I am the Ruler of the Kingdom of Mysterious-Chapter 100 - 81: The Story Begins

The air was stagnant, a chilly atmosphere enveloped everyone, and it seemed even the fire in the pile weakened significantly.

Everyone checked the people around them in a panic, silently counting heads.

But no matter how they counted, there were sixteen adults on their side, one child, plus a black cat.

Mrs. Zhao was also very sure; when she baked, there were seventeen cakes, none missing, and when distributing, each one was handed over, she didn’t see anyone extra.

At this point, Kou Yushan nonchalantly said to everyone, "Alright, stop counting, it’s just one less cake."

Kou Yushan finished his cake in two bites, wiped his hands on himself, stood up and took three cakes from his bag, walked to the center of the reception room where the host’s seat should have been placed, put the cakes on the ground, lit three sticks of incense and prayed.

"It was us who didn’t understand the rules and offended, hope the host family won’t mind. Our hometown encountered great difficulties, we fled hastily, with nothing of value on us, only these three cakes to express our gratitude."

After sticking the incense in the brick cracks and bowing three more times, a weak wind lifted the dried grass on the ground, the firewood in the pile crackled, and the flames suddenly became much more vigorous.

Everyone gradually calmed down too, Mrs. Zhao returned to sit by the women’s fire.

"Aunt Zhao, you can have my cake." He Shou’an handed Mrs. Zhao the cake he had only taken a bite of.

Mrs. Zhao smiled lovingly and patted He Shou’an’s head, "You eat it yourself, Auntie still has some."

Kou Yushan’s method of handling this, along with everyone’s reaction, once again surprised Sang Que.

If this were modern times, seeing an extra person like this, everyone would probably be scared and running around, unable to spend the night here.

The sky grew darker, and after eating, everyone gathered the scattered dry grass on the ground, spread it out, and took turns resting.

Xia Chan also began yawning; to enhance her physique and endurance, during many parts of the journey, Sang Que had Xia Chan run on her own rather than ride.

Though tired, Xia Chan didn’t utter a word of complaint, her head full of sweat, still smiling at Sang Que.

Sang Que secretly glanced at the pocket watch, now it’s only six o’clock in the afternoon.

"If you’re sleepy, you can sleep first." Sang Que laid her leg flat, indicating for Xia Chan to use her leg as a pillow to sleep.

Xia Chan yawned and shook her head, "No, Little Chan wants to protect Sister. This place makes Little Chan feel very uncomfortable; Little Chan can’t sleep."

Xia Chan rubbed her face and took out a paper frog Skinny gave her earlier from her collar, playing with it on the ground.

At this point, the leader of the three men whom Sang Que had been secretly observing stood up and walked straight towards them.

The men around immediately grew tense, secretly reaching for their belongings.

The leader stopped three steps away from everyone, glanced at the roosters trapped aside with discarded furniture, and with a cheerful smile said, "Can you sell three of those chickens to us?"

The leader took out a string of copper coins from his pocket, more than enough to buy three roosters.

Everyone hesitated, after all, each person had brought only one rooster.

"Sell mine to them." Liu Tianyou spoke first, and Skinny immediately agreed, "Mine too."

Kou Yushan glanced at the two with gratitude, added with his own, exactly three.

These three men were full of evil qi; even though they were polite now, it didn’t mean they wouldn’t turn on over minor matters later, so better not to offend them if possible.

Kou Yushan stood up, grabbed three roosters, handed them over in exchange for the money.

The leader returned to their fire, took out a dagger, quickly slit the chickens’ throats, collected the rooster blood separately, deftly plucked and gutted them.

Without washing, he skewered them on sticks and began roasting over the fire.

In no time, the aroma of meat wafted out, making everyone swallow repeatedly.

Xia Chan also sniffed like a little dog, "So fragrant, Little Chan is hungry again..."

Sang Que helplessly took out a piece of chicken-flavored compressed biscuit from her bag and secretly handed it to Xia Chan.

Xia Chan giggled, shrunk behind Sang Que, watched the bead curtain of rain under the eaves outside, shaking her head as she began to eat.

Lately, Sang Que had been feeding her a lot, she slowly learned to chew and swallow slowly, not fearing one meal without the next; in her view, Sister’s bag would always produce delicious things.

"Hmm?"

After eating just a few bites, Xia Chan saw, amidst the misty rain, an old monk wearing a bamboo hat and raincoat and holding a Zen stick, stepping in from outside.

The footsteps attracted everyone’s attention, looking at the old monk slowly walking past the shadow wall, to the reception room entrance, glancing around at everyone, folding one hand across his chest, and leisurely uttering a Buddha number.

"Infinite Life Buddha, this old monk lost his way in the forest, guided by Longevity Buddha to this place, disturbing all of you."

The three men gave him a glance and then looked away. The inconspicuous siblings from Shihe Village were Buddhists, upon seeing the old monk, immediately stood up and went forward to welcome him.

"Infinite Life Buddha, Zen Master, quickly come inside."

