When Wang Zhi woke up again, she found herself lying by the roadside as usual, with the sun already high in the sky. Still groggy, a gentle voice reached her ears, "Little girl, get up now. You can't just nap by the roadside like this—there are too many insects here, you might get sick." Hearing this familiar dialogue, Wang Zhi's mind instantly cleared. Since she hadn't taken much of the drugs yesterday, their effects on her were minimal. Maintaining her composure, she replied, "Who are you? Where am I? What just happened to me? Did I fall asleep?"
The village chief's kindly face appeared before her once more, his expression just as benevolent as before, his tone just as gentle—yet it sent a chill down Wang Zhi's spine. "I was on my way back to the village to buy mosquito nets for some new visitors when I came across you, you careless thing. Haha, must be exhausted from traveling, eh?"
"Sorry about that, I must have been really tired. May I ask how I should address you, elder?" Wang Zhi responded, as if following a script, their dialogue nearly identical to before.
The village chief narrowed his eyes slightly. "Girl, I'm the village chief here. Do you remember me?"
Facing his probing, Wang Zhi remained unruffled. "Ah, no, I don't. I thought I just dozed off from exhaustion. I had some drinks earlier. I just arrived today. I didn't even realize I was lying on the ground." She scratched her head sheepishly, her expression the picture of feminine bashfulness—no one would guess she was a mastermind with the acting skills of an Oscar winner.
Seeing this, the village chief chuckled. "You're quite the carefree one, traveling alone without even a guide. But times are good now, eh? Ah, why am I rambling? Don't be afraid. Our village is full of good people. We're a famous tourist spot in these parts. When you go back, make sure to spread the word for us. Small place, poor folks—we rely on these tourist buses to get by."
With that, he led the way again, but this time, the village chief took Wang Zhi directly to his own home and showed her where she would be staying. He mentioned there would be an event later and told her to get ready to attend—this was part of the itinerary for her first day of travel.
Wang Zhi knew exactly what this was: the sacrificial ritual the pig had told her about. Most of her crucial clues had come from that pig, yet she had no real knowledge about it. She couldn't rule out the possibility that the pig was also part of the village chief's scheme, but she had no other options left. It seemed everything now depended on the ritual's proceedings and how long it would take—time was running out for her.
Wang Zhi opened the suitcase to find the same few simple women's clothes inside. The room's layout was identical to yesterday's, except today the village chief didn't mention the electric light. Just as Wang Zhi was about to test the light switch, she withdrew her hand and instead casually touched the nearby beam, sighing, "This house has truly weathered the storms of time."
Wang Zhi considered that she might be under surveillance—any attempt to verify the information the village chief had revealed yesterday would likely arouse deep suspicion. So, she planned to focus on searching for clues left behind by her previous self in this memory loop, particularly regarding the eight-word prophecy. Of course, she would also do her best to collect and uncover any related objects if the opportunity arose.
At this thought, Wang Zhi let out a faint sigh. The pressing circumstances and unpredictable timeline had her nerves stretched taut. She felt like a puppet, manipulated by some unknown force, where every struggle in this memory loop was nothing more than a predetermined puppet show.
Shaking her head, she pushed away these disheartening thoughts and silently encouraged herself, "Wang Zhi, you can do this. You still have family, and unseen allies waiting for your rescue. By the grace of the Three Pure Ones, grant me the strength to vanquish evil and restore clarity to this world."
Just then, a young man knocked on the door and spoke softly, "Greetings, traveler. Today, I'll be your local guide. I'll take you to experience our village's most traditional and distinctive blessing ritual. It refreshes the spirit and preserves eternal youth—though, of course, these are just auspicious words, part of our village's cultural rites."
Wang Zhi turned to look at him. The young man appeared to be in his early twenties, with sharp brows and bright eyes, his thin lips lending him a dashing air—a stark contrast to the sinister demeanor she had observed the night before.
Playing the part of a newcomer, Wang Zhi feigned shyness and said, "Alright. Little brother, are you always this handsome?"
"You flatter me. It's you, sister, who shines with grace, as radiant as a lotus emerging from water."
The two exchanged playful banter, their laughter continuous. To an outsider, they might have seemed like a pair of young lovers, sweet and romantic. Yet beneath the surface, both remained cold and calculating, each probing the other.
After about the time it took to drink a cup of tea, they slowly made their way along the mountain path toward the ancestral hall on the western hill by the village entrance.
Outside the ancestral hall stood several ancient stone lantern holders with two tiers each. Built using traditional Chinese mortise-and-tenon techniques and topped with glazed green tiles, they exuded an air of profound antiquity and grandeur. Passing through the central gate, one could see the main hall where deities were enshrined above and ancestors below. The statue of the deity was veiled behind layers of tattered curtains—though worn, the three-meter-long drapes still obscured any clear view of what lay within. Below stood a dark red altar table with a somber, lacquered surface, its scent of sandalwood mingling with a faint mustiness. Irregular patterns were faintly visible on its surface, layered and overlapping. The altar was tiered with rows of ancestral tablets arranged in a descending slope. Wang Zhi noticed that although the inscriptions on most tablets had faded almost beyond recognition, a few stood out as conspicuously blank, their condition markedly different from the surrounding tablets. Inside, the village chief and two other villagers were already standing nearby. Red ritual candles formed a circle in the center, and three one-meter-long incense sticks still burned in the altar's censer. The chief, solemn-faced, held an ancient sword covered in red rust and wore a ceremonial robe of yellow and navy blue. The two female villagers, dressed in traditional southern Sichuan attire, smiled warmly at me.
