Chapter 70: The Running Monkey Bone 1

Both Xie Lingyu and I were utterly astonished.

The bronze jar was tightly gripped in the skeletal hand of the monkey.

Where my grandfather, Long Youshui, had traveled, I had no idea. He had never spoken to me about it. If not for stumbling into inheriting the mantle of the 15th generation of the Ghost Sect, I likely wouldn’t have ended up here.

Xie Lingyu stood in silence for two minutes before saying, “There are countless bronze jars in the world with the same diameter. It might just be a coincidence. I’ve known Long Youshui for less than two years, and I have no idea where he’s been before.”

I sucked in a sharp breath, feeling as though my grandfather had left me with an enormous mystery, one that loomed over me like an inescapable net.

Trying to console myself, I said, “You’re right, Lingyu. It might really just be a coincidence.”

I reached out to take the bronze jar from the monkey’s hand, but its skeletal grip was unyielding. I cursed under my breath, “You damn monkey. You’re already dead from poison darts, yet you still won’t let go!”

Lin Danan shouted, “It’s not a monkey!”

I knew he had read too much of *Ghost Blows Out the Light* and ignored him, figuring I was just doing it wrong. Maybe I should pull it out from the hole in the center of its hand.

Before I could try again, the skeletal monkey—lying on the ground with one arm outstretched—suddenly sprang up, clutching the bronze jar and bolting forward.

Lin Danan seemed almost gleeful. “I told you it wasn’t a monkey! If it were, why would its bones still be connected after being dead for so long?”

I cursed. “Why didn’t you say so earlier?”

Uncle Jianguo shot Lin Danan a glare and yelled, “Don’t shoot recklessly!” The skeletal monkey dashed ahead, with Little Rascal and the kitten in pursuit. I drew my pistol from my waist and hurried after them.

The monkey let out eerie, chattering cries, its movements not particularly fast. It scrambled up a towering tree, and I blocked its path from below. Little Rascal and the kitten yowled in response.

I circled the tree twice, utterly stumped on how to dislodge the skeletal monkey with its intact bones. He Qingling could have climbed up, but the monkey was vicious, and taking it down wouldn’t be easy.

Uncle Jianguo, ever resourceful, picked up a large rock and threatened to smash the skull of the monkey’s master. He struck the rock twice for effect, the sharp clangs echoing. The monkey seemed to writhe in distress, baring its nonexistent teeth at Uncle Jianguo before finally surrendering. It released the bronze jar, letting it fall.

I caught it mid-air.

I signaled Little Rascal and the kitten to move aside, then stepped back myself, clearing a path. The monkey descended cautiously, eyeing me warily before gesturing frantically at Uncle Jianguo, its skeletal hands flailing.

Lin Danan spoke up, “For this border expedition, I researched some bizarre biological phenomena. This kind of monkey is called a ‘Homebound Monkey.’ Traveling performers who keep monkeys often raise them specifically to ensure their souls return home after death. The monkey carries their spirit back so the local underworld can guide them into reincarnation.”

His words made me see him in a new light. Who knew this otaku college student, obsessed with supernatural novels, could actually offer such insight?

Lin Danan continued, “If the monkey fails to bring back its master’s spirit, its bones won’t scatter even in death. After some time, it revives and continues its mission, crossing mountains if it must. That Mr. Guo must have raised one.”

Uncle Jianguo, Xie Lingyu, and I were hearing this for the first time. But in the vast lands of China, mysterious phenomena and secret techniques were countless. This method wasn’t malicious—just a way to return to one’s roots—so it made sense.

Yet, a skeleton running around? That had to involve some hidden art.

The Homebound Monkey’s skull turned toward Uncle Jianguo, its jawbone clattering weakly. Uncle Jianguo, not one for cruelty, tossed the rock aside. Lin Danan stepped forward, pulling out two precious bottles of water to wash Mr. Guo’s skull clean. He carefully wrapped it in his own white T-shirt, tying the corners into a neat bundle before stowing it in his backpack. His movements were reverent, as if he’d done this before.

The monkey hesitated, then approached Lin Danan, who lifted it onto his backpack. It settled there, motionless.

