118: Spooked

Deep into the night, Yi Fan and his companion returned to the Zhu estate. After a cup of tea, they were ushered into the parlor, where the others were already waiting. Some paced and whispered to one another, while a few impatient souls, lured by the promise of silver, sat sullenly, nursing cup after cup of tea.

By the second watch, with the moon hanging high, Master Zhu requested that his maids attend to his wife in the inner chambers. He rose, bowed, and addressed the room: "For some time now, my home has been plagued by bizarre occurrences. Peace has fled, the livestock are terrified, and lives have been lost—it is truly harrowing. Though it concerns my late wife, I have no choice but to purge this evil and grant her peace."

"I have sought help from many masters and monks before, but none could resolve it. With no other options, I have cast a wide net, inviting you all here. So long as you can restore tranquility to my home, I shall offer a generous reward."

As his voice faded, someone spoke up: "There are a dozen of us here. How is the hundred taels of gold to be divided?"

Master Zhu smiled. "Naturally, the gold shall go to whoever exerts the most effort and ultimately resolves the matter. As for the others, you shall not be left empty-handed; I have prepared additional rewards for all."

With arrangements settled, the group dispersed to their assigned posts. The lights in the Zhu estate were extinguished, plunging the house into a dark, suffocating silence, broken only by the occasional, unsettling cry of a night cat.

...

Master Zhu lay in bed, feigning sleep. Beside him, his wife was tense; though her eyes were closed, her hands gripped the quilt tightly.

Time passed in a deathly, stifling stillness. Even his terrified wife eventually drifted into sleep. Though he struggled to remain alert, exhaustion pulled at him, and only sheer willpower kept him awake.

He estimated it to be the fourth watch; dawn would soon break. A sliver of relief washed over him—it seemed his late wife would not appear tonight.

With that thought, he decided to rise and tell the guards outside to stand down. But when he tried to move, he found he could not. Thinking his limbs were merely numb, he tried again, only to realize with mounting horror that he could not even open his mouth to call for help.

Suddenly, a breeze stirred the curtains, and an icy chill permeated the room. In the corner of his eye, he saw a wisp of green smoke slip through the door gap. It coalesced into the form of a woman—none other than his late wife.

Unable to speak or move, he was paralyzed by terror, his gaze locked on the figure. For a long time, she remained motionless, which only heightened the dread clawing at his chest.

Finally, the ghost stirred. She drifted slowly toward the bed and reached out, her fingers closing toward the throat of his sleeping wife.

...

Outside the room, those who had been waiting for so long had lost their vigor. Some were dozing, others leaned against the walls. Seeing no movement and noting the approach of dawn, they assumed the night would pass without incident.

Yi Fan, however, felt a sudden shift. He caught Shen San’s eye, and both exchanged a knowing look—they had sensed the disturbance, yet neither made a move.

It was not yet the right moment. They braced themselves, gathering their internal energy without revealing it. Seeing that the others remained still, Yi Fan knew most of these men were charlatans; even those with some martial training were merely third-rate drifters.

A true, first-rate martial artist could repel lesser demons; some could even cut down evil spirits like slaughtering chickens. Though their path differed from that of a cultivator and they lacked supernatural abilities, they were not to be underestimated.

"The time has come. Delay will only invite trouble. Let us move."

Yi Fan grasped his ritual sword, his spirit-pouch tied to his waist. As he stood with Shen San, their movement startled the others, who scrambled to their feet, looking toward Master Zhu's room in confusion.

Why were they moving when all was quiet?

Though they did not understand, they felt compelled to follow, if only to save face for the sake of the gold.

One man, impatient and fearing someone else would claim the reward, lunged forward and kicked the door. It was like striking an iron wall. He cried out in pain, but his frustration only fueled his aggression. After several futile kicks, he drew his blade. The wood finally splintered, and a wave of icy, malevolent cold surged out.

Those standing at the front were struck instantly; their bodies stiffened, and they collapsed to the ground. The others recoiled in terror, squinting into the pitch-black room, but they saw nothing.

A bolder man, confident in his own skills, shouted for the others to follow. He channeled his inner energy and stepped inside. Moments later, screams erupted, and the men scrambled out, their faces pale with fright. "A ghost! There is a ghost!"

The rest of the group, already terrified, dared not enter. They retreated further; the cowardly ones turned and fled, abandoning the reward entirely.

When asked what happened, the survivors gasped: "The room is pitch black and silent, but it is colder than midwinter. My hands were trembling—it felt like another world. I took a few steps and saw a shadow drift by. I swung my blade, but it hit nothing. If that is not a ghost, what is?"

Hearing this, Yi Fan and Shen San knew they could not wait. The drifters were broken, and their presence would no longer be a hindrance. The two stepped forward.

Their steady approach drew the attention of the others. Everyone else had retreated, but these two remained unmoved, showing no fear despite knowing the horrors within. They must possess true skill.

Yet, the others hesitated to follow. After weighing the risks, they decided to wait outside. The money was tempting, but it was not worth their lives.

...

If these two could truly banish the evil, they might still get a share of the spoils—enough for travel expenses, at the very least. If the task proved impossible, they were already outside and could leave immediately without losing anything.

Yi Fan and Shen San were oblivious to the thoughts of those outside. Once inside, they found the room plunged in darkness and biting cold. But as cultivators with some mastery, they were not easily cowed, nor could the chill harm them.

Shen San pinched an incantation between his fingers and tapped his sword. A crisp, ringing chime echoed out, and the surrounding cold retreated instantly, unable to approach them.

Yi Fan did not fall behind. He pulled out a talisman and swiped it across his eyes. It was like opening his inner sight; the room brightened, and the objects within became clear.

Though he now had his spiritual vision, it could not pierce all illusions. This ghost was tainted with the power of an ancient demon and was no ordinary spirit. Moreover, they were not here to destroy the ghost, but to drive it back to its lair so they could track it to the source.

Even so, seeing the plight of Master Zhu—who was being forced to witness his own wife's eyes being gouged out by the spirit—filled him with rage.

"Wretched creature!"

Yi Fan roared, rushing forward with his sword raised. Shen San followed, his feet tracing the Big Dipper constellation. A surge of energy swept through the room like a gale.

The ghost did not flinch. Without looking back, she floated upward, passed through the curtain, and dissolved into a wisp of green smoke, vanishing into the floor.

Yi Fan and Shen San were unfazed; they had been prepared for this. The ghost had been tainted by an ancient demon, giving it some minor tricks, but it remained a mere petty spirit. Had they wished to destroy it, either one of them could have dispatched it with ease.

This was not the time for an execution. Yi Fan sensed the trail and sneered, "Not running away, are you? You have some nerve."

With a flick of his wrist, two "Lesser Evil-Purging Talismans" descended, glowing with a soft light. A black shadow was forced out, trapped with nowhere to hide. As the light touched it, the spirit let out a series of piercing shrieks, as if being consumed by flames.