I went to the market and bought five large roosters, carrying them in a big fertilizer sack. The roosters kept clucking inside the bag, and some chicken droppings even landed on me.
I also prepared a soft rope, a bundle of red thread, candles, a flashlight, a small metal basin, a bottle of flammable alcohol, and several lighters.
I brought along the crudely carved peachwood figurine.
By the time I met Xu Jun, it was already six o’clock. As agreed beforehand, Xu Jun came alone with Xu Xiaokang—Liu Yunxin didn’t follow.
When Xu Jun saw me with five roosters, he gave me a puzzled look.
I explained, “There are too many centipedes inside the house. I brought these roosters just in case—one for each floor.”
I pinched Xu Xiaokang’s cheek. His complexion had improved quite a bit—the Buddhist beads suppressing the hungry ghost had clearly worked well.
“You’re a brave boy. Remember, don’t be afraid,” I said gently to Xu Xiaokang before lowering my voice. “All of you, behave. Mo Bai, don’t make trouble.”
Xu Xiaokang nodded firmly with his determined little head.
The sun finally set, and dusk arrived. In traditional reckoning, dusk refers to the period from sunset until complete darkness—roughly between seven and nine in the summer, and six to seven-thirty in the autumn.
Just as Xu Jun was about to go upstairs, Liu Yunxin called. It was clear from her anxious tone that she had consulted many Taoist priests and monks, but none could help. She wasn’t sure if a young guy like me could manage.
Xu Jun reassured her repeatedly before hanging up.
I placed one rooster on each floor as I walked. To centipedes, roosters are their natural predators.
When we reached Room 502, I turned on the flashlight to illuminate the space.
In the distance, the city lights gradually flickered to life.
“Xiaokang, let me ask you one more time—was it here?” I double-checked.
Xu Xiaokang nodded. He said he had run here before everything went quiet. He felt something chasing him, and later, he even sensed footsteps.
Hearing this, I figured we were in the right place.
“Remember, this might hurt a lot, but you have to endure it. Be a brave boy—think of your mom and dad.”
“I’m not afraid. I don’t even fear injections,” Xu Xiaokang said firmly, clenching his fists like a little hero.
Xu Jun swept aside the rice in the center of the living room and lit candles, arranging them in a Seven-Star Lamp formation as I instructed.
Meanwhile, I found an old shelf and used the soft rope to tie Xu Xiaokang’s feet. I set out the layered shoe sole, placing the jade ruler, compass, and peachwood figurine nearby.
Finally, I wrapped red thread around Xu Xiaokang’s body and another around the peachwood figurine.
I poured alcohol into the small metal basin and lit it.
“Xiaokang might scream later. If you can’t bear it, stand outside the door, close your eyes, and cover your ears. I’ll call you when it’s done,” I told Xu Jun.
Xu Jun gritted his teeth. “It’s fine. I’ve been through storms before—I can handle it. I trust you completely.”
I lifted Xu Xiaokang by his feet, hanging him upside down.
Moving the burning alcohol basin beneath his head, I began striking his body with the shoe sole. Then, I removed the Buddhist beads suppressing the ghost.
“You little brat, what the hell are you doing? Stop right now, or I’ll make you regret it!” The moment the beads were removed, Mo Bai started shouting.
Ignoring him, I kept striking Xu Xiaokang’s body.
The layered shoe sole, stitched with countless threads, was sturdy—perfect for intimidating evil spirits. Hitting Xu Xiaokang like this was meant to force the ghosts out through the sutures in his skull.
Xu Xiaokang endured the pain without a single cry, despite his young age. Xu Jun stood nearby, fists clenched, unable to watch his son suffer and eventually turning away.
Soon, tiny starving ghosts began dropping out of Xu Xiaokang’s skull one by one.
“Handsome, hey, handsome! Stop hitting! I’ll tell you a secret—I’ll take you to treasure! How about it? And why did you bring such an ugly peachwood figurine…?” Mo Bai pleaded anxiously, probably realizing he was next once the starving ghosts were gone.
I counted them—thirteen had possessed Xu Xiaokang. Two had died in Blue Moon, so eleven remained.
Each ghost sizzled as it fell into the basin, emitting a foul stench. Meanwhile, the roosters crowed loudly throughout the building, pecking at centipedes everywhere.
When the last starving ghost burned, I kicked the basin away. Xu Xiaokang’s belly had visibly shrunk, almost back to normal.