Had it not been for the earlier clues and suspicions, anyone would have been struck by the solemn dignity of this ancient ritual—everything matched conventional expectations of a blessing ceremony. They even thoughtfully explained the room's furnishings, artifacts, robes, ritual sword, and the ceremony's traditions and procedures, appearing both kind and professional. Wang Zhi played the part of a curious observer, touching and examining everything while engaging in small talk. She had to feign interest while searching for clues. The irregular patterns on the altar table had a textured feel under her fingers, proving they weren't originally part of the wood. The dark red, layered marks resembled stains from blood seeping into the grain. As she traced them, she discreetly scraped at the surface with her nails, collecting traces of blood and wood fragments beneath them. Though unsure what kind of blood she needed based on yesterday's clues, she wouldn't overlook anything blood-related. When she reached for the ritual sword, the chief hesitated, but with the ceremony about to begin, he reluctantly handed it to her for closer inspection, unwilling to disrupt the proceedings.
Wang Zhi couldn't stop marveling at the ancient beauty of the sword. As her fingers traced the red rust marks, it was clear these were genuine corrosion patterns left on the surface. Seizing the moment, she casually asked, "Village chief, look how rusted this is! Why not get a new one?" While pretending to be absent-minded, she picked at the rust to see if any would come off.
The chief replied amiably, "This was passed down from our ancestors—we wouldn't dare replace it. Hahaha, don't pick at it, little one. You might damage this relic, and we'd have to hold you responsible for compensation." Wang Zhi quickly apologized, but she'd already managed to pry loose a small rusted fragment, which she wedged deep under her pinky fingernail until blood began to seep out.
The pain made her wince slightly, though she immediately covered it by pretending to have cut her finger while handing back the sword. "Chief!" she exclaimed dramatically. "This sword might give me tetanus! Oh heavens, quick—let's go down the mountain and get this bandaged!"
But the chief merely chuckled and stepped in front of her, smoothly taking back the ritual sword. "Now, now, child, let me see how bad it is. Going up and down would waste so much time, and we'd have to reset all these ritual arrangements. Why don't we finish the ceremony first? It won't take long." His tone was reasonable, even concerned, but it was all a cover—he wanted to probe Wang Zhi's intentions and proceed with the rites.
Wang Zhi couldn't risk letting him inspect her closely. If he discovered the metal shard under her nail, she might end up as a sacrificial offering right then and there. Feigning shyness, she demurred, "That wouldn't be proper. Let's just watch the ceremony. I'll tend to this later. You're an older man, chief—you should be more dignified." Her playful scolding, both coy and indignant, successfully redirected the conversation.
The village chief arranged for Wang Zhi to sit in the center, while the young man and two other village women stood around her, murmuring something in low voices. The rhythm and tone of their chanting were oddly harmonious, though the prolonged, continuous recitation was enough to lull one to sleep. The chief, standing before the incense burner, followed the usual script of blessings: "We beseech our ancestors above to witness our sincerity. With blood as our offering and souls as our vow, we seek eternal protection. May we be blessed and forever sheltered by the divine."
The only thing Wang Zhi could do now was silently recite the Golden Light Mantra, hoping to counter the supernatural with the supernatural. "The profound origin of heaven and earth, the root of all energy. Through countless trials, my divine power is proven…" Gradually, Wang Zhi felt as though she were floating. She cautiously opened her eyes and realized she had seemingly left her body—her soul had detached.
The village chief and the others had transformed into towering, headless monstrosities with bloated bellies. From the gaping mouths on the abdomens of the chief and the two women, human limbs protruded, still being chewed. Wang Zhi guessed these must have been her former companions. The young man's grotesque maw dripped with saliva, and though it lacked eyes, she could still sense the creature's ravenous desire for her flesh.
When Wang Zhi looked up at the idol, she saw the sinister deity seated upon the altar, its massive maw gaping directly at the ancestral hall. Her soul drifted higher and higher—the village shrank beneath her, and so did the evil god. Only then did she realize the entire village was nothing but a colossal sacrificial table, with the deity seated beside it, mouth open wide, waiting for human souls to leap in one by one.
It seemed to sense something, twisting its body toward the direction of Wang Zhi's soul, but finding nothing, it settled back into place.
Then, from behind her, a man's voice spoke—low, deep, and rasping, like the death rattle of a dying man. "We've finally waited for you, Divine Traveler. We've waited 350 years. Please, you must save our village. Save those people." Wang Zhi turned her spectral form and saw a group of about a dozen indistinct souls standing together. Her pupils constricted in horror—the voice had come from a man whose face was identical to the village chief's.
Was this… an illusion? Or reality?