lu Yao's heart suddenly skipped a beat.

He crouched down and carefully felt along the edge of the stone slab.

Sure enough, on one side of the stone slab, he felt a tiny groove.

He pried it with force, and the stone slab was actually lifted up.

Under the stone slab was a small compartment.

Inside the compartment lay something tightly wrapped in oilcloth.

Lu Yao took it out with trembling hands.

The oilcloth had become stiff and emitted a strange smell.

He unwrapped it layer by layer, revealing what was inside.

It was a thread-bound family genealogy book.

The pages had already turned yellow and brittle, with the words "Lu Family Genealogy" written in ink on the cover.

However, this genealogy was somewhat different. In its bottom right corner, there was a large stain of dark brown.

It was dried blood.

Lu Yao's fingers traced over the bloodstain, as if he could still feel its stickiness and warmth from years ago.

He opened the genealogy; the text inside was written in neat regular script.

He quickly found the ancestor mentioned by the Taoist priest.

"Lu Shen, courtesy name Jinyan, born in the twentieth year of the Wanli reign, appointed as a Hundred-Household Commander of the Imperial Brocade Guard in the fortieth year of Wanli..."

He continued reading and came across the record that changed everything.

"...supervised the battle at Qingmu River, annihilated over three hundred bandits, was commended for his merit, and specially promoted to Thousand-Household Commander of the Imperial Brocade Guard."

The handwriting was clear, recording everything in detail.

"Bandits?" The Taoist priest had somehow moved closer and let out a sneer.

"Do you think a mere band of mountain bandits would require a Hundred-Household Commander of the Imperial Brocade Guard to personally supervise their massacre?"

Lu Yao's mind buzzed in shock.

"You mean......"

"The defeated government troops."

The Taoist's tone was calm, but it hit Lu Yao's heart like a heavy hammer.

"They lost the battle, lost the city, and became the court's disgrace. Escorting them back to the capital would be too troublesome and would further damage military morale."

"So, that great ancestor of yours came up with an idea."

The Taoist pointed at the words "annihilated bandits" in the family genealogy.

"He lured them into the valley, claiming it was a reward, and then... buried them alive."

"More than three hundred lives, overnight, became your ancestor's achievement."

"This genealogy was probably secretly marked by someone who couldn't bear it at the time. Unfortunately, he only dared to leave marks in blood, but not write down the truth."

Lu Yao's gaze fixed on the genealogy, feeling a chill throughout his body.

So, behind the so-called heroic deeds was such a dirty truth.

So, the resentment of those Ghost Soldiers wasn't without reason.

His ancestors were executioners who supervised battles.

And he was the descendant of executioners.

The night fell faster than ever before.

The sky had not a trace of starlight, only an eerie moon hanging high.

That moon was red.

Like a giant, bloodshot eye, coldly gazing upon the earth.

The entire village was shrouded in this strange bloodied light, terrifyingly quiet.

Lu Yao sat in his room, with the blood-stained family genealogy book placed on the table.

He hadn't slept all night, the Taoist priest's words echoing repeatedly in his mind.

Suddenly, a strange sound came from outside the window.

It wasn't the wind, nor was it a dog barking.

It was... footsteps.

Very light, very slow, with an eerie rhythm.

Lu Yao's heart tightened as he quietly walked to the window and opened a small gap to look outside.

In the moonlight, he saw his neighbor, Mr. Wang.

Mr. Wang was wearing pajamas, barefoot, walking step by step toward the outskirts of the village.

His eyes were open, but his pupils were unfocused and lifeless, his face devoid of any expression, like a puppet whose soul had been extracted.

Next was Aunt Li from the east end of the village.

Then came the young people from the Zhang family.

One by one, villagers emerged from their homes, converging into a silent stream of people, all walking in the same direction.

The mass grave site.

Lu Yao's heart sank to the bottom.

He pushed open the door abruptly, finding the Taoist priest already standing in the courtyard, looking gravely at the strange procession of people.

"What's happening to them...?"

"Their souls have been taken."

The priest's voice had lost its usual laziness.

"The Ghost Soldiers need to clear their path and require living people to dig open the seal. These villagers are merely their tools."

"We can't let them go!"

Lu Yao was about to rush out as he spoke.

The Taoist priest grabbed him firmly.

"It's useless. You can't wake them now. If you forcibly try to stop them, you'll only harm them."

"Then what should we do? Just watch?"

Lu Yao's eyes reddened with anxiety.

The Taoist priest didn't answer, but instead pulled out several yellow paper talismans from his worn cloth bag, along with a small bottle of cinnabar.

"Let's follow them and see."

"Remember, no matter what you see, don't make a sound, and don't make any movements."

Under the cover of night, the two followed at a distance behind the villagers who moved like sleepwalkers.

The blood-red moonlight stretched their shadows long, twisting and writhing on the ground.

