Chen Ji stared at it expressionlessly. He showed every expected reaction: legs weakening, body trembling, cold sweat pouring down—none of it was missing. But all of it was useless.
No matter if the nearly three-meter-tall creature looming before him was real or fake, none of that mattered.
The massive Yellow Weasel cackled with a shrill giggle, its voice crisp and piercing as it cried out, “Chen Ji! Chen Ji! Chen Ji! Chen Ji!”
It seemed obsessed with getting a response, calling Chen Ji’s name over and over. Its voice grew sharper and more frantic, the bloody sunset tinting it with a crimson glow. The sound battered Chen Ji’s eardrums, making his temples throb with pain.
The “waist-coiling fire dragon” wound around his body seemed to come alive, wrapping him tightly. Everywhere it rubbed burned and stung, and his throat felt gripped by invisible hands, his breaths coming short and labored.
【Chen Ji, what are we eating tonight?】 The System Cat made a nimble leap, popping out from the threshold. It tilted its head at Chen Ji, who stood frozen at the woodshed door. 【What are you doing standing there? Aren’t you cold?】
The Yellow Weasel let out a piercing shriek. “You see me! You see me! Chen Ji! You see me!”
Its gaping maw yawned wide, big enough to engulf Chen Ji’s entire head. One snap, and he would go from a man of the people to fragments of one. His vision filled with the fleshy pink of its mouth, the stench making him want to retch. Chen Ji nearly stumbled back uncontrollably.
He couldn’t retreat.
His instincts screamed it.
“Seeing” was the key. It kept saying he saw it, but why hadn’t it bitten yet? It… was waiting for confirmation.
If he retreated, that would confirm it.
The fleshy cavern quivered, allowing a sliver of fresh air to slip in from outside. It saved Chen Ji’s nose.
Chen Ji twisted the rope in his hand and said casually, “How about I stir-fry a couple of dishes for you?”
The System Cat tsked in disdain. 【Your cooking? Even dogs won’t eat it.】
Chen Ji paused, then said through the metallic tang of blood in his mouth, “Come here.”
【You want to string me up and beat me? Don’t even think about it.】 The System Cat simply flopped down on the main hall’s threshold. Then, suddenly surprised, it added, 【What did you do?! Your heart rate’s spiked to 160!】
Chen Ji took a few breaths, then chuckled softly. “I’m fine. Let’s have self-heating hot pot tonight. I’ll open a couple packs of crispy pork bites for you…”
With that, Chen Ji stepped forward. In the next instant, the massive beast scattered like smoke. The dying sun flooded back into the young man’s view, as if he himself were bathed in blood. For some reason, the System Cat shivered and eyed Chen Ji warily.
Chen Ji’s heart rate had jumped another ten beats in that second. If not for its scans showing nothing wrong with his heart, it would have dialed emergency services right then. Even so, it half-feared he might drop dead from a heart attack any moment.
Chen Ji walked over to the System Cat step by step and bent down to scoop it up. The slick cold sweat on his palms felt off to the System Cat. It started to ask about it, but Chen Ji just ruffled its head and murmured, “Eat up and then sleep.”
The System Cat meowed in agreement. 【Take a couple pills first, or it’ll be worse tomorrow.】
Chen Ji paused. “Alright.”
Chen Ji prepared dinner for the System Cat and forced down a couple bites himself. Though he had no appetite, he still ate until he was eighty percent full, just like always. Then he lay down on the bed.
The System Cat sprawled across his legs, swishing its tail, seemingly fast asleep and content. In truth, it connected to the network through its own system—no phone needed—and surfed the web freely.
Chen Ji fiddled with the hand string bracelet Grandpa had left him on his wrist. After a moment’s thought, he pulled the wooden box from the bedside table and carefully examined each item inside.
There were four things in all. The hand string bracelet was on his wrist. He’d seen Grandpa use the bronze bell before—to summon spirits. The wooden plaque bore no engravings. Chen Ji fell silent for a bit, then opened the small booklet.
