Fifteen, the God of Agriculture kneels down

Not knowing how long she had walked, a dilapidated God of Agriculture Temple suddenly appeared before her eyes.

She frowned slightly and approached the interior with her sword in hand.

As she crossed the ruined threshold, blood dripped from her ankle onto it, immediately attracting a horde of small ghosts from within the temple fighting for the drops.

Sangmo cautiously stepped back while swinging a wooden stick with her hand.

As the stick swooped through the air, the temple echoed with the shrill screams of the small ghosts, which quickly silenced.

The temple was dark, making it impossible to see anything; regaining her composure, Sangmo tore off the hem of her skirt to bandage the bleeding wound.

Knowing there was danger inside, she still decided to proceed, thinking Shen Yanqing might be within.

The moment she stepped over the threshold, Sangmo distinctly felt dozens of gazes fall upon her; she looked around vigilantly and cautiously moved further inside.

The temple was very dark, and as Sangmo walked along, she suddenly stumbled on something and discovered a stone statue as she looked down.

Sangmo didn't pay much attention, lifting her head to ignite a ball of talisman flame at her fingertips before continuing forward.

Suddenly, a gust of black wind swept through, extinguishing the talisman flame at Sangmo's fingertips, followed by about ten green ghost fires appearing within the temple and illuminating its surroundings.

Only then did Sangmo realize that what had tripped her was actually a kneeling statue of the God of Agriculture, Ze Lin.

In front of it, numerous villagers' spirit tablets were placed, dense and numerous, and had remained standing for over a thousand years.

It knelt there quietly, on a spot unseen by Sangmo, silently bearing everything.

The statue was sculpted very vividly, and when Sangmo kneeled to be level with it, she had an illusion that she was looking at her master.

He knelt on the ground, holding a pair of cloth shoes in his hands; both sides of his cheeks were shiny from being slapped.

The shoes probably belonged to some villager, tattered with two holes and rather smelly.

Sangmo instinctively reached out to take the pair of shoes from the stone hands.

She felt as if the scabbed part of her heart was being savagely torn open once more with flesh blurred, the perpetrator unrelentingly sprinkling salt over it and pouring hot oil…

She looked blankly at the kneeling image of Ze Lin, unsure of what to do with it for a moment.

After pondering for a long time, she covered the statue's eyes with one hand and with the other, she forcefully shattered the entire statue.

Master, now it's my turn.

The broken pieces of stone thundered to the ground.

As the dust swirled, Sangmo lifted her head to face a host of twisted and gnarling ghostly faces.

She collected all her emotions, calmly asking, "Where is the person who entered with me?!"

After a brief discussion filled with eerie sounds, the ground began to shake, and skeletons emerged once again from the earth.

Shen Yanqing was held aloft by a dozen ghostly grey hands.

A pale-faced female ghost hung at his waist, her claw positioned over his groin, while another dangled from his neck, mouth agape, ready to snap his throat at any moment.

The scene was somewhat mortifying, almost as if Shen Yanqing had been violated.

Sangmo averted her face, yet couldn't help stealing another glance.

A hunched, green-faced old ghost stepped forward and ordered Sangmo to throw away her longsword, "His life is in your hands. If you agree to stay here, we'll let him go; otherwise, we'll devour him."

Sangmo was puzzled; they could have killed her directly, so why insist on keeping her here?

She glanced at Shen Yanqing again.

Seeing Sangmo's gaze turn to him, Shen Yanqing quickly turned away, his face cold and refusing to look at her, yet his expression seemed to be anticipating something.

Sangmo discarded the wooden stick she had been using for self-defense, "I can agree to your terms, but you must send him out first."

"..."

The ghosts all gasped in amazement at her words, and one of the female ghosts said, "Why is she such a fool?"

"Don't understand, do you? This is love," a male ghost chimed in.

"Love, my ass. All I remember is being cheated by a man for money and sex, then being dragged off to feed the dogs," one ghost retorted.

An elderly ghost couldn't help but speak up to advise Sangmo, "You silly girl, these days not even your own father can be trusted, so what's the use of saving a man!"

"Right! Isn't that foolish?" The ghosts began discussing various gossip in a hubbub, making Sangmo's head ache with their chatter.

Amidst the confusion, a mass of black mist swiftly closed in on Sangmo, quickly enveloping her within.

