After Swapping Identities With My Archenemy - Chapter 34
Chapter 34: Sacrificial Offerings
Meeting Song Rong’s shocked gaze, Jiang Huaiyi smiled and beckoned her over.
She kicked the two men blocking the way aside one by one, completely ignoring their agonized wails. Behind her, the furious voices of the remaining three men rang out, but they were quickly silenced.
Turning back, she saw the other three had already been pinned to the ground. Her Senior Sister and Mu Ze each had one down, raining blows upon them. The unluckiest one had been kicked under a table; every time he dared to peek out, he was pummeled back in.
In the relatively small space, the crowd had forcibly cleared a large perimeter. People at the neighboring tables had practically moved their furniture and themselves away in a panic.
With teary eyes, Song Rong whispered a “thank you” to Jiang Huaiyi.
This girl, who was shorter and appeared more delicate than herself, raised a bright smile and replied, “You’re welcome.”
The group of “mud-legs” continued to curse even as they were being beaten: “If you don’t kill me today, I’ll make sure you stinking broads pay the price!”
Their threats were met with the iron fists of the two furious women. Jiang Huaiyi opened her mouth to speak but ultimately remained silent. She listened as the two women scolded the men, drowning them in a torrent of insults.
“Did your parents teach you to bark like that? You bastards who let your lust run wild—you come out to play without knowing your own weight!”
Mu Ze even pulled out a small black jar, preparing to release her little ghost. Before the talisman covering the jar could be peeled off, Chu Lianxue quickly pushed the jar back.
Mu Ze snapped indignantly, “What are you doing! What are you doing! You’re allowed to curse, but I’m not allowed to release my ghost?”
The two switched from beating others to bickering with each other. “You’re mixing public duty with private interests,” Chu Lianxue retorted. “You’re beating people and saving others, and I won’t stop you there. But I cannot stand by while you practice those evil arts!”
Jiang Huaiyi sighed, holding the sword, and led Song Rong to a corner to sit down. After the commotion, the lecherous glares toward their table had diminished significantly. The two women continued to scrap, neither gaining the upper hand, while bystanders even started to cheer for them.
Song Rong sat with Jiang Huaiyi, her trust in the girl having grown immensely after the rescue. After exchanging basic information, Song Rong asked cautiously, “Is it really okay for them to be like that?”
Jiang Huaiyi shook her head, watching the inseparable duo. “They’ll be fine soon.” She knew her Senior Sister’s temperament if she had a grievance, she vented it on the spot. If she didn’t want to endure something, she absolutely wouldn’t.
Seeing Jiang Huaiyi so composed, Song Rong’s racing heart finally calmed down a little. She couldn’t help but ask the question from earlier: “Do you know where we are?”
Jiang Huaiyi lowered her voice, her expression unchanging. “This is a world inside a painting. Do you know how you got in?”
Song Rong shook her head like a rattle. “I was sleeping in my bed. When I woke up, I was standing outside in thick fog. At first, it was like a ghost wall maze. I was terrified, but after walking a few steps, I reached this town.”
The more she spoke, the more frightened she became, realizing she had truly entered another world. She had never experienced anything so bizarre and eerie in her life. Now, an ordinary night had turned into an extra-dimensional journey. The shock was unprecedented.
Song Rong began to cry silently, quickly wiping away her tears to avoid being a burden. Jiang Huaiyi didn’t offer empty comforts but pushed a cup of tea toward her. This “normal person” caught in the crossfire actually had a stronger psychological constitution than she once did.
She remembered her own first encounter with a ghost—she had fainted and vomited for a whole week, skipping school and scaring her Master’s younger brother (Shishu) to death. He thought his Senior Brother’s favorite disciple was dying of a mysterious illness right after joining. After several days of praying to the Ancestral Master, only to find hospitals and prayers useless, he performed a divination.
The Ancestral Master “berated” her for simply being scared senseless, leaving both Shishu and Senior Sister speechless.
Recalling her dark history, Jiang Huaiyi’s toes curled in embarrassment. She smiled at Song Rong, offering her validation: “It’s okay. It’s like this the first time. No normal person can easily accept seeing ghosts.”
Song Rong sighed in relief, smiling shyly. “You must be much better than me, though.”
Jiang Huaiyi: “…”
As the two women finished their scuffle, Shen Wensi, who had been absent for a while, emerged from behind a curtain.
