Chapter 228: Paper Man

Chapter 228: The Paper Man

A shrill scream echoed through the night, rendering the darkness all the more desolate, all the more terrifying.

Run?

Faced with this scene, listening to the scream blaring from the Mao Wang speaker, Zhang Yuanqing felt his scalp tighten, a chill surging in his heart.

He never in his wildest dreams expected the Mao Wang speaker to give a prompt like this.

This was absolutely not good news.

Zhang Yuanqing waited silently for a moment; seeing the Mao Wang speaker remain mute, his heart sank, and he slapped it across the face:

"Hey, hey, you don't want to stay stuck in this godforsaken place forever, do you? If you've got a way out, spit it out quick. We have to work together if we're both getting out of here."

But this time, the Mao Wang speaker offered no response, not even when he drew the Bloodthirsty Blade to threaten it.

So its only advice was to run?

Realizing he wouldn't get any reliable intel from the speaker, Zhang Yuanqing quickly composed himself, leveraging his strengths to analyze the situation.

He first sorted through the known intelligence, discovering that when the old man mentioned the Paper Man, he only said it would appear at the second watch, offering no further description.

As for the Ghost Doll, he said the Ghost Doll demanded they play a game.

"Looks like the Paper Man and the Ghost Doll are different. The latter can be avoided by following the rules, but the Paper Man can't. It's a head-on collision, no shortcuts."

"The speaker's prompt was 'run.' That speaks volumes. The Paper Man is likely even more dangerous than the Ghost Doll. This is a dungeon instance; if I could run, I would have run ages ago. Did I need you to remind me?"

"Intel on the Paper Man is too scarce. To beat it, I have to figure out its bottom line first. Good thing I've always been cautious and asked an extra question."

He had asked the old man where that box of rouge was.

The answer he got was that it was still in Mister Xu's house.

So the next objective was clear: find Mister Xu's house, find that box of rouge.

When the time came, he should be able to obtain a fair amount of useful information.

"From the Ghost Doll's departure to now, it's been about half an hour. The gap between the first watch and the second watch is two hours; I still have an hour and a half. This village isn't exactly small; finding Mister Xu's house in an hour and a half is going to be tough."

Zhang Yuanqing gazed into the deep night, pondered for a few seconds, and formed a plan.

—Devour the villagers' souls, obtain the answers.

Wang Xia'er was a key NPC; he couldn't devour his soul. But ordinary villagers should be fine, right?

Leading Undead No. 1, he picked the nearest stone house and barged straight in.

"Heh heh~"

Alerted by the noise, the two Yin Corpses inside the house saw a savage bloodlust surge in their pupils, and they lunged forward, claws bared.

Undead No. 1 stepped forward with a massive stride, its right leg whipping out like a lash, smashing the female Yin Corpse's head to pieces. Then, utilizing the momentum of the whip kick, its body spun half a circle, driving the right arm forward, a fist caving in the male Yin Corpse's skull.

Flesh and bone fragments sprayed down like rain.

The two headless Yin Corpses stumbled forward a few more steps before collapsing face-first onto the ground.

Pitch-black energy surged in Zhang Yuanqing’s eyes, filling the sockets, devouring the lingering spiritual bodies within the two Yin Corpses.

Shattered scenes flashed by, one after another; he swiftly located Mister Xu’s residence amidst the chaotic memory fragments—the scholar lived in a courtyard by the river on the village’s west end, the most cultured man in the settlement.

Upon learning Mister Xu’s address, Zhang Yuanqing felt no urgency; instead, he sat cross-legged on the spot, eyes closed, nurturing his spirit.

Given his current physical state, he was in no condition to handle sudden mishaps; rather than wandering outside, he might as well seize the time to heal his wounds and recover his stamina.

In the stillness, the passage of time was imperceptible; Zhang Yuanqing rested the fingers of his left hand on his pulse, using it to measure the hours.

The surrounding Yin energy was dense, nourishing his battered body, knitting broken bones, restoring vitality.

After eighteen hundred heartbeats, Zhang Yuanqing opened his eyes—bright, clear, the weariness vanished.

Bones had knitted, fully healed; stamina had returned to seventy percent of its peak.

"Once stamina recovers to ninety percent, I can unleash Howling Moon again; pity there’s no food, else I’d be back at peak condition by now."

He hesitated no longer, departing with Corpse One, heading for the village west.

Ten-odd minutes later, walking the narrow village lane, Zhang Yuanqing heard the cheerful babble of a stream; rounding a rammed-earth house, he saw a three-meter-wide creek threading between stone houses.

The current was swift yet gentle, its rushing sound light and brisk.

Following the creek for a few more minutes, he finally arrived outside the small courtyard where Mister Xu resided.

At this moment, it was still over half an hour until the second watch.

For safety, Zhang Yuanqing planned to send Corpse One in to scout while he waited outside; considering the Yin Corpse lacked vision to pierce the dark, he draped the Yin-Yang Daoist Robe over Corpse One.

