Chapter 89: The Cursed Fate

Zuo Shan grew increasingly restless, his aura turning more and more sinister.

His blackened hands began to move, the three fingers of his right hand tracing patterns in the air. He looked as if he had been possessed, his face becoming uglier by the second, his skin like the bark of an old tree, his eyes blood-red as if swarming with dancing demons.

Zuo Shan had completely transformed into a demon.

The Blood Spider had become the demon’s spear, ready to spew venom at any moment.

The entire prayer hall was enveloped in a thick, crimson miasma.

The blue light in my hand grew weaker. I had little means of self-defense; beyond instinctive resistance, I couldn’t muster any Daoist countermeasures.

A numbness shot through my right hand, and the jade ruler slipped from my grip, clattering to the floor. My body itched uncontrollably, forcing me to slump against the chair. I felt my entire body swelling, as if bloating beyond recognition.

That night in the town, I had witnessed Bai Xuan dissolve into nothingness. Was I about to meet the same fate? I coughed twice, my lips blackening, my eyes swelling shut again, nearly blinding me. The sound of the ghost infant Bai Yueming’s powerful wails echoed in my ears.

Zuo Shan glared at me with venom. “Is this all the Ghost Sect’s successor amounts to? Just paper-thin before me. My little darling is only warming up—it hasn’t even begun to truly act.”

The Blood Spider scuttled down from me, picked up the now-dim jade ruler with its pincers, and carried it to Zuo Shan, placing it beside the meditation cushion. Then it crawled up Zuo Shan’s arm, over his shoulder, and back down, finally returning to its jar to rest.

Zuo Shan watched the Blood Spider like a man staring at his own lost identity.

Not everyone could endure seven days and nights of torment.

What a painful realization. Whose fault was Zuo Shan’s tragic life? Was it Ye Guyi’s? Or his grandfather Long Youshui’s? Or that insect master surnamed Ruan? Or was it simply the flaw in his own character?

The jar where the Blood Spider slept contained a strange liquid, which it seemed to adore. Among the bizarre items I had collected before were an old woman’s underwear and a rural woman’s menstrual cloth. The liquid’s scent carried a whiff of that same foul odor.

The Blood Spider seemed to have fallen asleep. Zuo Shan’s lips trembled, his previously violent agitation suddenly subsiding. But as he stared at the jade ruler before him, his eyes reddened again, as if brimming with tears. His crippled hands shook like leaves in an autumn wind.

“Ye Guyi, you never imagined this day, did you? Your successor will die by my hand, and I will become the Ghost Sect’s sole inheritor. My disciple, Zeng Jie, is the true heir.”

So the little monk outside went by the secular name Zeng Jie.

Zuo Shan burst into laughter, as if all his years of suffering had finally been repaid. Those who had wronged him in the past had mysteriously died, and much of his hatred had dissipated.

Especially that insect master surnamed Ruan—he had later found his bones and refined them into corpse oil. The only hatred left was for Ye Guyi. Now, everything was falling into place. He even shed tears of joy.

My entire body had swollen, numb and useless. The Blood Spider’s venom was extraordinarily potent, surpassing even Ji Ruyue’s Seven-Colored Centipede. This gu poison was bizarre—I felt a chilling cold spreading through me, as if standing naked in a blizzard. A sinister energy rampaged unchecked through my veins, treating them like racetracks, numbing wherever it ran.

All I could hope was that the five treasured worms of the Five Insect Lineage could neutralize the poison.

Gold Thread, Green Wood, Water Jade, Earth Silkworm, Fire Tiger—such beautiful names. Surely they wouldn’t fail me now?

But the venom raged uncontrollably, my thoughts growing more chaotic. I thought of Ji Qianqian, then Xie Lingyu. Bai Yueming’s cries continued unabated, grating on my nerves.

Yet, it was those very cries that kept me somewhat lucid…

Zuo Shan seemed to steel himself before reaching out to pick up the jade ruler.

Watching him, I couldn’t understand why he hesitated.

Did he see retrieving the jade ruler as a symbolic act, not to be done lightly? If he took it now, his long-awaited dream would come true—yet perhaps that would leave him unsatisfied.

