Chapter 18: The Pale Little Spirit

In his sleep, time suddenly rewound to the past.

Warm sunlight bathed the old street, willows swayed gently, and elderly folks sat in small groups, chatting leisurely beneath the sun.

Wu Xian crouched in front of the inn, surrounded by several half-grown children.

They were playing card slapping.

This game used circular cards printed with game or anime characters. Usually, out-of-print rare cards were more valuable. Players took turns slapping their cards against their opponent’s, and if a card was flipped over, the player could claim the opponent’s card.

They had been playing for over an hour.

A plastic bag full of cards sat beside Wu Xian, while the children’s cards had dwindled to nearly none.

Smack!

The last card was flipped.

Wu Xian stood up, hands on his hips, laughing arrogantly as he grabbed the cards and prepared to leave. Outside the dream, he also wore a satisfied smile—a joy he had longed for since childhood but never had the chance to experience.

Five children grabbed him, started whining and pushing him around.

“Give it back! Return what you took from us!”

Strange…

Dream-Wu Xian sensed something was off. Why were they demanding what was taken, rather than the cards won?

“If you don’t give it back, then die!”

As Wu Xian gradually woke, the children’s voices twisted into sinister snarls, the entire scene darkened, becoming dim and deep, the buildings warped and twisted grotesquely.

Ha!

Wu Xian bit down hard on his own tongue. The sharp pain instantly pulled him from the nightmare.

Upon opening his eyes, Wu Xian saw six eyes staring back at him.

The desolate moonlight filtered into the room. By the window stood three pale little figures.

Though they had the bodies of toddlers, their faces were those of old men—wrinkled and horrifying, with pitch-black eyes devoid of sclera, radiating a chilling malice.

The three childlike spirits shoved Wu Xian’s body, each touch sending a piercing pain through him.

They shouted in an eerie voice, both ancient and childlike:

“Give it back, give it back to me!”

The scene was truly terrifying. Wu Xian quickly dove under the covers—not because he was cowardly, but to buy time to think of a way to respond.

But even under the blanket, he saw two more pale old faces.

Their black eyes stared at him coldly and emotionlessly.

“Damn!”

Having been discovered by Wu Xian, these two spirits began thrashing wildly, slapping his body with their small hands. The icy pain spread with each touch.

Everyone knows—

If you grope around in someone else’s bed, you might touch things you shouldn’t.

These two child spirits were no different. Their tiny palms suddenly felt something hot and long.

The Copper Coin Sword!

It heats up when facing evil spirits and can cut through dark entities!

“Ha!!!”

The two spirits let out silent but piercing screams.

Wu Xian seized the opportunity, flung off the blanket, his face fierce as he raised the sword to strike.

His terrifying expression made the spirits tremble all over. They cowered in a corner, looking scared, helpless, and wronged.

Wu Xian was taken aback.

I haven’t even swung yet, and they’re already this scared?

Then I really don’t have to fear you!

With a cold sneer, Wu Xian raised the Copper Coin Sword, ready to cut them down like vegetables. But just as he was about to strike one, his movement froze.

“Something’s wrong!”

“These spirits are too weak.”

“Qi Zhiyong once said, the stronger the evil spirit, the heavier the restrictions it faces. These little creatures might be so silent and sneaky precisely because they’re weak. They could be even lower than wandering spirits.”

“How could something like this dare to brazenly attack me?”

Wu Xian immediately grasped the core of the problem.

Today was different from yesterday. The rooms marked with handprints were empty of living people; the big spirit had come and gone in vain.

Perhaps because of this, that great spirit changed tactics, releasing these smaller spirits to test which remaining rooms still housed living beings.

If so, a new question arose: could the great spirit communicate with these child spirits?

Wu Xian bet it could not.

Maybe the great spirit judged whether a room was occupied by observing the losses suffered by these child spirits.

So Wu Xian withdrew the Copper Coin Sword and gave a gentle smile.

“Let’s play.”

The child spirits weakly asked, “Play? Play what?”

“Sudoku, memory games—interested?”

“Okay, okay!”

Let these little things live a while longer—let’s see how things unfold.

...

The oppressive long night was nearing its end; half an hour remained until dawn. The dizzy child spirits fled from Wu Xian’s room one after another.

Wu Xian rose from the floor and first went to the bathroom to look in the mirror.

His body was covered with more than thirty small bruises, left by the child spirits. They felt icy cold to the touch, and pressing them caused sharp pain.

Thankfully, these handprints only caused pain—they didn’t impede Wu Xian’s movements.

Based on yesterday’s experience,

Wu Xian confidently opened the door and stepped into the corridor.

As soon as he exited, he looked toward room 408. Yue Mei’s door had been kicked open by a massive foot. Inside, the room looked as if it had been ransacked ten times over; everything was smashed, with no props or divine statues left.

“This proves my guess was right.”

It showed that Yu Yinghua’s handprint marks didn’t mark people, but rooms or doors. Therefore, as long as one left the marked room, they were safe.

But the appearance of the child spirits added new uncertainties.

If one failed assassination attempt summoned these child spirits, what about two, or three? Would the difficulty of the sanctuary increase as people repeatedly escaped?

It seemed likely.

Wu Xian shook his head. “Looks like I still have to stir things up.”

He glanced around and noticed fresh muddy handprints outside Shi Ji’s door. This time, Wu Xian only observed and took no further action.

...

Dawn broke, and the doors opened.

The survivors in the inn were still the same people from the previous night.

Wu Xian scanned their faces and found that only he bore handprints on his face. Everyone else’s faces were clean, as if only he had been attacked by the child spirits overnight.

Yet the dark circles beneath everyone’s eyes showed that no one had slept well.

Especially Qi Zhiyong, who looked utterly exhausted.

He had been on high alert all night to guard against the great spirit, only to be confronted by a group of pale child spirits. Now, he racked his brain, desperately trying to understand why he wasn’t the one attacked.

He repeatedly looked at everyone’s faces, finally resting his gaze on Wu Xian’s dark circles.

Suddenly, he was struck with a chilling suspicion.

Had he been set up?

Wu Xian had appeared near death on the first day.

Yet he survived, albeit weakly, and often provided crucial clues. Qi Zhiyong’s fiercest rival just happened to be Wu Xian.

All information about the handprints and attacks came from Wu Xian.

The more Qi Zhiyong thought about it, the more suspicious Wu Xian seemed. His eyes cast a guilty glance at Wu Xian.

“Ahhhh!”

A sudden scream shattered Qi Zhiyong’s contemplation.