Chapter 102: Rainy Night

After the dance ended,

Rose stood up, bowed to Dai Hao, and then gracefully thanked the seated guests.

Dai Hao asked, “Who wants Rose to accompany them for the night?”

Zeng Jie initially wanted to raise his hand but withdrew it under Zuo Shan’s gaze, swallowing hard.

Abe Kuchibiru smirked and said, “I am most deserving of this honor. I’ve been meaning to experience Thailand’s national art—it would be a shame to come all this way and not try it…”

Ruan Nan cursed, “Pervert.”

A Lang praised, “Mr. Abe’s adventurous spirit is truly something we should all learn from. Next time we visit Japan, we’ll have to try some of Japan’s national treasures too.”

Abe Kuchibiru boasted shamelessly, “You must try Japan’s golden delicacy—the excrement of fourteen-year-old girls, deep-fried to perfection. Absolutely delicious…”

A Lang’s face darkened as he forced a smile. “Of course, of course…”

That night, Rose was taken away by Abe Kuchibiru. The poor flower was trampled by a beast. It was said that Zeng Jie wept bitterly against the wall, heartbroken at his inability to protect the woman he loved, consumed by grief and fury.

Zuo Shan, meanwhile, had a very pleasant, very vivid dream…

After dinner in the hall, Dai Hao repeatedly warned everyone not to wander off. “Tomorrow, we head to the corpse-nurturing grounds. Rest well tonight.”

After the gathering, the night grew deep. The diesel generator roared like a lone star in the forest, casting its harsh light.

Anna slept in my room, refusing to return to hers. Bai Yueming woke up twice during the night, and each time I rose to feed him blood-milk, I found Anna staring anxiously out the window, as if her soul had no place to rest.

For some reason, I felt a burning rage tonight—so intense I couldn’t sleep unless I released it. Watching Anna asleep on the floor, my throat tightened involuntarily. “Damn it,” I muttered. “Is this because of the blood spider? Is it making my hormones go wild?”

“Miss Anna, cover your legs properly. I’m feeling a bit…” I glanced at her long, exposed legs.

Anna pulled the rough cloth over herself, but in the moonlight, she only looked more alluring.

Suddenly, a strange rooster crow came from outside the window—soft, hesitant, stopping abruptly after a single cry. I walked to the window and saw Ma Ruoxing lurking under the eaves, a tattered cloth draped over his head.

I jumped out. “What do you want?”

Ma Ruoxing whispered, “They’re planning to deal with you.”

I sneered. “Aren’t you?”

“Believe me or not, it’s up to you. But think about your next move.” With that, he slipped away.

Under the pale moonlight, green will-o’-wisps floated in the forest—phosphorescent remnants of decomposed bodies. Many soldiers of the Chinese Expeditionary Force had fought the Japanese here in Myanmar and northern Thailand. Countless had died, their bones never returned home.

As I watched, a red-clad female ghost suddenly appeared among the trees, hovering mid-air. Even from a hundred meters away, her crimson glow was unmistakable.

I’d met her once in Xiang Valley. Why was she here now?

As the moonlight shone, a light rain began to fall. The red-clad ghost looked even more sorrowful and striking in the rain. Suddenly, she opened her mouth and inhaled the surrounding will-o’-wisps, her chest glowing blue before fading.

Those flames, born from bones, must carry the last thoughts of the dead.

This ghost was consuming them—growing stronger. I took a few steps forward, ready to charge, but a spotlight from the watchtower suddenly pinned me down, bullets biting the ground at my feet.

“Watch where you’re aiming! I’m a guest!” I shouted. The ghost fled at the gunfire.

The shots woke everyone. Lights flickered on across the village.

Dai Hao stormed out with armed men. “Sir, what are you doing? Trying to leave?”

“No,” I said coldly. “I was just watching the will-o’-wisps. They must be the restless souls of your ancestors.”

Dai Hao barked, “Go back to bed. You’ll get used to this place. Those wandering spirits are doomed anyway.”

I spat on the ground. “Your ancestors were heroes! They died fighting the Japanese, and now you do business with them over their graves!”

Dai Hao snatched a rifle and pressed it to my forehead. “Say one more word, and I’ll kill you.”

A green flash—the gun turned to scrap in his hands.

Dai Hao paled as the Jade Corpse stepped between us, unyielding.

“Let me be clear,” I said, my voice sharp. “If not for your ancestors’ sacrifices, I’d have left already. A hundred men couldn’t stop me.”

Begging would only make me seem weak.

Abe Kuchibiru, fresh from his “thousand battles,” emerged. “Why dredge up the past? We could have been allies! It pains me!”

His words echoed Abe Murokawa’s. My ancestors’ blood wasn’t shed for nothing.

I lunged, fist flying.

Dai Hao moved to intervene, but Ma Ruoxing stopped him. “Let the arrogant Japanese learn a lesson.”

Abe Kuchibiru, sluggish from exhaustion, took the punch square in the face, spitting blood.

“You’ll pay for this,” he hissed, tearing open his shirt to reveal dark tattoos. Bones cracked as a ghoul crawled out—Yamamoto Hachijūroku, a Japanese soldier killed at Niangzi Pass, his black teeth and twisted limbs more grotesque than Kameda’s.

Xie Lingyu tossed me a bag. “Kill him!” Inside were our ancestor’s jade ruler and high-grade ghost-sealing talismans.

A Lang and Zuo Shan stepped forward. Zeng Jie, meanwhile, slipped into the cabin where Rose lay panting. He caressed her face. “You suffered.”

“He’s a monster. Take me away,” she whispered, her breath foul.

“Endure a little longer. I can’t hold back.” He flipped her over, shedding his robe—

Just as he prepared to “charge,” Ruan Nan struck him with a club and carried Rose away.

“Who are you? Why are men so cruel?” Rose murmured weakly.

Back in the village square, Yamamoto Hachijūroku scuttled toward me through the rain.

“Master Zuo,” A Lang said, “as a fellow Ghost School disciple, who do you hope wins?”

Zuo Shan hesitated. Part of him wanted our side victorious—but Abe’s success might restore his manhood.

I smirked. “No new tricks?” Pulling out a jar, I uncorked it—the stench of Bai Yueming’s fermented waste hit like a wave. Even Zuo Shan recoiled.

As Yamamoto lunged, I leaped, forcing the jar into his gaping maw. The idiot ghoul bit down, shattering the container.

The ghost infant’s feces flooded his mouth. I slapped a rain-dampened talisman over his lips.

“Behold the Donglingzi Ghost-Sealing Talisman—passed down by our ancestors!” Zuo Shan declared proudly.

Yamamoto’s eyes bulged, then rolled free as his body rotted into a hollow shell, dissolving into black mist.

From the forest came ghostly applause.

Abe Kuchibiru, scanning the crowd, suddenly shouted, “Tennōheika Banzai!” (Long live the Emperor!)

Echoes answered—the lost souls of Japanese soldiers.

Rustling filled the trees. Another battle loomed—until a crimson light erupted from the woods.

Abe assumed a horse stance, inhaling deeply.

I tackled him, shoving dirt into his mouth.

“Breathe this, you bastard!”