In the air, there lingered a fishy smell of earth, and an increasingly heavy... aura of death.

Soon, they arrived at the mass burial ground.

This was the legendary mass grave.

The sight before them made Lu Yao draw in a sharp breath.

Dozens of villagers, men and women, young and old, were all kneeling on that barren patch of land.

They stretched out their hands, using their fingernails and palms to frantically dig at the soil. Their movements were uniform, mechanical and numb.

Fingernails flew as they dug, their flesh torn and bloody, yet they felt no pain and continued digging without pause.

Soil mixed with fresh blood, creating an extremely bizarre scene.

Lu Yao saw Mr. Wang, whose most beloved granddaughter was right beside him. The little girl was imitating the adults, digging at the ground with her tender little hands.

Lu Yao couldn't bear it any longer.

He broke free from the Taoist priest's grasp, shouted, and rushed forward.

"Mr. Wang! Wake up!"

He tried to grab Mr. Wang's arm.

But just as his hand touched Mr. Wang's sleeve.

An invisible yet overwhelming force suddenly erupted from Mr. Wang's body.

The force was ice-cold and piercing, like a high-speed wall of ice crashing into him. Lu Yao didn't even have time to react before his entire body was violently thrown backward.

He flew seven or eight meters before crashing heavily to the ground, his throat burning as he coughed up a mouthful of blood.

And from the palm of his outstretched right hand came an excruciating, penetrating pain.

He opened his palm and looked, only to see that a charred mark had appeared in the center of his palm.

The mark was not the fiery red of a burn, but an eerie black, as if he had been scalded by something extremely cold and yin.

Wisps of black vapor were continuously rising from the wound.

The Taoist priest ran over quickly, helped him up, looked at the wound on his palm, and his expression became extremely unpleasant.

"This is bad."

Just then, the surrounding temperature suddenly dropped.

A thick, impenetrable white mist rolled out from the large pit that the villagers had dug.

The mist carried the smell of rust, along with a nauseating stench of decay.

The Ghost Soldiers, which were previously only shadows, began to change under the cover of this dense fog.

Their outlines became clearer, and their tattered armor transformed from translucent to solid.

Under the moonlight, one could clearly see the dark red rust and dried blood stains on their armor.

Sounds of metal collisions came through the mist, one after another.

"Clang..."

"Clash..."

These were no longer ethereal echoes, but real, heavy sounds of armor grinding together, carrying the scent of death.

They had come alive.

The Taoist priest pulled Lu Yao behind him and took out a peachwood sword covered in engravings from his bosom.

He bit his fingertip and smeared the fresh blood on the blade.

"Heaven round, Earth square, the nine chapters of divine law! As I write this, ten thousand ghosts shall hide!"

He muttered incantations and forcefully thrust the peachwood sword into the ground before him.

However, something strange happened.

The peachwood sword, said to be able to slay demons and exorcise evil spirits, did not emit a golden light nor drive back the Ghost Soldiers upon touching the ground.

Instead, it made a crisp "crack" sound.

A fine crack appeared on the blade.

Then, the crack spread rapidly like a spider web.

"Bang!"

With a loud bang, the entire peach wood sword unexpectedly shattered into countless fragments!

The Taoist priest was struck by a powerful backlash force, sending his whole body flying backward, spitting another mouthful of fresh blood, his face instantly turning as pale as paper.

Looking at the Ghost Soldiers becoming increasingly clear in the thick fog, terror appeared in his eyes for the first time.

He stared intensely at Lu Yao, shouting in a hoarse voice: "They've targeted you!"

Before his words faded, a tall Ghost Soldier had already emerged from the mist.

It rotated its stiff, helmeted head, its hollow eye sockets fixating directly on Lu Yao who was on the ground.

It took heavy steps forward, ignoring the Taoist priest nearby, and walked straight toward Lu Yao.

Each step felt like it was treading on Lu Yao's heart.

Lu Yao wanted to run, but his legs felt as heavy as if they were filled with lead.

That fear from the depths of his soul made even breathing difficult.

The Ghost Soldier walked up to him, slowly raising his metal-armored hand, reaching for his neck.

That hand was identical to the handprint marked on his neck.

The aura of death washed over him.

In that instant, survival instinct overpowered fear.

Lu Yao didn't know where he found the strength, but just as the Ghost Soldier's hand was about to touch him, he rolled violently, while frantically grabbing upward with both hands.

His hands seized the Ghost Soldier's rust-covered helmet.

Using every ounce of strength in his body, he screamed as he yanked backward!

"Clang!"

The heavy helmet was forcibly torn off, rolling to the ground.

The Ghost Soldier's face was exposed under the blood-red moonlight.

Lu Yao's movements came to an abrupt halt.

His pupils contracted to the size of a pinpoint.

That face.

That pale, bloodless face with hollow eyes...

Was clearly his own.