Chapter 103: The Human-Skin Drum (7)

“Hopeless.” The younger sister’s voice was icy cold. “The child in his womb will rapidly drain his life force. Within just three days, he will use his own body to quickly nurture the newborn. But once the child is born, the Spiral Matron will come for him. She will peel off his human skin to make drums, used for sacrifice and blessings, praying to the heavens for favorable weather next year.”

…

What kind of hellish fate is this?

Purely revolting.

“We’re just visitors! Besides, he’s a man—how could he possibly be pregnant?”

“In this village, anything can happen.” The younger sister’s expression remained cold. “If you don’t want to die, you’d better figure out a way to save yourself quickly. This is an A-level dungeon; although there’s no set limit on deaths, when you die, it will be excruciatingly painful.”

During the few minutes the younger sister chatted with the players at the front desk, the face of the pregnant man—once rosy and slightly plump—suddenly shriveled up.

Everyone could clearly see the man’s life force being forcibly siphoned into his belly. His abdomen, originally flat, rapidly ballooned within a very short time, stretching the skin to a translucent, flesh-colored tautness.

There were even stretch marks.

“Can he really give birth? And all within three days? Will the child be able to eat, drink, and play like a normal person once born?”

“You don’t need to worry about that. The village has its own way of dealing with things.”

Her tone was indifferent, almost like an AI, utterly devoid of basic human empathy.

“The only advice I can give you now is to move him onto a bed. At least that way, his level 10 pregnancy pain will be reduced by 0.001.”

The onlookers were speechless.

Reducing the pain by only 0.001? Might as well not bother moving him at all.

“Heh, what’s a little pain to you?” A player, covered head to toe in snails from wading in the river, now began mocking Cheng Cheng, the pregnant man. “You give birth to one, I’ve given birth to hundreds.”

Holding ten coins given by the villagers, he walked over to the younger sister at the front desk and demanded meat dishes. “I want to eat your beef! I refuse to believe that you feed your livestock with snails!”

Only after collecting the coins did the younger sister’s attitude toward Song Hua soften considerably.

“Wait here. I’ll bring it to you right away.” True to her word, she went to the kitchen to prepare beef for Song Hua.

When she handed over the plate of beef, many sharp-eyed people noticed a note slipped beneath it, covered in writing.

Could this be a clue for clearing the dungeon?

Song Hua clenched the note tightly in his palm, showing it to no one, then slipped away furtively.

His sneaky behavior naturally aroused suspicion.

“Hey, what’s up with Song Hua? Did you secretly give him the clue note just now?”

“What’s it to you?” The younger sister was visibly annoyed at being called “hey.” “I have a name—Yang Fang. Remember that, don’t call me ‘hey.’”

“I don’t care what your name is!” The player grew irritated at Yang Fang’s repeatedly rude attitude. “Just tell me how to get the clues to clear the dungeon—simple as that!”

“Go earn ghost coins!” Yang Fang shot him an angry glare. “Can’t you see what that guy just did? Just do the same! One clue costs eight coins, a meat dish costs two coins. There’s a signboard below—look for yourself!”

Growing impatient, Yang Fang pointed to the signboard beneath her desk.

It listed clues at various prices.

Some cost eight ghost coins, others ten. The priciest clue was fifty ghost coins.

But no one really knew what kind of specific clues you’d get for fifty coins, or whether it could guarantee clearing the dungeon.

It was a complete take-it-or-leave-it deal.

“Looks like we have to earn ghost coins to get the clues in this dungeon.” Tang Mu rested her chin on her hand. “Lu Zhengqing, finished eating? Come with me to earn ghost coins.”

“I’m not going.” Lu Zhengqing, who had just put down his bowl and chopsticks, picked them up again. “Using your own body to feed the snails… I just don’t think relying solely on that method to earn ghost coins will last seven days.”

“Then I’ll go by myself.” After Lu Zhengqing refused, Tang Mu decided not to bother him anymore. When the final clues came out, she hoped he wouldn’t try any of those empty-handed tricks.

Leaving Old Wang’s Inn, the village suddenly saw an influx of villagers.

These villagers appeared out of nowhere, right after Song Hua obtained the clue costing eight ghost coins.

But these new villagers were different from the ones entirely wrapped up from head to toe. They looked terrified, their clothes ragged, like beggars emerging from some dark corner, grabbing at anyone they saw, pleading, “Get out quickly! This village is cursed; outsiders aren’t welcome! Leave now!”

What was going on?

Were the villagers themselves at odds, causing chaos?

Most of these ragged villagers were men.

Yet they were unusually thin, as if they hadn’t eaten a proper meal in half a year.

Among this group of tattered people stood a boy with chestnut hair, a weakened frame, but strikingly handsome—completely out of place among the pale, distressed villagers.

At the same moment, the USB drive in Tang Mu’s palm emitted an unusual red glow.

It was Yan Xingwen!

Joy flooded Tang Mu’s chest, but she had to suppress it for now.

Yan Xingwen’s gaze was full of timidity, cowardice, and evasiveness.

He dared not meet anyone’s eyes, as meek as dust beneath the earth.

She had to pause her approach to him.

Moving too hastily might scare him.

“This village is cursed! You can’t stay here overnight!” The leader of the ragged villagers shouted hoarsely, “At night, the spirits who should have passed on come back, devouring each and every one of you! Listen to us—if you leave now, there’s still time! Otherwise, even if you want to leave later, you won’t be able to!”

“Sounds like running now will actually let us escape.” One player, idly watching the unfolding drama, grumbled, “If you have info, just say it—stop acting. Hurry up, will you?”

The cursed villager ignored the complaint and continued with fervor, “Human skin drums, eerie lights. Pregnant mother’s wrath, world overturned. It’s a curse, a curse! She’s cursing our entire village to a terrible death! You and I—we’re all going to die! All of us!”

The villager cried and raved, drawing the attention of those tightly wrapped villagers.

They scolded the ragged ones as mad, hysterical again, and told them to get lost quickly.

“Sorry about that,” a normal villager told the visitors, “don’t mind those lunatics. They’ve got some mental issues. We’re trying to drive them away. You weren’t scared, right?”