My 'Healing' Game

The nights in Tomb Village are noisy, but near the chief's house, it's eerily quiet.

"We must not let the ghosts in the grave know the truth. You must strike when I am about to weaken, leave me with a fatal wound in an ambush, so that you can gain the trust of the ghosts within and survive to prepare for the next era."

When the old village chief said these words, he looked at the Carpenter, hoping that the one to kill him would be his second son: "The Eldest Son is very emotional and maintains close ties with those living on the surface, also being the strongest of you three. He would hardly be accepted by the ghosts inside the grave; the Youngest Son is impulsive and lively, likely to reveal flaws when taking action; so the best choice is you."

After a long silence, the Carpenter nodded slightly: "I will fulfill your request."

"Second Son?! Do you know what you're saying?" The middle-aged man raised his hand, wanting to slap his brother but held back: "There must be other ways. We can think of something else!"

"I know you might not be able to accept it, but this is the only way to save ordinary people, weaken the Big Grave, and keep the three of you alive." The old village chief handed a black package hidden under the bed to his three children: "When the Midnight ceremony begins, you will go down with me. Youngest Son, you walk at the back, and after I am killed by Second Son, run out with my will. Remember, make sure to send my will out of Tomb Village!"

The young man in a suit's fingers trembled slightly: "I don't want to run away; let me stay with you."

"You must leave, or we will all sacrifice in vain." The old village chief patted the young man's shoulder: "Once you climb out of the Deep Pit, open the will I left you."

"Dad, have you thought this through? If we leave, what about the villagers of Tomb Village? Some of them are already severely deformed, and they won't be able to be humans even after leaving the Deep Pit." The middle-aged man did not support the old village chief's plan.

"I've discussed with the crisis management center people. Before destroying Tomb Village, they will take away all villagers in advance and take good care of them. This is one of the essential conditions of my deal with them." The old village chief glanced at the black packages in his children's hands: "Do not forget, my brother is still in the crisis management center, where elites from all cities are gathered. They will surely keep their promises made to me."

"Even if they don't keep them, you would still go ahead with your plan." There was some disappointment in the middle-aged man's eyes; he did not think his father was wrong but was uncomfortable inside.

"Return to your rooms; join me at eleven for the Midnight ceremony." The old village chief did not deny it; he only sat powerlessly on the chair after the three children had left.

As night deepened, music sounded in Tomb Village; the commemorative ceremony was about to begin.

Each white lantern hung on the doorstep, tables with offerings were placed outside every home, with a variety of Sacrificial Offerings, including rice, soup, dishes, and wine. Bright candles burned incense on the table; Paper Money was pressed underneath.

Passing Lonely Ghosts, once full, lingered no more, as villagers wished them a peaceful journey.

"It's time."

The old village chief's door was pushed open. Together with his three children, he pushed a cart of paper goods out from the house. The villagers, seeing them altogether, avoided eye contact, lowering their heads.

The four of them went through the village to the Ancestral Hall, where the eldest villagers of Tomb Village burned incense and prayed. After finishing their chants, the ceremony to open the grave formally began.

The old village chief and his three children removed their clothes and changed into offering garments from the Ancestral Hall, with Curse Spells painted on their faces. Attired, they lay flat on the temporary "Water Bed," cobbled together with benches and wooden boards, unable to stand from that moment.

Mirrors inside were all covered, and items around were placed in odd numbers, symbolizing a solo journey without taking others from the village.

Once the old village chief and his three children closed their eyes, those deformed villagers rushed inside. They removed the ancestral tablets and the Shrine with the God Statue, cleaning traces of the living, lighting White Wax and incense sticks.

Lastly, villagers draped white sheets sewn with red silk over the four and replaced pillows with stones under their heads. Oil lamps were placed at their left foot to light the path to the Underworld, with a bowl of white rice set at their right foot, with chopsticks inserted—this called Foot Meal.

At Midnight, when the time arrived, four Mountain-crossing Sedan Chairs stopped outside the Ancestral Hall.

With a green base and red top, they looked somewhat eerie, and all the Sedan Chair Bearers were severely deformed, strong yet distorted, half-human, half-beast.

Shielded by white cloth, the bearers lifted the four into the sedan chairs, followed by various white goods and offerings.

With everything ready, the courtyard gate was opened; three short-statured male villagers sprinted ahead, spreading the death news throughout Tomb Village.

After the death announcers left, cries arose; five face-covered female villagers wept in sorrow, walking and crying.

Following them were the sedan bearers, the four Mountain-crossing Sedan Chairs moving slowly from Tomb Village's Ancestral Hall to the outside of the village.

Throughout the journey, Paper Money fluttered in the air, and the offerings at each house's doorway swayed slightly. The candle flames flickered erratically, resembling a Phantom Parade.

Crossing the "Forget River" surrounding the village, over the "Dark Mountain" made of countless garbage heaps, the bearers carried the sedan chairs to the deepest part of the Deep Pit.

Dark Energy surged; between Tomb Village and the Deep Pit stood a nameless Shrine. After bowing three times at the shrine, the sedan crew passed by its side.

The women mourning along the way remained here, arranging offerings while the severely deformed bearers carried the sedan chairs into the pit.

Silence gradually prevailed; the ceremony reached its Final Step.

After carrying them into the pit a hundred meters deep, temperatures plummeted as if no longer in the Mortal World.

Upon seeing the second nameless Shrine, the bearers set down the sedan chairs, bowed respectfully to the old village chief and his children, then left swiftly.

The old village chief and his three children were regarded as dead, sent into the Big Grave, for only the dead could enter the grave to conduct the ceremony. The last step was to see the true visage of the ghost, so the living must step back.