It was truly astonishing. Hard to believe unless seen with one’s own eyes.

Come to think of it, Lin Danan suddenly seemed a lot more likable.

I turned to Xie Lingyu. “Even if we can’t confirm my grandfather came here, I’m certain this bronze jar did. What do you think?”

She studied the ancient vessel. “The monkey clung to it, so it must have been here before. How it ended up with Long Youshui is anyone’s guess.”

I considered talking to the skeletal monkey, but without a mouth or tongue, how? Unless I magically gave it one. Frustrated, I realized the bronze jar’s mystery would remain unsolved for now.

Xie Lingyu poked my forehead. “You’re still green. Don’t rush into avenging your grandfather. Revenge is a dish best served cold. The truth will come in time.”

Her mix of playfulness and sternness unnerved me. I nodded. “Wise words, Miss Xie. Thank you.”

I’d tried communicating with the porcelain doll before, and now the skeletal monkey. Multiple failed attempts later, I gave up.

The monkey seemed programmed with a single command: *Take me home. Take me home.* No further complexity, no hacker to decode it. A dead end.

Uncle Jianguo gathered golden-yellow grass from the hillside, crushing it in his hands and scattering it in a wide semicircle around our campsite to ward off insects and snakes. He set up a simple olive-green tent as dusk settled.

With no fire allowed and voices kept low, the wilderness felt eerie. Little Rascal and the kitten, unused to the desolate mountains, huddled together.

Uncle Jianguo, ever the ex-scout, divided watch shifts among himself, me, and Lin David—three hours each, using night-vision binoculars.

Lin Danan confided, “My brother Lin David and I were named to ‘defend Yunnan.’ But only he embraced our father’s will. I’m the family’s black sheep—always daydreaming, doing the impractical.”

I said, “Isn’t one soldier in the family enough?” He laughed bitterly. “In other families, maybe. Ours? He wanted us gun-ready from childhood.” The resentment in his voice was palpable.

The forest plunged into darkness, thick clouds blotting out the sky. A dim lantern flickered inside the tent.

At 4 a.m., Uncle Jianguo shook me awake for my watch.

Soon, a fine drizzle began. Through the night-vision scope, mist thickened as raindrops pattered down. Little Rascal perched on my arm, occasionally licking droplets off my face.

Post-rain forests were notorious for miasma—deadly vapors pooling in valleys, dissolving unwary beasts into nothing. Many who vanished in these woods likely met such fates.

Compared to my hometown’s serene, safe mountains, this place was treacherous.

After an hour, the rain stopped. A gust scattered the mist.

At dawn, a sliver of sunlight pierced through. A flock of birds streaked across the sky, their cries urgent and mournful. Uncle Jianguo, roused by the commotion, watched them and said gravely, “Rain last night, sun now—perfect conditions for releasing venomous insects.”

My pulse quickened. The towering trees’ rising mist, skittering insects, distant streams—all sounds converged and echoed.

Then, in the distance—birds began dropping like stones. A chorus of *ah-hu ah-hu* cries followed.

Uncle Jianguo leapt up. “Pack up! *Chehu!*”

*Chehu*—underworld slang for “retreat when outmatched.” The cries signaled approaching insects, he explained.

I scrambled to gather our gear.

Uncle Jianguo disguised our campsite with boar-like tracks, ensuring no traces remained. We hurried uphill, evading the insect releasers’ path. Lin Danan struggled under his heavier pack, now bearing the skull and monkey skeleton. His glasses fogged constantly, his face gaunt from exhaustion.

No choice but to press on.

Uncle Jianguo moved swiftly, doubling back to assist Lin Danan while I brought up the rear.

Suddenly, he froze at a fork in the path. “Xiao Qi! Turn back—now!”

I obeyed instantly, sprinting the way we’d come. Uncle Jianguo caught up with Lin Danan, shouldering his pack and dragging him forward. Lin Danan’s face was scratched, his breath ragged, sweat beading on his pale forehead.

After ten minutes of running, my heart threatened to burst. Then—a rustling, advancing like a wave. Venomous insects and snakes surged toward us.

Panicked, I yelled, “Uncle Jianguo! We’re surrounded!”