In his sleep, time suddenly rewound to the past.
Warm sunlight bathed the old street. Willow catkins floated gently on the breeze, and a few elderly folks sat here and there under the sun, chatting leisurely.
Wu Xian crouched in front of the inn, surrounded by several half-grown children.
They were playing "slap cards."
This game used round cards printed with game or anime characters. The rare, out-of-print cards were especially valuable. The players took turns slapping each other's cards; if you flipped your opponent's card over, you could claim it as yours.
They had been playing for over an hour.
A plastic bag full of cards lay by Wu Xian's side, while the children's stacks had grown thin.
Smack!
The last card flipped over.
Wu Xian laughed arrogantly with his hands on his hips, then stood up to leave with his winnings. Even in his dream, a satisfied smile spread across his face—this kind of happiness was something he had longed for since childhood but had never truly experienced.
The five kids grabbed him, starting to whine and push him around.
"Give back what you took from us! Return it!"
Strange...
Dream-Wu Xian sensed something was off. Why were they demanding what was taken from them, rather than the cards they had lost?
"If you don't return it, then die!"
As Wu Xian slowly woke, the children's voices grew sinister, and the surroundings darkened, twisting and warping into a deep, eerie gloom.
Ha!
Wu Xian bit his tongue hard. The sharp pain yanked him fully awake.
The first thing he saw were six eyes.
In the pale moonlight spilling into the room, three tiny pale figures stood by the window.
Though their bodies were those of toddlers, their faces were those of old men—wrinkled, horrifying, with black pupils devoid of sclera, radiating a chilling hatred.
These three little spirits shoved Wu Xian's body, each touch sending a piercing ache through him.
Their voices were an eerie mix of ancient and childish as they shouted:
"Give it back! Give it back to me!"
The scene was truly terrifying. Wu Xian quickly dove under his blanket—not out of fear, but to buy some time to think.
But under the blanket, he spotted two more pale old faces staring coldly, their black eyes void of any emotion.
"Damn!"
Spotted by Wu Xian, these two little spirits started wildly slapping his body. The cold, sharp pain flowed from each small palm strike.
As everyone knows—
Touching something forbidden under another's blanket often leads to trouble.
These two little spirits were no exception. Their tiny hands suddenly grasped something hot and long.
The Bronze Coin Sword!
Known for heating up upon encountering evil, capable of slaying spirits!
"Ha!!!"
The two little spirits let out silent yet shrill screams.
Wu Xian seized the moment, threw off the blanket, and raised his sword fiercely, ready to strike.
His fierce expression made the little spirits tremble all over. They cowered in the corner, looking terrified and helpless.
Wu Xian was momentarily stunned.
"I haven't even struck yet, and they're already this scared?"
"Well then, I have no reason to fear them!"
He sneered coldly and swung the Bronze Coin Sword as if slicing through vegetables. But just as he was about to kill one, he suddenly stopped.
"Something's wrong."
"These little spirits are too weak."
"Qi Zhiyong once said, the stronger the evil spirit, the heavier the restrictions it faces. These little things, probably because they're so weak, can sneak silently into rooms. They might even be lower-level than roaming spirits."
"Why would such weak things dare to attack me openly?"
Wu Xian immediately grasped the key issue.
Today and yesterday differed in one way—the marked rooms had no living occupants. The Break-Door Demon wasted its effort.
Perhaps that's why the big demon changed tactics, sending these little spirits out to test which remaining rooms had people!
If that was the case, a new question arose—could the big demon communicate with these little spirits?
Wu Xian bet it couldn't.
Maybe the big demon judged a room's occupancy by the losses these little spirits suffered!
With this in mind, Wu Xian sheathed his Bronze Coin Sword and smiled gently.
"Let's play."
The little spirits weakly asked, "Play? Play what?"
"Counting, memory games—interested?"
"Okay, okay!"
He decided to keep these little pests alive, to see how things would unfold.
...
The oppressive, long night was nearly over. With half an hour until dawn, the dizzy little spirits scattered from Wu Xian's room.
Wu Xian rose from the floor and headed to the bathroom to look in the mirror.
On his body, over thirty small bruises stood out—each one left by those little spirits. They felt cold to the touch, but pressing down brought sharp pain.
Fortunately, those palm prints brought only pain—sharp but purely physical—and did not hinder Wu Xian's movement.
Based on yesterday's experience,
Wu Xian easily opened the door and stepped into the corridor.
The moment he stepped out, he glanced toward Room 408. Yue Mei's door had been kicked open by a huge foot, and inside the room, it looked as if it had been ransacked multiple times—everything smashed and tossed about. There were no props or religious icons left behind.
"Looks like my guess was right," Wu Xian murmured.
This proved that Yu Yinghua's palm print markings weren't marking people, but rather the rooms or doors themselves. As long as one stayed away from the marked rooms, one was safe.
But the appearance of the little spirits introduced a new uncertainty.
If a failed kill attempt once resulted in the little spirits' appearance, what about twice or three times? Would the difficulty of this "lucky ground" increase as more people escaped repeatedly?
Most likely, yes.
Wu Xian shook his head. "Seems like trouble is inevitable."
He looked around and noticed new muddy palm prints outside Shi Ji's door, but this time Wu Xian only observed quietly and took no further action.
...
Dawn broke, and the doors opened.
The survivors still living in the inn were the same as last night.
Wu Xian scanned their faces and noticed that only he bore palm prints; everyone else's faces were clean, as if only he had been attacked by the little spirits overnight.
Yet everyone's dark circles revealed a sleepless, restless night.
Especially Qi Zhiyong, who looked the most exhausted.
He had stayed alert all night to guard against the great spirit but was met only by a swarm of pale little spirits. He racked his brain, desperately trying to understand why he wasn't the one attacked last night.
He examined each face repeatedly, his gaze finally settling on Wu Xian's deep dark circles.
Suddenly, a chill ran down his spine.
Could it be that he had been set up?
Wu Xian had looked like he was on death's door from day one,
Yet he had somehow survived, frequently providing important clues. The person Qi Zhiyong hated the most happened to be Wu Xian.
All the intelligence related to the palm prints and attacks had come from Wu Xian.
The more Qi Zhiyong thought about it, the more suspicious Wu Xian seemed. His eyes fixed on Wu Xian, who began to look a little guilty.
"Ahhh!"
A sudden scream cut through Qi Zhiyong's thoughts.
Little Spirits — Yi Jian Zhi: Volume Thirteen — Li Yu Fights Ghosts
Under Wu Weijun's orders, Li Yu was sent to greet the new county magistrate at the west gate of the city. After traveling more than ten li, hearing distant noises, he returned home. Suddenly, over a hundred small children, all around four or five years old, appeared by the roadside, shouting loudly as they closed in to attack him. Li Yu was initially unafraid and fought back fiercely. Each punch he threw knocked down a dozen or so kids, but as soon as they fell, they got up again, scattering and regrouping repeatedly, attacking four or five times. One child even leapt up to grab his shoulder and pulled at his hair, putting Li Yu in a tight spot. He tried to run but could not shake them off as they struck and pursued him.
An old man in a cloth robe and straw sandals suddenly appeared, shouting fiercely, "This official always carries the Lotus Sutra. If you harm him, won't that bring trouble upon me?" He commanded the children to disperse. The children scattered, and the old man vanished. Li Yu returned home unable to walk, helped by the gate guards. He fell unconscious, and his sons found bruises all over his body. They immediately performed a soul-calling ritual and recited sutras with monks. After more than half a year, Li Yu was able to walk again with a cane. The old man was suspected to be a local earth god. This occurred in the 28th year of the Shaoxing era.