So his hand stopped trembling.

He just gripped the hatchet tightly, staring intently outside, watching for any brick, tile, or stone that might come flying in.

“If you truly wish for me to leave, why not come in and face me head-on?”

“……”

Outside, there was only silence and stillness.

He had no idea what it was doing.

After a long while, there was finally a sound.

“Pfft…”

Then, all was quiet outside once more.

He didn’t know how much time passed.

Henry Walton still leaned against the wall, constantly recalling the strange events and spells he had just experienced, quietly observing and waiting. No matter how tired he was, he refused to fall asleep easily, dared not fall asleep easily.

But tonight, he was especially sleepy.

In this world, most people fall asleep not long after nightfall and wake before dawn. Judging by the time, it was about when people should be waking up.

Having stayed up all night, and with so much mental energy spent resisting the spells, his eyelids began to droop, and he simply couldn’t control it anymore.

Falling asleep is something that happens without you realizing it.

And once asleep, dreams came.

In the dream, it seemed as if there was nothing at all, just a sense of endless whiteness. Amidst the whiteness, there was an abstract figure—seemingly visible, yet not. He only knew someone was there, and that person was speaking to him, though the voice was equally hard to describe.

Dreams often seem to be like this.

“That Wang family does have some tricks. I made things restless for them, drove them away, and so they found others to make things restless for me, trying to drive me away.”

The figure spoke as soon as it appeared.

“Who are you?”

Henry Walton asked aloud.

“Haven’t you just spent the whole night dealing with me?” The figure seemed to speak with a hint of amusement.

“So it’s you…”

Dreams are truly strange. In the dream, Henry Walton didn’t feel this was a dream, nor did he feel it was real. He didn’t think about who the other was, nor why he was here—he simply conversed naturally:

“Why are you here?”

“It’s a long story…

“A long time ago, I lived here. Back then, there wasn’t even a village. Later, I left for a while, and the Wang family built houses here. But all things under heaven aren’t truly owned by anyone, and I didn’t leave any mark, so at first I had no intention of reclaiming my home or taking over their houses. But as I grew older, I wanted to come back.”

The figure paused as it spoke:

“Besides, the ancestors of this family were quite virtuous. Living in this ancestral hall felt comfortable to me, so I tried to take it back.”

Trying to take it back, yet also returning—rather contradictory.

“Now the Wang family has brought many people here. Though most are timid, they’ve made it uncomfortable for me to stay. And then I ran into you all—three of you in total—none of you left all night, truly bothersome. I’m afraid I can’t retire here in peace.” The figure paused again. “I see your five energies aren’t as pure as a sage’s, but they’re not muddled either. You’re young, courageous, have a calm heart, and a filial one too—quite rare. So I came to you in a dream to say: I’ll be leaving tomorrow. You can tell the Wang family—maybe you’ll get some extra reward, exchange it for medicine, and save your uncle’s life.”

“Thank you very much!”

In the dream, Henry Walton said sincerely.

“It’s your own merit, not my doing.”

“Still, I must thank you.”

“You’re quite well-mannered!”

“I have read some books, after all.”

“Reading is a good thing.”

“You just said, counting me, there are three. Who are the others? I’ve only heard of one.” Henry Walton followed his curiosity and asked naturally.

“You’re one. There’s also a butcher, and an old teacher who teaches in Shu Village,” the figure answered. “That butcher is full of vitality—my breath has no effect on him. He came here drunk, fell asleep as soon as he arrived, and slept like the dead. I didn’t want to hurt or kill him, but couldn’t wake him either, so I had to let him be.”

“The old teacher from Shu Village?”

Henry Walton was intrigued—wasn’t that the teacher who had taught him?

“Yes, that old teacher doesn’t have much learning, but he’s upright by nature. He’s never done a single bad thing in his life, which is truly rare! Sigh, people like that—even many gods would avoid them, let alone a minor spirit like me with only a little skill.”

Henry Walton was taken aback by this answer.

It was quite unexpected.

It was only now that he realized this was not a ghost, but a demon.

“But isn’t old Mr. Wang also a well-known virtuous man in the area, who’s done many good deeds?”

“He has done some good, but the truly kind-hearted ones were his ancestors. He’s just wealthy, so he continues the family tradition, does good deeds to build his own reputation and gain benefits.” The figure’s voice paused. “That’s not wrong, nor is it a bad thing—in fact, it’s even a good thing. So I never thought to harm him. But to say I deeply respect him, or would avoid him in a crisis—that’s impossible.”

“So that’s how it is…”