Silence from the pine forest wrapped around the master and disciple. Wang Yan closed the Book of Evil Spirits, which felt unnaturally heavy in his hands.
His palms were slick with cold sweat. The conditions laid out within – "millennium thunderstruck peachwood," "pure yang talismanic fire" – were impossibly harsh, bordering on hopeless.
Each requirement felt like an icy nail hammered into his heart.
Where could he possibly find legendary thousand-year-old thunderstruck wood?
And how could he prepare the specialized pure yang talismanic fire in this resource-starved mountain hollow?
A powerfully seductive thought surged through him: Run!
Take Li Ke and flee, get as far away as possible!
This vengeful cat-demon was far beyond the abilities of him and a half-grown boy!
His uncle's dying wish? Screw lofty ideals and saving the world! If he died, it was all over!
He surged to his feet, grabbing Li Ke's arm where the boy stood stunned.
"Let's go!"
His voice was rough, barely recognizable. He needed to escape this cursed place, immediately!
They moved with heavy steps along the edge of the pine woods, heading for the mountain pass that led away from Laoya Hollow.
Li Ke, frightened by the unprecedented grimness on his master's face, followed silently, stealing confused, fearful glances at Wang Yan.
Yet, with every step, the old man's descriptions of the horrors clung to Wang Yan like festering wounds – the despair of freezing and starving, the daughter-in-law's cruel burial, the illusion of the cat's eyes turning in the earth, Old Man Liu's terrified death scream.
They lashed at his nerves like whips. Especially... when those piercing green eyes seemed to stare back from his imagination...
"Damn it!" Wang Yan stopped dead, slamming his fist into a pine tree trunk.
Bark showered down. His chest heaved, eyes bloodshot from inner turmoil.
Running was safe. But what about the people in the hollow? Leave them to the cat-demon, letting it feast and grow stronger until it fully transformed into an unstoppable, village-devouring monstrosity?
Corpses littering the fields... wouldn't he share the karmic burden? His uncle sacrificed his life for him and Li Ke – was it just so he could become a coward?!
He turned, meeting Li Ke's clear gaze. The pure trust in the boy's eyes doused his urge to flee like cold water.
"We... we're going back!" Wang Yan's voice was still low, but now held a core of iron resolve. "Into the village! Find whoever's in charge!"
Stepping back onto the deathly silent village path, feeling the waves of fear emanating from the shuttered windows and doors, Wang Yan's mood was complex. He bypassed the villagers' homes, heading straight for the dilapidated compound at the village center – the typical residence of the village head.
His knocking shattered the silence. After several sharp raps, a terrified whimper came from a nearby house.
The door creaked open a crack, revealing the frightened face of a middle-aged man. Village Head Huang of Laoya Hollow.
"You... you're still here?" Old Huang rasped, his wary eyes darting between Wang Yan and Li Ke. "I told you... not to stay..."
"We came to see you, Village Head," Wang Yan cut him off. "To help Laoya Hollow with its... 'big problem'.
The noises from that ruined house... we heard them clearly last night. The authorities are useless chaos right now. No one else is coming."
Old Huang's pupils constricted. He stared hard at Wang Yan. "Who... what are you?"
"Someone who knows the old ways," Wang Yan replied obliquely, knowing ambiguity served him best now.
"Someone who's seen life and death. We stayed in the ruin outside the village last night. Met Old Man Wang cutting grass... heard about the He family... and saw... something."
He lowered his voice deliberately. "That thing is no joke, Village Head. It's real! And... it's getting stronger! If we don't act, the whole of Laoya Hollow will be its... graveyard!"
The words struck Old Huang like lightning, shattering his last shred of denial. The color drained from his face; he swayed, leaning against the doorframe to keep from collapsing.
"C... come in..." Old Huang stammered, legs barely working as he ushered them into the courtyard, then frantically barred the gate.
The "village head's office," doubling as Huang's home, reeked of decay like the rest.
Wang Yan wasted no time. "It's not plague. It's not superstition! It's a cat demon! Born from Granny He's unjust, agonizing death, merging with an unnaturally evil spirit-cat! Corpse energy mixed with demonic energy – a forced abomination!"
The words demolished decades of "atheist" education and "destroy the old" campaigns for Old Huang. But his body believed. Harsh reality had already smashed through any barrier of materialism.
