21: The Terrifying Nature of the Human Heart

“It was my mistake,” Xu Immortal said grimly, his gaze fixed on the dead rooster lying on the ground.

“What? You knew this would happen?” I was surprised, thinking that if he had anticipated such an outcome, why hadn’t he warned us beforehand?

Xu Immortal nodded, then shook his head. “Do you know why I initially refused to help? Because his soul was sacrificed. Normally, even if it’s transferred back, he wouldn’t return to normal. But you pleaded with me, and since it hadn’t been long, I thought the effects might not be deep. That’s why I agreed to try. By my estimation, he might lose his mind, but not immediately—more likely tomorrow. In the meantime, I had a plan for mitigation. But I didn’t expect him to go mad so quickly. Whoever intervened is no ordinary person. They anticipated this outcome and set up other methods to hasten his madness.”

Clearly, we had been played yet again. I felt a deep fear toward this third party, whom we knew nothing about. It was terrifying that he could foresee even this.

Xu Immortal hadn’t said anything before the incident, but now that it had happened, I worried about Sister Hu’s fierce temperament. “Trouble is coming soon,” I said helplessly.

These days, nothing is more frightening than the human heart, nothing more pitiful than human nature.

Before saving someone, people will beg and cry, clinging desperately to any thread of hope. If the rescue succeeds, all is well. If it fails, blame falls on the rescuer, and relationships are severed without hesitation.

Such is the chilling nature of humanity in our era, the reason why people have become the most terrifying beings in the world.

Though nothing had happened yet, I knew my household would soon be bustling with trouble.

Attempting to save someone, only to invite disaster—I finally understood why Xu Immortal was so cold initially, unmoved no matter how Sister Hu pleaded, because he knew it wasn’t worth trying.

If he refused, he’d only be cursed for a while. But now, I realized it was me who had led Xu Immortal into the third party’s trap, me who had insisted on stepping into this muddy water.

I didn’t know how to handle Sister Hu’s inevitable outburst. Whatever I said would be wrong, for the moment I agreed, I was already in error.

After I explained everything to my mother, she too felt helpless. She said, “If Sister Hu really comes to make trouble, we can’t simply accept whatever she says. We tried to help, but kindness shouldn’t freeze our hearts.”

Xu Immortal, on the other hand, seemed unconcerned. He packed up his silver needles and red thread, told me to bury the rooster at dawn, then settled back into the wooden chair, eyes half-closed, lifeless as ever.

A little after ten, just as my mother was heading to rest in the new house, the courtyard gate was kicked open with a bang.

Sister Hu barged in, followed by Liu Ming, the village chief’s brother, and several members of the village committee. In their midst, they carried the village chief, who had fallen into a coma.

“Oh heavens, how could you do this to me? My child is still in school, and now my husband is like this. Are you trying to drive our family to ruin?” Sister Hu wailed, her voice sharp and grating like a sow’s squeal, making my heart restless.

My mother stepped forward to comfort her, only to be shoved to the ground by Sister Hu, who cursed viciously, “It’s all your fault, you bring bad luck! Your son is the same! If not for him, would my husband be in trouble? If not for him, would my husband be like this? Oh, woe is me…”

Cursing me was one thing, but cursing my mother was unacceptable. Fury surged in me, and I rushed to Sister Hu, only to be held back by my mother. Liu Ming and the others glared at me, ready to intervene.

My mother pleaded, her mouth dry from persuasion, until Sister Hu finally stopped her lament and asked how to resolve the situation.

Afterward, the commotion was really just about money. My mother said we didn’t have much, and besides, it wasn’t entirely our fault. She hoped for compromise.

“Five hundred thousand. Not a cent less,” Liu Ming demanded, his wide eyes brooking no argument. He was in his thirties, known in the village as Liu the Scrounger for his gambling and drinking.

“That’s impossible. We didn’t cause this. Don’t forget, you begged us to help. Saving lives is risky. If you’re dissatisfied, call the police.”

At the mention of police, Sister Hu and Liu Ming grew anxious. The chief wasn’t dead, and he’d regained consciousness before his madness. There was no evidence to blame us; their reasoning wouldn’t hold up.

“Four hundred thousand, not a cent less. The police won’t help. I insist you’re the ones who ruined my brother,” Liu Ming persisted, determined to play the victim. I was tempted to kick him to the ground and make him see reason.

The courtyard was chaotic. We truly didn’t have that much money, nor would I agree to pay even if we did, since the incident had nothing to do with us.

