This old man clearly belongs to the stubborn, independent type... Zhang Yuanqing nodded satisfiedly, sheathed his knife, and asked, "The first question: how did Wang Xiao'er end up like this?" Typically, there are two ways for a corpse to become a yin corpse. One is artificially cultivated—just as he cultivated the first deceased, Wu Er No. 1. The other is that the body is buried in a place with extremely heavy yin energy, gradually absorbing that energy over time, eventually developing a faint spiritual awareness and becoming a zombie (yin corpse). Wang Xiao'er doesn't fit the second category. If it's the first method, then transforming a regular villager into such a powerful yin corpse—outperforming even Wu Er No. 1—is quite remarkable. This method is rather startling. The old man sighed deeply, saying, "It's because when he went to the grave, he brought back impure things. A few days ago, Wang Xiao'er had gone missing for several days and suddenly returned to the village with a large bundle of gold, silver, and jade items, claiming he had become wealthy and intended to build the finest house in the village, marrying a young woman from the provincial city. He went to "Antiques... Zhang Yuan didn't dwell on the issue of Wang Xiao'er turning into a ghostly figure. He asked, "What antiques did he bring back?" The old man recalled, "I was right there, just watching. He showed Mr. Xu three antiques. First, a female doll without a tongue, with elegant, flowing ears—dark and shiny, cool to the touch. Mr. Xu said this was jade from the underworld, and it needed to be placed in a tomb for several years before it became so smooth and lustrous. Second, a box of rouge—made of silver, carved with floral patterns, quite beautiful. The rouge inside, though, oh, it was so vivid, it looked like blood. You'd think after so many years in the tomb, it would have dried out. What was the third item?" Zhang Yuan Qing asked, not immediately responding. "A copper mirror, dull and gray, with several fine stones embedded in it. Mr. Xu said those were gems. Unfortunately, the mirror couldn't reflect people. Otherwise, it would have been a good sale to the wives of wealthy families in the provincial capital." "Alright, none of these three items are things that ordinary people use—Wang Xia'er truly knows how to pick," Zhang Yuanqing couldn't help but comment. "Were those three items sold by Wang Xia'er?" He recalled having searched the house thoroughly earlier, but finding nothing. The old man nodded, then shook his head: "The box of rouge was purchased by Mr. Xu. As for the young girl and the mirror, we don't know what happened to them. Since Wang Xia'er brought back these items, the village has experienced several strange incidents every day ever since." "What exactly have these strange events been?" Zhang Yuanqing followed up. "According to the village headwoman Li, on the night Wang Xia'er returned, she went out to use the bathroom in the middle of the night and, through the window, saw a woman in red clothes entering the village. That woman was exceptionally beautiful—she had never seen anyone so beautiful, though her face was a bit pale. The very next day, Wang Xia'er began to take on that ghostly appearance." According to the description of the spirit realm, the woman in red should be the Princess. So it seems that Wang Xiaoshi has been retaliated against by the Princess and turned into a shade corpse. The Princess is quite fierce. Ah well, female ghosts have always been strikingly beautiful throughout history, but unfortunately, she's a shade corpse rather than a lingering spirit of resentment. If only I could win her over—then I'd definitely use her every day, yes, use her to fight battles. Zhang Yuanqing thought vaguely, saying, "Any others?" "Yes, there's another case. The child of Zhao Er-Dan had his tongue cut off. According to Zhao Er-Dan's wife, that day she was preparing dinner when her son, the little one—Zhao Er-Dan's child—was playing in the yard. She saw him go out with a girl child. At the time, she didn't pay much attention, just thinking it was some child coming to play with him. But that girl child's face seemed dark, like a shadow, which struck her as odd. After dinner, Zhao Er-Dan's wife went out to look for her son and found him unconscious at the gate, with his tongue completely gone. "Grandpa said, with a flicker of fear in his eyes: 'Since then, as soon as it grows dark, there's always a dark little girl who likes to lean against the windows of other households, asking if they'd like to play a game. As soon as she settles at any family's window, the next day, that family's tongue is cut off. She wanders around the village until it's past one o'clock in the night before she finally leaves.' So that's how the villagers' tongues are being cut—she leaves only after one o'clock. Does that mean the game has to be played until one o'clock? Zhang Yuanqing asked, 'What kind of game is it?' The old man shook his head: 'How could we possibly know? She keeps saying she wants to play a game, but never explains what it is.' Zhang Yuanqing frowned upon hearing this. The information now seemed inconsistent—the cat king speaker had mentioned playing 'You Tap One,' but the old man insisted there was no game at all. 