Chapter 324: Chapter 322 Fried Ghost
First, if you’re going to do it, do it thoroughly to prevent lingering harm to the village.
Second, Hu Ma also needed to make himself appear more like a Ghost Walker rather than a Shousui man.
Third, that mysterious meat vendor still didn’t know where he had gone, so bringing him back would obviously require a bit of sincerity.
Utterly destroying his meat evil and provoking him was Hu Ma’s way of showing sincerity.
So, under the bewildered gaze of the villagers, he saw the surface inside the pot bubbling up. Then, he softly chanted a curse, holding the large earthenware bowl he had just seized—filled with that piece of meat—and hovered it over the bubbling oil.
Steam rose from the pot, scorching his arm as splashes of oil occasionally landed on his wrist and the back of his hand, yet he appeared not to notice, steadfastly holding the meat bowl.
Gradually, the piece of raw red meat in the bowl seemed to be affected by the heat, slowly writhing, as if coming to life.
BUBBLE BUBBLE...
As bubbles rose from the pot of oil, the entire village began to fill with an inexplicable, eerie atmosphere.
The villagers had been behaving as if they had gone mad. However, the braying of a donkey, along with a disappointed sigh from the ancestors in the Ancestral Hall, awakened many who had consumed less meat, while others hurriedly rushed back to their homes.
Now, those who were clear-headed gathered around the large pot, their eyes wide as they watched. Meanwhile, those who had fled home earlier hid in the corners, sniffing the aroma, while sounds of gulping echoed from the shadows.
Hu Ma let the heat from the pot waft up, bathing the meat in the bowl with an unusual scent that seemed to tug at their very insides.
Gradually, the gulping sounds grew louder. The people around the pot resisted the urge to eat meat, lowering their heads to avoid looking, while those in the shadows could no longer suppress their hunger and began to stir restlessly.
CREAK, CREAK. Someone was grinding their teeth.
GURGLE, GURGLE, GURGLE. Someone’s stomach growled thunderously, as if a hungry ghost within was crying out for meat.
Even Little Hongtang became tense, ready to rush out and fight, but was stopped by Hu Ma’s glance.
CREEEAK...
Then suddenly, the creaking sound of a wooden door came from the adjacent courtyard, and a tall shadow wavered, crawling out on all fours.
To everyone’s surprise, it was Daniu. He had barely any meat left on his body, nearly reduced to a skeleton, yet he still clambered out of bed and slowly approached the pot of oil.
His eyes were fixed solely on the bowl of meat in Hu Ma’s hand.
CRASH...
Seeing Daniu emerge, some of those hiding in the shadows could bear it no longer; they stirred, their anticipation palpable.
Hu Ma discreetly signaled to Little Hongtang while steadily holding the bowl in his hand.
Daniu got closer and closer, tantalized by the scent of the meat until he suddenly quickened his pace, swaying as he rushed toward the oil pot.
His movement roused the villagers hiding in the surrounding shadows who had eaten more meat; they could no longer restrain themselves and followed suit. Even the clear-headed villagers standing guard by the oil pot seemed to lose their minds, fearing they wouldn’t get a share, and began to reach out frantically.
At that moment, Hu Ma’s expression turned serious. He quickly performed a sword technique, pointing to both sides, and shouted, "Flying Sword!"
WHOOSH!
The red Wooden Sword strapped to his back suddenly flew into the air. Little Hongtang, who had received his signal, was holding it as it flew, weaving unsteadily through the crowd. This bizarre scene startled many.
Those beside the oil pot reeled back in unison, like the petals of a blooming lotus unfurling, while only Daniu charged ahead into the crowd.
Seizing this moment, Hu Ma released his hand, and SMACK! The meat bowl tumbled into the oil pot.
The meat in the bowl, as it hit the hot oil, released an explosive fragrance, ten times stronger than before, filling the entire village with a strange yet irresistible allure.
PLOP...
Daniu, the first rude man to rush to the oil pot, had eyes reflecting only the bowl of meat, as if ready to dive into the pot itself. But Hu Ma promptly raised a finger.
The Flying Sword immediately made a turn and flew back...
Actually, Little Hongtang was holding the sword. She brought it down against the rude man Daniu’s leg and then grabbed both his legs.
Daniu, just a foot away from the oil pot, couldn’t reach it. His heart filled with urgency and anger, his mouth suddenly opened wide, and a creature with a large belly and small head crawled out—a little ghost covered in folds.
Its mouth watered with greed, eyes flushed red, and it lunged into the oil pot.
In an instant, it was fried, screeching and sizzling.
But that wasn’t the end. As Daniu ejected a little ghost from his mouth, which plunged into the oil pot, a rustling commotion arose nearby. The villagers, whether they had eaten much or little meat, began to double over, dry-heaving.
One by one, they spat out little ghosts, some larger, some smaller, all eagerly charging toward the oil pot.