A young man named Shi Shengquan, accompanied by his sister Shi Cailing, helped the old monk remove his raincoat, took his baggage, and led him inside.

The old monk’s hair and beard were completely white, his skin equally pale, but he had a kind face, leaving a good impression on everyone.

"Where are you coming from, Zen Master?" Shi Cailing asked. She hadn’t spoken much along the way and had kept a low profile, but she held an aged string of Buddha beads in her hands, often fiddling with them.

Shi Shengquan wanted the old monk to rest near their fire. Everyone made room for him, but the old monk refused.

"Thank you, benefactors. This old monk shall rest on his own nearby and shall not disturb you."

The old monk sat by the door, leaning against a pillar, putting down his baggage. He wiped the rain off his face with his sleeves and scanned the reception room.

This was the first time Sang Que had seen a monk in this world. She had heard Kou Yushan mention that the Xuan Dynasty had two main sects: the Taoist Sect and the Buddhist Sect.

There were no random factions; all Taoists claimed to be disciples of the Taoist Sect, while monks and nuns called themselves disciples of the Buddhist Sect.

The Taoist Sect worshiped the "Daoist Lord," and the Buddhist Sect revered the "Longevity Buddha," only these two deities. Unlike modern times, where the number of named deities in the Buddhist and Taoist sects couldn’t be counted.

Before the Witch Temple was abolished, most in the Xuan Dynasty believed in the Witch Lady. Now, the Taoist and Buddhist Sects equally divided the realm, but the Prime Minister’s Temple showed signs of rising, surely drawing away followers from both sects.

The old monk was panting, his body slightly trembling. With his back to the crowd, he retrieved a leather water pouch from his baggage, holding it shakily to his lips and taking a gulp.

Xia Chan instinctively sniffed towards that direction. After a moment, she frowned and whispered to Sang Que, "Sister, that monk is drinking blood."

Sang Que’s brow twitched, widening her eyes as she looked at Xia Chan, who nodded earnestly, confident in her own sense of smell.

"I understand, don’t tell anyone else yet."

After speaking, Sang Que stood up, winked at Kou Yushan, motioning him to step aside for a private word.

Xuan Yu had already leapt up to the beams, taking the vantage point to observe the room. Xia Chan couldn’t find Xuan Yu, so she continued lying on the ground, playing with her paper frog toy.

Pressing and bouncing the paper frog tirelessly, Xia Chan amused herself by chasing it around, until it reached the wall base. She was about to press its bottom again when, suddenly, the paper frog jumped forward on its own.

Xia Chan was startled. Being naturally innocent, she didn’t think much about it, only wanting to retrieve her toy, crawling forward two steps to catch up with the paper frog.

A phantom arm suddenly stretched from the wall crack, grabbing the paper frog away.

Xia Chan was furious, ready to whip her hair, yet she remembered Sang Que’s warning to not reveal herself in front of strangers. She instead crawled to the wall base, peering into the crack.

The crack, merely two fingers wide, contained no arm or paper frog, but a sheet of old, yellowed paper covered with dark red writing.

By the fire, Skinny was vividly recounting the tale of Yan Daozi’s house being trespassed by Sang Que, drawing exclamations from the crowd, who frequently glanced at Sang Que.

A sheet of paper unexpectedly appeared before Skinny. Turning his head, he found Xia Chan squatting at his back with a pout.

"Overlap!"

"Overlap what?" Skinny took the paper, puzzled.

Xia Chan puffed her cheeks, "Frog! It got snatched away!"

Using the firelight, Skinny unfolded the paper, "What does this say, and where did you find it? Liu Sanlang, come look at this."

Liu Tianyou did not approach, and the paper in Skinny’s hand was snatched away by Sang Que. Upon seeing the words clearly, her pupils trembled greatly.

[Dear viewers, sit quietly with your tea and listen as I narrate a tale of ancient grudges within an old mansion, telling of a returning guest, a fate that can neither be escaped nor avoided, an eerie experience. That day, the winds shifted, rain poured heavily...]

It was the storyteller’s tale, exactly like the one in mother’s possession, but this one had a sequel!

[The escaping returning guest, the ferocious Green Forest Man, the mysterious ascetic monk, gathered by fate in an abandoned mountain mansion, intending not to disturb one another, surviving the night, until a sudden emergence broke all peace.]

[The winds arose; I entered the scene, stirring waves; the story, officially begins!]

Bang!

The eastern door of the reception hall was suddenly slammed open as a blood-covered middle-aged man staggered inside.

"Help... Help..."

As soon as the words fell, the man collapsed to the ground, unconscious.

The damp, cold wind surged through the opened door, causing the fire to flicker violently, casting shadows that stretched and contorted, clawing and scrabbling, making people’s hair stand on end.

Thunder roared, wind and rain trembled, and lightning momentarily pierced the darkness; in the long corridor behind the door, faded red cloth flapped in the wind, paper lanterns crashed wildly, pillar charred and decayed, surrounded by deathly silence.

Ming Mansion, or... Netherworld!