But his eyes were bloodshot—if left hanging much longer, he’d faint. I quickly lowered and laid him down.
“Kid, you’ve got some skill. How about this—stop now, and I’ll make you rich…” Mo Bai shouted.
I laughed.
Tightening the red thread around Xu Xiaokang, I pressed the jade ruler against his navel.
The navel is the lifeline connecting mother and child—the very channel that once delivered nutrients. Placing the ruler there symbolized redirecting energy.
Sure enough, after two minutes of resistance, a dark aura began creeping along the red thread.
At this critical moment, I remembered my master’s “Ghost-Cursing Technique” and roared:
“You old bastard! If I don’t deal with you today, I’m no disciple of the Ghost Sect! I’ll gouge your eyes out, fry you in oil, and tie a permanent knot on your little brother!
At one, you peeked at grannies changing clothes… at five, you dug up graves… at twenty-four, you became a thug cop, stole a melon farmer’s harvest, and choked to death eating one… at sixty, you hired three prostitutes but got beaten for skipping the bill… at ninety-nine, you collapsed crossing the street and no one helped… at one hundred six, you pimped out eight seventy-year-old grannies…”
[Content too inappropriate, skipping 10,000 words.]
I cursed until my mouth went dry.
“You’re gonna curse me to death!” Finally, Mo Bai was forced out, slithering along the red thread into the peachwood figurine.
I laid Xu Xiaokang down and tightly bound the peachwood figurine with the thread.
“Well? Like your new home?” I smirked.
The moment Mo Bai entered the figurine, he wailed:
“Brother, what kind of crap is this? Damn—peachwood?! Could you be any crueler? But the worst part is how ugly this thing is! Don’t you know I was dashing in my past life?”
I shrugged. “It’s impressionism. Ever heard of Monet? He’d love this.”
Suddenly, Little Rascal started barking.
“Mo Bai, behave. If you don’t, I’ll burn you right now.” I packed up the tools while setting Xu Xiaokang down.
Little Rascal dashed in, blood dripping from his forehead. After wandering the old building, he’d somehow gotten injured.
Something was wrong.
Checking Xu Xiaokang’s head, I confirmed the evil was gone—he’d be fine. I kicked Xu Jun. “Get Xiaokang out of here. Now.”
“What about you?” Xu Jun asked.
“I can’t leave yet.” As I spoke, I heard windows slamming shut outside.
In the darkness, a black eye stared at me. The roosters had fallen eerily silent.
I slapped a few Donglingzi Ghost-Trapping Talismans onto Xu Jun.
“RUN!”
“Once you’re downstairs, shout, then get as far away as possible. Come back tomorrow morning to see if I’m alive…”
Confused but nodding, Xu Jun said, “Staying won’t help.”
Smearing Little Rascal’s blood on my face, I patted his rear. “Escort them down.”
Little Rascal led the way as Xu Jun carried Xiaokang downstairs, chanting: “Om mani padme hum.”
With the peachwood figurine at my waist, I blocked the fifth-floor hallway, preventing any evil from pursuing them.
Peering down, I saw Little Rascal barking fiercely.
Then—BANG—the windows rattled. Behind me, the Seven-Star Lamps snuffed out simultaneously.
Two minutes later, Xu Jun’s distant shout confirmed their safety.
Drenched in sweat, I felt the eye crawling onto my shoulder. I didn’t dare look back.
My knees trembled as I gripped the railing, struggling not to buckle under the eye’s weight.
But I knew I couldn’t hold on much longer.
Where did this eye come from? What was its true form?
My mind blanked—no time to think. My earlier inspection had seemed thorough, but I’d overlooked ambiguous signs, assuming the jade ruler and Little Rascal would suffice.
Yet here we were.
The eye’s icy tendrils slithered down my neck, some even reaching my backside.
Was it entering me?
Gripping the railing, I held my ground. A ghost on one’s shoulders exerts both physical force and illusory pressure—tricking victims into crushing themselves.
Back in my village, I’d seen a coffin suddenly grow unbearably heavy during a funeral. The pallbearers nearly collapsed until someone cursed the deceased: “Quit haunting us, you’re already dead!” Instantly, the weight lifted.
Channeling that memory, I unleashed another torrent of curses—until Little Rascal came bounding back up.
[The events of that night in the old building were too convoluted to recount all at once. Let me smoke first. Huh? My cigarettes are soaked. Little Rascal! Did you pee in my pack again?!]
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