Like a swarm of dumplings leaping into a boiling pot, THUD, THUD, THUD, they eagerly jumped inside.
"Dear Mother..."
Some of the villagers who had expelled the little ghosts collapsed limply, never to be heard from again. Others, however, seemed to regain some clarity, looking dazedly toward the oil pot.
"Everyone, clear away!" Hu Ma loudly warned the others. Seeing the oil pot was now filled with many little ghosts, he grabbed the large wooden lid nearby and slammed it on top.
The oil popped and snapped from within, the lid occasionally pushed up from inside, and faint sounds of weeping and pleading could be heard.
But Hu Ma paid no attention, only pressing his foot firmly on the pot lid, preventing any escape.
Finally, the turmoil in the oil pot gradually faded. He lifted his foot from the lid, finding it still firmly in place, motionless. He knew the deed was done.
He grabbed the lid, set it aside, and casually took up a skimmer from the pot’s edge, scooping into the oil pot.
Strangely enough, aside from the earthenware bowl and the meat, nothing else seemed to be in the pot. Yet, with one scoop, he collected a skimmer full of bugs, each about the size of a grain of rice, crisply fried to a golden brown. Perhaps with a sprinkle of pepper...
"For those still alive, grind them into powder and drink it. Recovery will be quick." Hu Ma tipped the skimmer into the large bowl, speaking to those around. "As for those who are dead, bury them promptly!"
The surrounding villagers seemed to awaken fully only now. Looking around dazedly, they realized nearly half their numbers were gone, and the survivors, withered and gaunt, barely appeared human.
"Oh, benefactor..." Finally, someone responded, hastily kowtowing to Hu Ma, but feebly, resembling a ghost.
Hu Ma glanced around, seeing that even by the steps of the village’s Ancestral Hall, a few elders dressed in funeral clothes stood, bowing energetically toward him from afar.
"No need! Everyone, get up!"
Hu Ma furrowed his brow slightly. Frightening them earlier had been easier than stopping their kowtowing now. Helplessly, he scanned around and saw Little Hongtang lazily holding his red Wooden Sword, standing amid the crowd.
He then performed another sword technique, shouting, "Flying Sword, return!"
Everyone recalled the earlier startling scene and turned to look.
The Flying Sword, which had flown from the Sir’s back earlier, now wobbled up from among them again, flying straight back to him. Initially slow, it only sped up after the Sir glared at it.
Accompanied by a chilling gust, the sword jumped directly onto his back, automatically trying to tuck itself into his belt. It took two tries to get it properly secured.
"Living Immortals!"
Stunned by this, the villagers forgot about kowtowing. Their eyes wide, they surrounded Hu Ma. Some thought they were still dreaming; others believed they had witnessed an Immortal descending to the mortal realm.
Some of the older ones, having eaten less meat and thus possessing clearer minds, trembled as they pushed through the crowd to ask, "May we know your esteemed name, Sir? What is your donation?"
"What manner of foul thing have we attracted here?" another added.
Hu Ma gently patted Little Hongtang’s head, then addressed the crowd with courtesy, "Elders, there’s no need for formalities. I’m just a passing Ghost Walker who happened to help you eliminate this evil. Usually, twenty copper coins suffice as a reward."
"If you truly wish to express gratitude, it would be better to burn a few more sticks of incense in your Ancestral Hall."
"If your sincerity is genuine, you might receive a message through dreams, revealing the cause. As for whether they’ll give you a few lashes in your dreams, that I cannot say."
He had no intention of staying longer. Having dispelled the meat evil and accepted the twenty copper coins, he declined the villagers’ offer to let him stay, choosing instead to lead his donkey and leave directly.
He had already dealt with the Meat Evil, yet the village’s morals were irredeemably corrupt, beyond saving.
Staying here served no purpose; it was better to head out and see the true perpetrator.
Leaving the village, he traveled over twenty miles. Spotting a wooden house by the roadside resembling a tea house, he sat beside it, tied his donkey, and waited patiently, knowing someone would eventually seek him out.
The heavy hand he had dealt would surely draw that person here to investigate; otherwise, it would be peculiar.
Sure enough, after keeping watch for half the night, drowsiness enveloped him. As he was almost asleep, he suddenly heard a gust of spectral wind and the sound of rattles. Opening his eyes, he saw a solitary wheelbarrow being pushed toward him in the dim moonlight.
Hanging from the cart’s sides were neat rows of dark red flesh. As the rattle echoed, the cart slowly approached him.
"Meat for sale..."
"Pork, mutton, venison, a copper coin per pound..."
The cart pusher spoke slowly, glancing at Hu Ma from beneath his felt hat. "Sir, care for some meat?"
Hu Ma fixed a deep gaze upon him, then suddenly asked, "Are you selling human meat?"
The man paused briefly, then chuckled. "Young, old, strong—which type do you fancy?"
Hu Ma also smiled at him. "Fresh ones."
"Freshly cut, freshly sold—my favorite!"