'How exactly did you lose your tongue?' Zhang Yuanqing asked, seeking more details." The old man recalled his fearful memories, his face pale with shock: "I was very afraid and hid under the bed, unwilling to come out. She kept pressing her body against the window, constantly saying she wanted to play games with me. Then, one moment, she disappeared. I remember falling asleep, and when I woke up, my tongue was gone." Zhang Yuanqing, drawing on his own experience, quickly analyzed the situation. Playing games was actually the correct way to navigate through the crisis—only the villagers were too afraid, none of them daring to play with the little girl. As a spiritual realm traveler, the Demon King adhered to the rules and boldly engaged in the games, thus successfully completing the challenge. What he played was... Zhang Yuanqing understood now. The Demon King had played "You Tap One." That made sense—he had immediately felt something unusual after listening to the audio from the Cat King speaker. "You Tap One" was a children's song, which should not have appeared in a Ming Dynasty-themed scenario. The children's song wasn't a result of the setting's strangeness; rather, it was the Demon King himself who had used this method to break through the crisis. The Cat King speaker merely recorded that method and then played it The first of Wang Xia'er's three antiquities has now become the first incident—there should be more strange things to come… While thinking, Zhang Yuanqing said, “Are there any other strange occurrences?” Upon hearing this, the old man looked deeply alarmed, lowering his voice instinctively: “Mr. Xu is dead!” Indeed… Zhang Yuanqing didn’t interrupt, listening as the old man continued: “The next morning, the village children went to the private school as usual. Mr. Xu, who always arrived early, was nowhere to be found. The children informed the adults, who then went to his home and discovered that Mr. Xu had passed away—quite tragically, with signs of a full adult’s death. He lay straight on the bed, with a paper figure beside him. The paper figure was beautifully crafted—his face was painted a vibrant red, and his eyes were outlined with red lacquer. Oh, not lacquer—those red strokes came from the box of rouge. The box of rouge was placed right on the bedside table, still open. The village headman noticed that Mr. Xu’s fingers were stained with the red rouge—clearly, he had used it to paint the paper figure’s face and eyes "Having said that, the old man spoke in a hushed, secretive tone: 'Li Tieniu from next door said that around midnight—around two in the evening—he heard Mr. Xu engaging in playful conversation with a woman. But Mr. Xu has been widowed for many years; where would a woman come from in his household?' 'It must be the paper figure that came to life at night and has been haunting Mr. Xu.' At deep night, the paper figure, with eyes drawn and rosy cheeks painted, lay beside him and then came to life... Zhang Yuanqing imagined the scene and found it deeply unsettling. That's why I never buy figurines—whether silicone figures or inflatable ones—I simply don't want to risk their coming to life one day and bringing chaos with them. I nourish them every day with billions of living lives, and if one day they do awaken, the fun will be over. Zhang Yuanqing asked, 'Where is the box of rouge?' 'It's still at Mr. Xu's house,' the old man sighed. 'No one dares to take it.' 'After Mr. Xu passed away, that very night—around two in the evening—someone saw the paper figure walking around the village. What At two in the morning, the paper figures will wander through the village, meaning that the second wave of crisis will arrive then. I'm not sure how the magical king deals with the paper figures—let me ask the Cat King speaker later. "Grandfather, there should be a third odd occurrence as well, perhaps something that happens at three in the morning," Zhang Yuanqing said. Based on the grandfather's account, he had deduced a pattern: at one in the morning, it was the ghost doll without a tongue causing trouble; at two in the morning, it was the paper figures. Therefore, something unusual must happen at three in the morning. Yet, the grandfather shook his head. "Three in the morning? No strange events. However, around four in the morning, something seems to have gone wrong." Zhang Yuanqing quickly asked, "What kind of strange event?" The grandfather frowned, his deeply lined, dark face momentarily puzzled. "I... I've forgotten." Forgetful? Then he would have to ask other villagers. So far, the quest wasn't particularly difficult—finding the missing tongue would yield abundant information, and the overall mysteries of the village would soon be well understood. Before dark, play games