Soon, they arrived in front of the ancestral hall.

Henry Walton looked up.

The main gate of the ancestral hall was open. In the dusk light, it was clear that the inside was very empty; you could see straight through to the portrait wall at the very back, as if there was nothing else inside.

Henry Walton forced himself not to overthink and stepped inside.

Crossing the high threshold, there was indeed a bit of chill, but the feeling was similar to any ordinary home, not as eerie as imagined. Behind him came the footsteps and voice of another man:

"There's really nothing here..."

It was obvious he was trying to comfort himself.

Henry Walton didn't respond, continuing to walk inside while looking up and observing the ancestral hall.

The ancestral hall in Heng Village was much like the one in Shu Village, both having a three-section structure: the first section was the ceremonial gate, with a small space for storing things, essentially two rooms inside—one large, one small, one low, one high.

The first room was a large hall with tables and chairs, generally called the Hall of Offerings, where clan members could hold meetings, honor the outstanding, or punish the wicked. The wall at the back blocked off the second room; the first thing Henry Walton saw was the portrait of the Wang family ancestor hanging on the wall.

It was a middle-aged man with quite a bit of poise.

He then looked at the couplets hanging on the pillars on both sides:

Promote filial piety and brotherly love to uphold human relations;

Strengthen the clan to foster harmony and unity.

Circling around to the back from the side and going up a step, there was the second room, slightly smaller than the first, where the ancestral tablets of this branch of the Wang family were placed, called the Hall of Rest.

The ancestral hall also had a skylight, letting in sunlight and moonlight, with exquisitely carved beams and painted rafters—beautifully built.

Only the tiles overhead were a bit messy.

Besides that, there were couplets and family rules everywhere in the hall.

Henry Walton watched silently, reciting them in his mind.

Surprisingly, there was no sense of eeriness. Instead, he felt it was the descendants' respect for their ancestors, a continuation of clan culture, and even a sense of solemnity.

Behind him, the man's voice sounded again:

"Kid, you're pretty brave, just walking straight in without a second thought!

"So, what is it? Did you lose a bet too?

"Or just showing off?

"Hey! I thought I'd be alone tonight, but with one more person, I actually feel a lot better!"

As he spoke, the man put down his bedding and straw mat and sat down inside the ancestral hall.

Henry Walton sat down as well.

He lit the oil lamp and chatted idly with the man.

They were both locals from nearby villages, talking about where they lived, whether they knew so-and-so, and as they chatted, the sky gradually darkened. The already dim ancestral hall became even darker.

Only the bean-sized lamp flame flickered.

"Hey kid, what do you think—if we ran out now and found somewhere else to stay for the night, then snuck back before dawn, how would they know whether we really spent the night here?"

The man's expression grew more animated as he spoke, as if he truly thought this was a good idea. If Henry Walton so much as nodded, he would probably go out to check if anyone was around and sneak away with Henry Walton.

Henry Walton's first thought was—

This companion didn't seem very reliable.

"I don't know."

Henry Walton replied calmly.

He didn't dare to gamble, nor did he want to.

Since he had made up his mind to come and was already sitting here, he wouldn't leave easily no matter what.

"Sigh..."

After being refused, the man started to comfort himself again:

"There aren't really that many ghosts and monsters in this world. Back in the day, those people who said they saw ghosts while walking at night—either they were drunk and seeing things, or just bored and bragging.

"Most of them are like that.

"It's probably just some wild cats or dogs from the mountains making noise, and the villagers scare themselves. Or maybe someone in the village is sneaking around here for an affair, making noises to scare people. Otherwise, maybe Old Master Wang did something to displease the ancestors, but either way, it shouldn't trouble us.

"Don't you think so?"

Before long, the ancestral hall quieted down.

It wasn't that the two of them had fallen asleep—neither dared to sleep—but there was nothing left to say, so they wrapped themselves in their bedding, leaned against the wall, and stared into the darkness with open eyes.

The oil lamp still flickered faintly.

Tonight, there was a moon.

The moonlight was bright, shining through the skylight onto the ground like white frost.

As the night deepened, they grew sleepier.

Unconsciously, their eyelids began to droop.

"Whoosh..."

A chill breeze blew.

The man beside him suddenly opened his eyes wide.

"What was that?"

Henry Walton couldn't help but feel a slight jolt in his heart and looked ahead, but saw nothing.

Just as he thought the idle man was only trying to scare himself for fun, or making a fuss over the wind, he really did see a flash of light and shadow outside. Almost at the same time, another gust of wind blew in.

The oil lamp was suppressed, immediately dimming, and after a few moments the flame struggled back to life.

"What was that?" The man turned to Henry Walton, eyes wide and bright. "Did you see it too?"

"I saw it."

"What was it?"

"Maybe... a village dog."

Henry Walton was a bit uncertain himself, but compared to the older and stronger man beside him, he was much calmer.

"A village dog?

"Yeah, maybe, maybe."