Corpse One pressed both palms against the courtyard gate, exerting force silently; with a groan of strained hinges, the gate slowly swung inward.

The Yin Corpse feared no peril in the darkness, swiftly entering the courtyard.

At every such moment, Zhang Yuanqing marveled at his own foresight—he had begun preparing to refine a Yin Corpse upon reaching Tier 3; otherwise, in a dungeon fraught with crises, sending his main body to clear mines might have seen him spontaneously combust and return to the Spirit Realm at any second.

Crossing the yard, pushing open the lattice door of the main hall, Corpse One halted at the threshold, palm spread wide.

Whoosh!

A fireball ignited, dispelling the gloom, bringing light.

The main hall’s furnishings came into view: a round table facing the door, round stools at its sides, calligraphy and paintings on the walls.

To the left of the entrance stood a carved wooden canopy bed draped with gauze curtains; to the right, bookshelves and a long rectangular writing desk.

No paper effigy, no corpse.

Presumably, the villagers had buried Mister Xu’s body upon discovering his death.

The paper effigy isn’t here—excellent... Zhang Yuanqing exhaled, immediately stepping over the stone threshold, not forgetting to shut the courtyard gate behind him, traversing the yard to reach the main hall’s exterior, reuniting with the Yin Corpse.

A paper effigy differs from a ghost doll; as long as it possesses a physical form, it cannot ignore physical obstacles. Closing the gate wasn’t to block it, but to serve as a warning "bell."

One man, one corpse entered the main hall, closed the door; Zhang Yuanqing extinguished the fireball, seeing in the dark as if it were nothing. He first inspected the bed, opened several chests storing quilts and clothes, and did not forget to bend and peer beneath the bed.

Only after confirming the paper effigy was truly absent did he approach the writing desk, scrutinizing the objects upon it.

The first to catch his eye was a small, exquisite rouge box, half a palm in size, a finger’s height, made of silver, composed of a base and a lid, engraved with exquisite auspicious clouds and floral patterns.

Zhang Yuanqing reached out and took up the rouge box, waiting quietly for a few seconds as the item's attributes manifested:

[Name: Blood Rouge]

[Type: Cosmetic]

[Function: Spirit Possession, Bloodthirst]

[Description: Legend says this rouge was crafted from the fresh blood of eighty-eight maidens. It never dries for a thousand years, its color never fades; it is the boudoir treasure every woman dreams of. Upon its owner's death, it became a burial good, interred deep underground for long ages. The vengeful spirit within the box, nurtured by yin qi, grew ever more ferocious. Applying the rouge to one's cheeks or lips can summon the vengeful spirit to possess the wearer. The spirit craves fresh blood with desperate intensity; only the sacrifice of sufficient essence-blood can appease it.]

[Note 1: Kill not others, and it shall kill you.]

[Note 2: Within the next ten minutes, a random bodily function will undergo necrosis.]

[Note 3: Among the dead maidens was a Bewitching Fiend; beware its beguilement.]

"The rouge box is indeed an artifact, and of exceedingly high quality. Even if it hasn't reached the Saint rank, it possesses peak Transcendent quality—it feels comparable to top-tier gear like the Yin-Yang Taoist Robe."

A thought crossed Zhang Yuanqing's mind, and he moved to stow the rouge box away.

[Ding. This item cannot be collected.]

Just as I thought—nothing comes that cheap... Zhang Yuanqing grumbled inwardly.

As far as he knew, every artifact in the Spirit Realm possessed uniqueness; they did not respawn. Once taken, they were gone forever.

Based on the decrease or increase of artifacts, the Spirit Realm would automatically adjust its difficulty rating.

If the rouge box could be taken, the Demon Lord would have claimed it long ago; it could not possibly have remained here.

Without the paper figurines, perhaps the difficulty rating of "Mute Village" might drop as well.

"Judging by Note 3, Master Xu must have been beguiled by the rouge box. That is why he applied rouge to the paper figurine, releasing the vengeful spirit within, and met a violent end."

Zhang Yuanqing pondered this while examining the other items on the table.

—Several volumes concerning the Ming Dynasty, and a crudely hand-drawn map.

The books were written in classical Chinese; Zhang Yuanqing flipped through them casually before tossing them aside, turning his attention to the map for closer study.

On the map, simple lines sketched out "houses" and "mountain peaks," with a notation at the bottom:

"Ancient tomb location: twenty-three li southwest of the rear mountain."

Combining this with the books at hand, Zhang Yuanqing instantly understood—Master Xu had been analyzing the ancient tomb's location, and the identity of its occupant.

Seeing Wang Er obtain treasure from the ancient tomb, greed had sprouted in his heart; he, too, wished to enter the tomb and strike it rich?

"But that's wrong. Wang Er and that wandering Taoist searched the mountains all night before finding the tomb entrance. Master Xu couldn't possibly have deduced it out of thin air while sitting at home. Perhaps he gleaned the information from Wang Er when purchasing the rouge box..."

