Immortality: Grinding Experience Starting as a Paper Craftsman

Chapter 4: Travelers Returning Home on a Snowy Night Are All Deadly Ghosts

The snow fell even heavier.

Snowflakes, as white as goose feathers, fell silently, enveloping the entire Changning County in a thick layer of white mourning.

The world was a vast expanse of white, as if to bury all the filth and bloodshed of the world under this pale white.

Gu Yan pushed open the door to the woodshed, and a biting cold wind mixed with snowflakes rushed in, instantly clearing his mind, which had been somewhat dazed due to blood loss.

He stood in the yard for a while, letting the snow fall all over his shoulders.

The burly paper figure he named "Iron Demon" had been hidden in the darkest corner of the woodshed, covered with a tattered oilcloth.

If you don't lift it up to look inside, it will just be seen as a pile of discarded junk.

Gurgle.

My stomach growled in protest.

Extreme overexertion is followed by extreme hunger.

Gu Yan walked into the shop in front. Old Xu was sitting on a small stool at the door, staring blankly at the snow outside, holding the empty money bag in his hand and rubbing it over and over again.

Hearing footsteps, Old Xu snapped out of his daze, a flicker of panic crossing his cloudy eyes. He quickly stuffed the money bag into his pocket.

"You're awake? There's still some porridge left in the pot, I'll go heat it up for you."

Old Xu, supporting himself on his knees, struggled to stand up.

"No need, I can do it myself."

Gu Yan pressed down on the old man's shoulder.

Although his hands were cold, they were extremely strong, exuding a reassuring calmness.

He went to the stove, ladled out a large bowl of thick porridge, chopped a plate of pickled vegetables, and began to eat heartily.

Old Xu looked at Gu Yan, seemingly wanting to say something but then stopping himself.

He felt that Gu Yan was different today.

That usually dull and honest face, though expressionless, held an inexplicable murderous aura between its brows, like a knife hidden in its sheath, ready to strike at the enemy at any moment.

Just then, Gu Yan suddenly stopped eating.

His pupils contracted, and the chopsticks hovered in mid-air, as if frozen in time.

Deep within his mind, the paper figure that had been lurking on the roof of the gambling den emitted a violent mental fluctuation.

Gu Yan's perspective shifted.

It was the noisy back alley of the gambling den. In the wind and snow, three familiar figures were stumbling out.

The leader was Ma San.

He was dead drunk, staggering as he walked, carrying a short axe that was not yet sheathed, its blade gleaming with a cold, bluish-black light in the snow.

"Third Master, are you really going?"

One of the henchmen following behind hunched his shoulders, his voice muffled by the wind, "Didn't we agree on a couple of days later?"

"What a load of rubbish!"

Ma San suddenly turned around and slapped his underling on the forehead.

"The sect leader just sent word that Master Yin has gone mad tonight. He's complaining about the lack of offerings and is causing a ruckus at the temple! If we don't deliver enough blood sacrifices tonight, our heads will be on our hands!"

"That kid from the paper shop..."

"He's the one!"

Ma San's eyes flashed with a fierce light, a madness fueled by alcohol and fear.

"That kid has a lot of yin energy; he'd be an excellent offering. As for that old man Xu… hmph, let's just kill him while we're at it. We can burn those paper figures and horses in the shop to make up the numbers for Lord Yin!"

"Let's go! Let's get this done while the snow is still heavy!"

The scene abruptly ended at that moment.

Inside the shop, Gu Yan slowly put down the bowl and chopsticks in his hands.

After finishing the vegetables, there was still half a bowl of porridge left, but the impending crisis made him lose his appetite.

Plans can't keep up with changes.

I thought there would be a two-day grace period, but I didn't expect these beasts to take action ahead of time just to save their lives.

It's only two streets away, and at their pace, it should only take them fifteen minutes to get there.

Gu Yan took a deep breath and turned to look at Old Man Xu.

"Shopkeeper."

"Huh?" Old Xu was brought back to his senses by the shout.

"Is there still a jar of aged lamp oil in the cellar?" Gu Yan asked.

"Yes, I do. What do you need that for? It's a good thing..."

"Go to the cellar and check if it's leaking. I smelled a strange odor just now."

Gu Yan spoke calmly, his face showing no emotion whatsoever.

Although Old Xu was a little doubtful, he nodded anyway: "Okay, I'll go take a look. It's so dry out of the air; it would be a real problem if it leaked."

As he spoke, he stood up shakily, picked up an oil lamp, and walked towards the cellar in the backyard.

As the old man's figure disappeared through the backyard gate, Gu Yan could no longer suppress the murderous intent in his eyes.

He stood up and strode to the shop entrance.

Instead of closing the door, they left both doors wide open.

The wind and snow poured in, making the white banners and paper money inside the house rustle and sound like a hundred ghosts wailing in the night.

Gu Yan turned around and blew out all the dim oil lamps.

The entire paper-making shop was plunged into a deathly silence and darkness, with only the white light reflecting off the snow outside the door barely outlining the shapes of the paper figures and horses inside.

In the darkness, these colorful paper figures seemed to come alive, each staring with empty eyes at the doorway.

Gu Yan didn't linger. He quickly returned to the woodshed and yanked open the oilcloth in the corner.

The tall paper figure named "Iron Demon" stood silently in the shadows.

Gu Yan reached out and grabbed its cold, hard arm.

"It's time for you to eat."

He murmured softly, dragging the heavy behemoth into the dark front hall.

He hid the "Iron Demon" in the darkest shadow behind the counter, a spot directly opposite the door, a blind spot, but also an excellent ambush position.

After doing all this, Gu Yan moved a bench over and sat in the center of the shop.

He held a pair of scissors used for splitting bamboo strips in his hand, and by the light of the snow outside the door, he trimmed his nails, one stroke at a time.

Click.

Click.

The sound of scissors closing echoed in the quiet snowy night, sounding jarring and noisy.

He is waiting.

Waiting for the wind to come, waiting for the snow to fall, waiting for someone to die.

Not long after, a series of hurried footsteps broke through the snow outside the door, accompanied by heavy breathing, and stopped at the doorway.

"Why isn't the door closed?"

A questioning voice rang out, tinged with a hint of drunkenness.

"It was probably blown open by the wind," another voice said nonchalantly. "Perfect, saves me the trouble of kicking it."

Three figures appeared at the doorway, backlit, like three evil spirits invading the human world.

Ma San squinted his drunken eyes and peered into the room.

In the dark shop, only one figure sat in the very center, holding something in his hand, making a clicking sound.

That figure was thin and frail, much like a bamboo pole stuck in the snow.

"Hey, kid Gu, still awake?"

Ma San grinned, revealing a set of rotten teeth stained yellow by smoke, and stepped across the threshold, carrying his axe.

"Perfect, saves me the trouble of dragging you out of bed. Come with me, there's a lucrative deal waiting for you."

Gu Yan did not turn around.

He lowered his head, intently trimming his not-so-long nails.

"Third Master."

The boy's voice rang out in the darkness, calm, indifferent, and devoid of any warmth or human emotion.

"With so much snow, the roads must be difficult to travel on."

Ma San paused for a moment, then sneered, "Stop talking nonsense! Get over here right now, or I'll bring this axe down..."

"Since the road is difficult to travel."

Gu Yan slowly stood up and turned his head.

The sunlight from the snow outside the door shone on his face, and in his dark eyes, there was no fear, only an indifference as one looks at a dead man.

"Those of you, don't leave."

"Keep it; use it as fertilizer."