Happy Little Farmer
Chapter 759

Holding the ruler and wooden mace in his hands, he cautiously watched the woman at the skewer stall, ready to charge out at any moment.

Or to retreat.

The embroidered shoes stood in front of the stall, seemingly causing the densely packed lumps of flesh to hesitate.

The woman’s expression was no longer lively, now tinged with a hint of confusion.

"What is this thing?"

"Can’t tell... Ah, my head hurts. What is this creature?"

"Can it be eaten?"

"Seems like it can’t... I feel like she might eat us instead."

"Eat us? This ghost thing sure has guts, daring to devour Buddha."

"Are we Buddha?"

"Bullshit! Of course we are. We bring salvation to all beings, naturally we’re Buddha."

"Then... who exactly eats whom here?"

"Who eats whom? Let’s test it and find out."

...

The meat-lump-faced attackers bickered noisily. Suddenly, a boy-faced lump rushed forward toward the embroidered shoes.

Splat!

As it soared through the air, the boy-faced lump abruptly burst apart into a splattering of black sludge that splashed onto the ground. The embroidered shoes alternated their steps on the ground rhythmically, like keeping a beat.

She looked calm, even leisurely.

Yang Fan had no clue how the embroidered shoes managed to do it, but it appeared she truly had some method to deal with this mysterious woman.

The explosion of the boy-faced lump caused the rest of them to panic like a boiling pot.

"That arrogant bastard is dead. What do we do now? Are we going to die too? No, I don’t want to die!"

"Stop shouting! It’s him who died, not us."

"Let’s all go at her together. Devour this delectable woman. She looks just as delicious as that boy."

"Go ahead! You first!"

"Cowards! Charge together!"

The meat-lump-faced attackers argued fiercely, but finally reached an agreement, all at once surging toward the embroidered shoes.

Yang Fan seized the moment and rushed forward.

"There goes that boy! He’s with that woman!"

The meat-lump-faced attackers shrieked sharply.

"What’s to fear? First eat the woman, then eat him. It’s rare to encounter two delicious morsels in one day."

"They do look delicious, but... can we actually eat them?"

"Shut up, idiot."

"Of course we can. Why wouldn’t we? There are so many of us."

This time, the speaker was the woman at the skewer stall.

She smiled sweetly at Yang Fan, her eyes like two terrifyingly bottomless pits.

As her words fell, the crowd suddenly shifted.

Those queueing, those spectating from the outskirts—regardless of age or gender—all turned in unison to face Yang Fan.

Yang Fan’s scalp instantly went numb.

"Shit!"

This woman could control people.

"Let’s eat him together," the skewer stall woman said softly, her mouth curling into a faint grin.

The surrounding people moved stiffly at first, taking a couple faltering steps, before suddenly accelerating and swarming toward Yang Fan.

Yang Fan grew frantic, abruptly speeding up.

At this moment, he absolutely couldn’t afford to be entangled by this horde—he had to take down the ringleader first.

Bam!

Suddenly, a young man dressed like an office worker leapt at him, crashing to the ground in front of Yang Fan, grabbing hold of his arm.

"Gotcha, tasty little snack."

His voice was sharp and chilling, his youthful face grotesquely morphing—fluctuating between that of a woman, an elderly man, and a wrinkled middle-aged person.

His face was playing out a real-time transformation.

Yang Fan explosively exerted his strength, channeling his inner Qi from his Dantian at full throttle, and delivered a powerful kick.

The young man flew backward, crashing into a heap of people like a bowling ball, only stopping when he hit the far side of the road.

He curled his body like a shrimp and spat out a mouthful of thick black sludge, yet his face remained plastered with a crazed smile. His shrill voice rang out, "Charge! Feast on this tasty snack! He’s not that strong."

The surrounding crowd rushed him once more, their faces shifting just like the young man’s—ever-changing.

The cacophony of their sharp voices mixed together, causing an unbearable noise.

Yang Fan’s bloodlust flared violently—he had an overwhelming urge to kill.

The wooden mace swung furiously in his hands.

Every strike sent one or two people flying.

But as a few were knocked away, even more took their place.

Yang Fan felt as though he’d stepped into the starving hell of ghosts, surrounded entirely by monstrosities, with himself as the delectable meat snack. Countless hands clawed at his body, tearing at his clothes and scratching his flesh.

But Yang Fan had no time to worry about these injuries; he could only focus on swinging his ruler and wooden mace relentlessly.

Radiant flashes of lightning and golden light flickered around him.

Yet these people were unending, densely packed and inexhaustible.

They showed no fatigue, surging toward him continuously, each with gaping mouths seemingly ready to bite off a piece of flesh or devour his soul outright.

Yang Fan moved forward arduously, but his maneuvering space grew increasingly narrow.

The scene eerily mirrored the ghostly ordeal he faced in Xiang Xue Ting’s neighborhood before.

Back then, he paid a terrible price to pull himself back from the brink of death.

But this time?

Yang Fan swung the wooden mace and ruler tirelessly, yet his anxiety deepened.

These people seemed indifferent to injury and death—those knocked down simply climbed back up and attacked again.

But his inner Qi had its limits.

If this kept up, sooner or later, he’d exhaust his reserves.

No good!

He had to find a way to escape this hellish situation, or he truly might not survive.

"Shoes! Get me out of here!" Yang Fan yelled at the top of his lungs.

Solving this disaster seemed utterly out of reach now. All he could do was escape.

A faint voice echoed within his mind.

"I can smell the delightful scent of food. Can you light an incense stick for me?"

"Damn it!" Yang Fan cursed viciously. "Help me now, would you? Look at this mess—how can I light incense here? Hurry up, come on, let me off easy for once!"

"I can smell the delightful scent of food. Can you light an incense stick for me?"

The embroidered shoes repeated the same words.

Yang Fan was speechless.

Dammit! Now he’d failed to summon reinforcements and might instead have invited an enemy’s ally.

Why did the embroidered shoes always need conditions?

We’re already so familiar, can’t she loosen the rules a bit?

"Do the job first, and I’ll light ten incense sticks afterward so you can have a feast. How about that?" Yang Fan shouted.

The embroidered shoes gave no reply, but Yang Fan felt a surge of overwhelming murderous intent imprinted upon him.

"Fuck your mother!"

Yang Fan cursed helplessly, crouching down abruptly. Using his left hand to brace the wooden mace and ruler, he swiftly reached into his coat with his right hand to retrieve the incense he’d bought earlier.

May the Three Pure Ancestors protect me—don’t let me get eaten alive while I’m lighting this incense.

He had no other options left.