Volume 1, Chapter 12: Offering Sacrifices to the King of Hell

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In my heart, I kept cursing Master Ma’s ancestors for eighteen generations.

Master Ma, oh Master Ma, weren’t you supposed to be so formidable? Why are you playing dead now? At least say something—what’s going on?

You have no work in hand, yet you take on worthless apprentices.

I watched Master Ma closely. He was intently listening to something. I strained my ears as well. Besides the old hunter’s snoring, I could hear faint creaking sounds, like branches being pressed.

Could it be that a huge beast climbed a tree?

I cautiously shifted my body, preparing to peek outside the window. Just one glance sent a chill down my spine. The yard was swarming with yellow weasels, their almond-shaped green eyes gleaming. They seemed bewitched, lying on the ground, shaking their heads back and forth.

Normally, a yellow weasel is just over a foot long, but the ones in the yard were as big as stray dogs.

Looking straight ahead, two large trees outside the fence were hung with corpses—at least twenty. Some were already dried and shriveled, their belly skin peeling like parchment.

Some had shrunken skulls with hair over half a meter long, swaying in the wind, tangled hair flying wildly.

My head suddenly felt hot, and with a thud, I collapsed back onto the kang.

When I woke again, it was broad daylight. I jolted upright, searching for Master Ma’s figure. Fortunately, he was sitting on the edge of the kang, smoking alone in the room.

“Where’s the old hunter?”

“He’s awake.”

“Where’s the old hunter?”

“Don’t know. Haven’t seen him since early morning.”

After hearing this, I immediately looked out the window. The two trees in front of the door looked no different from the others; the eerie scene from last night was gone.

Could it have been a dream?

No—the sharp pain at the back of my head told me otherwise.

I lowered my voice and recounted the events of last night. Master Ma grinned and said, “I know. The moment you fell, I lost consciousness too. Looks like we both passed out at the same time.”

“What happened?”

“We ran into something powerful. Let’s take it step by step. It doesn’t want us to leave, and we can’t leave. Don’t know why, but I felt uneasy this morning.”

“I’ll go take a look.”

“Don’t bother. Just stay around the cabin. Outside is all marked with red strings and bells—traps everywhere.”

I gritted my teeth, unsure what to do. Looking up, I noticed a small basket hanging from the ceiling, woven from willow branches with a sheet of yellow paper covering it.

I pointed at the basket. The Taoist nodded at me, glanced outside—no sign of the hunter—and I got up to lift the yellow paper.

“What’s that?” asked the Taoist.

My voice trembled: “IDs.”

“What?”

“There must be ten decks of IDs, first and second generations all hanging there.”

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The Taoist gasped. I understood immediately. Damn it—we had wandered into a thieves’ den.

I clenched my teeth. “Master, do you have any tricks left?”

“No tricks. Something’s protecting this place—I can’t sense what it is.”

“Should we call on a deity, then?”

Master Ma shook his head. “No way. This place is very sinister; even divinations come up empty.”

“What do we do then?”

“Wait for the old hunter to come back—see what he has to say.”

“There are a hundred or so IDs hanging there. It’s clearly evidence of murder and cover-up. We’re in deep trouble.”

“Don’t scare yourself. Take it one step at a time. We can’t leave now anyway. Stay calm.”

I bit my lip. One step at a time. For now, I might as well wash my neck clean and wait for the hunter to come back and end us.

Back in the old forest, there were many bandits. The most common trick was to recruit people nationwide—some said it was for ginseng digging, others claimed it was a forest protection team, some even said it was to open a mountain casino.

All sorts of excuses, luring people with high pay. Once arrived, they would rob and kill.

They dumped bodies in the old forest so well that even the police often couldn’t find the spots and sometimes got lost.

“There are many,” said Master Ma. “After I woke, I walked around the door. There’s a Buddha shrine behind the house. Guess who’s enshrined?”

I was annoyed. With everything going on, why the mystery? I snapped, “The mountain god.”

“It’s the King of Hell.”

My heart dropped, and my mind went blank. In traditional culture, the King of Hell was a taboo topic; ordinary people wouldn’t even glance at him, let alone worship him.

“Why would he enshrine the King of Hell?”

“Master, maybe you’re mistaken?”

“Black face, red lips, purple-gold crown, statue of black and gold on a vermilion chair. If it’s not King Yan, then who?”

I swallowed hard. By the Taoist’s description, it definitely sounded like a statue of King Yama.

But that didn’t make sense—why worship the King of Hell for no reason?

“Any ideas?”

I looked blankly at Master Ma, then shook my head. “No idea. But last night I saw dozens of corpses hanging from the tree opposite. Could it be related? Is this a haunting, and the King of Hell is used to scare souls?”

“Impossible. Those are punishments for disobedient people or bandits from the old mountain camps—grievances from the late Qing and Republican eras. I saw them too—no modern souls.”

“Oh, and the yellow weasels here are unusually huge and strange.”

Master Ma bit his lip, his face full of questions.

“Master, if this doesn’t work, let’s call the police and have the authorities handle it.”

As soon as I said that, I regretted it—I hadn’t seen Master Ma use a phone before.

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“I’ve raised many spirit soldiers, but this place is just so evil—I can’t sense a thing.”

I didn’t know how to respond.

Suddenly, Master Ma jumped up and searched the room. He pulled a sewing needle from a piece of wood, rubbed it with wolf hair, then tossed it onto the kang.

A strange thing happened—the sewing needle stood upright. I felt my face turn deathly pale.

“Master, what’s going on?”

“Magnetic field is off?”

“Ghost?”

“Hard to say. Hard to say.”

At that moment, heavy footsteps sounded outside. Peeking cautiously, I saw the old hunter striding toward the cabin, carrying a roe deer on his shoulder. A fierce killing aura emanated from him.

“Kid, act like nothing happened.”

“Okay.”

Master Ma opened the door to greet him. “Brother, where have you been? You didn’t even say hello.”

“Hey, guests came. I had nothing to eat, so I shot a roe deer to have some meat.”

“Stop joking—you should have called me. I could’ve helped.”

“I’m still good for this old bone. No trouble.”

He dropped the deer by the stove with a thud, then drew his waist knife, ready to gut it.

I glanced at the roe deer, feeling sick. Its head was a bloody mess, with the bullet wound likely in the eye. The hunter’s aim was excellent.

But something was off. These weren’t shotgun pellet marks. I’ve seen villagers hunt with double-barreled shotguns—whether head or neck, the area would be peppered with black spots. This deer had just one bullet hole in the head, more like a single shot blew its skull open.

I looked at the Taoist. From his expression, Master Ma must have seen through it already. His chin lifted slightly, and I understood without words.

“Master, why don’t we skin it outside? Doing it inside will make a bloody mess.”

The old hunter smiled at me. “Why not outside? Didn’t you just say it yourself?”

I was puzzled.

He explained, “Wild beasts in the mountain have keen noses. If they smell blood, whether wolves or bears, they won’t be easy to deal with.”

“But we have guns.”

I picked up the hunter’s shotgun standing nearby. The barrel was cold, and there was no smell of gunpowder.

“Kid, don’t touch that. We’re under a protective ward.”

I immediately put down the double-barreled shotgun as if dropping a hot potato, feigning panic.