Escape

The county yamen was a roaring chaos of screams, curses, and the wet thuds of violence. Any sense of purpose had been abandoned. Everyone had forgotten why they had come; they were simply streaming inside, gripped by a manic frenzy, doing things they had always wanted to do but never dared.

“Grain! Grain! It’s all white flour! No coarse grains!” The shout came from the western wing, and the crowd surged toward it like a wave.

The old man who had taken the first bite of the county magistrate’s flesh tried to follow, but his foot caught and he slammed onto the ground. He struggled to push himself up. A boot came down on his outstretched right hand. There was a crunch, and he opened his blood-caked mouth to scream.

The sound was swallowed by the noise around him. Foot after foot came down, and soon there was nothing at all. Those who walked over him felt only that the ground was a little soft; the rest went unnoticed.

Amid the press of bodies were Yang Xiaohai and his wife, Zhao Xiumei. They had not chosen to be here; they had been shoved and jostled until they were trapped. When he tried to leave, there was no way out. The crowd pressed in on all sides.

His face pale, he gripped his wife’s hand. “Hold my hand! Don’t let go! If we get separated, I won’t be able to pull you back!”

He pushed left, then right, but there was no exit. Then he remembered. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the rotten-wood ruyi scepter his Senior Brother Li had given him, the one with the human tongue still attached.

He raised it and swung it toward the group on his left. The frenzied faces went blank. A haze of confusion settled over their eyes, as if they had forgotten what they were doing.

“Follow me. This way.” Yang Xiaohai crouched low, weaving through the stunned people until he reached the wall.

With the scepter, he fought his way free. It took every ounce of strength he had.

Still shaken, he took one last look at the chaos behind him, then pulled Zhao Xiumei toward the inn.

“Husband… what’s going on? How did it turn into this?” Zhao Xiumei’s voice trembled. A moment ago, it had felt like justice—a righteous purge of evil. Now it was madness.

“I don’t know. Don’t worry about it. We need to leave. Now. This place is too dangerous.”

Even as he said it, he had a guess. He had seen a thing or two in his life. It was that old woman. Without her, none of this would have happened. But he couldn’t say she was wrong. She had helped the suffering. She had done good.

He hadn’t had much schooling. He couldn’t puzzle it out. All he knew was that he had to get his people out of this cursed place.

He burst into the inn. The three monkey-children were crouched on stools, guarding the old woman’s ceramic jar on the table.

“Move! Follow me!” he barked, already running toward the stables in the back.

“What about granny?”

“Granny? She’s got powers! She won’t die! If we don’t leave now, this thing’s gonna swallow us too!”

They dragged the cart out of the stable. Yang Xiaohai snapped the reins and headed back the way they had come.

This place is trouble, he thought. I’ll take the long way. Avoid it entirely.

But as his cart neared the county gate, he spotted a group of strange men blocking the road, holding their horses. He thought they were travelers. Then he saw the tokens at their waists.

The blood drained from his face. Those were Sitian Jian tokens.

From what Senior Brother Li had told him, he knew exactly who the Sitian Jian were, and how they operated.

“Turn… turn around!”

He yanked the cart around, whipping the horse’s flanks, desperate to find another exit.

But when he reached the yamen gate again, his heart sank.

The people who had been looting the place were now gathered in a loose circle, listening intently to someone in the center. They cheered and echoed the speaker’s words. And they were blocking the main road to the other exit.

“Grandfather Shidu! We are your loyal servants, your bodyguards! We will follow you every step!”

The shout came with a fierce conviction. The others repeated it as one. Then they all pulled out white cloth and tied it tightly around their heads.

Yang Xiaohai stared at the white headbands with a bitter, furious resentment. Then he looked at his wife’s head. He reached over and ripped the headband from her hair.

Now he saw it. All of it. That old woman’s scheme. And he had been dumb enough to follow her. He had thought she was a good person.

“Hmph. Just as I guessed. The more remote the place, the more likely the Fa Sect rises.” The voice came from the other side. Yang Xiaohai turned.

A man was crouched on the eaves of a neighboring inn, his neck bent at an odd angle, his eyes cold and predatory. He looked like a beast perched on a roof ridge.

Yang Xiaohai recognized him. One of the Sitian Jian officers.

The man’s hand slid inside his robe. He pulled out a small, mummified child—painted red lips, a red bib tied around its chest, a vermilion dot on its forehead. He swung it by a red string.

The dried corpse’s hands began to move as the string tugged at them.

Below, the white headbands began to close in.

Yang Xiaohai’s soul nearly fled his body.

“Off… off the cart! Leave the cart!”

Before the two sides could clash, Yang Xiaohai dragged his people into a side alley and ran.

He had learned one thing in his days as a beggar: nothing was more important than survival.

The screams and battle cries echoed behind them as they fled deeper into the maze of narrow lanes. Eventually, they scrambled over a wall into someone’s private courtyard. The sounds of slaughter grew faint.

“We wait here,” Yang Xiaohai whispered. “Wait until it’s over. Then we leave.”

The three monkey-children blinked at him. One of them opened his mouth. “Granny…”

“Shh! No more granny! She’s the reason we’re in this mess!” Yang Xiaohai’s voice was a frantic hiss. He wiped his brow with the back of his hand.

He felt hot—hotter than he should have. Maybe it was just the panic.

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Next chapter update: 23:32.