"Wang... Wang... sir! What... what do we do?!" Old Huang's voice cracked, near tears. In this moment, he didn't care if Wang Yan was genuine; he was a drowning man grasping for a lifeline.
Wang Yan sighed. "The things needed to fight it... are incredibly difficult. I need time to prepare – days, at least! The immediate priority is stopping it from killing now. Once it feeds on human flesh..." His eyes sharpened.
"...its power surges! That face... that half-human, half-cat face... will become fully feline! Then... it'll be truly invulnerable! Even the gods couldn't stop it!"
Old Huang trembled violently. "Then... what..."
"Get the villagers moving! Now!"
Wang Yan commanded.
"Every household, every livestock pen! Use this—" He pulled out the leftover glutinous rice. "—sprinkle a thick circle around every house, every pen! Make it thick!" He emphasized.
"It won't hurt the demon itself, but it loathes it! It'll stop it from breaking in! As long as people stay inside, and the livestock are penned, it can't get fresh blood! Its growth will slow! Understand?!"
It was the only "damage control" he could think of.
Old Huang clutched the heavy bag of rice like his only hope.
"And!" Wang Yan added, his tone harsher.
"At night! Bar the doors and nail the windows shut the moment it's dark! No one looks outside! No matter what you hear, pretend it's the wind! If the sounds terrify you... bang pots and pans! Loud, sharp noise might startle it!"
Dusk approached.
Old Huang struck the village's cracked iron bell with desperate force. The harsh clang echoed over the silent hollow. Villagers shuffled towards the old locust tree at the village entrance, faces numb, eyes hollow with ingrained terror, flinching like frightened birds.
Old Huang stood on a stone millstone, voice raw.
"Listen up, everyone! These two... gentlemen... know the old paths! They're here to save us!"
He raised the bag of rice.
"Do as they say! Before dark! Sprinkle this white rice thickly around your homes! Doorsteps! Pens! Bar the doors! Nail the windows shut! Ignore anything outside! Hear strange noises... bang something! Bang it loud!"
A wave of fearful murmurs and doubtful glances swept through the crowd. They stared at Wang Yan and the boy Li Ke.
These outsiders were their only beacon. Actions condemned as "superstition" and "feudal remnants" were now their sole lifeline.
Old Huang roared his final command: "Go! Do it NOW! If it's not done by sundown, you're DEAD!"
Fear instantly crushed all doubt. Villagers surged forward like startled birds, grabbing the divided bags of rice, then scattering towards their homes to perform a life-or-death ritual of white powder.
That night, Wang Yan and Li Ke stayed in the relatively safer inner room of Old Huang's house (protected by rice).
The meal was sparse: coarse black buns mixed with wild greens, a bowl of muddy-tasting vegetable soup. The fare scraped their throats, but they ate silently – every ounce of strength might be vital.
Old Huang's family was equally tense; the atmosphere was suffocating.
Outside, silence reclaimed Laoya Hollow, heavier than the night before. But faintly, the "clang... bang..." of villagers banging makeshift alarms echoed through the dark. Wang Yan's rice barrier had, at least, erected a fragile wall of psychological defense against despair.
In the dim lamplight, Wang Yan sat on the edge of the cold kang bed. Li Ke had curled up early in a tattered quilt in the corner, shivering slightly, brow furrowed as if asleep.
Sleep eluded Wang Yan. He rubbed the rough cover of the Book of Evil Spirits, his brow knotted tight.
The rice was only buying time.
Millennium thunderstruck peachwood... where to find it in these vast mountains?
Pure yang talismanic fire... needed fresh rooster comb blood, drawn at high noon to mix the cinnabar ink... but most of the village roosters were surely gone, victims of the thing...
The cat demon's lair was beneath the cold ruins of the woodshed. If it sensed growing danger, would it flee with its corpse-nest into some underground river nearby? The consequences would be endless!
Layer upon layer of problems piled onto his heart, crushing him.
He looked out at the suffocating darkness. The faint banging sounds carried from the village where the half-human, half-cat killer lurked.
Staying was death? Was running truly the only way? The conflict gripped him again.
But the people in this hollow... they couldn't run. At the very least... he had to try.
He took a deep breath of the air, thick with cheap tobacco. His gaze refocused on the tattered Book of Evil Spirits.
Even with only a sliver of hope... he could not give up!