Chapter 7

Chapter 7

"Let me speak! At least let me get a word in!"

"You've gagged me, and now you want me to talk? If you want me dead, just say so! No need to torture me like this—!"

The shadow, almost tangible, clawed and snarled, wishing it could swallow Chen Ji whole. If its true form hadn't been bound, it would have devoured him right then!

Chen Ji looked mildly surprised at the weasel's shadow. The weasel let out a sinister chuckle, "Scared now, are you?! Too late! Mess with your Grandpa Huang, and you’ll regret it—"

Before it could finish, Chen Ji remarked, "You can actually speak human language…"

His tone held a note of approval.

The weasel was speechless, sensing something off about the comment. It watched as Chen Ji released the red rope from its neck, instead grabbing its physical body by the tail.

—No more choking around the neck, but now blood rushed to its head.

Chen Ji idly poked its plump body. "Since you can talk, why were you so stubbornly silent?"

He wasn't some villain—wouldn’t it have been better to communicate earlier? That way, it wouldn’t have been hung by the door as a decoration for a full day and night.

The weasel bristled immediately. "You think speaking human language is easy?! Let go of your Grandpa Huang now!"

If it hadn’t been on the verge of suffocation, it wouldn’t have forcibly broken through the boundary to speak to Chen Ji!

In response, Chen Ji swung it around by its tail. The weasel instantly weakened. "Hey, hey, stop! I’m dizzy! My tail hurts!"

Chen Ji gave it a shy smile. "Well... it’s getting late."

Chen Ji’s intention was to remind it to agree quickly so they could both go their separate ways. He wasn’t unwilling to offer some small compensation to the weasels.

But in the weasel’s eyes, it was entirely different—it thought Chen Ji meant: It’s getting late, time to skin and dismember it to offer to Grandfather Mountain tomorrow.

The young man appeared every bit the refined scholar, yet his words were as terrifying as a vengeful ghost escaped from the depths of hell. What kind of person raised such a menace?!

Old Chen wasn’t like this at all!

The weasel shrieked, "I agree, I agree! But you have to apologize to me, set up a memorial tablet for me, make offerings morning and night, during all the festivals…"

Chen Ji smiled faintly. "How shameless are you? A tablet next to Grandfather Mountain?"

The weasel struggled. "I didn’t mean that! I'm not! Don’t twist my words!"

"Then what do you want?"

"I just want offerings!"

Chen Ji turned slightly and brought out a box of snacks from inside the temple. "Here, offerings. Take it or leave it."

The weasel initially wanted to refuse outright, but upon seeing the golden-yellow eggs on the box, it hesitated—it wanted those too.

Weasels are inherently greedy and cunning; they naturally desire anything good.

The weasel’s eyes darted slyly. "Hmph, dream on! Unless you promise to give them every day…"

Chen Ji continued to ignore it and walked further inside.

"I warn you, if you dare offer me up, my Huang family descendants will avenge me for generations!"

Chen Ji couldn’t be bothered to respond. Let them come—he’d just set up a high-voltage net around the Mountain Lord’s temple. Zap one if one came, zap two if two came. The dead ones would be barbecued on the spot as offerings to Mountain Lord, and the survivors would have GPS trackers implanted. Once he located their den, he’d fill it with concrete.

Seeing Chen Ji remain silent, a chill ran down the weasel’s spine. It squirmed in its bindings. "Not every day… how about every seven days… ow ow ow… every month… once a year! Once a year!"

Chen Ji looked down at the weasel, a faint smile on his lips, and said slowly, "Forget about the tablet. Offerings are out of the question too."

"Then what do you want?!"

Chen Ji replied, "Be sensible. Agree and go home."

The weasel fell silent, but then Chen Ji carried it to the kitchen, untied the red rope from its mouth, and pulled out a shiny little packet from a nearby box. Tearing it open, he stuffed a yellow, milk-scented pastry into its mouth. The weasel instinctively chewed twice, and in the next moment, a rich sweetness and buttery flavor spread across its tongue—it was to die for!

Chen Ji held the egg yolk pastry and said leisurely, "Eat slowly. Be a well-fed ghost, so you can reincarnate properly down below."

The weasel was stunned, staring dumbfounded at Chen Ji while still chewing, its little face full of confusion. "...??!"

What was this?

Wait, this is really good.

Chen Ji’s expression remained unruffled, calm as still water. "We Chens have returned to our ancestral home. It’s customary to send gifts to the neighbors. Although we’ve had our conflicts, you’re still a neighbor, so you should receive a gift too."

