At the breakfast stalls by the city gate, steam rolled into the air. The sll of soy milk and toasted flatbread drifted through the morning fog. At first glance, it looked no different from any other town.
I held a bowl of spicy Hulatang, took a loud slurp, and muttered under my breath, “Honestly, this seems pretty normal to . It’s even piping hot.”
Lian, however, sat on the long bench by the stall, expressionless, quietly observing the surroundings.
“Too quiet.”
I blinked. “Huh?”
“Listen,” Lian said, his gaze resting on the vendor, voice flat. “If this were a normal morning of business, soone would have said sothing by now.”
Only then did it finally dawn on . I looked around.
The vendor kept his head down, flipping flatbread and ladling soup with practiced efficiency—but from beginning to end he hadn’t uttered a single word. Not even a greeting. The custors at the tables simply ate in silence, none of them speaking to one another.
“I felt sothing strange about the city’s atmosphere last night,” Lian said quietly, withdrawing his gaze. “Now it seems clear. The people here are likely… being suppressed by sothing. That’s why they don’t dare speak.”
Hua stuffed the last piece of stead bun into his mouth, brushed off his hands, and stood up. “If that’s the case, then we’ll have to poke around and find out exactly what they’re afraid of.”
I opened my mouth to say sothing, but the mont I rembered what Juan had told us, the words stuck in my throat.
…Yeah. What exactly were they afraid of?
Lian thought for a mont. “If we want answers, there’s a senior living sowhere in this city. He might know sothing.”
I slapped my thigh. “Perfect. Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go.”
And just like that, Hua and I followed Lian down an unnad alley heading toward the western part of the city.
The wind in the alley was strong, snapping our clothes and throwing dust straight into our faces.
We hadn’t gone far when a sudden commotion erupted ahead.
A group of people spilled out of the alley mouth in twos and threes. n and won, young and old—and the things they were holding were downright bizarre.
Hoes. Kitchen knives. Wooden pestles. Rolling pins.
One elderly woman even carried a laundry bat, glaring at us with murderous intent. A little girl gripped a pair of paper-cutting scissors, the blades glinting as she waved them in our direction.
“Hey—hold on a second!” I raised my hands defensively. “What’s all this about? We’re just passing through. We don’t owe anyone money, and we haven’t stolen anybody’s cabbages!”
No response.
So I tried again. “Are you trying to chase us out? Rob us? Or—”
Still nothing.
“Co on, at least say sothing!” I protested. “Is it forbidden for outsiders to walk around the city? Did we step sowhere we shouldn’t have? Or—”
Nothing.
Just the sound of footsteps and rough breathing.
“Wait… are these zombies or sothing?” I muttered, backing up a couple of steps. “Or so kind of ghost illusion?”
Hua pinched the bridge of his nose. “Do you ever stop talking? Run!”
Before the words had even finished leaving his mouth, the entire crowd raised their weapons and charged.
We turned and bolted.
The alley was cramped. Laundry hung from the walls on both sides, along with strips of salted fish. The wind whipped them around so they smacked against our faces, almost like hands grabbing at us.
Behind us the crowd closed in. Hoes struck the ground, wooden clubs slamd into walls—clank, thump, bang—like soone beating funeral drums.
As I ran, I shouted, “Look, if you’re unhappy, we can fight back, you know! Since when does the demonic sect follow etiquette like this? Are we supposed to politely let people chase us across ten streets first?”
Lian shot a cold glance over his shoulder.
“You think we’re like those hypocrites who preach virtue and morality? Trap soone first and then lecture them about righteousness?” His voice was icy. “We don’t stoop to that.”
With that he kicked over a bucket by the roadside. Water splashed everywhere, sending our pursuers slipping and stumbling. The whole scene instantly dissolved into chaos.
I couldn’t help muttering internally:
Right. Your demonic sect is very principled indeed. No rules, no reasoning—just strike first.
But the strangest part was that those people still didn’t make a sound. Even when they fell, none of them cried out. They simply climbed back up and kept chasing, like puppets pulled by invisible strings.
The more I ran, the more unsettled I felt. My foot nearly tripped on a stone, but Hua grabbed by the collar and hauled up like a chicken, tossing over a wall.
