The road was dark, but the direction to Grandpa’s house was clear. Little Rascal led the way, and in just over ten minutes, we navigated the pitch-black mountain path. Having been here once before, Little Rascal slipped inside the house with ease. I opened the door, flicked on the lights, and turned on the TV, hoping to drown out the silence. The screen lit up with *Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio*. After watching for a moment, I quickly changed the channel—already terrified enough during the day, why scare myself at night? That would just be stupid. I turned off the TV and headed to the bedroom to boot up the computer. When I touched the CPU, it was still warm. *Did Grandpa’s ghost come back to surf the internet?* I wondered.
I glanced at Little Rascal, lying on the floor, engrossed in his favorite game—squinting his left eye at his right and trying to make them meet in the middle. He never tired of it. Later, I heard from a vet that this exercise could improve a dog’s vision. Little Rascal, with his almost supernatural eyes, needed the practice. If Grandpa’s spirit had returned, he surely would’ve sensed it—not wasting time on such a silly game. The only explanation was some thief had sneaked in to use the computer. *Yeah, that must be it*, I reassured myself.
I dug out the USB drive Grandpa left behind and plugged it in. After a moment, I clicked it open, and Grandpa’s familiar yet unfamiliar face appeared on the screen. *Unfamiliar* because we’d barely spent any time together—just a handful of meetings in my life.
Grandpa grinned. *Xiao Qi, how’s it feel being a master for a few days? Master the secrets of our Ghost Sect well. I’m not tricking you—you’ll understand later. Saving Earth and humanity’s peace depends on you now.*
I nearly picked up a chair to hurl at the screen. *Ruining my life is bad enough, but now you’re wrapping it up in noble slogans?* Before he could continue, I angrily shut the video.
Outside, a chilly wind rose, and soon, heavy rain pattered against the roof. I charged my phone and turned it on, intending to call my mother. But it was late—they might already be asleep, so I decided against it. Just as I was about to turn in, my phone buzzed violently.
Shen Yihu’s voice crackled through. *Xiao Qi, why the hell was your phone off? Things just got serious—Huang Shi escaped.*
*What?! Are you all incompetent?* I snapped. *Who was the idiot that removed the resin from her nose? I told you to toss her straight into the crematorium furnace!*
Shen Yihu sounded apologetic. *It’s already happened. What do we do now?*
*You’re asking me?* I growled. *I nearly died catching her, and you let her slip? Either you’re joking or you’re brain-dead. Figure it out yourself—this isn’t my problem anymore.*
*Wait, Xiao Qi—Master—*
I hung up. The phone buzzed again—still Shen Yihu. Irritated, I answered. *What now?*
*Master Xiao, it’s Chen Tutu. Officer Shen asked me to check if you have any ideas.* Her tone was less *asking for advice* and more *interrogating a subordinate*. Already pissed, I thought, *Oh, so Shen Yihu’s resorting to the beauty trap now?* I scoffed. *Forensic Chen, I already know what you’re going to say.*
*Are you gonna talk or not?* she barked, slipping into her native Wu dialect—probably Shanghainese.
*Hey, don’t scare me like that,* I shot back. *If I don’t talk, are you gonna come beat me up? I’m the one who should be terrified—Huang Shi remembers my scent. She’ll come for revenge. I didn’t yell at you—what right do you have?*
With a *click*, Chen Tutu hung up.
Outside, lightning split the sky. *Huang Shi escaped. If she tracks me down, I’m done for.* One problem after another—just when I thought it was over, another hurdle appeared. My heart felt like a naked child in the dead of winter. I looked at Little Rascal, still squinting his eyes, and muttered, *Lucky you. What am I supposed to do now?*
Instinctively, I feared these supernatural things. Huang Shi was just a basic corpse transformation, yet she almost killed me. And these creatures were hideous—staring at them too long could mess with your mind, maybe even cause *performance issues*. What sane person enjoys digging up graves and flinging feces around? *Not even for a hundred bucks.*
If the beginner-level stuff was this terrifying, what about the advanced?
Gritting my teeth, I pulled out *The Compendium*, silently vowing to quit this feng shui master gig after recapturing Huang Shi.
