Master of Strange Dao

This can at least help you get through to spring, and once the weather warms up, there will always be a way out.

I'll come back in a few days, but then I'll have to take your son away. You think about it yourself."

The debt collector left, and the man stood there dumbfounded.

He tried to borrow money, but had nothing to pawn. He thought of pawning himself, but no one wanted that. He could only pawn his son, but if he didn't borrow the money and go for treatment, they'd all burn to death, and then there'd be nothing left to pawn.

This trouble came on its own, and naturally, he thought of saving his life first.

The next day, the man picked up some gossip he'd previously heard, and then quietly squatted at the backdoor of a wealthy household. Before dawn, he saw the backdoor open, and a cart was pushed out.

The ground was slippery, the cart overturned, and a teenage corpse covered with scars fell onto the ground from the straw mat.

The man couldn't help but step forward, almost walking out from the corner, as his vision blurred; he nearly mistook that corpse for his son.

He shrunk back into the corner and saw a rogue he'd seen before appear, swearing and arguing with someone, vaguely hearing something about dying in a day, which got him cursed and docked a month's pay.

The man's hand trembled a bit, and he quietly retreated, returning home. Within less than a two-hour, the debt collector came again.

This time the tone was much harsher, explicitly telling the man that if he didn't repay the principal with interest in time, then he shouldn't expect any mercy.

The man wanted to clench his fist, but thought of his weak son, and then helplessly let go.

He started a fire, cooked porridge, thick enough for a chopstick to stand upright.

After the meal, there was no need to wash the bowl, as it had been licked cleaner than a pouch.

Time passed, and it was the last day of the deadline.

The man sat dazed at the door, not knowing what to do. After some time, a voice brought his thoughts back.

"Uncle Ming, is little brother feeling better?"

The neighbor girl asked with a hint of worry in her eyes.

The man looked at the girl, his gaze shifting past her to the distant alley entrance; the shadow of the collector was already vaguely appearing, and behind them seemed to be someone pushing a wheelbarrow.

It seemed to be the very same cart seen that day, the one carrying the corpse.

The man's gaze was lifeless, staring at the girl, then at the debt collectors approaching from a distance, his expression began to change, struggling continuously, then with despair in his eyes, tears suddenly fell down.

"Little... little brother is somewhat, somewhat better, he even said... he wants to thank you in person for the sweet potato."

The somewhat grimy-faced girl promptly said.

"Then I'll go see little brother."

After taking a few steps forward, for some reason, she quickly returned home.

The man was somewhat disappointed, but still let out a long breath.

But right after, he saw the girl, holding half a sweet potato, rush out from home, swiftly darting into the man's house.

"I'll go see little brother."

The man watched the girl's back as it slowly blurred, while the debt collector's sinister face became more distinct.

As well as the clear image of his son's pale face.

He painfully closed his eyes, gave himself a hard slap, then stood up numbly, looking at the debtor in front of him.

The debtor was just about to say something but heard a sound from inside and glanced at the man with a mocking look.

The collector entered the house, and within a few breaths, he saw them coming out carrying a motionless burlap sack.

The collector took out a cloth bag and threw it into the man's arms.

"Alright, we're square."

The man slumped to the ground, a hint of bewilderment in his gaze. He returned inside, only to find his son lying on the bed, with half a sweet potato fallen on the ground.

His son, frightened, babbled incoherently.

"Dad, those... those people, tied..."

The man approached, covering the boy's mouth with his hand, speaking numbly.

"You saw wrong, sleep well, once spring comes, everything will be alright."

Yu Ziqing watched coldly, reached out to touch the building, and still couldn't touch anything.

He turned and left, following those rogues.

In broad daylight, they captured someone without any hindrance; even the neighbors didn't know what had happened.

The girl, knocked out and bound, was directly sent to that wealthy household.

The next morning, the man returned to the wealthy house's backdoor to pick up some ashes because there had been a death, and now the ashes were being thrown out again.

He saw again a cart pushing a straw mat out, catching a glimpse of a head, and a bit of red thread.

A gust of wind blew by, slightly revealing the mat, a pair of hollow eyes met his gaze.

The man shivered and quietly retreated; he recognized her, it was that little girl.

A strand of resentment emanated from those hollow eyes, rapidly swelling.

Even though Yu Ziqing couldn't touch anything, he still felt it.

The cart carrying the corpse arrived at the mountain outside the city, where civilians weren't allowed to cut wood or collect firewood; the body was buried there.

In the nameless, unmarked grave, resentment swiftly grew, and on the seventh day, a fierce ghost with red thread tied in her hair, full of resentment, crawled out of the grave.

Just at that moment, waves of resentment surged from underground, constantly joining the fierce ghost.

The fierce ghost's aura soared rapidly, the resentment thickening, her eyes growing increasingly red, until blood began to flow from them.