Chapter 3

Chapter 3

As that claw reached outward, a violent pain spread rapidly from my wrist. I screamed, cold sweat instantly breaking out across my forehead.

Lu Lingzhu cried out too, “Ah-!” and looked around wildly.

“Who was that? Who pinched my arm?”

“Qiao Moyu, was it you?”

I rolled my eyes.

Honestly, she was infuriating. This idiot had been less sensitive to pain than other people ever since she was little, which was why she never feared hardship when practicing martial arts. Back then, Master always used her as an example, saying how impressive she was, how she could punch a wooden stake until both hands were covered in blood and still not feel pain. Unlike me, who would howl like a ghost at the slightest ache.

Well, obviously. She had a screw loose. How was I supposed to compare with her?

“Your hand! Look at your hand!”

I shook my wrist at Lu Lingzhu. She looked down, and her eyes went wide with shock.

“Holy shit, what the hell is that thing?”

The two of us lowered our heads to study the claw on my wrist, not noticing that the people around us had slowly begun to close in, forming a circle and surrounding us at the very center.

“You two-”

The old man took back the bowl, his gaze fixed firmly on the claw around my wrist.

“Are you here to find Wei Wuyang?”

“The Ox-Cutting Ritual has begun. Stand over there first. Once the ritual is over, he’ll appear.”

I looked at the old man in delight.

“You know Wei Wuyang?”

The old man nodded, a hint of impatience crossing his face.

“It’s time. Hurry up and go!”

Everyone in this village was so strange and mysterious, but Lu Lingzhu and I needed their help, so we didn’t dare refuse. We could only obediently stand beside the wooden stake.

The moment we got into place, the dead woman’s family gathered around. Seven or eight honest-looking villagers, each holding a short knife. The man leading them looked to be in his thirties, with a long scar on the left side of his face. He was probably Aunt You’s eldest son.

The old man handed him the empty bowl.

“Song Tao, you start.”

Song Tao nodded. He took the bowl in one hand and brought it close to the ox’s left shoulder, his eyes red-rimmed.

“Mom, go in peace. If you’re missing anything over there, just tell me.”

With that, he plunged the knife into the ox’s shoulder with astonishing speed, then yanked it back out. Blood sprayed into the white porcelain bowl, filling nearly half of it in an instant.

The ox bellowed in pain, thrashing its horns wildly as it went mad. But its body was tied fast to the wooden stake, so it couldn’t hurt anyone. In its frenzy, even its eyes turned red.