Chapter 2

Chapter 2

“Do you know about the Weasel Seeking Validation?”

“Weasels can cultivate into spirits and take human form. But before they can become human, they must find a local person and ask if they look like a human.”

“If the person says yes, they pass the trial and can successfully transform. But if the person says no, all their hard work goes to waste, and they have to start their cultivation all over again.”

As the knocking continued incessantly, I calmly explained the lore to the camera.

Humans are the most spiritual of all beings, and the human body is best suited for practicing the Dao. The twenty-four vertebrae of the spine correspond to the twenty-four solar terms of Qi, and the twelve sections of the windpipe are known as the Twelve-Story Pagoda. Therefore, if a spirit wants to become an immortal, it must first cultivate into a human. It takes two hundred years to master human speech and another three hundred to take human form.

When taking human form, they must obtain human recognition-this is the so-called ‘seeking validation.’

This killer was a transformed weasel. Even though it had already taken shape, it still retained its old habits. Terrified of giving itself away, it would constantly ask people what it looked like.

But what didn’t make sense was that it had spent three hundred years just to take human form. It should have been focused on accumulating merit and cultivating further. Why was it out here killing people so blatantly? Was it trying to get the relevant authorities involved?

Filled with doubt, I walked over and reached out to open the door.

The bullet chat blew up: “Streamer, don’t suicide-by-ghost! Don’t open it, I’m begging you!”

“Oh god oh god, I can’t watch-”

“Holy crap! My heart just stopped!”

The door opened. Standing outside was the man from the video. He wore an ordinary gray hoodie, the same knife still in his hand, and he flashed me a creepy smile.

I was just about to speak when the door across the hall flew open. A furious roar came right after:

“What the fuck are you knocking for?! It’s the middle of the night and you’re out here thud-thud-thud, bang-bang-bang! Got rhythm, do you? Why don’t you go DJ at a club? You’re waking your damn mother up! Knock again and I’ll twist your skull right off!”

A pretty girl in her early twenties stood in the doorway with a black expression, a baseball bat clenched in her hand. She had an exaggerated head of bleached-blonde hair, wore pajamas, and was tall-at least 175 cm.

Worried she’d scare the weasel off, I immediately nodded and apologized.

“Sorry, ma’am-I’ll go back in right now. I won’t make any more noise.”

“Who are you calling ‘ma’am’?”

She rolled her eyes and snorted. “I’m only twenty-fucking-two. Why the hell are you calling me ‘sis-jima’?”

“Got it. Sis-jima. Sorry-Sister Jima. Really, my bad.”

I kept apologizing, but Sister Jima only got angrier.

“Are you sick in the head?!”