Wan Qian was stunned by the scene before her. Looking at the messy table, she couldn't help but think: How delicious must this braised pork be? The elderly have gone crazy eating it!
However, before she could think further, the old man's face suddenly changed, contorting in pain. One of his hands gripped his throat tightly.
His throat was already looking abnormal, bulging slightly like a chicken's crop—bulging out in a small lump filled with heavy food.
The old man clutched at it as the bulging mass wriggled under his hand. Finally, with a sudden "wa!" he expelled a large mouthful of thick, jet-black blood.
The other elderly people at the table watched the scene in silence, as if they had expected it.
Unable to bear it any longer, Wan Qian abruptly stood up and overturned the dining table with a forceful shove. She cried out in terror, "The food is poisoned!!!"
In an instant, all movement in the courtyard came to a halt. Everyone's gaze turned toward Wan Qian in unison—synchronized, as if rehearsed. Each person's face was expressionless, like lifeless puppets.
Even though Hao Shijun wasn't at the very center of those piercing stares, he couldn't help but feel a shiver of dread.
He had been watching Wan Qian closely, fearing that she might eat something she shouldn't. Though, in truth, even he wasn't sure what on this table was safe to eat and what wasn't.
After being seated, no one touched their chopsticks. Who would have thought that in just a short while, the table in front of Wan Qian would transform so drastically?
Wan Qian stood there in horror, watched by everyone's unblinking eyes, yet she hadn't noticed anything amiss.
"How come no one is saying anything? Not calling the police, not getting an ambulance?"
Wan Qian was genuinely baffled. An old man had just vomited blood, yet these people were merely watching her without moving an inch. Does this village have no humanity at all?
At that moment, the suited man stepped forward, flanked by two sturdy young men. With a simple gesture, he signaled them, and the two youths lifted the old man, who was still vomiting blood.
"There's no poison in the food. Old Wang just suffered a sudden illness," the suited man explained to Wan Qian.
She let out a breath of relief and nodded. But the dining table was a complete disaster now—even the untouched dishes were covered in the old man's vomit. There was no way this food was edible anymore.
After witnessing the old man vomiting blood, the people at Hao Shijun's table grew even more reluctant to touch their food.
However, the suited man was not willing to let the matter go so easily. He strode over to Hao Shijun's side.
Hao Shijun's face was slightly pale. Bracing himself to maintain a composed expression, he replied, "I get carsick easily. I don't have an appetite today."
The suited man turned to the others at the table, but before he could speak, Fang Minglan pressed her lips together and gave a shy smile. "I'm on a diet."
Seeing this, the rest of the group quickly followed suit, each giving their own excuse to avoid eating.
The suited man found no flaws in their responses and had no choice but to leave in frustration.
The group skipped dinner and returned safely to their lodgings.
Fang Minglan was the first to enter her room. After ensuring no one was around, she reached into her clothing—inside her undergarments—and pulled out a set of rules.
She had retrieved this earlier in the afternoon when she went alone to the cemetery. Fortunately, her talent ability had helped her navigate the dangers along the way.
The second half of the Village Rules read:
[8. The clinic is safe. The hospital ward is not. Decline the request from the doctor to lie in a hospital bed.
9. Children are innocent. You can trust their words. However, children can see things that adults cannot. Children are also easier to deceive.
10. Mind your table manners while eating. Pork is edible, but make sure it is real pork. Vegetarian dishes are safe, but ensure there are no mushrooms mixed in.
11. The village provides only one meal per day. If you need more food, you can buy it from the general shop.
12. If the general shop is unattended, you may help watch over it and take 10% of the day's earnings as payment.
13. The nights are cold. Be sure to soak your feet and go to bed by 9 p.m.
14. Villagers do not wander outside at night. If you hear voices outside your door at night, ignore them.]
Fang Minglan's eyes lingered on the twelfth rule for a moment, a glimmer of excitement flashing in them. There's actually a way to make money in this village?!
She understood all too well—the currency in this thriller world was vastly different from money in the real world.
In the haunted realm, money could solve many problems. However, such money was hard to come by. Who would have thought that in such a shabby little village, there was a way to earn it?
At that moment, Wan Qian walked into the room carrying a thermos, lost in thought. She couldn't shake the feeling that she had forgotten something important. What could it be?
...
At the village clinic, a sudden snap echoed through the air as the high-powered surgical lamp flickered to life, illuminating the dim room with a harsh white light.
A old lady lay restrained in a hospital bed, her arms and legs firmly bound by straps.
As the lamp illuminated the room, the old lady began to thrash violently, yet she couldn't break free. All she could do was stare at the glaring light above, her eyes unblinking as if the brightness caused no discomfort to her retinas.
Footsteps echoed rhythmically as someone approached, stopping right beside the bed.
A middle-aged man, clad in a filthy, oil-stained white coat, picked up a rusted scalpel from a tray.
The old lady on the bed continued to struggle, even banging the iron bed frame with a creaking noise, her mouth emitting a piercing, shrill cry—not quite human, more akin to that of a cat.
Her pupils contracted into thin slits, just like a feline's.
"Meow—!" Outside the hospital ward, a chilling cat's cry pierced the night.