“Enough! If you’ve made enough trouble, get out. Don’t force me to act, or you won’t know how you died,” Xu Immortal’s voice rang out from behind—not loud, but it burned in my chest. Liu Ming and his crew instinctively stepped back.

Xu Immortal stepped forward calmly. “Do you know why I initially refused to help? Because I knew, even if the soul was returned in such haste, the person wouldn’t recover. You begged me, so I helped. Now, when things go wrong, you come here to cause trouble? I was the one who saved him; what does his family have to do with it? I only borrowed their courtyard, nothing more.”

Then he turned to Liu Ming. “You, your fate is dark, your health is ruined. Isn’t your back freezing at night now? Your feet aching? Want fifty thousand? Next month, I’ll burn a hundred million for you, how about that?”

Faced with Xu Immortal’s intimidation, Liu Ming shrank, unwilling to move.

Moreover, I noticed Xu Immortal had pinpointed Liu Ming’s symptoms, making his expression oddly fearful. Judging by Xu Immortal’s cryptic words, it seemed Liu Ming’s days were numbered.

No one dares provoke a true master.

With Xu Immortal’s appearance, the courtyard fell silent. Even Sister Hu, usually shrill as a sow, was now deflated, slumped on the ground without a word.

“Take him home. Boil pig dung soup three times a day—three bowls reduced to one. It’ll quiet him for now. Once I finish my business, I’ll see about restoring him to normal.”

No one moved.

“What are you waiting for? Hoping the whole village comes here for a meal?”

At this, Sister Hu scrambled to her feet, urging the committee members to carry the chief away. At the gate, she turned back and politely asked, “Master Xu, what exactly is pig dung?”

“Ask the pharmacy yourself.”

In a blink, only Liu Ming remained. I was about to ask why he hadn’t left, when he sidled up to Xu Immortal and whispered, “Master Xu, you truly are extraordinary. What medicine can cure my illness?”

“Medicine?” Xu Immortal replied strangely, glancing at Liu Ming. “Don’t you know what evil you’ve done? While you have time, eat well—eat the best, the richest. Otherwise, you won’t get another chance.”

At this, Liu Ming seemed to lose his soul. I thought he’d collapse, but he left the courtyard slowly.

Watching Xu Immortal sink back into the wooden chair, I felt an indescribable gratitude. If not for him, how could we have so easily driven away Sister Hu and her pack of troublemakers?

Thinking back, my suspicions about Xu Immortal began to shift. Was he truly helping my family out of a debt to my grandmother?

If so, then how do I explain what Elder Qin saw and heard? Or is it all a façade, a ploy to win sympathy and trust?

Recalling the pig dung soup for the chief, I couldn’t resist asking, “Old man, what exactly is pig dung?”

To my knowledge, there was nothing called that on a pig.

“Pig feces.”

“What?”

“Pig manure.”

Pig dung actually had such a poetic name? I eyed Xu Immortal skeptically, wondering if he was just making it up. He caught my doubt, snorted, and explained why it was called “pig dung.”

Directly calling it manure sounds crude. When a pig relieves itself, it’s scattered in bits, hence the name “pig dung,” making it less embarrassing to mention.

Pig dung can cure illness, Xu Immortal said, because it is yin in nature and contains the pig’s immunity. Eating it can stabilize a disturbed soul and strengthen the body, especially since the chief had been buried without food or water, weakening his health.

After listening, I marveled at how much I still had to learn.

I read for a while, thinking that this was already the fifth night—only two nights left to complete the seven days. I couldn’t help but ask Xu Immortal what to do after the seven days of keeping the corpse.

“Didn’t your grandmother tell you?”

I shook my head.

Xu Immortal was silent for a moment, then said nothing more. I wanted to ask, but he clearly didn’t want to answer, remaining half-alive in his chair.

In her letter, grandmother only instructed to keep the corpse for seven days, without specifying whether to bury or not afterward. I felt lost and uncertain.

Furthermore, Elder Qin had warned not to let Xu Immortal harm grandmother, so I needed to break the ritual circle on the ground the night after tomorrow. Considering all the help Xu Immortal had given us, I wondered: is the ritual truly harming grandmother?

If Elder Qin was mistaken and the ritual wasn’t harmful, breaking it would actually hurt grandmother.

The witch Wang was gone; I spent the night half-awake, keeping watch, while Xu Immortal sat unmoving in the wooden chair like a figure from a century past.

At dawn, my mother burst through the courtyard gate in a panic.

Her face was ghostly pale, her eyes frantic. Clearly, something had happened.