The sound of a woman crying, accompanied by an owl's hoot from the nearby woods, was rather eerie in the darkness.
Zhao Youcai stopped in his tracks. But this time, Li Dayong wasn't there to stand in front of him. Zhao Jun ducked behind his father and poked the flashlight over Zhao Youcai's shoulder, shining it ahead.
All they saw were corn leaves swaying and rustling in the gentle breeze, making the atmosphere feel even more sinister and creepy.
'Little bastard!' Zhao Youcai cursed inwardly, taking small, slow steps forward.
Just then, they faintly heard someone speak. "Where's your brother?"
"Up ahead."
"Sounds like Zhang Wangba!" Hearing the familiar voice, Zhao Youcai felt a wave of relief. He reached over his shoulder, snatched the flashlight from Zhao Jun, and strode toward the voices.
Twenty meters ahead of the father and son, the family of three—Zhang Zhanshan, Xu Meihua, and Zhang Laifa—were making their way through the cornfield.