Some parts of *The Compendium* were incomprehensible. Maybe the USB had answers. I reopened the video. Grandpa grinned again. *First, let’s address your doubts. That madman hated me because he thought I failed to save his wife. But her illness wasn’t supernatural—just medical. Blame the government, not me. Now, about those confusing parts in the book…*
True to form, Grandpa explained several difficult points—like the causes of children’s dizziness and possession, covering about seven or eight key issues. Then the video ended abruptly with his final words: *A master leads you to the door; cultivation is up to you. Whether our Ghost Sect rises to fame depends on you. Oh, and don’t smash the computer—last thing: my card PIN is [redacted]. And… are you ready to face real ghosts—the intangible kind?*
The screen went black.
The USB was empty. *What a waste—such a big drive for one video.* And what did he mean, *ready to face ghosts*? *Haven’t I already seen them?*
But then I realized—from the water monkey to Huang Shi to Bai Jingren, they all had physical forms. Not *true* ghosts. Well, except for those wisps of corpse energy.
*Intangible ghosts?*
My throat tightened. I felt like I was standing on a cliff’s edge, staring into a gaping abyss. Helplessness washed over me again. Grandpa’s video only taught me how to interpret *The Compendium*—mastery was up to me.
Just as I shut down the computer, the video flickered back to life. Grandpa’s face reappeared. *Oh, one last thing. While waiting for you, I cooked you a special meal—five bugs, one for each element: metal, wood, water, fire, earth. They’ll toughen you up, make you immune to worm-masters’ tricks.*
The video truly ended this time.
I sighed. *Fine, Grandpa. Since I’m already in this pit, I’ll learn to climb out. Maybe this job will give me purpose—something to keep me going.*
Outside, thunder roared, and the rain poured harder.
The storm lasted three days and nights, washing everything clean. The mountain roads were impassable, so I stayed at Grandpa’s place, devouring *The Compendium* between meals. The book had ten volumes: *Suppressing Corpses, Capturing Ghosts, Slaying Monsters, Catching Fiends, Destroying Spirits, Seizing Demons, Executing Evils, Geomancy, Mystic Gates,* and *Celestial Extremes*.
Thankfully, my philosophy training helped me grasp some concepts—yin and yang, transformations—but much of it left me dazed, teetering on the edge of madness. I skimmed through, heeding the founder’s warning to skip the last three volumes, focusing on the first seven.
By the third afternoon, the rain stopped. I called my mom, promising to return once the roads dried. *Be careful,* she urged. *Don’t leave before they’re safe.*
*Mom, I’m in my twenties,* I protested.
She laughed. *Even at eighty, you’ll still be my child. I’ll always nag.*
At seven that night, I cooked the last of Grandpa’s rice, dousing it in soy sauce. *Little Rascal, dinner!* He wolfed it down happily. *At least you don’t hate my cooking,* I mused. *Tomorrow, we leave this place. Sad?*
Oblivious to sentimentality, he kept eating. After dinner, I packed *The Compendium*, the jade ruler, and the copper jar. The attic lock was broken, so I replaced it with a heavy-duty one, then cleaned the entire house. Though small, the wooden cabin took till ten to tidy.
That night, Little Rascal curled up beside me.
Deep in sleep, I felt a hand on my shoulder, shaking me. A voice whispered, *Xiao Qi… wake up. Let’s get acquainted.*
Normally, having Little Rascal nearby would reassure me—even if Huang Shi leaped three meters to attack, he’d bark. Half-asleep, I assumed it was him nudging me. *Quit it, Little Rascal.*
The voice grew clearer, carried by an eerie breeze. *This isn’t right*, I thought sluggishly. *Huang Shi? No, too soon. Must be a dream.*
*Stop sleeping!* the voice snapped. *Get up and meet me.*
I bolted upright. Little Rascal snored like a pig—impressive for a dog. I kicked him lightly. He blinked at me, confused.
*Who are you?* I whimpered. *Auntie? Granny? I didn’t do anything wrong!* The voice was undeniably female—ghost, demon, or maybe just a recording.
It continued, *You watched your grandfather’s video. He asked if you were ready to meet a real ghost. I thought you were, so here I am.*
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