until the first watch—then the ghost dolls will be dispelled. By the second watch, tackle the paper figures. By the third watch, the eerie phenomena will subside. By the fourth watch, there should be something unusual, though the old man has forgotten—so you can inquire with other villagers. Once the three antiquities are resolved, will the boss appear? If you survive smoothly, you’ll complete the quest. Though aware that the Princess is undoubtedly strong, it's sufficient to understand the spirits within the scenario. These clearly visible threats feel far more reassuring than navigating the unknown. In fact, Zhang Yuanqing still holds one hidden asset—the Vambrace of Subduing Evil. This weapon is particularly effective against spirits, yet he hesitates to use it. After the incident at Jinshui Water Park, he suspects that using the Vambrace within the Night Traveler’s sacred realm will inevitably alert the old man. Should the old man arrive, even kneeling and singing victory would be futile. What would happen if a major boss were summoned? Zhang Yuanqing doesn’t know. He only knows that once the old man arrives, he’ll be crushed—just like a mere insect. He didn't dare risk his life on the other's attitude. At that moment, Zhang Yuanqing glanced up at the sky. It had already grown dark; the thin layer of clouds remained still, and the light was quite faint. Soon, it would be completely dark. Without further delay, Zhang Yuanqing said, "Grandfather, it's nearly dark now—the ghost child is coming. You don't want to have your tongue cut off, do you? Let's play a game." On matters of the heart, the old man had never let anyone down. He immediately nodded, "What game?" Zhang Yuanqing then explained the game's rules and procedures to the old man. "Does this really work?" the old man expressed his skepticism. "You don't have a choice," Zhang Yuanqing replied, and then summoned No. 1 the Deceased, communicating with the imprint in his mind, dividing the spirit into two parts—one remaining in the body, the other entering the corpse. Now, with the two of them and the corpse forming a triangle, Zhang Yuanqing raised his hand and said, "You clap once, I clap once. We'll play this game until it's dark." The old man clapped his hands: "You clap twice, I clap twice—feel your tongue, feel your ears." Both the man and the corpse opened their mouths, touching their tongues, then their ears. The first deceased clapped once, his voice hoarse: "You clap three times, I clap three times—add the shadow, and there are three." Clapping sounds rang out continuously, as the man and the corpse played on. Time passed, second by second, and soon it grew dark. The world was draped in a shroud of darkness, which gradually deepened until it completely swallowed the village. The night sky held neither moon nor stars—only absolute, featureless blackness. The village fell into stillness: no insect hum, no dog barks, so quiet it became unsettling, even frightening. The only sounds in this stillness were the clapping and voices of the man and the corpse. After nightfall, the village's阴气 grew heavier... Zhang Yuanqing maintained the rhythm of the game, his sensitivity as a night-wandering deity keenly attuned to the changes around him. During the day, the village felt neither cold nor gloomy, but as soon as it grew dark, a cold, damp atmosphere began to spread, transforming the entire village into a realm of spirits. Over time, this chill grew stronger and stronger. At that moment, Zhang Yuanqing heard a playful, clear laughter coming from the darkness behind him: "Huh, someone's playing a game~" The voice was bright and youthful—belonging to a young girl. She had arrived. Zhang Yuanqing noticed the old man's expression shift, his lips trembling. He sensed a profound, intensely cold aura approaching—so strong that it reminded him of the feeling of the ghost bride, specifically the overwhelming pressure she had once conveyed. How terrifying must this ghost child be? Facing her head-on seemed rather unwise. Zhang Yuanqing felt the same sense of unease as the old man. The cold aura paused behind him, then gradually settled like a cool breath, climbing steadily up his back. Was she trying to attach herself to him? Zhang Yuan's hair on his back stood straight up, his scalp tingled, and he nearly lost his rhythm in the game. Fortunately, the cold aura lingered for only a few seconds before drifting from behind Zhang Yuan to the back of Wángzhě Yīshù, attempting to settle upon him. With a glance to the side, Zhang Yuan finally made out what it was. It was a shadow—a child's shadow—projected onto the ground behind Wángzhě Yīshù, just as if it were Wángzhě Yīshù's own shadow. The shadow seemed eager to attach itself to Wángzhě Yīshù, but after several attempts, each one ended in failure. "Why are there always three of us...? I want to play! I want to play!" The small shadow emitted a soft, childlike voice, expressing its growing frustration. If there are always three of them, how can she join