The tiny handwriting inside had been penned with a brush. Decades old, it remained perfectly clear. The pages hadn’t even yellowed; they gleamed with a soft, supple luster. Chen Ji ran his finger over one, struck by the sudden intuition that it wasn’t paper at all, but… hide.
An animal’s skin.
The contents were jumbled, like Grandpa’s random notes.
“Red-Clothed: Avoid if nothing’s wrong.”
“Spirits are mischievous. Headache.”
“Blood from the tongue tip is pure yang; it repels demons and evils.”
Chen Ji lingered on that last one. The dream had been the most bizarre and terrifying of all his ghostly nightmares, so he’d remembered it clearly. In the dream, he’d bitten his tongue tip, forcing the Yellow Weasel back a step. That’s why he’d done it just now.
He licked the still-painful wound, confirming it worked.
He flipped further. Some entries were cryptic, leaving Chen Ji baffled—like “Red-Clothed: Avoid if nothing’s wrong.” What was “Red-Clothed”? Why avoid her? What did “nothing’s wrong” mean? No clues.
Probably some kind of spirit.
Since Grandpa had said to steer clear, Chen Ji committed it to memory. He’d avoid anything matching that description from now on.
The rest were minor tricks: “Grains hold yang energy; they ward off evil.” “Salt repels evil.” “Sugar pleases spirits and ghosts.” Mostly about avoidance, repulsion, or appeasement. Nothing about outright destruction.
Chen Ji thought wryly: Looks like Grandpa’s life wasn’t easy either. Like slaving away at a 996 job while sucking up to the boss. Being a temple priest meant buttering up gods, ghosts, and spirits too.
Should he… try the same?
Chen Ji didn’t chalk up the earlier encounter to hallucination. Thanks to the System Cat, he’d had full-body checkups multiple times over the past half-year—especially psych and neuro. He’d maxed out his insurance. If something was wrong, they’d have caught it. It couldn’t just kick in now that he was up the mountain.
If that vision was a hallucination, it sure wasn’t mild psychosis.
Suddenly, a cat head popped into his view. The booklet and his hand were pinned under the System Cat’s bulk. Its golden eyes stared unblinking. 【Chen Ji, Chen Ji, what’s got you so engrossed?】
“Exorcism notes.” Chen Ji tried to tug his trapped hand free but gave up quickly. The System Cat let out a dainty mew, then rolled onto its back, exposing its plump belly. It gazed up at him, fur tufts flying like a soft sea urchin.
Chen Ji: “…?”
The System Cat mewed timidly again. Chen Ji didn’t budge. It paused, then growled fiercely. 【Why aren’t you petting me yet! The internet says humans go crazy for cute kittens like this!】
Chen Ji replied coldly, “Ever think my hand’s pinned under you? Can’t exactly pet you.”
The System Cat lifted a chubby leg, letting him pull his hand free. Chen Ji rubbed its belly; the thick fat layer he’d helped cultivate jiggled under his fingers—prime texture. If it weren’t fake, he’d have pushed for a diet.
After a few strokes, the System Cat sprang up and scampered to the windowsill at an unholy speed. No more pets.
It was back to web surfing, from the look of it.
Chen Ji sighed with mild regret, threw off the covers, and got up. The System Cat was too absorbed to spare him a glance. Chen Ji said nothing more and pushed the door open.
The mountain night wind chilled him to the bone. He’d barely taken a step when the familiar eerie cackle returned. Whispers of “Chen Ji, Chen Ji” echoed faintly around his ears—sometimes from behind, sometimes beside him. It felt like fingers tapping his shoulder, or something trying to trip his legs.
Chen Ji fought the urge to look back or down. He headed for the cellar and grabbed some candy. Knowing he’d end up on this powerless mountain, he’d packed plenty of snacks.