With the bearers' footsteps faded, the Guiding Lamp inside the sedan suddenly flickered a few times.

The curtain of the sedan was lifted, and the white-haired old village chief was first to step out.

"Let's begin."

The chief's three children carried the Guiding Lamp out of the sedan, heading beside the cart loads of offerings and white goods—these were the offerings Tomb Village prepared for the Big Ghost within the grave.

However, unlike previous years, some other things were mixed into the offerings.

Unwrapping the paper-made dwellings, the old village chief retrieved four black packages from within: "Only by destroying the Exit of the Big Grave can we cure the villagers' illnesses."

The youngest of them, the third brother, still could not fully agree with his father's actions. Reluctantly, he opened the package in front of him. There lay a baby about six months old atop several detonators.

"Oh my God! How did this little fellow end up here?" The third brother's hand trembled in fright, and he involuntarily raised his voice.

The old village chief, the middle-aged man, and the carpenter also gathered around, all of them looking at the baby inside the black package.

"Who hid this package?"

"Did he crawl in here by himself?"

"I only fed him some goat milk and coaxed him to sleep; beyond that, I know nothing."

The baby looked at the four adults with innocent eyes, seeming thoroughly curious about everything in this world. In a place engulfed by Death Intent, distortion, and despair, the baby brought a flicker of vitality.

"It's too late to try and send him out now," the old village chief's face creased in a frown. The timing for the burial ritual was strictly required: "Third brother, carry the child on your back. No matter what happens, you must escape!"

"Okay..." The youngest brother, fearing he would scare the baby into crying, forced himself to control his emotions, gently placing the baby into another package and strapping it on his back. "I will take you away, don't cry, don't fuss."

A six-month-old baby surely understands nothing, he just seemed joyful, and nothing on his face showed fear or dread.

"Being a child is great," the third brother glanced at his father and his two older brothers, reminiscing about pleasant past memories.

He sighed softly, patted himself, collected his emotions, and even made a ghost face at the infant.

"Prepare to open the grave."

The old village chief's face was solemn as he and his children shouldered the black package, placing the rest of the offerings near the nameless shrine.

The tightly closed Divine Door slowly opened. Along with it opened the passage in the deep pit.

A massive amount of negative emotions had accumulated here, and as the passage opened, an aura that made souls tremble swept over them.

The standard burial ritual procedure was to open the grave, then recite the prayer text, followed by sending the sacrificial offerings into the grave, and finally, to communicate with the Ghosts and Gods, seeking their blessing.

However, this time, after the passage emerged, the old village chief directly reached into the nameless shrine, removing the unmarked God Statue, and inserted a statue of his own, which he had prepared earlier, into the shrine.

After replacing the statue, black-red blood spots appeared on the old village chief's arm. He was the most normal person in the village, with a body unaffected by mutations.

Pushing a cart filled with offerings, the old village chief and his three children entered the passage.

This pit was bottomless, and everywhere gave a very terrifying feeling.

Dark Energy blew, and something in the darkness swayed; sounds of chewing came closer and closer until they saw a severely distorted monster.

The monster had once been a human, with features somewhat resembling a person but its body bore no trace of anything human.

Congealed blood stains marred its skin, black hair continuously gushed from festering wounds, and unrelenting Hatred swirled around it, draped in half of a villager's garment.

Scattering a handful of Paper Money, the old village chief placed down one offering. Though grotesque and terrifying, the Ghost and Monster did not pursue after seeing the offering, and the Hatred in its heart gradually subsided.

"Should we act?"

"No need. Regret, Remorse, Resentment, and Hatred, these four Ghosts are not our target."

The old village chief and his three children lowered their heads and moved forward. Along the way, they encountered all kinds of Ghosts and Monsters; Regret was just a moving shadow, not only harmless but helpful; Remorse could not materialize a body and liked to blend with the passage; Resentment would actively attack, yet they were not matches for the chief; only when encountering Hatred would the chief offer a sacrifice.

The boundless darkness seemed endless. By the time they had offered half of the Sacrificial Offerings, the old village chief saw a woman.

That woman was clothed in memories, her body separate from her head, with blood of the same lineage as the old village chief flowing in her. Her life appeared forever suspended in childhood.

"Sister..." The old village chief was about to say something to the woman, but she turned away.

The old village chief wished to make her stay, yet could not utter her name as it shared the pronunciation with his biological father's, albeit with a different character.

"I'm sorry, I didn't protect you, and I used you."

The apology ultimately fell on deaf ears as the old village chief kept moving forward into even deeper darkness.

Gradually, the number of Ghosts and Monsters around them diminished significantly, and Death Intent and Malice grew heavier. The old village chief saw several abandoned shrines.

His downcast gaze slowly lifted, and as he looked at the shrines, blood seeped out from atop them. Chunks of flesh and blood stitched together to form a writhing, ever-mutating flesh mass.

Dream Dust scattered, and a pair of vibrant Butterfly wings fell onto another shrine.

The ground started shaking, hands formed of pure despair stretched from beneath gravestones, arm after arm surged out, eventually forming a thousand-handed black God Statue.

Beastly roars erupted, brutality, greed, avarice, all negative emotions transformed into an ugly Beast.

"One, three, seven, nine..."

A terrifying, dreadful aura wafted everywhere, with mutations occurring beside each shrine. These Ghosts with shrines were far more powerful than Hatred.

The youngest son shivered slightly, unable to stand straight in fear of the Ghost before him. This grave opening ritual was completely different from previous years; it was as if all the Big Ghosts in the grave, having agreed, appeared simultaneously!