Stein was overjoyed when he saw that I had agreed, but he mentioned that Antonio hadn't been in touch for a long time and that it would take some time to reconnect.
I told him not to delay—the sooner, the better. I still didn't know when Daphne would come to pick a fight. Without a tough guy, how could we deal with her gang of henchmen?
Stein nodded and rushed upstairs to look for contact information. The search took the whole day. Back in their time, contact details weren't easy to track down—unlike now, when we have WeChat and other apps. Even if he found the phone number, there was no guarantee it would still work.
By evening, Stein still hadn't come downstairs. There hadn't been a single customer all day, so I just lay on the sofa dozing off.
Just then, someone walked in. I opened my eyes and immediately sprang up from the sofa.
What the hell? Isn't that Orwell? Damn, this guy actually dared to show his face here after scamming us!
This bastard had lied about being the owner of the internet café and spouted nonsense about some "Huang Daxian Temple." Turns out, there was no such temple—just the Siberian Weasel Grave. And he wasn't the internet café owner either.
Orwell saw how worked up I was and hastily took a few steps back, saying, "A gentleman uses words, not fists. Let's talk this out."
"Talk my ass! You lying piece of—! You'd better start explaining properly right now. Who the hell are you, and why did you trick us? Or I'll beat you to a pulp today!" I snapped.
No need to be polite with a liar—otherwise, they'll just keep coming back to cheat you again.
Orwell gave a bitter smile and said he hadn't meant to deceive us—he had his reasons.
Reasons? These days, every murderer and arsonist has some sob story. Does that justify lying to people?
Orwell laughed bitterly again but didn't dare argue—because, honestly, he was at fault.
He claimed he'd lied to test whether we were capable. In fact, he'd been following us that night. If anything had happened, he would've stepped in, so we didn't need to worry.
Testing us? Following us? So Orwell really was connected to that Siberian weasel? He must know everything about it.
I didn't want to waste time arguing. I told him to spill the whole story now—and if he lied to me again, I wouldn't hold back.
Orwell nodded earnestly, promising he wouldn't lie this time and would tell us everything.
Thirty years ago, on the outskirts of Vervecity, there was a village called Sanniu Village...
Orwell was from that village, and the weasel in the internet café had been caught in the mountains by him and his second uncle, Luís.
Orwell's parents died when he was young, so he was raised by his second uncle. The two were especially close, but since his uncle was poor, Orwell suffered a lot growing up—though thankfully, he turned out fine.
In Vervecity, weasels were relatively rare, so they fetched a good price. But this particular weasel did something strange—it knelt down inside the cage, kowtowing to Orwell and his uncle with tears in its eyes.
The second uncle said weasels could be divided into different ranks, and this one might be a Huang Daxian—a spirit weasel. It couldn't be sold; if they served it for dinner, they'd be ruining its cultivation and might face retribution.
After some thought, the second uncle decided to release it.
When the weasel crawled out of the cage, it kowtowed to Orwell and his uncle one last time before slipping away.
From then on, every year, the weasel would return with gold, silver, or jewelry in its mouth.
But the second uncle didn't dare take them. He said these were grave goods—while he appreciated Huang Daxian's gratitude, stealing from tombs would bring bad karma. He didn't want that misfortune to fall on Orwell, so instead of spending the treasures, he hid them under his bed.
The weasel didn't seem to care—it kept bringing jewelry year after year. Orwell even gave it a name: Lucky.
This Lucky was the same weasel now wearing human skin in the internet café.
Orwell's second uncle had a sweetheart named Aria. They were deeply in love, but Orwell's family was poor, and Aria's parents disapproved. Against her will, they forced her to marry the village chief's idiot son.
The village chief's son was tall and strong but had the mind of a five- or six-year-old. He wouldn't know what to do with a wife, but since the chief's family was the richest in the village, Aria's parents called it a "blessing." In reality, marrying him was no different from becoming a widow.
The worst part? On the wedding night, it wasn't the idiot son who entered the bridal chamber—but the village chief's eldest son, who was already married.
Aria, of course, resisted desperately, screaming for help. At the time, Orwell's second uncle was working in the chief's house. Hearing her cries, he rushed in and beat up the eldest son.
But the eldest son was cunning. He framed the second uncle, claiming he was the one having an affair with Aria and had picked the wedding night to cause trouble. The villagers believed him, and the second uncle was beaten again.
With no way to defend themselves, the second uncle and Aria were dragged out by the villagers. After being beaten half to death, the uncle was hung from a tree, while Aria was thrown into a dry well on the mountain.
Sanniu Village had a mountain with a Huang Daxian temple on it. Next to the temple stood a well, which some said had been dug specifically for Huang Daxian to quench his thirst.
Strangely enough, when feudal superstitions were being eradicated, the Huang Daxian temple was demolished, and the well dried up—never producing water again, becoming nothing more than a dark, empty pit.
That time when the second uncle was hung from the tree, Orwell went to plead for justice, but it was useless. No one even brought food or water. Watching his blood-covered uncle, Orwell knelt on the ground and refused to get up, begging the villagers to spare his uncle's life.
But the village chief's family was rich and powerful, and the eldest son was determined to see the second uncle dead. Since he refused to let him down, no one else dared to intervene. And so, the second uncle died on that tree. Before his last breath, he made Orwell swear to protect Aria—to ensure nothing happened to her. At that moment, besides Orwell, the weasel hiding behind the tree also heard his plea clearly.
After the second uncle died, Aria, trapped at the bottom of the well, was driven mad with fear. She refused to eat or drink. Orwell wanted to save her but couldn't. Day and night, she screamed, "I'll kill you all! Every last one of you! Die! Die! DIE!"
Then Aria died. When her body was finally pulled up, her eyes were wider than a bull's, glaring at everyone with pure hatred.
On the day of her burial, Aria's body suddenly vanished. Some claimed to have seen her again inside that dry well—but this time, no one dared to go down and retrieve her. One brave soul who tried never resurfaced. Others said that at midnight, Aria would climb out of the well and stand beside it, her hair shrouding her face—a sight so terrifying it chilled the blood.