“What are you standing there for? Move!” he barked.
We stumbled through seven or eight twisting alleys. Lian moved swiftly, firing sleeve arrows that slamd into the walls behind us. The sharp thuds startled the ones in front long enough for us to finally lose them.
At last we stopped in front of a quiet little courtyard. No voices anywhere.
The gate was tightly shut. No plaque, no door gods painted on it. Only two black stone beasts crouched at the entrance.
I rubbed my aching knees, panting. “So… we’re here, right?”
The stone beasts looked strange. Not lions—more like crouching leopards. Their black stone eyes glead eerily in the moonlight.
I muttered to the system, “Well damn, this senior’s got style. Everyone else puts stone lions at their gate. He went with stone leopards.”
The system replied dryly, “Or perhaps he’s worried about chicken thieves. Lions might not be intimidating enough.”
A chill ran down my spine. Clearly this place hid so serious characters.
We exchanged glances. Lian stepped forward and knocked three tis.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The sound echoed loudly through the unnaturally silent alley.
We waited, holding our breath. No movent ca from inside. Not even the bark of a dog.
I whispered, “Nobody ho? Maybe knock harder?”
Hua frowned. “Don’t.”
Lian knocked again, softer this ti, almost like a coded signal ant for soone specific.
Still nothing.
I couldn’t help muttering, “Don’t tell we ca all this way for nothing. Maybe the senior’s not ho… or still asleep?”
Just then—
Creeeeak.
From deep inside the courtyard ca the sound of a rusty door opening. Then a faint humming noise followed, like wind blowing across the mouth of a bottle… or soone chanting a slow, distant incantation.
Suddenly the wind picked up. A cold white light leaked through the crack in the gate. It looked like moonlight—but colder.
I glanced up at the sky.
It was definitely dayti.
I instinctively stepped back half a pace. “…Please don’t tell we knocked on the wrong door and walked straight into a haunted house.”
Lian’s expression didn’t change.
“They’re coming.”
“Who’s com—”
Before I could finish, the gate creaked open slightly. A withered hand slowly extended from the gap and made a gentle beckoning motion.
The air suddenly filled with the scent of aged dicinal herbs—like old incense mixed with rust.
My chest tightened.
Holding our breath, we stepped through the gate. Behind us, it shut with a soft click.
The courtyard was eerily silent. The shriveled hand still hovered by the entrance, pointing toward the center of the yard.
I gathered my courage and stepped closer—only to realize it wasn’t a real hand at all.
It was carved from so unknown wood.
The grain was so fine it looked almost alive. Even the fingernails had delicate red lines carved into them like veins.
Following the wooden arm, I saw it was attached to a thin cord no thicker than a finger. The cord stretched from the gate to a wooden fra in the center of the courtyard, then branched into countless threads that spread outward like a spiderweb into the surrounding buildings.
I looked up.
The pale light brightened slightly, revealing the source—so strange contraption hanging from the roof ridge. It looked half like a lantern, half like a waterwheel. Gears and pulleys clicked and turned, tugging the threads so they trembled gently.
“This… this is a chanism?” I swallowed. “String puppets?”
From deeper in the courtyard ca a splash.
Another rope had triggered the well’s pulley. The bucket lowered itself with a soft rumble, filled with water, and rose again. The water flowed through bamboo pipes into a flower bed, where stone beast heads spat out streams that watered each plant one by one.
“Holy…” I stared in disbelief. “This place waters the flowers automatically? Wait—does that an the gate earlier closed by itself too?”
It wasn’t just the garden.
From the woodshed ca a steady clang-clang-clang, like a hamr striking tal on its own. Sparks occasionally flew into the courtyard, casting flashes of gold and red through the air.
Hua narrowed his eyes, studying the layout of the chanisms. Lian rely said coldly,
“This person has a strange temperant. Even opening the door for guests is done through puppet tricks. Either he’s extrely cautious… or he simply doesn’t want to see people.”
I leaned closer to whisper to the system, “This guy’s more particular than any master I’ve ever heard of. At this rate, the next step is probably a talking wooden servant coming out to pour us tea.”
The system replied seriously, “Please remain alert. It might also be an automatic attack system.”
I shuddered and instinctively edged a little closer behind Lian.
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