Per Grandpa’s notes, he could leave the candy at the woodshed door—the spot where he’d encountered the Yellow Weasel. It counted as an offering, a way to appease it and stop the harassment.
The main hall’s candlelight flickered dimly. As Chen Ji passed, he paused at the mottled statue, clasped his hands, and bowed. Beyond the hall to the right lay the woodshed. He stood under the eaves, moonlight spilling through holes onto him. He gazed at the desolate courtyard.
Leaves lay unswept, rustling across the ground in the wind.
Tree shadows swayed, twisting like demons.
“Screee—!”
The shrill cry shattered the silence. Chen Ji looked toward the sound. There stood the Yellow Weasel from earlier that day, upright like a man atop the woodpile, staring fixedly at him. Moonlight bathed it, stretching its shadow endlessly, poised to devour.
Chen Ji took a step back, watching it from the shadows.
“Screee—!” The Yellow Weasel flailed its arms. Shockingly, its shadow advanced two steps. Its silhouette yawned wide with fangs, hovering over Chen Ji’s head—as if one misstep would let those jaws crush his skull.
Chen Ji smiled at it, placed the candy on the steps, and retreated another step.
The Yellow Weasel’s shadow held still.
A ferocious laugh echoed.
Then came the faint, ghostly singing again:
“A girl at home—barely eighteen—!
“In her prime—time to wed—!
“Hundreds of kin rejoice—hundreds rejoice—!”
Chen Ji pointed at the candy on the steps and added a few more pieces. The singing didn’t stop. It drew nearer, right by his ear. He even felt icy breath tickling his earlobe.
He forced a panicked, fawning smile and dropped to his knees beside the candy with a thud. “Grandpa Huang, please stop scaring me! I just got back—no good stuff on hand. This candy’s from the city—pricey and rare. Please, take it!”
“Tomorrow, I’ll head down the mountain and fetch you wine and meat as tribute!”
“You knew my grandpa. Poor as dirt—no pants to his name. A dead old coot like him? Better wine and meat than his junk!”
The Yellow Weasel’s shadow didn’t budge, but Chen Ji sensed its hesitation.
He pressed on. “Spare me this once, and I’ll honor you from now on. My descendants too. Every festival, every season—never miss a beat. What do you say, Grandpa Huang?”
The Yellow Weasel stared intently at Chen Ji and waved a paw.
Chen Ji flashed an eager, placating grin. “Want to try the candy first? We can talk after if you like it.”
The Yellow Weasel hopped down from the firewood stack, walking upright on two legs like a man. He slowly approached the steps of the Mountain Lord Temple. Chen Ji knelt beside the steps, his face a picture of misery—he clearly wanted to bolt but didn’t dare. His voice trembled as he pleaded, “Please, just try it! This candy is one of a kind, super rare! I wouldn’t dare deceive you! No way I’d trick you!”
Finally, the Yellow Weasel reached the candy. He bent down to rummage through it. Right then, Chen Ji thrust out his hand. A streak of blue light sliced through the night. The Yellow Weasel let out a wretched screech, flipped onto the ground, and went still.
Chen Ji gripped his high-voltage electric baton and stared down at the Yellow Weasel with cold indifference. He was heading back home, after all, and everyone knew the mountains crawled with wild beasts. He’d come prepared with something for self-defense.
He’d tweaked the baton’s programming himself. At max power, it could pump out ten thousand volts—enough to drop a tiger, no question, let alone some weasel.
Remembering how the Yellow Weasel could grow to two meters tall, Chen Ji prodded him again with the baton, giving him a proper taste of prosperity, democracy, civilization, and harmony.
The Yellow Weasel convulsed wildly, then lay utterly motionless.
Chen Ji pulled out a spool of cheap red plastic twine he’d snagged online—one buck for a massive roll—and pondered the best way to truss up the Yellow Weasel.
…
In the main hall, the jar of candy on the weathered offering table gleamed like treasure under the moonlight.