In the moment of being swallowed up, Sangmo looked toward Shen Yanqing, who was stupefied, with an expressionless face etched with disbelief.

Although she was scared inside, she still managed to pull out a smile, signaling him to be at ease.

After being engulfed by the black fog, her surroundings turned into a void, devoid of any light; Sangmo reached out and slowly walked forward.

The path was not very smooth, filled with potholes, and several times Sangmo stepped into water; she lifted her skirt and walked even more cautiously.

As she walked, the ground suddenly gave way beneath her feet as if stepping into excrement, and Sangmo, wrinkling her nose in disgust, decided to change direction and continue walking.

However, just as she turned around, a pair of cold, withered ghost hands suddenly grabbed her shoulders, forcibly turning her back to her original direction and pushing her harshly, signaling her to keep moving forward.

Sangmo staggered and nearly fell over; cursing angrily, she lifted her skirt and continued to move forward.

But the ghost hand was relentless, pushing her again, signaling her to hasten her pace, so Sangmo had no choice but to move faster.

The ghost hand seemed to find pleasure in hastening her, pushing Sangmo hard once more.

This time, caught off guard, Sangmo fell to the ground, her knees skinned and stinging with pain. Feeling the wetness, she realized her clothes were soaked, and she cursed furiously, "What the hell are you pushing for? Are you a dung beetle or something?!"

The ghost, seemingly unable to speak, was infuriated by the scolding, blowing gusts of wind in response.

Sangmo sat on the damp ground, shivering from the cold breeze.

Seeing the ghost's actions, it seemed it dared not harm her. Sangmo playfully refused to get up, whining, "My leg is injured, I can't walk."

"Whoosh-whoosh" The cold wind blew even more fiercely.

Sangmo, feeling stubborn, didn't move, and the ghost pushed her again, trying to get her to rise. Sangmo conveniently flopped back onto the ground, exclaiming, "Ouch! My back's broken now; I really can't walk."

"Whoosh-whoosh" The chill wind circled around Sangmo, who lay spread-eagled, squinting and scanning her surroundings.

Suddenly, a monster appeared in her field of vision, with eight legs like a spider, its long hair covering its face, hunching its back.

It groaned as if cursing, and Sangmo chuckled, very annoyingly saying, "I don't understand you."

Upon hearing this, the monster increased its volume in cursing by a factor of ten.

After roaring a few times, it seemed to find it pointless and reluctantly hoisted Sangmo onto its shoulder, proceeding forward.

Sangmo comfortably lay on its shoulder, observing the surroundings.

Where was this monster taking her?

Was it to meet that wicked nun Lord?

They had walked for an unknown amount of time, when suddenly, a place resembling a ritual altar appeared in front of them.

Firefly lanterns lit up around the altar, and in the center was a large square iron cage, with a person inside.

It seemed to be a monk.

The first thing that caught Sangmo's eye was his shiny bald head.

It was so evenly round and smooth that it seemed as if he was born to have it shaved.

Yet the monk was wearing bright red wedding attire, sitting upright in the cage, and reciting scriptures with his head bowed.

As soon as Sangmo touched the ground, five brightly-dressed old women swarmed up to her.

Their faces were painted like the dead, adorned with large red flowers, holding bridal gowns of a bride's dowry in their hands.

She took a step back and was about to fight when she realized her spiritual power was sealed!

The ghost crones clumsily dragged Sangmo to change her clothes and do her makeup.

She watched warily as a group of ghostly crones dressed her in a wedding gown and a phoenix crown before she was pushed into the iron cage.

As she stumbled, someone steadied her, and Sangmo looked up to see the monk inside the cage, looking at her with a serene expression.

His eyes were tranquil, his demeanor as clear and unfettered as a mountain stream.

After Sangmo steadied herself, he withdrew his hand and bowed his head slightly, uttering, "Amitabha, this humble monk has been rude."

Sangmo sat down opposite him and waved her hand, saying, "It's fine. If the master hadn't supported me, I would have probably fallen flat on my face."

The monk bowed his head with a gentle smile, "The benefactor jests."

After looking around, Sangmo asked, "What place is this?"

The monk replied, "This is the Ghost Region."

Just as Sangmo was surveying the area, a group of little ghosts suddenly surged towards the iron cage.