Song Rong instinctively grabbed Jiang Huaiyi’s wrist, pointing at Shen Wensi and whispering, “Xiao Jiang, be careful. That person seems to be a powerful ‘native’ here. Everyone was brought in from the outside by her.”
Jiang Huaiyi’s expression shifted. She hid a smirk behind her teacup and gestured for Song Rong to continue.
Encouraged, Song Rong whispered eagerly, “When I first entered the town, I was wandering like a headless fly. I saw her leading a massive group of people dressed differently from city folk. I thought they were extras in a movie, so I followed them. That’s when I found out this mansion is full of people from the outside.”
Jiang Huaiyi was fascinated by how Shen Wensi appeared to others. “So, you think she’s an NPC here?”
Song Rong nodded firmly. “Absolutely. Look at that face—it doesn’t look like something that could exist in reality.”
Jiang Huaiyi nodded in agreement. Shen Wensi had seized the initiative, appearing first in this town with a mansion to her name. Aside from those who knew her, everyone naturally assumed she belonged to the painting world.
The dozens of people present exchanged information quickly, so there were few secrets left. Emotions ranging from greed and terror to anxiety and anger were all directed toward Shen Wensi.
Shen Wensi’s cold gaze swept over the crowd, lingering for a moment on the hands joined at the wrist between Jiang Huaiyi and Song Rong. Her expression chilled almost imperceptibly.
Jiang Huaiyi asked, “Did you hear why they came here?”
Song Rong paused. “It seems they’re looking for something, but I don’t know what it is.”
Jiang Huaiyi thoughtfully took out the fine silk paper. No new words appeared, but the “Living People” section was lit up. She glanced at Song Rong—it seemed this was the person she needed to save. She felt a surge of pride; for once, she was the one protecting someone else.
She didn’t notice Shen Wensi’s gaze growing colder. Seeing the girl beside Jiang Huaiyi clutching her wrist made Shen Wensi feel an inexplicable discomfort.
Looking down at the five men beaten half-to-death on the floor, Shen Wensi stepped back. A faint, inscrutable smile played on her lips. “Men, carry them out.”
The tightly closed doors creaked open with a “Zhi-ga” sound that startled many. Song Rong hid behind Jiang Huaiyi, who in turn stepped behind her Senior Sister to hide from view.
Several “people” without shadows floated in from outside.
These servants, who had looked somewhat normal during the day, were now dressed in black funerary silk coats the same as the paper dolls that had carried the sedan chair earlier. They drifted in, accompanied by the scent of incense and paper ash. Their faces looked as if they were coated in thick white flour, with two eerie crimson circles on their cheeks. Their features were vivid but lacked any spark of life, clearly freshly drawn with a brush.
They didn’t so much walk as glide, their heels lifted, skimming parallel to the floor. A sudden chill wafted into every corner of the room.
Her Senior Sister stood before her. Though Jiang Huaiyi was afraid, she tried to maintain her dignity. She reached out to shield the candle on the table. Song Rong followed suit, cupping her hands around the candlestick.
Yellow withered leaves swirled in with the wind, extinguishing several candles and plunging the hall into a ghostly gloom. Those at other tables weren’t as fast; as their lights went out, the men and women felt the biting chill and huddled toward the remaining light.
The incoming paper dolls were a head taller than average humans nearly taller than Shen Wensi. They looked down at those without candlelight and smiled. An ethereal, uncanny voice squeezed out of their bodies: “Guests, please be seated.”
Jiang Huaiyi instinctively grabbed her Senior Sister’s sleeve but let go immediately upon realizing her mistake. Mu Ze gave her a strange look.
I’m sorry, Shen Wensi, Jiang Huaiyi thought. I really can’t pull off your persona. She couldn’t remain expressionless; her subconscious reactions betrayed her.
Fortunately, her Senior Sister was focused on the paper dolls, her fingers already formed into the Five Thunders Seal, ready to strike at the first sign of trouble. However, the paper dolls were only “greeting” the tables without candles and made no aggressive moves.
The three conscious men on the floor began to struggle, but they were too weak to rise. No one sympathized with them; during the fight, several “Luoyang shovels” (grave-digging tools) and other strange equipment had fallen from their bags. Jiang Huaiyi noted a pattern: what people brought and what they wore were tied to their identities before entering the painting. These men were grave robbers desecrators of the dead. No one was going to help them now.
