Chapter 40: Old Bastard! Your Substitute Is Useless!

“Huh ha! Huh ha!”

“Dong long long~ dong long long~”

In the square, before the wooden plaque.

Two bare-chested giants each held a torch, dancing wildly; as they sporadically spat fire, the red glow of the setting sun mingled with the sparks, staining the ground and the villagers’ faces a deep crimson.

The atmosphere had been electrified.

The clanging of gongs and drums beside them was deafening.

As if to announce the sacrifice to the entire world.

The Great Sacrifice of Yin Yuan Village was magnificent.

After feasting, the opera troupe hired by the villagers played their instruments nearby with a clatter.

The massive square, capable of holding a thousand people, was thronged with activity, like a grand carnival.

It was clear that Yin Yuan Village truly lived in plenty, as the dungeon description had claimed.

One could even say it was prosperous.

Wu Wang and the old village chief sat side by side on the highest viewing platform.

He occasionally peeled sunflower seeds from the table, savoring them slowly, and clapped and cheered when the performance reached its highlights.

“Who are you? Where did you take Zhang Sanfeng?” The old village chief’s voice was quiet, drowned out entirely by the surrounding noise.

Wu Wang turned his head, forcing a bright smile: “Who do you think I should be? And why do you need Zhang Sanfeng?”

Earlier, after he had retaliated with bone spikes against the old chief, the man had been unable to react under the watchful eyes of the crowd.

But he couldn’t let Wu Wang just escape.

After all, the skeleton ghost knew he could alter his appearance and physique—step into the crowd, blink, and vanish without a trace, especially today, when the entire village was gathered here, chaos everywhere.

So he arranged a seat for himself on the viewing platform.

As if he desired conversation.

The villagers near them had all been sent off to the sacrificial banquet, precisely to prevent anyone else from overhearing their exchange.

“I might as well tell you,” the old chief said, lifting his wine cup and taking a small sip: “Zhang Sanfeng is the illegitimate child born to a former Yin Yuan Sacred Maiden before her sacrifice. His life can repay the village’s debt.”

“Debt? Usury’s illegal these days,” Wu Wang sneered.

He knew perfectly well the chief wasn’t speaking of money or material things.

But something far more arcane.

The old chief explained carefully: “All things are relative. The Yin Yuan Deity grants our village prosperity, and we must offer Him a satisfactory return. He favors profoundly yin women—each year, we must present one.”

“But last year, an accident occurred: the Yin Yuan Sacred Maiden hanged herself before the Great Sacrifice.”

“We owe Him a Sacred Maiden. If we fail to offer one this year, Yin Yuan Village’s fate will end.”

“Zhang Sanfeng isn’t a woman, but he carries the blood of the Yin Yuan Sacred Maiden—he can appease the Yin Yuan Deity’s wrath.”

Wu Wang heard this.

He couldn’t help but chuckle.

Still chewing sunflower seeds, he mumbled: “Then what are you?”

His real intent had been, after retaliating against the old chief,

to provoke him into rage and reveal his true form,

thereby shattering the villagers’ trust in him.

But he hadn’t expected this skeleton ghost to be so patient—even after such humiliation, he showed no sign of exposing himself.

He even seemed eager to sit down and chat.

What was he playing at?

“Me? I’m also a villager of Yin Yuan,” the old chief said slowly, grinning: “Or rather, I built this village myself. I was the first village chief.”

“?”

Wu Wang froze.

During the day, while pretending to be a villager, he had inquired about the village’s history.

Most households kept genealogical records, so the history hadn’t been lost.

The village was founded roughly two hundred years ago.

It had been called Yin Yuan Village from the start, though back then it was poor and desolate.

It was merely a gathering of desperate refugees fleeing disaster, who settled together in a remote spot.

Worship of the Yin Yuan Deity was no different from elsewhere—burn paper money, light incense.

There was no such thing as a Yin Yuan Sacred Maiden.

But starting with the second village chief, human sacrifice became required to worship the Yin Yuan Deity.

And from that moment on, the village grew better each year.

Until it reached its current state.

