58: Chapter 58 The Strange Village Stage

Wu Xi lifted his eyes and saw the old stage in the very center of the village.

It was built entirely of wood and had endured decades of wind and frost; the vermilion paint was cracked like parched earth, peeling off in chunks to reveal the wood beneath, which had been blackened by the passage of time.

Yet, the strange thing was that despite the stage's dilapidated appearance, its frame remained perfectly steady, straight and upright without the slightest lean. The stage floor itself was pristine, without a single speck of dust, as if someone carefully wiped it down three times every day.

Beneath the stage, people were crowded in, three layers deep inside and out.

There were unfamiliar passersby with unsteady footsteps, clearly just brought in; there were also the village residents, each standing straight with hollow eyes, wearing identical, stiff smiles like paper figures made for a temple, their breathing rhythmically uniform to the point of being frightening.

At that moment, the curtain behind the stage moved, and the sound of gongs and drums began.

Three shadows suddenly somersaulted out from behind the curtain.

Their somersaults were clean, without the slightest hesitation. One after another, like swallows skimming the ground, they landed in the center of the stage in the blink of an eye, their feet planted firmly on the boards, and they bowed in unison to the audience below.

The space between Wu Xi's eyebrows twitched violently, and the hairs on his arms stood on end.

These three were dressed in tattered costumes with threads fraying, and their faces were painted with gaudy greasepaint that had long since smeared beyond recognition.

The one in the lead had a sharp, monkey-like face, with eyes darting around, revealing a sense of cunning; the one in the middle was disheveled, his costume covered in patches, clutching a chipped, broken bowl tightly in his hand; the last one was so thin he was nothing but bones, his face painted with a mournful white makeup, his eye sockets sunken like two black holes.

Just then, the leader took a step forward, struck his bronze gong with a deafening "clang," and shouted at the top of his lungs, "Respected elders and fellow villagers! Those with money, support us with money! Those with presence, support us with your attention! The three of us brothers will perform our Xiqi Village's ancestral folk strange play for you all today!"

There was not a single response from below the stage.

The paper-figure-like villagers continued to stand straight, their eyes hollow. Most of the passersby who had just entered had not yet gathered their wits and wore dazed expressions.

Yet, the three actors on stage did not care at all. The sound of gongs and drums rose again, playing that same lingering, winding tune, unhurried and steady.

They began their performance.

It was an ancient, rustic variety show; the lyrics were in the local dialect, and the movements were techniques passed down for generations.

Yet, they performed with extreme seriousness; every somersault, every turn, and every glance was meticulous.

Even though there was not a single round of applause from the audience, not a single shout of praise, and not even a hint of reaction from living people, they still performed with total commitment. Each move was executed without the slightest carelessness, as if the audience below were packed with villagers from all the surrounding towns, their applause loud enough to tear the roof off the stage.

Yet, it was precisely this earnest performance, accompanied by that lingering, winding drum melody, that caused the people below to start acting strangely.

A young man standing in the front row, a passerby who had just followed A-He in, had originally had hollow eyes like a marionette.

But as he watched, light slowly returned to his eyes. He stared fixedly at the three figures on stage, his body leaning forward involuntarily, his neck stretched out long, completely entranced.

Wu Xi saw it clearly: the young man's living soul was drifting out from his crown bit by bit, like a wisp of white smoke caught in the wind, floating toward the stage along with the drum melody.

Yet, the man himself did not notice at all. His breathing grew increasingly rapid, and his pupils reflected only the image of the stage. That curiosity acted like a hook, slowly pulling his living soul out bit by bit.

He was too invested, too desperate to know what these three ragged actors would perform next.

The play reached its climax.

The sharp-faced Troublemaker Ghost suddenly threw a gleaming flying dagger from his hand!

The flying dagger whistled through the air, grazing the scalp of the disheveled ghost in the middle, and with a "thwack," it embedded itself into the wooden pillar behind him. The blade sank in deep, and sawdust rained down from the pillar.

The young man below could no longer hold back. His mouth opened, and without a second thought, he blurted out a single word: "Bravo!"

Just that one word.

The young man's body instantly froze.

The light in his eyes extinguished instantly, visible to the naked eye, becoming hollow and dull, exactly like the villagers around him.

