Zhang Zongbao offended Meng Liuchuan and suffered excruciating torment, his hands clawing wildly at his body… In an instant, he was drenched in sweat, his clothes completely soaked through, writhing in pain like a curled-up shrimp.
We found a makeshift bed for temporary rest and carried Zhang Zongbao onto it. Afraid he might bite his tongue, I grabbed a long-handled screwdriver, pried open his mouth, and placed it inside.
I looked up and asked, “Brother Jun, do you trust me?” Liu Jun nodded. “Why the nonsense? If I don’t trust you, who else would I trust?”
I said, “Good.” Then I closed the door, lit seven candles, and warned, “Don’t let them go out. I’ll go find the Japanese.” Liu Jun lit a Baisha cigarette and shouted, “You two, stop shaking. Get the candles ready.”
Since there were no oil lamps, we had to use candles.
While Liu Jibao lit the candles, Iron Ox left the door slightly ajar. Once all seven candles were burning, I arranged them in a Seven-Star Formation and reminded everyone not to let them extinguish. Zhang Zongbao kept moaning, white foam frothing at his mouth, tearing his clothes into strips as he cried, “Mas…ter… I’m… dying…” His muffled voice seeped through the gaps of the screwdriver, barely intelligible.
Liu Jun stepped forward, pinning Zhang Zongbao down with one hand while pressing his cigarette against the corner of his mouth. “Relax, it’s nothing compared to childbirth.” Then he glanced at me. “Brother, do you need my help?”
I replied, “Big bro, just hand me an axe. I’ll be back soon.”
Liu Jibao and Iron Ox stared at me as if they’d never known me. Iron Ox muttered dumbly, “Uncle, you’re acting like those shamans from our village.”
Liu Jun snapped, “Watch your mouth! Your uncle isn’t some shaman—he has proper training.”
“It’s fine,” I said. “They’re young. They don’t understand.” Zhang Zongbao’s cries gradually subsided as he slipped into unconsciousness, though the dark aura on his face grew heavier.
The flickering flames of the Seven-Star Formation still burned, a sign that life persisted. The formation served another purpose—it was like pleading with the underworld: *We’re trying to save a life. Show some mercy.* The underworld, recognizing the instinct to survive, would not interfere…
Iron Ox handed me a fire axe and a burlap sack. I slipped out through the iron door’s gap.
From afar, I overheard the conversation in the auto repair shop. “Uncle, who exactly is Boss Xiao?” Liu Jibao asked.
I wrapped the fire axe in sandpaper, carried it in hand, and got into the Wuling van. Driving for hours without seeing any muddy terrain, I floored the gas until I reached the outskirts, where I finally found soil. I muttered under my breath, *Come out, all of you. Get into the bag.*
The earth stirred slowly. I opened the sack, collecting half a bag of earthworms, common centipedes, a few non-venomous snakes, ants, and termites. Just as I was about to leave, two snails crawled toward me. I sighed. “Forget it, you two. Just go back. Your effort is appreciated.”
Still, I was disappointed. There were no venomous toads or deadly creatures like Zhu Ha—humans had altered nature so much that such creatures had retreated deep into the mountains. I drove the Wuling toward Weiyang Hotel, lost in thought. My grandfather had few friends because he didn’t want to burden others with his suffering. He avoided my mother for years, never visiting us. And now, I had brought disaster upon Zhang Zongbao.
First, it was Chong Lao Wu and Wang Han. Now, Abe Meng Liuchuan. If this continued, would I end up alone in old age? Would I even be able to see my parents again?
Lost in thought, I soon arrived at Weiyang Hotel, one of Jiangcheng’s most renowned establishments. The lobby was extravagantly decorated, frequented by well-off patrons and foreigners. Rumor had it that the women around Weiyang were the wildest and most promiscuous.
When my battered Wuling pulled into the parking spot, the valet eyed me suspiciously. His walkie-talkie crackled: *Some guy with a burlap sack and something wrapped in sandpaper—keep an eye on the lobby.*
I parked at the entrance, grabbed the fire axe and the half-filled sack, and strode into the lobby. Two foreigners passed me—a stunning blonde with blue eyes and a man with a thin mustache, his hand groping her backside.
*Good horses ruined by dogs,* I cursed inwardly. *The world’s gone to hell.*
I set the fire axe on the front desk. “I’m here to see Abe Meng Liuchuan—a Japanese man. Can you call him and say a Chinese man is looking for him?” I glanced around, planning my escape route.
