Chapter Seventy-Five: Drawing Near

The entire courtyard was instantly shrouded in terror, as if every person’s expression had frozen in place, staring over in shock. The man lying on the ground suddenly sprang to his feet, furiously flinging off the wriggling creatures clinging to him. The sight only deepened everyone’s fear. In the next moment, they all began hacking wildly at the creatures swarming toward them.

Wu Cheng’an saw Wu Daoyi, just a few steps away, turning to flee. He darted over and seized Wu Daoyi by the shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. Glancing back at Zhang Qinglin and the others, he realized that their position was miraculously untouched by the onslaught. Without hesitation, he dragged Wu Daoyi toward them.

“You brat, let me go! If we don’t get out now, these things will eat us alive!” Wu Daoyi bellowed, his eyes wide with panic.

Wu Cheng’an tightened his grip and snapped, “Shut up! Wu Daoyi, don’t try any more tricks or I’ll throw you to those monsters myself.”

“I’m your uncle, you wretch! Let me go right now…” Wu Daoyi snarled, shooting a furious glance at him.

“I have no uncle,” Wu Cheng’an retorted coldly. He picked up a length of rope from the ground and bound Wu Daoyi tightly.

By this time, those surrounded by the creatures were nearly submerged beneath their writhing bodies. The courtyard echoed with unending screams. Some of the men wielding knives had already been gnawed down to bare, bleached bone.

Gone was their former bravado; now, they trembled in terror, watching helplessly as the creatures crawled up their bodies. Some spun in place, others collapsed, rolling across the ground in agony.

“Let’s go…” Zhang Qinglin, supporting Cheng Che, was making for the exit when suddenly, a pair of red cloth shoes appeared before them.

Embroidered with plum blossoms, Cheng Che immediately recognized them as the very pair from the old woman’s bamboo basket. He looked up slowly, and saw that the shoes were worn by a woman, her entire body dripping wet.

Her expression was icy as she strode forward. As she entered the courtyard, the main gate slammed shut behind her with a sharp crack.

“Plum Blossom…” Zhang Qinglin blurted out, backing away with Cheng Che. Here, perhaps only he had seen the so-called Plum Blossom in dreams, and the woman standing before them was unmistakably the same as the one from those visions.

“Plum... Blossom…” Cheng Che stared, dumbfounded. “Didn’t she die more than twenty years ago…?”

“She’s not… she’s not human…” Wu Daoyi muttered, tongue-tied. Though his face betrayed less panic, fear still churned within him. The woman ahead was terrifying: her face deathly pale, her hollow eyes staring blankly, long black hair dripping wet and plastered to her cheeks. Her eyes seemed to pierce through everything, her body rigid as she advanced.

“What does she want?” Wu Daoyi could no longer mask his terror, his voice quivering.

The woman walked to the center of the courtyard. The creatures at her feet seemed to frolic around her, darting back and forth with eerie joy.

She bent down and picked something up from among the writhing horde, then straightened and turned her empty gaze toward Cheng Che. He shuddered involuntarily. In the next instant, the woman vanished, and whatever she had been holding fell silently to the ground.

Zhang Qinglin stared intently at where Plum Blossom had disappeared. A few of the creatures lay dead nearby, their bodies hacked apart, and beside them was the item she’d dropped—a jade leaf pendant, just like the one Plum Blossom had produced in his dream.

He quickly scanned the bodies lying on the ground. Could the murderer of Plum Blossom be among them?

Lost in thought, he bent to pick up the pendant. Cheng Che’s tense voice called from behind, “Hey, Old Zhang, don’t touch that! It’s something left by a ghost!”

Zhang Qinglin gazed at the pendant. Under the lamplight, its deep green glow looked utterly real, not the stuff of dreams. Carefully, he reached for it. As soon as he picked it up, he discovered a crumpled piece of paper pressed beneath it, as if the two items belonged together.

He retrieved both the pendant and the note, unfolding the creased paper. Suddenly, he whirled around, his eyes locking onto Wu Daoyi.

“What does it say?” Cheng Che asked, staring at the paper in Zhang Qinglin’s hand.

There were only two sentences on the note, but they sent a chill through his bones.

In that instant, more of the creatures surged from the corners of the courtyard, racing toward the center. Without a moment’s hesitation, Zhang Qinglin grabbed Cheng Che’s arm. “Run! There are more and more of them!”

Supporting Cheng Che, Zhang Qinglin bolted for the main gate, with Wu Cheng’an half-dragging Wu Daoyi. The four of them fled from the old Zhang family residence.

The moment they escaped, Zhang Qinglin was filled with unease. They had lost even the shelter they once had. With a heavy heart, he walked to the roadside and stood beneath a large tree, clutching the creased paper and the pendant tightly in his hand.

“Who are you, really? What connection do you have to the Zhang family massacre? What do you know?” Zhang Qinglin turned to Wu Daoyi, his expression grave.

Wu Daoyi straightened, meeting Zhang Qinglin’s gaze. In a hoarse voice, he replied, “Heh… kid, untie me and I’ll tell you.”

“What are you talking about? You think he’s a fool? Let you go so you can run? Besides, your nephew hasn’t said a word yet,” Cheng Che retorted, cradling his injured arm.

Wu Cheng’an pressed a dagger to Wu Daoyi’s throat. “Uncle, I want to know as well—what do you know? And where did that blood-red ring come from?”

“Hmph. If I don’t talk, what can you do? The Zhang family massacre has nothing to do with me. I know nothing,” Wu Daoyi replied coldly.

Zhang Qinglin responded, “If you have nothing to do with it, then why was my grandfather’s pipe found in your house? And when the murders happened, you were seen at the Zhang family home. I thought you were Uncle Jiang at the time, but it was you!”