Chapter 138: The Old Man’s Fury and the sc*m Old Lady’s Doom
Lu Liangting had really drunk a bit too much; you could smell the alcohol on him from three meters away! And it wasn’t like he was sipping on light beer either—this guy was all about that strong liquor. Despite gorging on all that baijiu, he wasn’t out cold, just pleasantly tipsy, his mind somehow still sharp. It’s safe to say, Lu Liangting truly lived up to his reputation.
“How’s Little Lu doing?” The Old Lady came in with a cup of hot tea, spotting Lu Liangting slouched in a kitchen chair.
She was Huang’s family’s matriarch, as prickly as a porcupine. Her expression was perpetually tight, like she had a lemon stuck in her mouth. And with that nasty green birthmark on her face and a body like a brick wall, she was about as approachable as a cactus.
“Eh, he’s fine, totally fine.” Upon seeing the Old Lady, Zhao Mingyue hastily shuffled to the side, feeling like the temperature had just dropped ten degrees.
What could she say? That lady had such an aura that just making eye contact felt like taking an exam.
“Hmm.” The Old Lady set the disposable paper cup on the table, paused for a moment, and turned to leave.
Right as she reached the door, she looked back with an unusually softer expression for a change, “Child, it’s nearly eight. If you leave now, you’ll still make it. It’s going to rain all night, and you have your car. Take Little Lu back and don’t meddle here.”
She paused dramatically.
“People are gonna d*e.”
“You’re still young. Focus on your studies, aim for a great university, get a graduate degree, or snag a government job. You’ll never worry again. Find someone you like to marry, and if you don’t, being single isn’t so bad.”
“Make your own money, spend your own money; that’s the way to do it. Marriage is overrated. If there’s no one worth settling down with, just keep your eyes wide open.”
“Anyway, just hurry and leave now, before it’s too late.”
“By eight, the gates will be locked, and you can’t come back no matter what.”
“That’s it.”
With that chilly farewell, the Old Lady stormed out, leaving a dazed Zhao Mingyue standing inside.
Zhao hadn’t expected such a maternal monologue from a woman who looked like she could scare babies into silence.
One thing was for sure: she was sincere. Zhao Mingyue knew once it hit eight, things would turn upside down—relatives would disappear faster than a magician’s rabbit.
“That lady is really… something.”
Lu Liangting, finishing off the hot tea in a few gulps, shook his head and got to his feet. Whether it helped him sober up was anyone’s guess.
“Mingyue, let’s head to the Spirit Hall. Time is definitely not on our side, and we don’t need to look for them— they’ll come to us.”
He knew someone was controlling the situation, he could sense part of the scheme, but he couldn’t put his finger on who or what it was. His state of drunken clarity didn’t exactly set the stage for deep thoughts.
Leaving the kitchen, Lu Liangting’s steps were a bit wobbly as he entered the Spirit Hall. He exchanged polite nods with both families before plopping down on a bag filled with straw, propping his chin up on one hand.
Now, Lu Liangting’s looks and charm were off the charts—he was the male protagonist after all. Even if his strength was out of whack, he looked spectacularly good doing nothing. The moment he sat down, Huang’s second daughter shot him a glance. Goodness, it woke her right up!
Compared to Huang Fengxi on the third floor, Huang Cheng’s daughters were, well, let’s just say nature had played a cruel joke. They had their father’s features—dark skin, square faces, and tiny single eyelids.
The two girls, one nineteen and the other seventeen, were around Lu Liangting’s age.
Zhao Mingyue thought to herself, “This is like a Cinderella story? Feng Er is the Cinderella, with her two wicked step-sisters, and I wonder if Lu Liangting is the prince.”
A prince whose aura smells like liquor.
“Little Zhao…” Huang Hai stood in the corner, cigarette in hand, with a pile of butts at his feet. You could see the inner turmoil written all over him.
“Uh-huh, Uncle, what’s up?”
“Has your master arrived?” Huang Hai’s expression was as frosty as a winter morning.
“Nope. Master said to leave things to us here. He won’t make it tonight.”
The rain was picking up, shifting from a drizzle to a solid downpour, but at least the wind had died down, no longer drenching everyone.
Zhao Mingyue walked along the eaves of the kitchen toward the small building where Huang Hai was nearby.