Not only did they live in plenty—they even sent some clever children outside to study.

The first village chief…

Was this skeleton ghost from two hundred years ago?

“Didn’t you try to eat me earlier today? Why the sudden change? Why suddenly want to be bosom friends? Don’t forget I just stabbed you,” Wu Wang sneered.

The shift in the man’s attitude from day to night was too extreme.

So extreme that even a fool could sense something was wrong.

“I didn’t know you had a way to absorb this…”

As he spoke, the old chief extended a trembling hand.

Pointed at the large wooden plaque covered in black cloth.

Beneath it lay the Eye of the Abyss God’s seal.

He turned to Wu Wang, his deeply sunken, hollow eyes blazing with intense desire.

He trembled as he spoke: “Let’s make a deal. Teach me how to absorb the presence of that being, and I’ll give you anything you want!”

“?”

Wu Wang was baffled.

What the hell was this Abyss God?

Copies corrupted by Him twisted into grotesque horrors, yet even stranger beings tried to absorb His aura.

Principal Wang from “The Runaway Schoolboy” was one.

Now this old chief was another.

What benefit could come from absorbing this aura? Why couldn’t he feel anything himself?

All He did was alter his mission and try to turn his brain into mush.

What else could He do?

Sometimes Wu Wang truly wanted to draw a mouth under the red vertical pupil on his wrist with a red pen.

Let the Abyss God answer his questions properly.

“First tell me—what do you plan to do with the Abyss God’s… aura?” Wu Wang stuffed candy and sunflower seeds into his pocket, taking what he could—never leave empty-handed!

The old chief’s expression turned serious.

He spoke slowly, word by word: “I will replace the Yin Yuan Deity and become the village’s new guardian deity.”

Pfft—

Wu Wang burst out laughing.

Sometimes he truly couldn’t understand these people.

Or rather, couldn’t comprehend their absurdity.

Principal Wang claimed to be righteous.

Under the guise of helping students, he sought to strip them of their humanity.

The old chief called the Yin Yuan Deity a guardian deity.

Yet the price was one life after another.

And now he wanted to become such a cannibalistic guardian himself.

What the hell was he even protecting?

What a bunch of hypocrites.

“The first year I became chief, I saw the Yin Yuan Deity,” the old chief said, his gaze turning wistful.

“He made a pact with me: granted me immortality, but at the cost of becoming inhuman. Every thirty years, I must change my clothes, and from then on, I must always wear them before the villagers—only in the ancestral hall can I remove them to breathe.”

“This life is unbearable.”

“But thirty years ago, while listening to music on my radio at home, I heard the call of that being.”

Here, the old chief patted the wooden plaque.

His eyes gleamed with ambition: “That being’s power far surpasses the Yin Yuan Deity’s—even a trace of His aura here gives me hope of escape!”

“Ask for anything you want! Help me, and I’ll grant it all!”

Watching the man’s slightly deranged expression,

Wu Wang rubbed his sunflower-seed-dusted hand on the old chief’s robe.

He finally understood what the human skins in the ancestral hall were.

They were each newly chosen village chief.

The village chief of Yin Yuan Village changes every thirty years.

The chosen person enters the ancestral hall to pay respects to the ancestors.

Then they are skinned and killed by the skull ghosts, forced to wear those skins, and assume their identities.

This old thing has always been replacing others!

No wonder that kid nearly got beaten to death right after pretending to be the village chief’s grandson.

The old village chief showed not the slightest pity.

Clearly, he wasn’t even his own grandson.

Then Wu Wang sneered, “Buddy—no, old thing—I need to correct you on two things.”

“First, those things are called human skins—human skins peeled off while the victims were still alive. No matter what you call them, clothes or whatever, they’re still human-blood buns.”

“Second, you haven’t achieved immortality—you’ve just become a ghost, and ghosts can die too.”

“You haven’t even seen true immortality.”

“Old thing, your stand-in is the most useless of all!”

As he spoke, Wu Wang’s smile grew even brighter.

No one understood the Deep God better than he did!

No one understood immortality better than he did!