Finally, Zuo Shan grasped the jade ruler with solemn reverence, like a young man undoing a woman’s red undergarments for the first time, adrenaline surging…

So far, Zuo Shan was the strongest foe I had ever faced. A single spider had brought me down, and now he had seized the jade ruler that symbolized my identity as a Ghost Sect disciple.

My life is over, my life is over… I repeated silently, but then a warmth spread from my abdomen, lending me strength. The spider’s venom seemed to weaken slightly. I prayed the poison would slowly dissipate.

Zuo Shan held the jade ruler aloft, a triumphant grin spreading across his face. He rambled as if Ye Guyi were still alive.

“Ye Guyi, you never saw this coming, did you? I hold your jade ruler now. You’re dead—what can you do to me? Look at the useless trash you chose as your successor. Soon, he’ll join you in the underworld. When he’s gone, I’ll ensure the Ghost Sect thrives. You… you were blind! Hahahaha—HAHAHA!”

His gloating bore no resemblance to an elder’s dignity—more like a misbehaving child suddenly turning the tables on his disciplinarian.

I laughed weakly. “Grandmaster is long dead… You could curse for three days… and he wouldn’t hear a word… You’re a self-proclaimed heir… a worthless fraud…”

Zuo Shan clenched the jade ruler. “Even if I’m disloyal, unfilial, heartless, and unjust—I’m the one who won… ME! You idiot… Xiao Qi, what a stupid name for a stupid man…”

History proves: those destined for destruction are first driven to madness.

Suddenly, Zuo Shan’s face contorted in agony. The change was instantaneous.

A black thread slithered from the jade ruler, coiling up his arm. He tried frantically to shake it off, but it clung fast. The Blood Spider, roused from its jar, skittered over him in agitation.

Zuo Shan howled. “Ye Guyi, you old monster! You fiend! You set a curse on me! You made it so I could never hold this jade ruler again!”

As my strength gradually returned, I struggled to grasp his meaning. The black thread resembled some kind of seal…

From his screams, I gathered Ye Guyi had cursed the jade ruler—if Zuo Shan ever touched it again, he would suffer excruciating torment, doomed beyond redemption.

Clearly, Ye Guyi had foreseen this. Merely picking up the jade ruler meant death.

Sure enough, the black threads spread across Zuo Shan’s body, weaving into a net that ensnared him completely.

Outside, Zeng Jie shouted, “Master! What’s happening? Can I come in—?”

Zuo Shan convulsed as if electrocuted. The black threads multiplied, covering his head like some dark Spider-Man (the corrupted version). Did all spider handlers meet this fate?

Fearing Zeng Jie might kill me, I mustered my strength, lunged forward, and wrested the jade ruler from Zuo Shan’s grip. He couldn’t move, but his fingers refused to let go. I kicked him to the ground, snarling, “You’re the real idiot!” Clutching the jade ruler, I raised my foot to stomp on him—

The Blood Spider scuttled protectively in front of Zuo Shan and spat a viscous secretion.

I dodged just in time. The fluid hit the armchair, emitting a plume of black smoke.

I turned and bolted to the back of the hall, where Bai Yueming lay in his swaddling clothes. The tattered cloth covering him had been pushed aside, the stench of blood thick in the air. A smear of crimson stained his lips—likely from drinking blood. I scooped him up.

Beside him, on a shelf, sat a white skull with a tiny dried snake. Scrawled across the skull were curses:

“May your son dissolve into blood, your grandson become a eunuch…”

Beneath that, a litany of insults:

“Ruan Jinluan, you’re nothing but a rotten egg. May your soul never rest, may you be ridden by ox-headed and horse-faced demons in the Nine Hells, may Granny Meng prod your asshole daily with a bamboo rod, may the Ten Ghost Kings flick your balls a hundred times a day…”

Presumably, Zuo Shan had hexed someone named Ruan Jinluan. Whoever his son and grandson were, they must have earned Zuo Shan’s vicious ire.

True to his Ghost Sect roots, Zuo Shan’s curses were creative—almost amusing.

Zeng Jie rushed in, supporting Zuo Shan. “Master! What’s wrong? What happened?”

Zuo Shan spat out blood, gasping, “Ye Guyi… you old demon…” Then he collapsed, bleeding profusely.