in? How did the Magus figure out this rule? Well, it's not hard to imagine—without the reminder from the Cat King speaker, I would have definitely gathered some villagers to join the game. "You clap two, I clap two, touch your tongue, touch your ears." The old man's voice had started to tremble—he was clearly afraid. Yet his heart gave him strength, enabling him to keep playing the game. For the following period, the shadow kept alternating behind the three of them, attempting to take possession and join the game, but each time failed. Good—since it couldn't enter, this situation would hold until midnight. Moreover, the village's阴 qi was growing stronger... Zhang Yuanqing exhaled a little more deeply. Everything was unfolding exactly as he had planned. While playing, he kept track of time, waiting for a long while, feeling that midnight was drawing near. At that moment, under the intense mental activity of a person under stress, Zhang Yuanqing suddenly recalled a point that had puzzled him: the "three people" hint provided by the Cat King speaker, and the earlier statement from the ghost doll, "Once again, it's three people." The rule regarding the number of people must have been distilled by the king of magic, but here's a question: without a clear understanding of the rule, more participants naturally means better outcomes. If I were the king of magic, I would certainly gather a group of villagers to play games—rather than settle on exactly three. Yet just now, the ghost doll said, "It's always three again." If she means the king of magic's initial attempt, then the puzzle becomes: how did the king of magic deduce that when the number of people reached three, the ghost doll would be excluded? The only plausible explanation is that the king of magic discovered this pattern through trial and error. Initially, he gathered a group of villagers, only to find that having more people made no difference—the villagers were one by one cut off or killed, until only three remained, at which point the ghost doll stopped being targeted. But that seems unlikely—villagers wouldn't exhibit such discipline; once one person died, they would likely scatter and flee. Moreover, after observing that playing games still resulted in deaths, wouldn't the king of magic have continued to summon villagers to play? He must have been fighting the ghost doll head-on, since he couldn't guarantee that the next time the ghost doll took possession, it wouldn't be himself. So, how exactly had the magical king deduced this pattern? It was almost one o'clock now—first he needed to dispatch the ghost doll and then worry about these details. Just as he was thinking this, he noticed the old man beside him suddenly wrinkle in pain, murmuring, "I remember now, I remember now—it was at four o'clock..." At that moment, Zhang Yuanqing realized that a strong aura of yin energy was rising from the old man's body, and his skin had turned from its normal tone to a deep, bluish-black. The surrounding yin energy was so intense that it masked the subtle signs of a yin corpse. Was he a yin corpse? That was impossible. As a night-wandering deity, Zhang Yuanqing could clearly perceive that the old man's body was gradually transforming into a yin corpse, nourished and strengthened by the yin energy. The old man's fingers pierced like talons, his eyes bulging with blood vessels, murmuring, "At four in the morning, everyone in the village died..." Everyone in the village died... Hearing this, Zhang Yuanqing felt a sudden chill run down his spine, his scalp tingling. This realm had no ordinary people— villagers had already passed away, maintaining human forms during the day, only to transform into spectral corpses at night, nourished by the阴energy? Hey, I always found it strange—how come there were so many living people in this realm? The阴entities in an A-tier realm were so gentle, yet here, not a single survivor remained. Suddenly, he understood why the魔king had failed his trial. He had gathered a group of villagers to play games, only for them all to turn into spectral corpses at night, resulting in game failure. Yet the魔king himself did not perish immediately—perhaps he had two spectral corpses, or some other means. In any case, he had deduced the pattern: as long as three people played together, they could avoid the ghost doll's killing rule. At that moment, the old man's rationality completely vanished, transformed into a blood-thirsty shadow, and charged straight toward Zhang Yuanqing beside him. Thud! The first unit intercepted from the side, delivering a powerful, forceful impact that sent the old man flying. The game was forced to end. "Hi-hi, I'd like to play too!" A bright, youthful voice echoed from behind Zhang Yuanqing. A profoundly cold, icy aura pressed against his back. The very next instant, a crisp "crack" sounded at his neck as his head was twisted around. "Crack... crack..." His legs and arms followed suit, each joint twisted and bent, as if assembled haphazardly into a clumsy puppet.