Chapter 1: The Earth Immortal Comes to Propose

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I am known in the village as the great fool. Of course, that's what outsiders say. Those who know the truth call me…the Guardian of the Village! Even more laughable is what my grandfather claims: that I am a once-in-a-millennium prodigy, destined by fate to possess a "red origin." By this, he means I am someone who will rise in the world thanks to women—in other words, to put it bluntly, a born freeloader of the highest order. In a way, that's not a bad thing. But I never imagined that the woman I would rely on…would not even be human!

On my third birthday, I was even required to choose a wife in the graveyard…

But all of this began on the day I was born.

I was born in a small village at the foot of Mount Changbai. That day, in the middle of a bright noon, the sky darkened in an instant as if it were midnight. The entire village was swallowed by darkness. After their initial panic and shouts, the villagers hurried to light kerosene lamps in every house. The dim glow barely managed to illuminate the village, but under the wavering lamplight, everything appeared even more eerie.

This sudden, unnatural phenomenon terrified everyone. They all intended to seek out the village chief, the pillar of the community, to ask what on earth was happening.

What devilry was this? How could broad daylight turn so pitch-black?

But as soon as the villagers stepped outside, they saw countless shifting shadows flickering in the yellow lamplight seeping from every home. There were so many of them. These shadows had the shape of people but were not quite human. They had long tails, and atop their heads appeared to be pointed ears, yet they stood upright on two legs, with a faintly human outline.

These mysterious shadows ran swiftly over rooftops, along walls, and down corridors, as if in a great hurry, all converging on an old house on the far edge of the village.

None of the villagers dared to move. All retreated inside with doors tightly shut, not daring to step outside, listening in silence to the footfalls above.

Thump, thump, thump, thump—

There was no sign that the noises would stop. Some of the more timid women had already broken down in tears.

The direction in which the shadows ran was toward our own dilapidated courtyard. My mother was in the throes of labor, drenched in sweat and screaming in agony. The entire family’s attention was fixed on her—even my father and grandfather outside the door were focused solely on the shut room, completely unaware that the crumbling mud walls were already lined with those shadowy figures, so many that the walls themselves shuddered under their weight.

At last, a series of shrill, rhythmic cries echoed all around. The sound was piercing and almost musical, reminiscent of children laughing.

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But upon closer listening, it was not quite so. It seemed more like some kind of animal call.

This startled my grandfather and father, both of whom turned to look into the courtyard. What they saw made my father stumble backward, nearly falling to the ground.

There, atop the half-human-high mud walls, stood a neat row of white, furry shapes, upright like people. Thanks to the dim kerosene lights, their fur glowed with a yellowish hue, but their true forms remained indistinct.

My father shouted, "What are those things?!" and began searching for a shovel.

But my grandfather merely laughed and held him back.

"When the clouds rise and the earth spirits come, a champion will be born to this house!" my grandfather declared, not the least bit afraid, but rather brimming with excitement.

“It’s the earth spirits coming to welcome the bride! Quickly! While my grandson has not yet entered the world, honor our distinguished guests—slaughter the chickens in the yard, don’t drain the blood, just chop them outright, and bring out that good bottle of wine hidden in the south room!”

My father didn’t understand a word of this business with earth spirits. But since my grandfather often busied himself with fortune-telling and geomancy for others, he simply went along, though still nervous as he eyed the figures on the wall. With great hesitation, he made his way to the chicken coop, glancing back every few steps.

He grabbed a sickle and, with shaking hands, brought it down on a rooster’s head.

“A squawk! Cluck, cluck—”

The decapitated rooster leapt up, wings flapping frantically, blood spraying over walls and ground alike.

My father frowned at the sight, feeling deeply unsettled.

My grandfather’s impatient voice rang out again, “What are you dawdling for? Is a grown man afraid to kill a few chickens? Slaughter them all!”

Chided thus, my father gritted his teeth and grabbed another. Again, the sickle fell.

Smack!

Another headless chicken flapped wildly around the yard.

While my father slaughtered the chickens, my grandfather paced excitedly by the door, his hair covered in feathers, which he ignored entirely, muttering, “At last, our Han family will produce a peerless prodigy!”

At length, my father, covered in blood and feathers, finished off every chicken in the coop.

“The wine! Hurry! We’re about to have a once-in-a-millennium genius in the family! If you mess this up, I won’t forgive you!”

Hearing this, my father dropped the sickle, ran into the house, and emerged with a wine jar.

But when he returned to the yard, he was dumbfounded. The chickens, the blood, all of it was gone. Only a few drifting feathers in the air remained as proof that there had been chickens at all.

He could not understand what had just happened.

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In a blink, more than a dozen chickens had vanished? That would have been enough for many meals. And where was all the blood?

He stood there dazed, when suddenly, a kick landed on his backside!

“Go pour wine for the spirits! Don’t you know how to greet important guests?” my grandfather urged him.

“Greet them—how? Should I fetch cups?”

My grandfather snapped, “Pour it on the four walls!”

So my father approached the wall again. The white-furred figures still stood there. The closer he got, the clearer the sight became.

When he finally saw one up close, his hair stood on end.

The creature nearest him, covered in white fur, had a human face!

“Ah!!!” my father screamed, collapsing to the ground and scrambling away. “Ghosts! Ghosts!”

As he shouted, the human face moved!

In the next instant, that face transformed into a grotesque, sharp-featured visage.

“Zha!!!”

“Cluck, cluck—”

It let out a shrill, piercing cry, followed by that chilling, childlike laughter.

Terrified, my father crawled away, spilling wine everywhere.

“Father! Father! What kind of guest is this?!”

But my grandfather’s expression immediately changed. He stepped forward and grabbed—the wine jar! That’s right, he didn’t care about my father’s screams but instead picked up the wine jar. Bowing respectfully to the spirits on the wall, he called out, “My son is ignorant of proper etiquette and has disturbed the honored spirits. I beg your forgiveness for the sake of my grandson!”

What favor could an unborn child possibly hold? My father could not understand.

But as soon as the words left my grandfather’s mouth, the white-furred spirits, which had just bristled in anger, suddenly fell silent and made no further sound.

At that very moment, the cry of a newborn rang out from inside the house!

“Waaah—”

And at the same time, thunder roared over the mountain behind the village. Ten bolts of lightning struck a solitary, desolate grave…