"What happened next? What happened to Niu Er?" we eagerly asked. Though the story was terrifying, it was also thrilling, captivating us to hear more.

"Afterwards?" Uncle Qi extinguished his cigarette and spat. "Niu Er, in front of so many people, used a kitchen knife to cut off his own head!"

Hearing this, I nearly felt nauseous.

But upon reflection, it didn't make sense. How could Niu Er manage to cut off his own head? Logically, when the knife sliced through his neck's major artery, he would quickly bleed to death, incapable of having the strength to cut off his own head.

Uncle Qi continued, "Do you find it unbelievable? Cutting off one's own head sounds like something out of a fairy tale, but I assure you, that Niu Er did indeed decapitate himself. He crazily hacked at his own neck with the kitchen knife, blow after blow.

In theory, the neck is a vulnerable part of the body, and one blow would certainly be fatal. But strangely, Niu Er repeatedly hacked at his own neck more than ten times, almost severing it, yet he didn't collapse. He stood there straight as an arrow, blood splattering everywhere. Those present were too scared to approach, only able to watch Niu Er's gruesome spectacle.

Finally, Niu Er's head was hanging by a thread of flesh, his neck almost completely severed. Despite this, he hadn't breathed his last breath. He even had the strength to continue mutilating himself with the knife.

With his left hand holding his own head and his right hand wielding the knife, Niu Er slowly cut through the last layer of skin on his neck.

Finally, Niu Er cut off his own head, holding it in his hand. His headless body remained standing, drenched in blood, resembling a war god emerging from hell. Everyone present was dumbfounded. Some even worshipped him on the spot, believing he possessed immortality.

Next, Niu Er was still able to speak. With his mouth wide open, he laughed three times. His headless body then collapsed, his head still tightly gripped in his hand, eyes wide open, as if filled with boundless resentment.

Niu Er's death was so bizarre that nobody in the village dared to bury him, fearing it would bring calamity.

Eventually, the village chief intervened, paying a hefty sum to a few fearless young men, who then disposed of Niu Er's body. In an era where proper burial rites were observed, people dared not bury Niu Er's body in the earth, but instead, they set it on fire, reducing it to ashes. The bone fragments were then buried deep underground, finally bringing peace."

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

Listening to this story, my back was covered in cold sweat.

It was too damn terrifying, especially the image of Niu Er holding his own head, leaving a deep psychological shadow on me, which would undoubtedly haunt me for the rest of my life.

Seeing me and Fatty trembling with fear, Uncle Qi chuckled. "Alright, this happened over a hundred years ago, you shouldn't dwell on it too much. Just remember what I said, don't provoke the yellow-skins!"

Fatty and I nodded in agreement. Even if you lent me ten times the courage, I wouldn't dare to provoke the yellow-skins. Even if I saw one, I would stay far away to avoid trouble.

Night fell quickly, and we caught some small animals—a deer, wild chickens, and several fat mountain rats.

I strung the mountain rats together with a rope, hanging them over my shoulder like trophies, swaying back and forth.

"Hey, our luck isn't bad. Look what I got!" Uncle Qi grinned as he dragged out a large snake from a tree hollow.

The snake was over a meter long with earthy yellow patterns. It seemed to be in hibernation, displaying no vigor even after being dragged out.

Uncle Qi said, "This big snake is enough for us to have a hearty meal. We have some wild chickens here. Let's hurry and prepare the pot. Tonight, we'll feast on dragon and phoenix soup!"

As Uncle Qi spoke, he pulled out a dagger, ready to kill the large snake.

Ever since I married a snake wife, my attitude towards snakes became particularly friendly and affectionate. Seeing a snake was like seeing family. Besides, a snake once saved my life, so it was my savior. I would never eat snake meat. Now that Uncle Qi was about to kill the snake in front of me, I naturally objected and pleaded for the snake's release.

Seeing me plead for the snake, the old man spoke up, "Er, Cheng has a bond with snakes. His life was saved by a snake. If you kill this snake, it's equivalent to killing his savior. For the sake of my old face, spare it!"

Uncle Qi nodded. "I've heard something about Yang Cheng's story. I heard that some snakes saved him when someone in the village wanted to harm him. Although I, Old Qi, am a rough person, I understand the principle of repaying kindness. Since Old Yang has spoken up, I'll let it go!"

Fatty blushed when he heard Uncle Qi's words, avoiding eye contact with me.

Because at that time, Fatty was involved in the plot to harm me, and he was the instigator.

Uncle Qi is quite righteous; when he decides to spare something, he does it without any ambiguity.

He released his grip, and the large snake slowly slithered in front of me, nodding towards me as if expressing gratitude. Then, it hissed softly and lazily crawled back into the tree hollow, resuming its hibernation.

I found some dry twigs and leaves to block the tree hollow, giving the large snake a small disguise.

Today, the large snake was lucky to encounter me. If it had encountered other hunters, it would have long become someone else's meal, unable to sleep soundly in the tree hollow.

Uncle Qi said, "It's a pity we can't have dragon and phoenix soup tonight. We'll roast chicken instead. After years of practice, my roasting skills are quite top-notch. Today, I'll show off a bit for you!"

Upon hearing about roasted chicken, Fatty and I were delighted. Kids always enjoy barbecue.

Fatty and I volunteered to collect firewood and return to start the fire. As for setting up camp, digging holes, and plucking chicken feathers, those were technical tasks not suitable for us.

Fatty and I happily skipped into the bushes, while the old man reminded us from behind to be careful and not to stray too far.

Due to the snow, the bushes were damp, and many dead branches were wet. These damp branches wouldn't catch fire, even if ignited; they would just smoke and wouldn't be suitable for barbecue.

For proper chicken roasting, the campfire needed to be strong. Only then could the chicken be crispy on the outside and tender on the inside, with golden-brown skin, giving off a delicious aroma!

To find better firewood, Fatty and I ventured further into the bushes without realizing how far we had gone.

When I gathered a large bundle of dry twigs and was about to call Fatty back, I suddenly realized that he was nowhere to be seen.