Chapter 20: He Can Take His Place

At 07:15 in the morning, as Ye Miaozhu exposed Zhang Yangxu’s true identity, she witnessed the same eerie sight Zhang Yangxu had once seen.

【After I conducted numerous tests and inquiries and finally confirmed with complete certainty that this ‘ghost’ was not Xie Sining, it vanished—like a wisp of smoke, gone entirely. I simply escaped it.】

At that time, Zhang Yangxu escaped the ghost disguised as Xie Sining in the same way.

Now, Ye Miaozhu saw the same thing: the body of the ‘Zhang Yangxu’ before her rapidly grew insubstantial, collapsing like a sandcastle washed away by water, or dissolving like a wisp of smoke, disappearing completely.

It vanished just like that.

“Is it over…?” Ye Miaozhu exhaled in relief.

After briefly calming herself, she tried turning on her flashlight and briefly explored the storage room. As Ning Zhe had said, rules may remain silent, but they never lie; though those tempting words meant to lull her into complacency were dangerous, each one was true.

Ye Miaozhu walked past the shelves lined with wedding dowries, then hurried to the dressing table and inspected the mirror embedded in it—finding nothing unusual.

But when the light from her hand accidentally shone toward the back of the dressing table, illuminating the gap between the mirror and the wall, a man’s corpse, dressed in a suit, suddenly appeared before her eyes.

“Zhang Yangxu?” Ye Miaozhu froze, instantly understanding what had happened here: “The ghost killed Zhang Yangxu, assumed his identity, and tried to lure me into fulfilling some goal of its own…”

But what was the ghost’s goal? With doubt in her heart, Ye Miaozhu crouched down to perform a basic autopsy on Zhang Yangxu’s corpse—when suddenly, her pupils dilated, her body went limp, and she collapsed to the floor.

She died.

At 06:48 in the morning, Hejia Village came alive under the sunlight.

Along the streets, small vendors sold vegetables and side dishes; the clamor of voices added bustling energy to the village. At the village entrance, farmers returned from the fields, hoes on their shoulders, while wisps of cooking smoke rose from rooftops—villagers preparing breakfast.

All residents of Hejia Village worshipped the Snake God; every household displayed a painting of the Snake God, and before every meal, they would set aside a small portion in a tiny bowl and place it before the Snake God’s image before daring to eat.

“Ning Zhe, what exactly are you doing?” Feng Yu stood nervously against the wall in a narrow alley, his eyes darting frequently toward the alley’s entrance: “Didn’t we say we were solving two riddles? What are you doing now…?”

“Solving the riddle,” Ning Zhe replied lazily, leaning against the wall.

But you’re just standing there staring blankly…

Feng Yu’s doubts deepened, yet she dared not ask further; having chosen to trust him, she had no choice but to follow him to the end.

She turned her head toward a nearby window, where the scent of candle incense drifted out. A village woman hurried from the kitchen carrying a white porcelain bowl, filled neatly with rice, string beans, and sliced meat, with a golden fried dumpling and a pickled plum embedded in the rice.

The woman carried the bowl into the small separate room emitting the scent of candle incense, then emerged moments later—her hands now empty.

Watching the woman return to the kitchen and stumble slightly along the way, Ning Zhe finally straightened up and walked straight toward the small room.

“Where are you going?” Feng Yu asked anxiously.

“Solving the riddle,” Ning Zhe said casually. “Wait here.”

Feng Yu dared not speak further and remained where she was, watching Ning Zhe stroll calmly into the small room filled with the scent of candle incense.

Upon entering, a pair of lifeless, hollow eyes met Ning Zhe’s gaze.

It was a painting roughly one meter square, mounted on the wall directly opposite the door, depicting a massive jade-green serpent with curved horns growing from its head, its layered, beautiful scales flowing like a celestial spirit—but beneath its radiant exterior lay a rotten, corrupted essence.

Ning Zhe stepped closer: the roots of every scale on the Snake God in the painting were caked with black mold, milky fungal threads growing from between the scales, its eyes vacant and dull, the left eye entirely buried under mold, the right eye socket tangled with fungal filth.

“Just like the Snake God carving in the ancestral hall,” Ning Zhe recalled—the wooden statue there had been equally decayed, its eyes overrun with mold.

Both the Snake God carving in the ancestral hall and the paintings in villagers’ homes were equally rotten and decaying—was there a connection? Unable to grasp it for now, Ning Zhe wasted no more time; he walked to the base of the painting, where a small round table held a white porcelain bowl, neatly filled with the same simple meal the woman had offered—the offering to the Snake God.

Ning Zhe raised his head, locking eyes with the soaring Snake God in the painting, reached out, plucked the pickled plum from the bowl, and tossed it into his mouth.

“So sour…” Ning Zhe swallowed the plum whole, then used the chopsticks beside him to loosen the neatly piled rice, before turning and leaving the room.

As he stepped outside, Feng Yu rushed forward, her expression anxious.

“What’s wrong?” Ning Zhe asked.

“N-nothing,” Feng Yu shook her head rapidly.

So, she was just scared being alone… Ning Zhe checked the time on his phone and said, “Let’s go to the next house.”

Feng Yu no longer asked what he was doing—she simply followed quietly behind him, waiting outside each house while he slipped inside to steal the Snake God’s offerings.

Ning Zhe moved swiftly; he sampled only a bite from each offering, visiting seven or eight homes in less than twenty minutes.

The plums, fish balls, and dumplings weren’t filling; Ning Zhe didn’t steal the offerings because he was hungry—he had his own reason, and intended to risk his life to test his hypothesis.

After sampling offerings from all households near the ancestral hall, Ning Zhe wandered back to the hall itself.

Standing outside the hall, he could immediately see the couplets pasted on either side of the door—white paper, red ink, strikingly clear:

【The Ba Snake’s altar bears pearls and jade, bearing witness to our ancestors】

【Before the Lotus Hall, descendants jointly add incense】

【Endless lineage】

Approaching, he saw many offerings placed on the lotus pedestal beneath the Snake God statue: rice cakes, rice dumplings, roasted chicken, rice, fruit platters… and a jar of wine.

Ning Zhe raised his head, locking eyes with the wooden Snake God statue—one eye obscured by mold.

He took a deep breath, stepped forward, snatched a red rice dumpling and shoved it into his mouth, then tore open the seal on the nearby wine jar and drank exactly one sip before sampling the other offerings—each only a tiny bite.

Feng Yu, waiting outside, covered her mouth in disbelief, staring at the shocking scene: “Ning… Ning Zhe! What are you doing?!”

Ning Zhe tore off a small piece of roasted chicken skin and dropped it into his mouth. “I told you—I’m solving the riddle.”

“But…” Feng Yu still couldn’t comprehend this absurd act; Ning Zhe had no intention of explaining further.

He pulled out his phone and checked the time: 07:17 in the morning—still far from lunch.

Just as Ning Zhe reached for the fruit platter before the Snake God, a sudden, inexplicable sense of danger flashed through his mind—he instinctively turned his head and saw a woman standing before him, her long hair disheveled, her expression listless.

“Ye Miaozhu…?” Ning Zhe’s eyes narrowed, then instantly realized: “No—it’s a ghost.”

Ning Zhe saw the ‘Ye Miaozhu’ appear out of nowhere, her beautiful face smiling at him with a seductive, dazzling charm.

Without a word, she walked to the lotus pedestal, reached out, and flipped open the almanac.

The next moment, Ye Miaozhu died.

“So it was…” Ning Zhe closed his eyes and whispered softly.

(End of Chapter)