The implication was clear: the gift had been given, and next, he would kill its entire family.

The weasel’s fur stood on end. It had no doubt about the sincerity of Chen Ji’s words—this young man was both humble enough to kneel and beg and ruthless enough to kill without hesitation!

Chen Ji watched as the weasel wolfed it down, thinking it had resigned itself to being a well-fed ghost. Just as he was about to feed it another bite, the weasel howled, "I agree, I agree! Let me go!"

Chen Ji shoved the remaining half of the egg yolk pastry into its mouth and began to sharpen a knife, saying slowly, "I’ve heard the Huang family is very cunning."

The weasel chewed frantically, afraid that any delay would mean Chen Ji would slaughter it. As soon as it finished the bite, it blurted out, "Wait! Let’s swear an oath in front of Grandfather Mountain! That should work, right? From now on, we’ll stay out of each other’s way! If I bother you again, I’m a rat!"

Only then did Chen Ji put down the knife and stuff the last piece of the pastry into its mouth. The weasel couldn’t bring itself to spit it out and munched away. Chen Ji carried it by the plastic rope to the main hall. Coincidentally, the weasel had just finished the pastry when Chen Ji took out a sheet of yellow ritual paper. On it was neatly written: "I, ____, swear that henceforth I will live in harmony and respect with the Chen family descendant Chen Ji, and will never again deceive or harass him in any way. If I violate this oath, may lightning strike me dead, and may my entire clan perish without intact bodies. Witnessed by Grandfather Mountain!"

He had even carefully written the date. Chen Ji smiled and asked, "What’s your name?"

The weasel, still entranced by the sweet, soft egg yolk pastry, replied instinctively, "Huang Er! …Wait, why are you holding a knife?"

Only then did the weasel notice that Chen Ji was holding a knife again.

Chen Ji wrote the name on the paper, pulled out the weasel’s tiny paw from its bindings, pricked it, and a drop of blood welled up on its pad. He pressed the paw onto the yellow paper, then wrote his own name beside it. Finally, he burned the paper in front of the weasel.

The weasel was utterly stunned. How was this Chen kid so skilled at this ritual just after returning? He even knew how to use yellow ritual paper!

What a pity—it hadn't been able to intimidate him. This young man was highly potent; if not for the fact that he… it would have eaten him long ago!

Chen Ji paid no mind to its thoughts. As the flames rose and the ashes spiraled upward in the windless hall, fluttering like butterflies, he looked up at the colorful statue of the deity. For some reason, he felt that Mountain Lord must have a spirit.

It seemed to be watching him too.

Chen Ji carried the weasel outside, untied the red rope, tossed it into the egg yolk pastry box, and then threw the box, the weasel, and the cutting board that had touched the weasel all out of the temple gate.

A group of little weasels squeaked and crowded around, waiting for the outcome. The head of their elder emerged from the box, its mouth still stuffed with a bit of sweet pastry, and they all started chattering excitedly!

Huang Er, annoyed by the noise, waved a paw, and the little weasels lifted the egg yolk pastry box—with it inside—and carried it back to their den.

Inside the temple, Chen Ji listened as the chirping of insects gradually returned outside the gate and slowly let out a sigh of relief.

He really should have done more probing, but weasels are just too cunning and clever. Chen Ji knew that speed was key in getting things done. Right now, it was intimidated by him, so he took it to pledge allegiance immediately and resolved the matter on the spot—if it had found out that he was actually all bark and no bite, a true amateur, things probably wouldn’t have gone so smoothly.

System Cat: "Chen Ji, what are you doing? What's all the racket outside?"

Chen Ji replied, "It’s nothing. Some rats got into the custard tarts, so I threw them out."

System Cat immediately started grumbling: "Those were my favorite custard tarts! Those damn rats, I’m not done with them!"

Chen Ji coaxed it, saying, "I’ll just buy you some more. They won’t be coming back anymore."

That stuff is way too processed—loaded with sugar, fat, and calories. Only System Cat, fearless of eating itself to death, can scarf it down without a second thought. Someone like Chen Ji, already pushing twenty-five and already dealing with suboptimal health, wouldn't dare touch it unless he were starving.

Chen Ji brought the snacks back into the brightly lit room. System Cat leaped off the bed in a few steps and then plopped right on his feet. Chen Ji bent down, hoisted it onto his shoulder, and patted its round, chubby butt: "I’ll unwrap it for you right now, be good."

"Okay~"