Chapter 128: A Funeral and the Return of the Soul

"Quiet!" I shouted, but my voice was drowned out by the screams and wailing, proving entirely useless. These people were utterly paralyzed by terror; they were in no state to heed the words of an outsider like me.

The ghostly wind swirling through the room grew increasingly fierce. Household items were swept up and knocked over, creating a cacophony of crashing sounds. After flickering violently, the candlelight was extinguished completely. Yet, the eerie, greenish glow did not vanish; it continued to permeate the room.

The thing was coming! I no longer had the luxury of trying to calm the crowd. I drew my spirit-suppression talisman, stepped to the front, and fixed my eyes on the doorway, ready to strike at a moment's notice.

*Clack—* A sharp, resonant sound suddenly echoed through the room. The crowd was jolted by the noise, their screams fading into the terrified sobs of children.

The sound had come from the Daoist priests. A line of them stood before the ritual altar, and the eldest among them spoke in a booming voice: "Do not panic! Do not panic! Parents, keep your children under control and stop them from crying."

The priest's command possessed an immense sense of authority. I heard a few parents murmuring, and the children's crying subsided. The chaotic scene, which had been in complete disarray, was instantly subdued by these priests.

The old priest spoke again: "He still has unfulfilled wishes and refuses to depart. Let us hear what he has to say."

Everyone held their breath, their gazes fixed on the door. I lowered my guard but remained vigilant, the talisman still clutched firmly in my hand.

Thick fog began to billow outside the door. A withered, elderly figure appeared within the mist, motionless and expressionless, like a frozen image.

The mourners collectively gasped in shock. It was clear that this figure was the protagonist of the funeral—the very person lying in the coffin! Despite this, no one uttered a sound; it was evident how much they trusted the old priest.

The old priest addressed the figure: "The living have their path, and the dead have theirs. You have already passed on; why have you returned? If there is something you cannot let go of, tell us, and we will do our best to attend to it."

I stared intently at the figure. After a long silence, a hoarse, grotesque voice sounded: "I cannot let go... I cannot..."

Hearing that voice, the people couldn't help but shiver.

The voice continued: "My son went to the city to work and never returned. I don't know how he is doing now. Without seeing him, I cannot rest."

"We will help you inquire about your son's situation. Your life has ended, so please go. When your son returns, we will have him come to offer incense for you," the old priest said.

The figure turned and began to walk slowly backward, disappearing into the thick fog.

The mist outside the house gradually dissipated, and the greenish glow inside the room faded away.

The lights suddenly flickered back to life. The crowd, still reeling from the shock, looked around, glancing first at the old priest and then out the door.

Was it really over? Had the spirit truly departed?

I put away my talisman and looked at the old priest. He had resolved such a dire situation with such ease. Had it been me, a fierce struggle would have been inevitable. I couldn't help but feel a newfound respect for this old priest, shifting my previous perspective on such practitioners. The nuance and experience they possessed were not easily learned; they were accumulated through years of witnessing the unseen.

The priests relit the candles and placed fresh spirit money, and the funeral proceedings continued.

The old priest walked up to me and said, "One must never be impulsive. You must first clarify the situation. There is always a reason why they refuse to leave."

He had noticed my earlier actions. I nodded and replied, "I understand."

The priests performed rituals with music and chanting throughout the night. The next morning, after the final group of visiting relatives had paid their respects, the coffin was lifted for the funeral procession. The priests departed shortly thereafter.

On the way back to my lodgings, I saw several middle-aged men walking out of the mountains, leading a boy of about twelve or thirteen. They were shouting as they walked:

"I told you not to run into the mountains! I told you not to wander off! There are so many wild beasts in the mountains; don't you know the danger? Thank goodness nothing happened!"

It was the child who had gone missing. He had finally been found, having spent the whole night in the mountains, though fortunately, he appeared unharmed.

The boy’s eyes were vacant, his face expressionless. He let the adults lead him along, showing no reaction at all. I stared at him, feeling an vague sense of wrongness. I had met him several times during my stay; his nickname was "Three-Monkey," and he was usually as mischievous as a primate. Why was he like this now? Was he simply terrified from being alone in the mountains all night?

As the group led Three-Monkey away, I walked toward my yellow-mud cottage, filled with suspicion.

Old Man Ma and Tu'e were sitting in the living room, chatting about something. Old Man Ma wore a lecherous grin, while Tu'e looked full of wonder.

Seeing me enter, Old Man Ma said, "My good apprentice, did you learn something new last night?"

"You knew about what happened last night?" I asked, though I realized how foolish the question sounded immediately after. Who were Old Man Ma and Tu'e? The village was small, and the Yin energy had been so heavy last night that it would have been stranger if they hadn't noticed.

Old Man Ma looked displeased. "What kind of person do you take your master for? If I couldn't even detect a fresh ghost, I wouldn't be in this business! Those priests may be average in skill, but they have vast experience and can handle affairs of all sizes. You should learn from them."

I nodded and asked, "Master, how long are we staying here? It's almost the New Year."

"Don't even think about leaving before the New Year. The New Year is a major threshold. If they want to find us, those are the days they will choose. Especially you—if you don't want to bring trouble upon your friends and relatives, keep your phone off," Old Man Ma said.

It seemed I was destined to spend the New Year here. I wondered how my uncle and Wen-zai were doing. Thinking of the way my uncle had been afflicted by the gu-poison, I became even more determined: I must not contact them. I could not put them in danger.

As the year-end approached, the village grew lively. Every household was preparing for the festivities, and those who had been working or studying away began to return. Everything looked joyful. Since I had left the village for city life, I had never seen such a scene. In the city, everyone mostly kept to themselves.

That night, the hoarse, coughing sound started again. Then, the slow, rhythmic sound of footsteps echoed.

I opened my eyes and looked toward the window. Strange, why were there footsteps tonight? Was someone walking in the mountains?

I got out of bed, went to the window, and opened it to look outside. The greenish fire was still flickering in the distance, but the footsteps were clearly much closer; they did not belong to the entity carrying that fire.

"Who is it? Who is in the mountains?" I shouted in the direction of the footsteps.

The footsteps continued, unhurried and steady—almost stiff in their progression.

I grabbed my flashlight and shone it in that direction. A standard flashlight lacks the power of a high-intensity beam, and its reach was limited. I could only barely make out a hunched, withered figure slowly walking into the deep forest, until it finally vanished into the darkness.