Huang Hai didn’t answer right away, his rough fingers gripping the last remnants of a cheap cigarette. He frowned, taking a deep drag, and then tossed the b*tt aside.
Letting out a long sigh, the over-fifty man was still frowning like he just bit into a sour grape. Suddenly, he pulled out a wad of cash from his pocket and handed it over to Zhao Mingyue, sounding just as impatient and grating.
“Here’s ten thousand bucks. Consider it payment for you and your master. It’s not even eight yet—leave already. We don’t need you here.”
“Uh, but the situation isn’t resolved yet.”
“I said leave, so leave! Quickly!” He shook the money, patience wearing thin.
“No, you keep the money. I’m not leaving until the situation’s dealt with.” Zhao Mingyue said calmly, refusing the cash.
“I’m the one hiring you.”
“I know, you can just chalk my stubbornness up to being overzealous.”
“Little Zhao, seriously, just go.” Huang Cheng emerged from the Spirit Hall, trying to persuade Zhao Mingyue to leave. “It’s pouring, and you drove here. Look at Little Lu; he’s drunk and can’t do much. Plus, there’s nowhere for you to rest here. It’s freezing in the Spirit Hall.”
“Shut it! Who asked for your input?!” Huang Hai’s anger flared up, glaring daggers at Huang Cheng.
“Enough with the fuss! I came all this way, and if I’m just going to turn back now, my master will scold me. We can stick around for a night, right?” Zhao Mingyue firmly positioned herself between the two men and walked into the Spirit Hall, casting a glance at the photo on the altar.
She seated herself opposite Lu Liangting, on the other side of the coffin belonging to Huang Hai’s family.
Huang Cheng smirked at Huang Hai but didn’t say anything else before turning back. “Fine, if Little Zhao wants to stay, let her. It’s just for a night; nothing bad will happen.”
His smirk had a hint of mockery—was he ridiculing Huang Hai or Zhao Mingyue, or possibly both?
The trio was short one: Bai Yu. Huang Cheng casually asked where she was, but as Bai Yu emerged from the kitchen and sat next to Zhao Mingyue, they let it slide.
In the Spirit Hall now, it was just the first and second families. The third was missing, and nobody knew where they had gone, while the fourth had passed, leaving behind a couple of kids—Huang Tianhua who was barely noticeable and Huang Fengxi—who was locked up in a dilapidated room on the third floor thanks to the second family.
As for why it was the second family causing trouble instead of the first, Zhao Mingyue had her own theories.
The second family totally had issues, while the first was blissfully ignorant, not knowing what the heck was going on, but they could see the second family was up to no good and kept stirring the pot. Their intentions were good; they just wanted to get the funeral done right.
The Spirit Hall was eerily quiet, particularly the first family’s kids had started fidgeting as the night wore on, like animals sensing a coming disaster. The only difference was that these young ones couldn’t escape—they were stuck waiting for whatever was about to unfold.
Before long, it was half past eight.
Nobody in the Spirit Hall uttered a word; they were either glued to their phones or staring at the ground, puffing on cigarettes.
The air was thick with smoke, and Zhao Mingyue was not a fan of that smell.
Somehow, after eight-thirty, it felt like the temperature in the Spirit Hall dropped like a rock; she felt an involuntary chill run down her spine and a creeping sense of unease. Goosebumps started to form on her arms. Glancing around, she could see the dark, resentful energy in the Spirit Hall had noticeably thickened.
From time to time, she heard scratching sounds, like something was clawing at the wooden beams.
She couldn’t pinpoint where it came from; it just lingered drearily in her ears.
After eight-thirty, amid the scratching, another sound emerged—someone was talking. The voice was soft enough for her to hear, yet difficult to grasp the words—definitely a woman, but what she was saying remained a mystery.
Zhao Mingyue looked up at the wall opposite her. She couldn’t have misheard. That voice was coming from outside!
“It’s coming!” Zhao Mingyue suddenly bolted up, and in that instant, the whispers and scratching vanished, as if they’d never existed.
But…
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The crimson front gate was abruptly hammered on from outside, as something forcefully smashed against it. The gate shook violently, the black iron lock rattling against the heavy gate with loud thuds.
To make matters worse, she noticed the old black coffin trembling too. There were actual banging sounds from within, and the lid had even risen a full centimeter!