A stiff smile slowly pulled across his face. As if being controlled by someone else, he turned around mechanically, walked to the side of the stage, moved a small stool, and sat upright in the front row. Like the other villagers, he stared straight at the stage without blinking, becoming a marionette with its living soul extracted.

The moment that "Bravo!" left his lips, his living soul was completely swallowed by the stage, leaving not even a scrap behind.

In that very instant, Wu Xi and the five people around him simultaneously felt an invisible force suddenly spread from the stage, instantly wrapping around their bodies like a tidal wave.

That force was Yin, soft yet extremely overbearing. It surged from the soles of their feet, filling their entire bodies in an instant, as if they were tightly encased in freshly poured concrete. From their toes to their necks, they were sealed; only their eyeballs could move, and only the thoughts in their minds could stir. They couldn't even lift a single finger.

That lingering, winding drum melody sounded again, louder, denser, and more piercing than before.

It was like countless needles drilling through his ears into his brain, stabbing into his soul, forcing his heartbeat to follow its rhythm.

His eyes drifted toward the stage uncontrollably. The more he watched, the less he could look away. The more he watched, the more he wanted to know the plot that followed.

A layer of cold sweat instantly broke out on Wu Xi's forehead.

There were no flashing blades, no ghostly attacks, and no ferocious formation spirits. It was utilizing humanity's most instinctive desire: curiosity.

If you are curious, you will watch. The more invested you are, the deeper you sink.

As long as you become interested and react, even if it's just a shout of "Bravo," your living soul will willingly be hooked away, left here forever to become a marionette that only knows how to watch the performance.

You stay to watch them finish their performance with all your heart, and in the end, you leave yourself here forever, too.

Willing and without resistance.

Wu Xi gritted his teeth and channeled the [Soul-Absorbing Return to Void] between his eyebrows. Black light churned in his Sea of Consciousness, suppressing his restless living soul and pushing down that wildly growing curiosity.

But just then, he heard A-He's voice. With a smile on her face, she clapped her hands and shouted loudly, "That was a fantastic performance! Everyone, don't just stand there! Give some reaction! Shout 'Bravo'!"

As she shouted, A-He shoved the passersby beside her, pushing those dazed people forward one by one, sending them toward the stage.

Wu Xi's heart sank instantly.

A-He was the guide, the one helping this stage lure in fresh living souls!

She had known the background of this stage all along, and knew the danger of this trap. She had brought them in specifically to make them the next sacrifices for this stage!

The moment his thoughts turned, the drum melody grew denser, and his living soul jolted violently, his crown tingling with numbness.

Not good.

Even though he knew this was a trap, even though he saw through this trick, that curiosity—that desire to know what secrets these three actors were hiding—was still growing like wild weeds in his Sea of Consciousness.

He couldn't wait any longer.

Wu Xi suddenly channeled his full cultivation, and the Zhongkui mark between his eyebrows instantly illuminated. The power of [Soul-Absorbing Return to Void] erupted without reservation!

Pure black light, like ink dripped into clear water, instantly spread from his body, sweeping across the entire stage and the entire Xiqi Village. Even the sun in the sky was completely blotted out by this black light.

[Soul-Absorbing Return to Void] penetrates the Origin of all obsessions; it can absorb souls, return them to the void, and break through all illusions under heaven.

In this black light, the stage before him, the crowd below, and the surrounding village—everything retreated rapidly like a tidal wave.

Wu Xi's eyes pierced through decades of time, seeing through the Origin of this illusion and the obsession of these three ghosts.

He saw Xiqi Village decades ago.

Back then, Xiqi Village was famous for its theater. Who in the surrounding ten miles didn't know about the Xiqi Village variety troupe? After the autumn harvest, when the millet was in the granaries and the sweet potatoes were cellared, the village would erect a stage. The red paint would be bright, and the gongs and drums would shake the sky.

The three young men were the same three on stage now.

Back then, their faces weren't smeared with greasepaint, and their eyes were full of light—the high spirits of youth.

They were the village's Legacy artists, having learned their craft from their Master since childhood. Their variety skills were superb; they could somersault three zhang away, and their flying daggers could hit the bullseye from a hundred paces. Girls from ten miles around would crowd in to watch them perform.

Every autumn harvest, they would perform on stage for three days and three nights straight.

The audience below would be packed, with fellow villagers from ten miles around rushing over. The sweet scent of sweet potatoes and the aroma of roasted melon seeds, mixed with shouts of praise and applause, could tear the roof off the stage.