The receptionist, a middle-aged man named Xu Lei, eyed me skeptically but eventually dialed the number. After a brief exchange, he hung up and said, “They’re in the Riverside Presidential Suite. Do you need someone to guide you?”
“I’ll go myself,” I said. “How many of them are there?”
Xu Lei hesitated before answering, “Two.” He flashed a polite, professional smile.
In the elevator, I tucked the axe under my arm. Choosing the axe was partly influenced by the madman—I braced myself for what was coming.
The doors opened, and I stepped into the hallway. The door to Meng Liuchuan’s suite was slightly ajar. Pushing it open, a chilling draft rushed out. A grotesque, crawling creature in a tattered WWII Japanese military uniform greeted me. I’d heard Japanese ghosts crawled on the ground, but I never believed it—until now.
The creature’s neck twisted unnaturally with a *click-clack* as it led me inside. *Meng Liuchuan, you old bastard, using this thing to intimidate me?* I shut the door behind me, sealing off any escape as an eerie, unnatural force settled in.
The creature was pitch-black, covered in scales like a squid, its limp appendage swaying uselessly. *Why the hell does a ghost even have that?*
Two ninjas, now dressed in kimonos, perched on a fan and a lamp, arms crossed beside Meng Liuchuan. He wore only a bathrobe and black wooden clogs.
“You came,” Meng Liuchuan said.
I spat, “If you have a problem with me, why drag others into it? Are you Japanese onmyoji really this dishonorable?”
“I didn’t mean to harm him,” Meng Liuchuan replied. “But his disrespectful gaze demanded punishment. I just wanted to lure you here. You made me bathe in scalding water, yet I’m not holding a grudge. Did you bring what I asked for?”
With a flick of his wrist, he muttered in Japanese. A kimono-clad ninja brought out a bronze box. Through the door crack, I saw three women lying unconscious, their hair splayed out.
*Weren’t Japanese supposed to be small? How the hell did he handle three women?*
The crawling creature shuffled forward with an iron bucket, baring a row of yellowed teeth. It carried the bronze basin with eerie obedience—clearly, Meng Liuchuan had tamed it well.
“Open the windows,” Meng Liuchuan ordered. “We don’t want anyone calling the fire department.”
I hadn’t expected this. “Are you planning to burn the book?”
“Patience,” he said. “Show me the book first. If it’s genuine, toss it into the fire. Then I’ll forgive that ignorant *shina* boy. Kneel before me, kowtow three times, and admit that the Ghost School is inferior to the Abe Onmyōji—then I’ll let you leave.”
I knew what *shina* meant. Studying the crawling creature, something felt off. Three distinct scars marked its neck. My ancestors once told me how they hacked three times with a bloodstained blade to behead a man named Guitian—a beast who violated three young women. Guitian had yellow teeth.
I kicked the creature. “Is this Guitian?”
Meng Liuchuan raised an eyebrow. “Impressive. A Ghost School disciple who can recognize his origins. You’re not entirely useless.”
*I didn’t recognize him—my ancestors slaughtered this bastard, and now he’s a slave to some Japanese sorcerer. Of course I’d know him.*
Now certain Meng Liuchuan was behind Zhang Zongbao’s curse, I said, “Your onmyōji skills are indeed formidable—taming a WWII ghost. But before we burn anything, lift the curse. Then I’ll hand over the book. With three of you and this thing, it’s not like I can escape.”
Meng Liuchuan glared, then kicked the creature. “You just had three women and still aren’t satisfied? Fetch the puppet.”
Guitian crawled away, returning with a charred wooden figurine.
Meng Liuchuan admired it. “A Seven-Star Formation? Clever. Without it, that boy would’ve been crippled even if I lifted the curse.”
He sprinkled water on the figurine. The blackened wood absorbed it, turning pale as a red thread slowly faded. Soon, the puppet was pure white.
I called Liu Jun. “How is he?”
“Almost died, but he just woke up. Full of energy now, like nothing happened.”
“Good. I’ll be back soon.”
Meng Liuchuan clasped his hands. “Ancestors, today I finally return the ashes of *The Compendium* to Japan. From now on, the Ghost School bows to the Abe Onmyōji lineage…”
Watching his self-satisfied expression, I tossed the burlap sack at him. “Here. Test its authenticity yourself.”
Tai Sui Yellow Amulet Paper FuLu Taoist Love Talisman Traditional Chinese Spiritual Charm Attracting Love Protecting Marriage