This chaos sent everyone’s nerves shooting up, especially the young ones guarding the coffin; you could practically see the fear radiating off them.
They all stood up, eyes glued to the door in terror, praying it wouldn’t give way.
Beside Zhao Mingyue, Huang Tianhua was shaking like a leaf, cold sweat dripping down his forehead.
Was that his mother out there? Or maybe his grandfather? Uncertainty gripped him.
The noise didn’t last long, but in that tension, it felt like an eternity.
Suddenly, the last spirit banner at the door snapped with a crack, drawing everyone’s attention back, fists clenched from anxiety.
The rain poured on, singing its relentless tune.
And then, in an instant, the cacophony fell silent.
But the banging had ceased; now, voices emerged.
“Huang Hai! Second Brother! It’s me, Old Third! Open the door quickly!” A deep male voice called from outside.
“Let me in, fast! That thing is back!”
“Hurry and open up! I don’t want to d*e!”
The urgency in the man’s voice could be felt, his pitch cracking, “Quick! She’s coming!”
“I’m Old Third! Let me in!”
“Old Third!?” Huang Hai stepped toward the door, his face twisted in a grimace.
Old Third was indeed missing; he didn’t even know what that guy had been up to!
Yet he couldn’t be sure what was outside—was it Old Third or Feng Er’s mother?
“I’m going to open the door for Old Third, that darn thing.” Despite knowing the risk, Huang Hai felt loyalty tugging at him, aware that Old Third and Huang Cheng were in cahoots.
But what if?
What if it really was Old Third?
“Don’t go! Are you trying to get us all killed?!”
Huang Cheng hissed, equally tense, staring at the door.
A cold wind gusted through, extinguishing the two eternal lamps on the altar. In the flickering dimness, the old man in the photo looked like a terrifying ghost.
Zhao Mingyue was more focused on the first and second families rather than the door. Their reactions confirmed her earlier suspicions: the first family was clueless, frightened simply due to their brush with the supernatural, while the second was aware of some dark corner of the truth, but not the whole picture. They were just unfortunate puppets manipulated by greed.
If the second family’s reactions were an act, Zhao Mingyue thought he should consider a career in drama.
“Seven days—past midnight tonight is the seventh day.” Bai Yu had grasped the situation. They had three targets: Feng Er’s mother, Lu Nianqiu, and Feng Er herself.
To be precise, only two were needed since Feng Er was the key.
Ultimately, only one ghost could survive. Those two would inevitably devour each other under the ghost domain’s influence and achieve some goal through Feng Er’s body.
Because of certain restrictions, seven days were necessary.
Tonight at midnight marked seven days.
The people from the ghost domain had seduced Huang Cheng with some kind of benefit, making him believe he understood what was happening. He thought this would grant him a substantial advantage. For that benefit, he was willing to backstab his family and imprison his niece.
Bai Yu raised a hand, bl**d threads slithered from under the door, wrapping around the black iron lock. With a loud crack, the sturdy lock broke, and the door creaked open.
In the downpour, the bl**d-red gates slowly parted for all to see.
It was like an invisible hand gripping the hearts of everyone in the Huang family, the gate inching wider, that hand tightening its hold.
Until they saw the figure standing outside, drenched in rain, wielding an axe.
It was Old Third, no doubt. But when this Old Third let out a horrifying scream, his eyes blazing red as he charged in with the axe raised, everyone knew they were in serious trouble.
“d*mn hag, I’ll chop you up!”
Old Third Huang—no, Huang the Elder—rushed straight into the Spirit Hall. In one swing, he cleaved the altar in two and smashed the portrait to pieces.
His contorted features, bl**d-red eyes, and complexion like iron sent the Huang family scuttling to the corners in fright.
Raindrops dripped from Old Third’s hem and trousers, his hair plastered to his scalp in a drenched mess.
Breathing heavily, his eyes locked onto the terrified Old Lady of the Huang family—Huang Tianhua’s grandmother.
The old lady was petrified, her leg broken, a cripple who couldn’t escape fast enough.
In a blink, Old Third was on her, axe coming down hard on her face, bl**d spraying.
“You’ve done my Huang family no small harm!”
– – –
Just as usual, I’ll be on time this afternoon!
Also, a begging note for support at the end of the month—thanks to the esteemed readers!
