Chapter 62: Outing (2 / 2)

Back when I had Yi Zhai, I could say I was doing fairly well. But Yi Zhai wasn't mine—it belonged to Zhao Na. Now that I'm a barefoot fortune-teller again, I'm obviously in the "not doing so well" category, the kind of classmate others naturally look down upon. So while the rest of them chatted away enthusiastically, a few of us less accomplished ones just stared silently out the window, blending into the background.

I found myself staring at the back of Liu Ruoyi's seat. Aside from her intoxicating scent, she felt like a complete stranger now—so distant, so different, I didn't dare approach.

At that moment, someone turned and asked:

"Hey Dabao, we heard at the last reunion that someone saw you doing fortune-telling on the street. Is that true?"

I nodded. I mean, this is my line of work. If they look down on me for it, so be it.

When they saw I admitted it, everyone looked genuinely shocked.

"Why would you take up such a superstitious job?" one asked.

Clearly, they all assumed I was one of those swindlers exploiting superstition for money. I glanced around and saw several classmates with sneering expressions—including Liu Ruoyi.

From then on, I wasn't even sure what I said in response. The rest of the ride felt like torture—pure, unrelenting awkwardness and humiliation.

Still, from their conversations, I learned that today's destination was a deserted village deep in the mountains. It was incredibly remote. The reason it was called a "dead village," according to rumor, was because during the invasion years, all the villagers were massacred. Some say the Japanese soldiers hung the bodies from trees. Since then, no one had dared live there, and with time, the place became overrun with wild grass and weeds. Yet the houses remained—making it a naturally secluded hunting ground.

What I didn't expect… was that something truly supernatural would happen during this outing.

But let's not get ahead of ourselves.

After leaving Yuanbao Mountain, we turned onto a mountain path. The paved road gradually gave way to narrow, muddy trails, and after more than an hour of winding through the wilderness, we finally arrived at the outskirts of the so-called "dead village."

From there, we had to hike the rest of the way.

The sky above was a pristine blue, the mountain peaks stacked in layers, thick forests stretching in every direction. Yet the area felt hauntingly empty—no signs of life, only the occasional crumbling dirt house in the distance.

After a while, the village finally came into view. From afar, it looked completely dilapidated—collapsed walls, tangled overgrowth, and an eerie, lifeless atmosphere. Not a trace of human presence remained.

Someone joked nervously:

"This place gives me the creeps. What if it's haunted?"

Another laughed and said:

"Haunted, my ass. People camp here all the time. Besides, if there are ghosts, don't we have Master Bao with us?"

Someone else chimed in,

"Dabao, can you really exorcise spirits?"

Before I could reply, Liu Ruoyi spoke up with a smirk,

"Seriously? It's the 21st century. You're all college-educated—how can you still believe in this crap? Even if Sun Wukong himself were alive today, he'd be useless."

"Why useless?"

"Our country's missile defense system would blow his cloud to pieces before he even took off!"

Her sarcasm sparked a wave of laughter. I said nothing. I just stared at the thick mist clinging to the treetops. The village was soaked in killing aura—the "sha qi" lingering heavily in the air. Even the dew on the leaves hadn't evaporated, and the sun's rays seemed unable to penetrate. With so many unjust deaths here during the war, how could this place be anything but ominous?

Still, I knew even if I warned everyone not to enter, no one would listen.

By the time we actually entered the village, it was already late afternoon. We found an open space overrun with waist-high weeds and decided to start a barbecue. There were about twenty of us, and the atmosphere was lively—eating grilled meat and snacks, drinking a little, laughing a lot.

Soon, darkness fell.

Someone suggested,

"We've got gear, right? Headlamps and all? Why not head into the wild now to hunt some rabbits or pheasants? Good way to walk off the food. If we catch anything, the fire's still going—we can toss it on and enjoy some real wild game."

It sounded like an ordinary, harmless idea. But that simple suggestion would bring misfortune—not just to the group, but to me personally.

And that... was only the beginning.