Wu Tieqing was more familiar with the situation in Chiang Mai than I was, and perhaps he could help me find the sorcerer who had the black cat. Gritting my teeth, I agreed: “If Boss Wu is willing to help, I’m not an ungrateful man.” To reassure Wu Tieqing, I put away the 50,000 yuan.
China is doing well these days, and the yuan has its uses in Southeast Asia too. Carrying 50,000 yuan on me wasn’t a bad idea.
After all, few people in this world dislike money.
Wu Tieqing was overjoyed when I agreed. He quickly rented a car.
It turned out he had been in Thailand for over half a month, desperately seeking sorcerers to save his life, which had led him to meet a few. But many of them were frauds—they took his money without delivering results.
Xie Lingyu, seeing that I was helping Wu Tieqing, gave me a systematic introduction to the origins of black magic during the ride: “Black magic, alongside spirit-raising, is extremely popular in Southeast Asia. Its roots lie in the fusion of Yunnan-Guizhou insect techniques and Southeast Asian witchcraft.”
She explained that there were three main types:
1. **Sound Hexing**—as the name suggests, this involves using sound and the sorcerer’s willpower to manipulate someone’s behavior. Examples include love hexes, needle hexes, and ghost-child hexes.
2. **Poison Hexing**—using drugs, either ingested or applied to the body, to control the victim. This includes hair hexes and insect hexes, usually performed by less skilled sorcerers.
3. **Curse Hexing**—the most advanced form, involving incantations and talismans. Examples include flying head curses, talisman curses, and soul-draining curses. Those who wield this are usually highly skilled sorcerers.
Xie Lingyu concluded by warning that hiring a black magic sorcerer was expensive. Raising black magic insects required immense effort, so only the wealthy and powerful could afford their services.
Her final words nearly made Wu Tieqing burst into tears.
Xie Lingyu said, “Because black magic is so costly, those who cast it rarely stop until their goal is achieved. Whether Boss Wu’s enemy will relent is uncertain—unless they get what they want.”
I reassured Wu Tieqing: “Black magic evolved from Chinese insect techniques. As a Five Elements insect master, I won’t let you die at the last moment. Just focus on driving.”
Before this, I had never heard so much about black magic. Listening to Xie Lingyu, I couldn’t help but think that there must be common ground between hexing and insect techniques.
After all, black magic sorcerers raising hexing insects wasn’t much different from insect masters raising their own.
From what I could tell, Wu Tieqing was likely suffering from a poison hex. The Thai businessman he had wronged must have hired a sorcerer to place the hex on him in revenge.
The car stopped in a shabby alley.
Wu Tieqing told me, “There’s a very powerful sorcerer up there. I’ve visited him before, and I’ve heard he wants a black cat. He’s also said to foresee the future—maybe he can tell us where the kitten is.”
I left Xie Lingyu and the jade corpse in the car, following Wu Tieqing upstairs. Xie Lingyu warned me to be careful, her eyes firm: “If that kitten is here, you get it back for me, no matter what.”
I clenched my fist and promised her.
Wu Tieqing grabbed some small gifts from a nearby store before leading me into the alley. As we walked, delicate hands reached out from the sides, as if trying to pull me in. I glanced—their owners had quite the chest.
The stairs were dark, damp, and plastered with ads, mostly for “divine oils” and the like…
On the third floor, the scent of burning incense filled a small room. Several people were seeking the sorcerer’s help. The walls were covered in Buddhist imagery, and a small table held various bottles. A shrine in the center housed a tiny Buddha statue.
A young mother, her face etched with worry, held a crying, emaciated child. The sorcerer—smiling—placed a hand on the baby’s head, muttered something, and the child instantly stopped crying.
The mother thanked him profusely, but the sorcerer didn’t take any money. From the looks of it, she didn’t have much to give.
After waiting a while, it was our turn.
The sorcerer, named **He Junalanara**, was slight, with wheat-colored skin and a gentle voice.
He recognized Wu Tieqing. “Mr. Wu… please sit.”
Wu Tieqing sat. “Master, my friend has lost a cat—a very important one. Could you help us find it? Also… I heard you might be looking for a black cat…”
Only now did I get a good look at He. His eyes had an odd yellow tint, and the veins on his forehead stood out prominently. There was something strange about his aura—powerful, yet impure, as if tainted by dark practices.
He glanced at me, assuming I was just another seeker. “A cat? What kind?”
I replied, “A black cat. Green eyes. From China. Beautiful, intelligent… the sixth-born of its litter.”
He feigned deep thought. “Finding a lost cat is difficult. But for Mr. Wu’s sake, I’ll help. Do you have any of its fur?”
I handed him a tuft of fur.
He held it reverently, muttering unintelligible Thai incantations for five minutes before opening his eyes again.
I was growing impatient. His method seemed archaic—like the divination some spirit mediums used to locate lost objects.
I had read about more advanced techniques, like the **Liuren divination** in mystic arts, which could calculate hundreds of possibilities to pinpoint an exact location.
Back in my village, there were men like my father who could find lost objects using simple hand gestures and rhymes.
As I silently calculated the kitten’s disappearance time, wondering if it matched He’s findings, Wu Tieqing discreetly added a stack of cash to the table.
I had to admit—he was smoother than me.
He seemed to smell the money before finally speaking. “In the southern part of the city—”
Before he could finish, his throat convulsed violently. His face twisted in horror, his eyes bulging as if something were burrowing inside them.
Then—**he vomited a mouthful of blood**, staining his robe and the bottles around him.
His hands flew to his throat, choking himself as if trying to strangle his own life away.
Wu Tieqing and I paled. This wasn’t part of the plan.
I tried prying his hands loose, but his grip was iron-tight.
Wu Tieqing shouted, “Master! What’s wrong?!”
He Junalanara, despite his humble abode, had influence. Rumor had it that underground Muay Thai fighters lived next door, treating him like a father figure and seeking his guidance to temper their violent instincts.
Gurgling incoherently, He collapsed, his body turning **bright red**, like a boiled shrimp.
Wu Tieqing reached to check if he was dead.
I grabbed his arm. **”We need to run—now. Unless you want to explain this to the police.”**
The moment we bolted, the neighboring Muay Thai fighters—awakened by He’s death throes—burst out in rage.
One glance at He’s shrimp-like corpse, and they **charged after us like tigers**.
I’d seen Thai action movies. These guys could take on a dozen men bare-handed—**no joke**.
Sprinting to the car, Wu Tieqing floored it, but one fighter, **A-Tian**, gave chase on a beat-up motorcycle, swearing bloody vengeance.
His driving was insane—he **jumped over a taxi mid-pursuit**, landing smoothly without losing speed.
I had to admit, the bike was sturdy. Then I noticed—**it was a Chinese export**. No wonder it wouldn’t break.
Xie Lingyu gaped. “What happened?! Why is that guy chasing us like his life depends on it?”
I watched A-Tian’s stunts in the rearview. “The sorcerer took one look at He Qingling’s fur and **dropped dead, bleeding from every orifice**.”
Wu Tieqing whimpered, “We’re screwed. That guy won’t stop until we’re dead.”
A-Tian revved his engine, closing in.
I gripped the seat. **This wasn’t just about a cat anymore.**
(To be continued…)
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