Happy Little Farmer
Chapter 766

Chapter 766: Chapter 766

In an unfamiliar environment, people tend to instinctively experience a sense of fear.

Yang Fan was no exception.

Standing on this desolate dirt road that seemed to stretch endlessly into the unknown, a sense of fear was only natural.

However, the experiences he had endured laid a solid foundation within him. That fear lingered in his heart only momentarily before transforming into curiosity. He wanted to explore this world that stood in stark contrast to the realm of light and understand its true nature.

"Let’s go." Yang Fan said to himself silently. Then, clutching the blood-stained lantern, he began to move forward.

Suddenly, he lowered his gaze sharply.

To his amazement, Yang Fan found that the wounds on his body had disappeared upon arriving in this place.

"To think there would be such benefits... is this to make things easier for me?" Yang Fan chuckled softly, but he quickly realized what was happening.

At this moment, he was traveling with his Divine Soul, while his physical body bore the injuries. Since his Divine Soul wasn’t injured, there naturally couldn’t be any scars on it.

It was a simple enough principle to understand.

"Liu Cuicui!"

Yang Fan moved forward, walking and calling out loudly as he went.

This was the first name Mr. Fan had given him. Judging by the name, it ought to belong to an older woman.

This name was quite popular in the previous generation.

The dirt road, shrouded in dense fog, stretched forward under the faint illumination of the lantern.

The lantern pierced through the mist, carving out a visible path ahead as the road behind Yang Fan was quickly swallowed up by the fog once more.

"Liu Cuicui!"

"Liu Cuicui!"

Yang Fan called out loudly, gripping the wooden mace in his right hand as he vigilantly scanned his surroundings.

"I...I’m Liu Cuicui, it’s me."

A voice suddenly echoed from Yang Fan’s right side.

Yang Fan swung the lantern in his hand toward the source of the voice.

The dense mist was cut through by the faint glow of the lantern, revealing the scene to Yang Fan’s right.

It turned out to be a disordered and dilapidated village, with this hardened yellow dirt road running through its center.

The village was in ruins, appearing to have been deserted for many years.

The mud-clad walls were low and narrow, and the roofs were tiled with mismatched gray shingles.

One could tell by sight that those shingles had been handmade.

Yang Fan had seen these kinds of tiles often in villages.

The village wasn’t large—or at least the part visible to Yang Fan wasn’t. He could make out just two small courtyards enclosed by fences. Not far away, dry, withered grass swayed gently under the moonlight, just barely brushing against the ground.

The voice earlier had come from one of the courtyards.

Yet, Yang Fan saw no sign of anyone.

"Liu Cuicui!"

Stopping outside the fence, Yang Fan craned his neck to peer into the house within the courtyard and called out loudly.

"It’s me... come in," a voice came from one of the houses.

The light was dim, and Yang Fan could only faintly make out the shadow of someone moving inside the house. He couldn’t see clearly.

"I’m not going in. You come out quickly. Let’s go back—your family is waiting for you!" Yang Fan shouted.

He felt that something wasn’t quite right.

The way this voice spoke didn’t sound like someone who had just arrived here. It sounded more like a local.

"Please come in. I can’t come out."

The voice emanated from the house again.

This time, the tone unexpectedly held a hint of helpless pleading, as if begging Yang Fan.

Yang Fan stood there for a moment, considering, before shouting loudly, "If you won’t come out, that’s your business. Stay here if you want—after all, it’s your life, not mine."

Something was definitely wrong with that person.

Perhaps it was one of the entities Mr. Fan had mentioned, pretending to be Liu Cuicui to lure him inside.

Without hesitation, Yang Fan left the fenced courtyard decisively and returned to the yellow dirt road.

Suddenly, a figure appeared silently in front of him.

Startled, Yang Fan instinctively lifted his wooden mace and swung it. But before the swing connected, the figure asked, "Can... can you take me back?"

Yang Fan stopped the wooden mace a mere half-inch away, staring at the figure. "Who are you?"

"I... I’m Liu Cuicui," the figure replied nervously.

"Don’t trust her! I’m the real Liu Cuicui. Big brother, be careful—she’s an imposter!" Another voice suddenly rang out from Yang Fan’s right side.

Yang Fan stepped back quickly, raising the lantern high above him.

There, standing on either side of him, were two identical women.

They were exactly alike, with no discernible differences.

Surprisingly, they weren’t the older woman he had initially imagined. On the contrary, they were quite young—looking to be in their early thirties, stylishly dressed, in mini-skirts, with heavy makeup.

Yet something seemed off, perhaps due to being in this place. Their faces were pale, and their eyes held a vacant expression.

Staring at these two identical women, Yang Fan tightened his grasp on the wooden mace, feeling a surge of tension.

One of these two had to be an imposter.

He had no idea what sort of being was pretending to be Liu Cuicui, but it was undoubtedly malicious.

Yang Fan’s wary gaze flickered between the two as he asked in a low voice, "Liu Cuicui, how many clients do you see per day?"

Their appearance reminded him of women standing in alleys. He decided to take a bold gamble.

The strange woman’s influence had primarily affected four kinds of people: women working in alleys, men seeking those women, merchants from that street, and nearby tenants.

"I don’t keep count. Sometimes more, sometimes less—usually around ten or so," said the Liu Cuicui directly in front of Yang Fan.

"Nonsense! We have quotas—at least thirty a day," the Liu Cuicui to Yang Fan’s right argued loudly.

Yang Fan’s head was beginning to spin.

What the hell? Judging from their words, it seemed both of them were pretty knowledgeable!

He had guessed Liu Cuicui’s identity correctly, but that didn’t help him at all.

"How much do you charge per session? Answer me!" Yang Fan pointed to the Liu Cuicui on his right.

"Three hundred!"

"What about you?" Yang Fan turned to the one directly in front of him.

"It depends. My minimum is one hundred and fifty for ten minutes. After that, there are options for three hundred or six hundred."

Yang Fan’s head was now completely spinning.

Goddamn it—how could he tell the difference?

In that moment, he sympathized entirely with Tang Seng encountering two identical Sun Wukongs.

It was truly impossible to discern.

Studying the two Liu Cuicuis coldly, Yang Fan shouted suddenly, "Give me your ID numbers—now! No hesitation!"

"Ah, it’s 3201221987..." the Liu Cuicui in front began, but Yang Fan quickly pointed to the one on his right and cut her off. "Your turn!"

"It’s...3201221987..." This Liu Cuicui hesitated midway, her expression twisting briefly into something sinister before returning to normal. Shaking her head, she said, "I can’t remember."

"Can’t remember? Go to hell, you bastard! You don’t even know your own ID—who do you think you’re fooling?" Without hesitation, Yang Fan stepped forward, his wooden mace crackling with thunderous electrical energy as he slammed it down.

With a deafening crack, purple lightning flashed, and an agonized scream tore through the air.

The imposter Liu Cuicui was instantly torn apart, disintegrating into ashes.