Li Huowang listened intently as Bai Lingmiao widened her eyes in excitement. "Oh, I know one! My grandpa told me that children shouldn't wander outside the village. The people out there are bad—they'll catch children, skin them alive, and sew their skin to dog hides to train them as performing dogs. Since kids are smart, the dog becomes clever too. But the poor child is doomed because their body fuses with the dog hide, and they never grow up."
Li frowned, shaking his head. "No, that's just a scary bedtime story for kids. I'm asking about things like Old Lord You."
"Like Old Lord You?" Bai Lingmiao frowned, thinking hard. "My grandpa's stories are usually about mountain creatures eating people. Stories like Old Lord You are rare."
"Then where did your grandpa hear about Old Lord You?" Li pressed.
Wide-eyed and innocent, Bai Lingmiao replied, "His grandpa told him, of course. And one day, I'll tell my grandchildren."
Li sighed in frustration, running a hand through his hair. These stories were clearly passed down from generation to generation, with no real source. It seemed he wouldn't find the answers he was looking for here.
"Senior Brother Li, I know something," a weak voice called out from the side.
Li turned toward the speaker: a young man with deformed joints and uneven shoulders. His twisted and misshapen figure made him stand out even among the disfigured workers in the storeroom.
"What's your name?" Li asked.
"I'm Zhao Wu," the young man replied. "You can just call me Zhao Wu."
Li walked closer. "Alright, Zhao Wu. What do you know?"
Zhao Wu glanced around nervously before lowering his voice. "There's something strange I've heard of—it's called the 'Great Auntie.'"
"The Great Auntie?" Li repeated, confused.
"Shhh!" Zhao Wu hissed, his face filled with fear. "Don't say it so loudly. It's bad luck. If you talk about it too much, the Great Auntie might come looking for you."
Li's curiosity was piqued. "What does it look like?"
"Everyone sees it differently," Zhao Wu explained. "To some, it looks like a long-eared creature. To others, it's a dead relative. But there's one thing they all agree on—anyone who spends time near it will eventually become a Great Auntie too."
Li rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "This place is full of strange stories. Anything else?"
Zhao Wu nodded eagerly. "There's also the Husband-and-Wife Fish. That one's strange too..."
From Zhao Wu, Li learned a treasure trove of strange and obscure terms—things he planned to incorporate into Dan Yangzi's "immortality pill" recipes.
The more incomprehensible the ingredients sounded, the more credible they would seem to Dan Yangzi. After all, in a world of the supernatural, the unknown held the greatest allure.
"Thanks, Zhao Wu," Li said with a smile. "This is helpful."
Zhao Wu grinned. "These are just stories my uncle told me. He's a traveling merchant—he knows all sorts of things."
The next morning, Dan Yangzi summoned Li Huowang to his quarters.
"I've practiced the internal-external circulation technique you gave me," Dan Yangzi announced proudly. "Now tell me about the pills that go with it."
"Yes, Master," Li replied, stepping up to the stone tablet and pretending to study it closely.
"Hmm... two hearts of a Great Auntie, refined for essence. Master, what does that mean?"
Dan Yangzi's face darkened as he began pacing. "So that's it... the path to immortality requires such sinister ingredients?"
"What's a Great Auntie, Master?" Li asked innocently.
"Don't worry about it," Dan Yangzi snapped. "Just keep reading."
"One Husband-and-Wife Fish, extract the gills, soak in two liang of arsenic..."
Li's carefully fabricated recipe—drawn from Zhao Wu's strange stories and his own modern knowledge of poisons—flowed smoothly from his lips.
By the time he finished, Dan Yangzi was muttering excitedly to himself.
"Yes... yes... arsenic is cold, but the Husband-and-Wife Fish balances it with heat. And using the Great Auntie—why didn't I think of that? If humans can be used in pills, why not these things?"
Li watched silently as Dan Yangzi rationalized the absurd ingredients, marveling at the man's peculiar mix of brilliance and superstition.
In his paranoia and mistrust of others, Dan Yangzi only believed in his own convoluted logic. This made him both dangerous and easy to manipulate.
Dan Yangzi reached into his sleeve and pulled out a copper bell with a missing edge. Li recognized it as the kind of bell used in old tales to control the undead.
When Dan Yangzi began ringing it, a piercing sound filled the room.
Li's head throbbed painfully, and he instinctively clutched it with both hands, gritting his teeth.
The strange sound didn't just affect his hearing—it distorted his vision too. The room seemed to shake violently, as if caught in an earthquake.
"What's happening?!" Li thought, panic rising. "Did I mess up? Has Dan Yangzi figured it out?"
His eyes darted around the room, and what he saw made his blood run cold.
The edges of objects—the corners of the table, the hem of Dan Yangzi's robe, the sides of the stone tablet—began writhing and moving as if alive.
From every corner, the twisting shapes converged in the center of the room, forming a pulsating mass that defied description.
Li blinked hard, hoping to dispel the horrifying vision. But when he opened his eyes again, the mass had split into two.
The sight chilled him to the core. "What is that thing?!"