Corpse Retriever

Li Zhuiyuan had walked the shade.

Nothing around him had changed, except that Xue Liangliang and the others were gone.

Then he heard it—the noise came from the village.

He turned toward it and saw figures moving within, many gathering around the two houses at the village entrance.

Someone shouted in rage:

“Who smashed my doorboard? Who the hell did it?!”

“Mine too! Someone broke mine too! Who was it?!”

Suddenly, a gust of ghost wind swept through, making Li Zhuiyuan shiver, and the villagers fell silent all at once.

They were still there, not vanished—but the next moment, those figures moved like a silent film cast, turning in unison and beginning to walk out along the road.

Pain shot through him. The time was up. Runsheng was waking him.Li Zhuiyuan opened his eyes and shouted without hesitation, “Run!”

The car was gone. So were their bags. No one asked questions—they just ran after the boy.

Once they were off the path and onto the main road, Li Zhuiyuan chose the way back and led them uphill.

All three realized something had changed. No one asked why. They clutched their gear tightly and stuck close.

Luckily, they didn’t see any cars along the way, or they might have been mistaken for highway robbers.

“We need to run a bit farther! Don’t stop!”

This was for Tan Wenbin and Xue Liangliang. Li Zhuiyuan’s breathing techniques had built his endurance, and Runsheng’s body was unnaturally strong, but Tan and Liangliang were typical university couch potatoes. They could sprint, but any long-distance running left them gasping for air.

Li Zhuiyuan urged them to keep going because, based on past cases, these uncanny effects often had a boundary—like that time at Zheng Haiyang’s place, where once they were past the dam, it was over.

This time should be the same…

Li Zhuiyuan stopped. Runsheng did too.

Xue Liangliang and Tan Wenbin bent over, panting hard.

“Xiaoyuan, are we out?”

“Are we safe now?”

They didn’t wait for an answer. Both looked up—and saw the little path they’d first exited from.

They’d clearly been running in the opposite direction, yet they’d ended up right back where they started.

Li Zhuiyuan turned. “Let’s try this direction.”

But even he didn’t sound convinced. The result felt foregone.

The others were silent. They ran slower this time, with less of that desperate need to escape.

And again, they returned to the same little path.

“Downhill!”

If the road was blocked, then down into the slope.

It was steep and dangerous. They had to grab tree trunks and inch down carefully.

Li Zhuiyuan kept his eyes fixed on the river below. The view from the road had seemed clear because of the height—but inside the woods, visibility dropped fast.

After brushing aside dead leaves, Li Zhuiyuan realized they’d somehow returned to the path again.

Ahead was the clearing where they’d parked last night. Beyond that, the village.

Tan Wenbin collapsed on the ground.

Xue Liangliang stumbled a few steps before kneeling. He swallowed hard and croaked, “Xiaoyuan, is this ghost-locked paths?”

“More or less. It’s probably some kind of miasma. Let’s rest.”

All four sat down on the dirt.

Soon, the sky darkened like rain was coming.

They didn’t dare enter the village again. They found a big tree to shelter under, in case the rain poured.

Tan Wenbin actually pulled a workbook and pen from his pants pocket.

He leaned against the tree, opened the notebook on his knees, and started doing problems.

Everyone chuckled—even he did.

Of course, he wasn’t really studying. He was trying to lift the mood.

Xue Liangliang sighed. “I feel like I brought the bad luck. Xiaoyuan, whenever you hang out with me, something happens.”

“Liangliang-ge, don’t say that. You’ll make me blush.”

Honestly, given their track record, it was hard to say who jinxed who.

Li Zhuiyuan wondered if he was the cause. His home village had gone quiet after the outbreak of Dead Sinkers. Now that he’d traveled far, maybe the bad luck had followed.

Tan Wenbin yawned. “Guess the old folks were right about checking the almanac before trips. Should’ve bathed and lit incense before setting out.”

Runsheng lit a stick of incense and stuck it into the ground.

Tan Wenbin rolled his eyes. “And what good is that gonna do now?”

The clouds thickened. The air grew damp. Rain could fall any second.

Li Zhuiyuan, who’d been quietly thinking of a way out, looked up—and froze.

Because Xue Liangliang’s face had taken on the pallor of deadwood. Even though he didn’t usually read people’s faces, this was unmistakable—almost a textbook case of what con artists called “blackened brow.”

It meant bad luck tangled tight, luck drained to the dregs, danger lurking at every step. The kind of face you saw on the terminally ill, where even the tiniest mishap could snuff out their life.

Li Zhuiyuan turned to look at Runsheng and Tan Wenbin. Same thing.

Then… wouldn’t he be the same?

They’d been together this whole time. Misfortune should’ve struck all of them.

He reached for the knife Xue Liangliang had set down and used the blade as a mirror.

Instantly, a wave of nausea hit him.

Even though he wasn’t analyzing his fate, even though the signs were obvious, reading one’s own face was taboo.

More than that, everything he’d learned had become reflex. Even a casual glance fired off full analysis—like seeing 1 + 1 and instantly knowing it was 2.

He dropped the knife and closed his eyes, fighting dizziness and nausea.

When he opened them again, confusion and doubt filled them.

Because his face… looked normal. Nothing like the others’ “oil-dry, lamp-dim” look.

“Brothers, I have a serious question for you.”

All three looked up.

“On the way here… did you guys do something behind my back?”

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