Chapter 2 The Old Man

The Fatty didn't dare linger, continuing to quicken his pace forward. He knew he had passed the second trial.

But time was also passing, second by second, just like Tang Qisheng and the others had told him before he came. His sense of time was gradually blurring, and the burning incense in his hand was the only measure.

Now, the first incense stick in his hand was about to burn out. Following the previous agreement, the Fatty carefully took out the second stick from his chest and lit it on the flame of the lantern. Fortunately, everything went smoothly. Watching the smoke rising from the burning incense, the Fatty's tense heart slowly relaxed.

But the faint footsteps behind him kept reminding him that he still had a long way to go before he was out of danger. After all, Gao Yanqing was still following him.

The good times didn't last long. He stopped again, this time encountering an old man.

The old man was very old, his hair graying, struggling to push a wooden cart. Because it was so old, the cart creaked and groaned from time to time.

As he got closer, a strange fragrance wafted from the cart. Inside was a dark iron pot, with firewood burning brightly underneath, stewing something inside.

Even though he knew the place was strange, the Fatty couldn't help swallowing when he smelled the fragrance. He had never smelled such a tempting aroma before.

The old man noticed him too, wiping his hands on his apron and warmly beckoning him over. "Young man, are you hungry on the road? What would you like to eat?" the old man asked with a smile, looking very kind.

Even though the Fatty was drooling with desire, he resisted and firmly shook his head. "Old man, thank you for your kindness, but I have to hurry on. Maybe next time."

"It won't be so easy to meet me next time. You and I have a connection. I'll give you a bowl, free of charge," the old man said, his eyes narrowed and wrinkles crinkling around them.

The Fatty wiped the saliva that was welling up, but his attitude remained firm. "No, thank you, old man. I have to get going. Goodbye."

The Fatty didn't dare delay any longer. He lifted his leg and walked around the old man, stepping over several steps. He walked faster and faster, wanting to leave the old man behind as quickly as possible.

After walking briskly for a few minutes, the Fatty was sure he had left the old man behind, so he gradually slowed down and readjusted his breathing.

But before he could catch his breath, a sinister voice came from behind. "Young man, why are you walking so fast? Even if you want to leave, shouldn't you ask your friend behind you?"

The Fatty's body suddenly stiffened. Then, accompanied by a creaking sound, the old cart reappeared in front of the Fatty. The old man was still hunched over, with the same smiling face.

But this time, the old man's smile was filled with undisguised murderous intent.

"You've been walking for so long, you must be hungry. I have a lot of food here. See... what would you like to eat?" the old man asked, casting a chilling gaze at the Fatty.

As the old man lifted the lid of the pot, white steam instantly rose from the cart. Inside the iron pot, boiling water bubbled, with many spherical things floating up and down.

As the steam slowly dissipated, the Fatty was horrified to see what was being boiled in the pot. His stomach churned. The pot was full of... human eyeballs!

And there was a whole pot of them! How many eyeballs of passersby had this old ghost dug out?

Seeing the drastic change in the Fatty's expression, the old man revealed his true colors. The old man was filthy all over, his apron and cart covered in bloodstains, and traces of cuts from knives and axes. A long chain was tied to the cart, the other end firmly attached to the bridge railing.

The old man's face was twisted and ferocious, and his two eyeballs had long disappeared, replaced by two frightening bloody holes. "You eyeless thing, your eyes are useless, leave them behind, leave them to me! Let me help you wash your eyeballs properly!"

As he spoke, the old man picked up a large spoon and stirred it in the boiling iron pot. In his other hand, he clutched a sharp little spoon, just the right size for digging out eyeballs.

In the nick of time, a low laugh came from behind the Fatty. The laughter was extremely arrogant, and the Fatty even heard a hint of gloating. The laughter came from Gao Yanqing.

That's right, it was him! The Fatty was sure he couldn't be wrong.

He didn't know what the grudge was, but the other party had actually latched onto him. Gao Yanqing's death had nothing to do with him. This was simply an unfounded accusation. If they wanted revenge, it shouldn't be his turn.

Since you're unkind, don't blame me for being unjust. The Fatty steeled his heart, intending to fight Gao Yanqing. Even if his eyeballs were dug out, he couldn't let Gao Yanqing get away with it.

"Old man, my friend here is very interested in you. You said earlier that he didn't want to leave." The Fatty held the lantern in one hand and secretly clenched the incense in the other, intending to fight them to the death if the situation changed.

But the old man was unmoved. His pair of bloody eye sockets stared fixedly at the Fatty's face, panting heavily as he yelled, "I don't need him. I just need a pair of eyes. Having your eyes to leave for me is enough!"

Gao Yanqing behind him let out a hissing laugh again. The Fatty could even imagine how happy he was at this moment. Perhaps Gao Yanqing would gain enormous benefits if he died here.

The old man, covered in blood and filth, gradually approached the Fatty, but the Fatty's legs seemed to be filled with lead, and he could barely move a step. In the nick of time, the Fatty suddenly remembered that he still had some grave soil hidden in his pocket. He didn't need so much to apply to his wounds, and he had put the rest away.

Not caring about anything else at this moment, he grabbed a handful and directly covered his left eye with his hand. This scene seemed to startle the eyeball-digging old man, and his movements paused.

Seeing that the grave soil was effective, the Fatty immediately did the same, covering his right eye with grave soil. Now he couldn't see anything at all.

But the effect was immediate. The old man paced around him, mechanically muttering, "Where are the eyes? Where did your eyes go?"

"Hidden, where did you hide your eyes?"

Hearing this, the Fatty immediately loudly protested, "Old man, I was born without eyes. I'm blind, born blind. It wasn't easy for my family to raise me."

The Fatty clutched the grave soil tightly over his eyes, afraid of revealing the slightest flaw, then turned his head and gestured wildly behind him. "Old man, although I don't have eyes, I have a friend. My friend isn't blind. You can use his, old man."

The next moment, a gust of wind whistled past, and the laughter behind him stopped abruptly.