An Old Acquaintance

Chapter 662: An Old Acquaintance

“Scholar Lyu?” Yang Xiaohai’s eyes went wide as he stared at the figure before him.

Of course Yang Xiaohai recognized this man—his whole family had traveled with him for a while.

But wasn’t this guy supposed to have gone with Troupe Master Lyu to the capital to enjoy the good life? Senior Brother Gao had even given them a big opera theater. How could he be here alone, following him down into this place beneath Qingqiu?

“How… how are you here?” Yang Xiaohai took a cautious half-step back. He had no idea whether this was the real Scholar Lyu or some evil spirit wearing his face.

“How am I here?” Hearing the question, Lyu Juren looked dazed. “I don’t know either. Yang Xiaohai, where is this place?”

“You’re asking me? Who am I supposed to ask?” Suddenly remembering something, Yang Xiaohai’s face twisted with anxiety. “Hey, have you seen my wife? Zhao Xiumei? The woman who used to follow me around every day?”

They’d come down together, and now he was alone. Yang Xiaohai was genuinely worried about Zhao Xiumei’s safety.

Faced with Yang Xiaohai’s questions, Lyu Juren stood there, his expression vacant, struggling to think.

“Then do you know how to get out of here? Where’s the exit?” Yang Xiaohai asked, his face pale as he peered into the surrounding darkness.

Lyu Juren stood there for a long time, but still couldn’t come up with an answer to either question.

Still, Yang Xiaohai figured this was at least somewhat a good thing. Whatever had happened to this guy, at least he hadn’t tried to attack him. That meant he probably wasn’t some kind of evil spirit.

But at this point, it didn’t even matter that he wasn’t dangerous. They still couldn’t find the way out.

Seeing that Lyu Juren was useless, Yang Xiaohai had to figure out how to escape this bizarre place himself.

“Right… I remember Senior Brother Li had run into trouble like this before. How did they get out back then?”

After thinking for a moment, Yang Xiaohai stuck his thumb in his mouth, sucked on it, then raised it high, feeling for the breeze in the air.

He stood on his tiptoes, swaying for a while, then seemed to feel a coolness on the southern side of his thumb. He decided to head in that direction.

After walking a few steps, he tore off a strip of cloth from his clothes, thinking he’d leave a letter for Zhao Xiumei in case she came this way. But then he remembered she couldn’t read, and hesitated.

“I’ll find the exit first, then come back with help to rescue Xiumei. Maybe she didn’t even fall in—maybe she’s still up top.” Having made up his mind, Yang Xiaohai prepared to follow the cool direction on his thumb.

As he was leaving, he turned back to look at Lyu Juren, who was still standing there frozen. “Hey, you coming or not?”

“Coming? Where?”

“Out of here, obviously!” Yang Xiaohai felt that this guy was starting to remind him of Senior Brother Gao—dazed and confused. He had no idea what had happened to turn him into this.

“Out? Okay.” Lyu Juren nodded and followed.

Yang Xiaohai held his breath, crouched low, and carefully felt his way forward, following the cool sensation on his thumb.

From the way his feet bumped against things, he guessed they were gradually heading downhill.

He had no idea if that was good or bad. All he knew was that Senior Brother Li had escaped from beneath Qingqiu this way, so if he did the same, he could probably make it out too.

The only thing that gave him some comfort was that even though it was pitch black, nothing strange had attacked him yet. That gave him a little more hope that his wife was still alive.

Just as Yang Xiaohai was thinking this, a sound in the distance made him jolt, and he moved toward it cautiously.

As he got closer, the noise grew louder. But the more he listened, the more something felt off. It sounded like human voices.

“Where exactly is this place? How are there so many people under Qingqiu?”

After about the time it takes an incense stick to burn, Yang Xiaohai finally saw where the sound was coming from. It was a line of strange figures, all wrapped in long strips of cloth.

These figures were tall—so tall that Yang Xiaohai could only see their lower halves. Their upper bodies were lost in darkness, hard to make out. They moved their legs beneath their robes, dragging themselves forward in unison, all heading in the same direction.

Yang Xiaohai strained his eyes, and the darkness seemed to peel back slightly. He thought he could see that each of these strange figures was holding an umbrella.

Before he could figure out what was going on, he saw what was being dragged behind them, and gasped.

It was people. All kinds of people. A long soul-collecting staff had been run through all of them, stringing them together like meat on a skewer, dragging them across the ground.

One end of the white-tasseled staff was held in the hands of these strange figures.

With every drag, the captives wailed in despair, clawing helplessly at the ground. But all they accomplished was wearing their fingers down to the bone. Nothing changed.

“Where… where is this?! What the hell…” Yang Xiaohai stared at the scene in the distance, completely panicked. He had no idea what to do.

But then, suddenly, the Lyu Juren beside him, who had been so dazed this whole time, snapped awake like a dying lamp flaring up one last time. He spotted Luo Juan among the human skewer and let out a roar: “Juan’er! Run!”

That shout made the strange figures stop. The great umbrellas in the darkness slowly turned, rotating toward Yang Xiaohai.

When he saw Lyu Juren charge at the figures with a yell, Yang Xiaohai felt like he’d been plunged into an ice cave. Only one thought filled his mind: I’m done for.

Lyu Juren reached the soul-collecting staff and reached out to save Luo Juan. But the strange figure twitched its hand, and the surrounding darkness condensed into a new staff, which pierced straight through Lyu Juren’s chest.

And it didn’t stop there. The staff with Lyu Juren impaled on it twisted in the air like a living thing, then shot straight toward Yang Xiaohai.

Terrified, Yang Xiaohai didn’t think twice. He turned and ran for his life.

The trembling of the ground getting closer only deepened his despair. Just as he thought he was about to end up like Lyu Juren, a gust of wind rushed past him, and a heavy thud rang out behind him.

He was safe.

His body wouldn’t stop shaking. Trembling, Yang Xiaohai turned around and saw a familiar face standing atop the huge corpse.

“Senior Brother… Senior Brother Li?!” Yang Xiaohai stared in shock at the familiar man in the distance.

The man in the red Daoist robe with the copper coin mask—who else could it be but his Senior Brother Li?

“Yang Xiaohai? Heh, now that’s a surprise.” Li Huowang stepped down from the corpse as casually as walking down stairs, observing the boy before him with a mix of curiosity and amusement.