Chapter 30: The Old Woman with the Fox-like Face

Chapter 30: The Old Woman with the Fox Face

Beneath the deep shroud of night, the little girl led Zhang San and Zheng Ji through the village, where an uncanny silence enveloped the remote settlement. The houses stood scattered but orderly, yet every window was now tightly shut. Not a soul could be seen on the streets; only an occasional gust of cold wind swept up a few withered leaves, their rustling especially jarring in the deathly stillness of the village.

“Hui Niang, how can you dare to walk such dark paths alone?”

“I have the doll my father and mother made for me. With it by my side, I’m not afraid.” Hui Niang pulled out a tiny doll from her bosom, a simple wooden figure crudely carved.

Their footsteps echoed along the empty village road, and Zheng Ji felt as though each step landed upon a taut nerve. The air was laced with an indescribable smell—a blend of stale dust and something sour and decayed—that made even Zhang San wrinkle his brow.

Every house they passed had its door firmly barred, and wooden planks hung over the windows to block out prying eyes. Behind those pitch-dark cracks, it seemed someone might be secretly watching their every move. Occasionally, a strange sound drifted from a hidden corner, but when they turned to look, nothing was ever there. The intermittent noises were like whispers at their ears, or perhaps just the wind, impossible to distinguish.

The little girl seemed wholly accustomed to this. Her steps were light and unhesitating, her slight figure appearing all the lonelier under the faint moonlight. Now and then, she glanced back at Zhang San and Zheng Ji, her large eyes reflecting a certain expectation.

There were no street lamps in the village; only moonlight lit their way. Their shadows stretched and warped along the dirt road, dancing as if alive. Zheng Ji, clutching the girl, quickened his pace unconsciously, their shadows fleeing across the ground as if something pursued them from behind.

At the village’s edge lay a desolate field, where a few crooked scarecrows stood. Their tattered conical hats and ragged forms fluttered with stray straw in the wind, waving as if to beckon them. Each scarecrow’s face bore a twisted smile, hideously grotesque in the night.

When at last the trio stood before the little girl’s courtyard gate, a chill wind swept past, making them shiver involuntarily. The girl gently pushed open the half-closed gate and led them inside. The house was dim; only the faintest moonlight crept through the window, spilling across the cold floor.

It was then Zhang San heard a low, muffled sound from within.

Yet as they stepped into the room, the sight before them stunned them into silence. The window was flung wide, shadows flickering in the breeze, and a hunched figure crouched over a woman. Withered hands clutched the woman’s cheeks, eliciting a series of strange, guttural moans.

Zhang San’s eyes widened in horror, his hand already reaching behind to slowly unfasten his bundle.

Zheng Ji felt as if something had lodged in his throat; he could only emit weak, raspy breaths. The little girl trembled all over, clutching Zheng Ji’s hand in terror.

The old woman seemed oblivious to their presence, still hunched intently over the woman’s body.

“Heh heh heh—” Suddenly, with a violent wrench, the crone pulled something from the woman’s mouth.

By the pallid moonlight, Zhang San saw it clearly—the old woman had yanked a tooth from the woman’s mouth! Blood spurted instantly, staining the crone’s hands and the woman’s collar crimson.

The woman screamed in agony, her body convulsing violently. But the crone seemed not to hear, her clouded eyes shining with a fanatic light, as if she delighted in this cruel act.

Zheng Ji’s terror was at its peak as he witnessed this. He yearned to flee this nightmare, but his feet seemed nailed to the floor, refusing to move.

Suddenly, from behind Zhang San, a head-shaped hammer whooshed through the air, aimed straight for the crone’s face.

The old woman whipped her head up. In the gloom, her face was shockingly strange—it looked like a fox’s mask, cruelly sewn onto a human skull. Her features were unnaturally sharp, her eyes slanted and upturned at eerie angles. Those eyes, all pupil, stared straight at Zhang San. Then, with a grotesque twist of her torso, she dodged the oncoming blow.

Zhang San shouted and leapt forward, silently intoning, “One Eye Five!”

A sinister distortion rippled through the air, as if the entire room was suddenly shrouded in a foul, unclean presence. A wind, icy to the bone and laden with malevolence, rose from nothing.

An unnameable pressure filled the air, as though countless unseen, warped things writhed in the darkness, closing in without a sound, making hearts race uncontrollably. Though Zheng Ji could not see them, their presence was undeniable, as if something brushed against his skin, raising goosebumps in dread.

A piercing shriek then slashed through the night—half beast’s howl, half the wind’s eerie laughter—joining Zhang San as he lunged at the crone.

A cackling laugh echoed: “Kekekeke—” The old woman flipped backward, darting out the window in a flash. Zhang San’s attack struck empty air, but “One Eye Five” instantly wrapped itself around the crone’s arm. In mere heartbeats, her arm shriveled as if all flesh and blood were sucked away.

“Expel?!” a garbled word rasped from her lips.

Before Zhang San could react, the crone’s left hand yanked with ferocious strength—her right arm tore away, flesh and blood clinging, trailing wet and vivid with life’s warmth, as it thudded to the floor.

A shrill scream rang out, making everyone freeze and clutch their ears in agony, even “One Eye Five” shivering in the air.

Then, in the moonlight, the old woman’s silhouette darted away, her movements swift and unnatural. With the chill wind howling, she vanished into the surrounding darkness like a wild beast of the night, silent and unseen.

Zhang San and Zheng Ji stood rooted, staring at one another, their hearts pounding wildly, breath coming short. The old woman had disappeared like smoke, scattered by the night wind without a trace.

It had all happened so suddenly, so horrifically, in the span of just a few breaths—enough to stop one’s heart in shock.

“Look at that hand!” the little girl cried.

Zhang San’s gaze fell to the severed arm on the floor. Where once it had been slick with blood and flesh, it was now nothing but a pale, withered bone, a few tattered scraps of cloth still clinging to it. It was as if time had drained away in an instant, turning fresh tissue to dust.

As someone who too was missing an arm, Zhang San felt a sudden pang of sympathy for the old woman. He understood well the inconvenience. Yet he resolved to eliminate her completely. After all, having inflicted such a wound, he could not ignore the danger of a hidden enemy.