Zhang Yuanqing promptly discarded the question. How Master Xu learned the tomb's location was unimportant.

He shifted his focus back to the "Blood Rouge" item information.

"According to the old man's description, Master Xu was sucked dry into a human husk. This matches the Blood Rouge's description. Master Xu died, yet the neighboring villagers did not. That night, the paper figurine killed only Master Xu..."

Suddenly, a faint *creak* drifted from the courtyard, interrupting Zhang Yuanqing's train of thought.

The sound was exceedingly slight, but in the silent night, any movement was magnified.

Zhang Yuanqing jerked his head up, gaze snapping toward the door, his body tensing in a conditioned reflex.

Shit, it was already the second watch…

Ever since becoming a Night Wanderer, Zhang Yuanqing hadn't felt this scalp-numbing dread in a long time; the last time was in the Mountain God Temple, when, as a mere mortal, he had clung to life solely through sheer survival instinct.

Otherwise, he would have died of fright from the eeriness and horror within the Mountain God Temple long ago.

And now, after so long, he had unexpectedly reclaimed that old sensation…

Zhang Yuanqing didn't grab a weapon and charge out to duel the paper man to the death; instead, taking Corpse No. 1 with him, he sprinted toward the bed with swift silence, slipping underneath it without a sound.

He pressed a hand on Corpse No. 1's shoulder, entering the Night Wander state.

Night Wander could mask one's aura and conceal one's form; the paper man shouldn't be able to detect him. Zhang Yuanqing planned to observe first, then decide whether to retreat or launch a sneak attack.

The moment the man and corpse hid beneath the bed, the main room's door was pushed open a crack.

Next, a foot clad in red embroidered shoes stepped across the threshold.

Then the other foot, also wearing embroidered shoes.

During this process, Zhang Yuanqing heard a faint, slightly crisp "rustling" sound—the sound unique to paper rubbing against paper.

A paper man!

Those feet in embroidered shoes, after crossing the threshold, halted beside the round table, standing there motionless for a long while, like a genuine paper effigy.

Zhang Yuanqing observed the paper man, sensing a thick, profound Yin energy emanating from it, far surpassing that of the ghost doll.

He shifted a few centimeters outward, widening his field of vision to better observe the paper man's full appearance.

Darkness could not hinder a Night Wanderer's vision; he fixed his gaze, making out the paper man's form—a paper effigy dressed in garish crimson robes, a blood-red shadow in the dark.

Its face was pasted with white paper, pale to the point of horror, yet its cheeks were smeared with a blood-like rouge, its lips painted with vermilion; most horrifying of all, within the paper effigy's eye sockets lay two streaks of crimson.

Ghastly white and garish red, simultaneously present on a dull, stiff face; anyone who laid eyes on that visage would feel panic rise in their heart.

…Zhang Yuanqing silently withdrew his head.

At this moment, the paper effigy that had stood dumbly for so long strode toward the desk with a bizarre gait.

Its walking posture was strange, as if its knee joints refused to bend; it marched a stiff goose-step, every stride identical in length, every interval between steps exactly the same.

A human could absolutely never walk with such precise, mechanical regularity.

From the round table to the desk, a distance of four or five meters, it took over ten seconds; finally, it stopped beside the desk, its head lowering stiffly, as if examining something on the tabletop.

What is it looking at the desk for?! Zhang Yuanqing's heart clenched; he rapidly reviewed the scene, confirming he had put everything back in place, only then letting out a breath of relief.

The paper man lingered by the desk for a moment, then turned on stiff knee joints, heading toward the bed.

…Zhang Yuanqing's newly relaxed nerves snapped taut once more.

"Rustle…" The paper man was light, its footsteps equally light.

Zhang Yuanqing's eyes locked dead onto those embroidered shoes, watching it advance step by stiff step, drawing closer, finally stopping at the bedside.

Even in the Night Wander state, Zhang Yuanqing held his breath.

The paper effigy reached the bedside, and once more began its long, silent vigil.

At this moment, Zhang Yuanqing’s Night Roaming time had but thirty seconds left.

At this moment, those embroidered shoes were less than fifteen centimeters from his face.

After a suffocating silence, the paper figure turned with stiff joints, treading light, "rustling" steps toward the door.

It’s finally gone… Zhang Yuanqing longed to heave a sigh of profound relief.

Suddenly, the paper effigy halted abruptly, its back to the bed, utterly motionless.

Zhang Yuanqing’s view was blocked by the bed frame; he could see only the figure’s calves, the rest obscured above.

Why has it stopped?

Puzzlement gripped Zhang Yuanqing’s heart. He kept his focus fixed on the paper figure, and then witnessed a terrifying sight.

The paper figure, back still turned to him, slowly bent at the waist, lowered its head, and peered beneath the bed through its own legs.

Zhang Yuanqing saw that face—deathly pale, utterly devoid of living breath.

The paper figure saw him, too.

…