Then, the drought of the century arrived.

The sun in the sky was like a red-hot iron pot, hanging overhead day after day, and not a single drop of rain fell. The crops in the fields withered into dry grass, the water in the river dried up to the bottom, and the river mud cracked like tortoise shells, wide enough to fit half a fist into.

The tree bark was stripped bare, the grass roots were all dug up, and people fought over eating Guanyin soil.

There was crying in the village every day, and every day someone was carried out, so thin they were nothing but bones, without even a mat to wrap the body.

They couldn't survive, so the whole village gathered and decided to flee the famine, heading south to find places with water.

The night before they left, the village chief found the three of them.

The old village chief's hair had turned completely white, and his face was so gaunt it was unrecognizable. His hands trembled violently as he placed them on their shoulders, his eyes red-rimmed as he said, "Children, pack your things and come with us. Surviving is more important than anything else."

The three young men looked at each other and shook their heads.

The eldest, who led them, was a youth with bright eyes at the time. He touched the red-lacquered pillar of the stage—the one his Master had built with his own hands—and gritted his teeth. His voice was quiet but every word was firm: "Uncle, we aren't leaving. Theater is the root of our Xiqi Village, and this century-old stage is the soul of our village. If we leave, the root will be broken and the soul will be gone. We will stay and wait for you to come back."

The old village chief wept. He tried to persuade them again and again until his lips were worn raw, but the three young men were determined not to leave.

Early the next morning, before dawn, the whole village—old and young, carrying bundles, supporting the elderly, and holding children—left, looking back every few steps.

The vast Xiqi Village was left with only the three of them and this solitary stage overnight.

From that day on, they got up before dawn every day to carefully wipe down the stage. They polished the stage surface until it could reflect their shadows, cleaned the pillars until they were spotless, and even swept the crevices in the corners of the stage until not a single speck of dust remained.

After wiping the stage, they would practice. They did somersaults, threw flying daggers, and practiced their singing, shouting at the empty field at the top of their lungs, "Those with money, support us with money! Those with presence, support us with your attention!"

It was as if the audience below were still packed with fellow villagers, and there were still shouts of praise that could tear the roof off.

Their food supplies were quickly exhausted, so they ate tree bark. When the bark was gone, they dug up grass roots. When the roots were gone, they ate Guanyin soil.

After eating the Guanyin soil, they couldn't pass it, and they would roll on the ground in pain, breaking out in cold sweats. But the first thing they did upon crawling up was to go wipe the stage, do a couple of somersaults, and throw the flying daggers a few times.

They waited one day, then another. They waited a month, then another.

The road at the village entrance was worn thin by their gaze, yet not a single person returned.

They grew thinner and thinner, until they were nothing but skin and bones, ready to fall over with a single gust of wind.

When somersaulting, they would fall on the stage, only to crawl up and continue. When throwing flying daggers, their hands would shake so much they couldn't hold the hilt, and the blades would miss, but they would pull them out and continue practicing.

They still wiped the stage every day, and still performed for the empty field every day.

Until finally, they didn't even have the strength to climb onto the stage.

The three of them lay against each other on the stage, so thin they were just skin and bones, their breathing almost gone.

The eldest lay in the middle, still clutching the bronze gong in his hand, and used his last bit of strength to strike it once.

His lips moved, murmuring with a thread of breath, "Why... why aren't you back yet... We are still waiting... to perform the variety show for you..."

The second brother clutched the chipped, broken bowl, and the makeup on the third brother's face had long since smeared beyond recognition. His tears had long since dried, and he couldn't even make a sound when he wept.

They lay on this stage they had guarded their whole lives and breathed their last. Their eyes were still looking toward the village entrance.

They died, but their souls did not disperse, and their obsession did not fade.

They guarded this stage, guarding this deserted Xiqi Village for three years.

Their obsession was never to harm people, never to devour souls.

They just wanted to wait for someone to return and earnestly watch one of their performances.

They didn't even know that those whose living souls were hooked away had become mindless marionettes. They just felt that finally, someone had stayed behind to watch them perform.

The black light in Wu Xi's eyes slowly dissipated, and he regained his clarity.

The illusion before him vanished. The stage was still that dilapidated stage, the crowd below was still three layers deep inside and out, and the sound of gongs and drums was still lingering and winding.

The three actors were still performing earnestly, every move and every stance meticulous.