WBICDPH Chapter 63 Part 2

Looking deeper inside, the environment was tidy enough, and there were clear signs of daily life. Aside from the gray fog overhead, casting everything in gloom, it resembled an ordinary rural village.

According to the innkeeper in Sanyang Town, Shuangxi Village had been trapped by ghostly fog for six or seven years. During that time, no one could leave, and no news had escaped. Six or seven years without water or supplies—by all logic, they should have perished long ago.

Yet the village seemed functional.

Villagers moved about—men carrying farm tools, women washing clothes at their doorsteps.

Lin Jin observed them. Every villager’s complexion carried the same faint gray tint as the uncle’s. Each wore an expression heavy with gloom, as though perpetually in a foul mood.

Their reactions upon seeing the three outsiders were equally unpleasant. Without exception, they looked at them with disgust. Some muttered “bad luck” before slamming their courtyard doors with thunderous force.

“No wonder that uncle was so rude,” Hua Nanzhi whispered bitterly. “This whole place has the same atmosphere! They shouldn’t call it ‘Double Happiness.’ They should call it ‘Irritable’ or ‘Bad Temper.’”

She’d received more than her share of cold stares since entering the village. Accustomed to being flattered wherever she went, she wasn’t used to such hostility.

She was already fuming but remembered Lin Jin’s earlier advice and merely muttered quietly beside him.

“Not a single smiling face. Not even a hint of kindness. Everyone looks like they’re drowning in resentment. Listen—arguments everywhere. What an unfriendly place.”

Indeed, as they passed four courtyards, shouting and smashing sounds came from three. From the fourth, instead of arguing, came a piercing wail of grief.

Lin Jin sighed.

“It looks strange to us,” he said, “but if you think about it—imagine being trapped somewhere for six or seven years, cut off from the outside world, never seeing sunlight, living under gray skies day after day. Seven whole years. Could you still smile?”

Hua Nanzhi thought about it and shook her head honestly. “No.”

Of course not. It would be remarkable not to fall into despair or madness.

But as Lin Jin looked around, he felt a creeping sense of depression himself.

Worse still, the mission jade slip provided no detailed information. Shuangxi Village’s situation was too unusual—outsiders couldn’t enter, and villagers couldn’t leave. No one knew what had truly happened here. Naturally, no reliable records existed.

They would have to uncover everything themselves.

But with every villager in this state, who could they even ask? Was he supposed to knock on every door and endure insults?

Just as Lin Jin was pondering this, he heard the creak of a wooden door opening nearby.

They had already endured countless glares and a dozen curses while walking this road. Most villagers either hurried away or slammed their doors shut. It was rare for someone to open a door voluntarily.

Lin Jin closed his eyes briefly, bracing for trouble.

Instead, he heard, “Are you three the immortal cultivators sent to drive away the ghost?”

After so much hostility, those words sounded almost welcoming.

Lin Jin nodded quickly and examined the speaker.

It was a tall man in his thirties with open, dignified features. Unlike the others, his face showed no irritation or resentment.

He even introduced himself. “My name is Zhao Kang. I am the current village chief of Shuangxi Village. If you have any questions, feel free to ask. I will tell you everything I know.”

…

The heavy “quest-giver NPC” vibe reminded Lin Jin of the signpost-like inn boy in Sanyang Village.

Still, free background information was free background information.

Smiling, Lin Jin asked, “We’d like to know—what exactly happened in Shuangxi Village to make it like this? And the fierce ghost haunting the area—who is it? Do you know its identity?”

“Oh, that? Of course I do.”

Zhao Kang mirrored Lin Jin’s smile.

But for some reason, the smile looked stiff—unnatural, even eerie.

Lin Jin narrowed his eyes, about to study him more closely, when he suddenly felt something unusual at his ankle.

It felt as though someone had gently grasped it. He could feel the pressure of fingers through his clothing—and an icy coldness like frozen flesh.

But what kind of person lies on the ground, grabbing someone’s ankle?!

Lin Jin swallowed.

He glanced at the lantern hanging by Zhao Kang’s door, then at the gray, oppressive village around them. Combined with the chilling sensation at his ankle…

No.

He didn’t dare look down.

Instead, he tugged at Hua Nanzhi’s sleeve. “Miss.”

“What?”

“Can you check if there’s something on my foot?”

“…?” She looked puzzled but glanced down anyway. “You have socks and shoes.”

“…Take a deep breath,” Lin Jin muttered. “Anything else?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“What else would there be?”

He inhaled deeply again.

Maybe he was imagining it. Maybe there really was nothing there—

The thought didn’t even finish forming.

Because he had already lowered his head.

And to his great “delight,” he discovered that in addition to socks and shoes, there was also a hand.

The hand was deathly pale, tinged faintly blue. Dark, dried blood marked the wrist.

It gripped his ankle tightly.

And when Lin Jin looked closer, he saw its fingernails—painted a vivid, blood-red hue like fresh vermilion.