Chapter 103: The Land

A fat man, a blonde woman, and a little girl in white clothing.

All three were staring at Louis.

“You shouldn’t have destroyed the scarecrow! It was only helping a farmer protect his field!”

The fat man roared in anger.

Along with these words, a suggestive force tried to invade Louis’s mind, but Louis had many protections—his peachwood talisman warmed slightly and blocked the influence entirely.

Yet the opponent did not give up, even advancing closer, step by step.

“Do you know what a scarecrow is? It represents the land’s harvest. Why did you destroy it? Pick it up! Pick it up!”

The woman began echoing the same words, her eyes locked on Louis as she drew near, extending her hands as if to strangle him.

Only the little girl stood silent, quietly walking toward the scarecrow to reassemble it.

“Pick it up! Pick it up!”

“Pick it up!”

Louis’s gaze was calm as water; he found it amusing.

“A bunch of fools who don’t know when they’re dead.”

A thought flashed—he looked.

Ink-green flames erupted violently!

“Aaaahhhhh!!!”

Both screamed in agony, as if subjected to some horrific punishment—within a single second, their souls vanished entirely.

This was complete soul disintegration!

The ink-green flames extinguished instantly; one of Louis’s soul stones shrank by a fifth.

The little girl jumped in fright, frozen in place, her eyes filled with terror as she stared at Louis.

Creak… creak…

The ground emitted a sound—the severed head of the dismantled scarecrow, resembling a mummified corpse, was slowly crawling forward, as if trying to escape Louis.

Thud!

Louis stomped on the mummified head, acting like a bully.

A ordinary flame flickered between his fingers; Louis narrowed his eyes at the little girl. “Now, I ask, you answer. Understood?”

The little girl nodded frantically, meek as a lamb.

“What is this scarecrow?”

“It’s the curse of this land—the tool our family’s adults used decades ago to ensure bountiful harvests and make money.”

“Back then, though we had plenty of land, the weather was unstable, crops wouldn’t grow, and we often lost money. Someone in the family got a book from a Gypsy witch—it contained a witchcraft to create a land guardian. All you needed was to kill one person, bury them in the soil, and follow the ritual to make a land guardian.”

“The guardian made the land fertile—crops would ripen overnight, and it could kill crows to protect the harvest. Our family used this to turn massive losses into bountiful harvests.”

“But this witchcraft gradually revealed side effects—it protected the land, not the people.”

“If anyone interfered with the land’s normal production, it would target the person—even over minor disputes.”

“And those it killed sometimes became its servants, whispering to new owners of the land, making them care only for the land and nothing else.”

After hearing the story, Louis pondered—the Gypsy witch. Gypsies were a nomadic people, but unlike Squid, they mostly lived at the bottom of society, suffering persecution. The term “Gypsy witch” arose from this mix of prejudice and fear.

Usually, people’s first impression of Gypsy witches is fortune-telling, then secondly controlling snakes or rats with flutes—but what they truly loved most were traditional arts like playing the accordion.

As for the story the little girl told, Louis instinctively felt the family’s acquisition of that book had been dishonorable.

That’s why their family was eventually wiped out by the scarecrow.

Of course, none of that was his concern—it had been decades. What did it matter to him?

Louis only saw profit in the scarecrow.

Using it as a guardian might be a good choice. Judging by its fear and attempt to flee, it likely possessed basic intelligence—meaning it could be tamed.

Of course, if it couldn’t be tamed, burn it.

Just an insignificant thing.

Thud!

He kicked the mummified head. “I know you understand. I’m going to remodel this farm—part for grazing, part for random crops. You guard the place. If you kill anyone or cause trouble, I’ll burn you. Understood?”

The mummified head’s lips twitched slightly, opening and closing.

Louis turned to the little girl in white. “You watch it. If it misbehaves, tell me.”

“By the way, what’s your name?”

“I—I’m Little Rabbit.”

?

No real name at all? Clearly, other things happened in this family back then.

But none of it concerns me.

After giving his instructions, Louis glanced at the family who had retreated into the house, then made a phone call.

Soon, the bank manager’s corpse and the police were dealt with; Louis carried the scarecrow’s head to the front of the house.

He knocked.

“Hello.”

“N-no one’s home.”

Hm?

They were truly terrified—how could they say such a stupid thing?

“I’m here to discuss purchasing the farm. But it seems today isn’t convenient. I’ll send someone over in the next two days to talk with you. I hope you’ll calm down by then.”

Louis finished speaking, returned to the car with the mummified head, and said, “Home.”

“Yes, Young Master.”

The driver, seated as still as a mountain, replied calmly.

He was utterly unfazed by the scene, slowly starting the vehicle.

…

Just the next day, Louis’s men successfully secured the contract—everything went smoothly, precisely because the events of yesterday—the killing, the monster—had terrified the family beyond measure.

They now wanted nothing to do with the farm; they only wanted money to leave as quickly as possible. Of course, Louis wasn’t like the heartless bank—he paid them well, enough for a fresh start.

Thus, Louis acquired a new base—large enough and geographically ideal.

But he couldn’t enter yet; it still needed remodeling.

Before that, Louis could finally focus fully on the matter in his hands.

Yet, progress was slightly odd.

Inside the cave.

“So why does this doll turn out like this?”

“I followed the procedure exactly!”

“Fuck!”

“Mary Shao, you damned OCD!”

Amid curses, Louis finally completed his first death-substitute doll.

Hmm—a ragdoll-style doll.

The other parts were fine, neatly stitched, far softer than machine-made work—but the head was wrong: crooked mouth, slanted eyes, warped grin—it looked absurd.

Who are you mocking?!

The key point: the doll’s materials were Louis’s own hair and blood, and its face was modeled after his own—so…

It was bizarre.

(End of Chapter)