117 Sacrifice Corridor 31 || Reincarnation Tribulation 2
"Now that we know the time, wouldn't it be better if we just hide out at this time every year?"
"Hide? What are you thinking? We're just lucky this time. Do you really think we can get away with it just by hiding?" The man smacked his lips. "Alright, cut the crap. I have my own way. Leave these bodies here and get back quickly. It's freezing cold out here."
The two men dug the body out of the mud, pulled it to the other side with a cart, and threw it back into the pile of corpses with a clang.
After doing all this, he left without looking back, and did not notice that there were two living people behind the stone.
"Follow him." Jing Ning said.
Yan Shuang had the same idea. Although he didn't know the direction of the illusion yet, it was impossible for two useless people to appear in the illusion for no reason and come here to talk a lot of nonsense.
The two people in front were pulling the cart, leaving many wheel tracks on the mud. There was no need to worry about losing them, as they always kept a distance that was neither too far nor too close.
Not long after walking, I could faintly hear voices and crying ahead.
At this time, the light dimmed and the dark clouds in the sky covered half of the moon.
It was a village of neither big nor small, with seemingly a hundred households, each house closely connected to each other, but now half of the houses were buried in the ground.
In the 1970s, rural areas were mostly built of mud mixed with straw. Their unevenly stacked tiles made the roofs leak easily when it rained heavily. Initially, people ignored the downpour, thinking it was just a normal downpour. Unexpectedly, the downpour was so powerful it completely destroyed the mountain behind it.
The mountain collapsed in the middle of the night, leaving no time to react. Most people were still asleep when they were buried by the sudden mountain collapse.
Jing Ning and Yan Shuang did not rush to get closer, but found a position with a good view.
The rain had stopped at this time, and the survivors in the village silently moved stones, one by one, to try to save those buried underneath.
"This is Zhang Weiguo's village." Yan Shuang's gaze darted between the people, noting that most of them had blank expressions, like puppets, mechanically repeating their movements. Only a few showed signs of sadness, anger, and resentment.
People were like a group of ants in front of these huge rocks, struggling to use their pitiful strength.
"I didn't see Zhang Weiguo."
"That means he's unimportant in this fantasy world." Jing Ning said solemnly, pointing a finger at the woman squatting on the ground carrying gravel into a backpack. "That's the protagonist."
The woman was thin and young, wearing only a thin coat on the cold night. Her features were distant and her pale face exuded a chilling coolness. Her blind eyes, staring blankly ahead, held a constant chill.
At this time, she was squatting on the ground, putting stones into the backpack over and over again, repeating the same thing.
Everyone was busy and had no time to care whether she was a child or an old person, and no one cared whether she could see or not.
The woman moved the stones tirelessly, as if everything around her had nothing to do with her, neither sad nor happy. She carried the stones countless times, finally clearing the small area in front of her.
Just as she stood up and prepared to take a rest, she didn't know that the person in front of her quickly cast a vicious look at her and then started talking.
Just when the crowd's emotions were running high, that rough voice rang out again, like a huge rock thrown into an already turbulent lake, stirring up even bigger waves.
"That's right! It's her! Those blind eyes are proof of the curse! A sign of doom!" The man squeezed out of the crowd, his dark face a mixture of dirt, sweat, and an almost fanatical resentment. He extended a thick finger and pointed it directly at the bewildered woman standing in the middle of the clearing.
The woman couldn't see, but she could feel countless gazes suddenly becoming hot, filled with fear, suspicion, and malice that had finally found an outlet after long-term suppression, and they fell densely on her.
She subconsciously took a small step back, her heel hitting a loose stone, causing her to stumble slightly. This subtle movement, in the eyes of the enraged villagers, was interpreted in a different way.
"She wants to run away?"
"Look, she's guilty!"
"We can't let her get away! Even if she does, the curse will still be there!"
The initial buzz of discussion quickly turned into sharp accusations and shouts.
The crowd began to press forward, and the circle became smaller and smaller.
The men held the farm tools tightly in their hands, while the women hugged their children tightly, and their eyes were full of rejection and fear when they looked at other women.
An elderly woman in a headscarf stepped forward tremblingly, her cloudy eyes filled with horrified memories. "Fifteen years ago, when she was born, the weather was just like this! That night, most of the people in our village died. Since then, natural disasters have occurred every year... Now, even her own parents have been killed by her..."
"What sin have we committed...We must all be killed by her!"
The fear is concretized by memories and becomes more real and credible.
More people began to chime in, counting the number of deaths in the village over the years.
"My father was washed away by a flood five years ago, and his body hasn't been found yet!"
"My sister's family of five died of heatstroke at home last year..."
…
A life for a life, more than a hundred lives will only leave no trace of the silent blind girl.
"Burn her to death! Just like our ancestors dealt with evil spirits!" the burly man shouted at the top of his lungs. "Only by burning her completely can the curse be broken! Only then can we survive!"
"Yes! Burn her!"
"Burn her!"
The slogans began to become uniform and full of violent rhythm.
Countless hands rushed towards the girl, and someone took a rope to tie her up tightly.
The girl was completely surrounded by this malice. Her tightly pursed lips lost their color, and her slender fingers unconsciously twisted the corners of her tattered clothes.
Her father and mother were dead, their bodies still buried under the boulder, but she didn't cry. Even now, consumed by hatred, she still didn't cry.
Because she felt that this was retribution for her existence, because her existence had implicated innocent people. Those uncles who had died were talking to her yesterday.
The girl spoke in a small voice, "If you burn me to death, the curse will be lifted. Go ahead and burn me. I'm sorry for you."
The discussion among the crowd died down, and they stood there in a daze. They didn't expect her to be so calm.
The old woman bent down and touched her head. "Good child, you are such a sensible and good child."
Once something starts, there's no going back. The floodgates of tragedy have already been opened.
The hatred was appeased that night, and the girl was tied up and carried to a mass grave.
According to local customs, before burning the evil spirit, she would be sent to the most sinful place and tied up for a night to allow her to repent on her own.
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