The paper dolls lifted the men effortlessly, as if they were made of light paper. Despite their struggles, the men’s hands and feet were bound together with hemp rope and suspended from a thick carrying pole. It reminded Jiang Huaiyi of pigs bound for slaughter.
One man managed to kick a hole in a paper doll’s leg, revealing a grim white bamboo frame inside. The paper doll’s expression turned vicious. It delivered a heavy slap to the man’s face.
The man screamed and lost consciousness. The sound of gasping filled the room. Where he had been slapped, his face was now a mess of blood and shredded flesh—the paper palm seemed to be covered in barbs that had scraped the skin right off, leaving bone exposed.
Jiang Huaiyi lowered her head, avoiding the sight. Around her, the sound of vomiting began. Song Rong closed her eyes, trembling with suppressed nausea. The air filled with the stench of blood and vomit.
Chu Lianxue instinctively looked at “Shen Wensi.” She knew her Junior Sister’s cowardly nature and wondered if she was about to blow her cover. But when she looked, Shen Wensi was standing there with a blank, frozen face, seemingly unafraid. Chu Lianxue felt a pang of worry; she remembered one year when her Junior Sister had been scared “stupid,” and she had worn that exact expression.
The paper dolls systematically carried the men out. Under the night sky, the thick blood on the floor looked like a pool of silvery-white water.
The crowd watched in horror as the paper dolls that weren’t carrying anyone dropped to the floor, flattening their bodies against the ground. They extended long, scarlet tongues to greedily lick up the large puddles of blood.
This was the breaking point for those who hadn’t vomited yet. The sound of retching grew louder. Jiang Huaiyi caught a glimpse and immediately regretted it; her stomach churned, and she had to fight the urge to join in.
The paper dolls eventually straightened up. Their black-and-white eyes had turned blood-red, and they stared directly at the crowd.
Panic-stricken, the people looked toward where Shen Wensi had been standing, but she was gone.
Jiang Huaiyi also looked for her and realized she had vanished in the blink of an eye. She whispered to Chu Lianxue, “Did you see Fellow Daoist Shen?”
Chu Lianxue shook her head, but before she could speak, Mu Ze snorted. “Fellow Daoist? When did you learn the mannerisms of those orthodox sects? Are you planning to betray your ancestors?”
“None of your business,” Chu Lianxue shot back. “It’s a right choice to leave the darkness for the light. It’s not your place to gossip.”
Jiang Huaiyi was speechless. These two argued at every opportunity. She ignored them and searched for Shen Wensi, eventually seeing her half-hidden behind the curtain, beckoning her.
The others were too busy arguing or cowering to notice. Jiang Huaiyi crept over. The paper dolls stood still outside, and the crowd inside was in a stalemate. As long as the people didn’t move, their collective “breath” formed a line of fire that kept the evil at bay.
Behind the curtain was a small tea room. Shen Wensi stood there, and as Jiang Huaiyi approached, Shen Wensi grabbed her wrist.
“What is it?” Jiang Huaiyi asked.
Shen Wensi didn’t speak. Jiang Huaiyi continued, “You should try to act more like me. What if my Senior Sister notices something?”
Shen Wensi smiled then and shook her head. “She won’t. I’m helping you improve. Think about it if you aren’t afraid of ghosts anymore, they’ll be at ease too.”
Jiang Huaiyi looked at her suspiciously, not buying it. She asked, “What’s with that person? How does she know you… and why did she call you ‘Sect Leader’?”
She spoke softly, leaning in close so the others wouldn’t hear. She didn’t realize how close they were; she was almost whispering into Shen Wensi’s ear.
Shen Wensi replied nonchalantly, “A derogatory nickname.”
Jiang Huaiyi breathed a sigh of relief. It seemed Shen Wensi was treated much like she was among her peers—though Jiang Huaiyi had the protection of her Master and Senior Sister, so people didn’t dare call her names to her face.
Jiang Huaiyi pulled her wrist back. Before she could share what she had learned from Song Rong, her Senior Sister’s argument was ending. She tapped Shen Wensi’s palm and crept back.
Back at the table, someone in the crowd lost their nerve and cursed. The paper dolls scattered, bringing a gust of yin wind. Just as Jiang Huaiyi regained her footing, the wind swept over Song Rong’s candlestick.
Whoosh. The light went out.
Suddenly, a blood-smeared paper face appeared right in front of her, staring with blood-red eyes and grinning down at her.