Chapter Seventy-Nine: First Encounter with the Spirits

Old Ma spoke in a cold voice, “Don’t bring calamity upon their family. Let the child go!”

The old woman let out a raspy laugh. “So you’ve come to save someone. I don’t have much time left. I must get my hands on that thing.”

“That brat surnamed Ding already got rid of it long ago. Keeping the child is useless,” Old Ma replied.

“Oh? If it’s gone, then there’s no use keeping the child either. But a life taken can nourish spirits—he can count it as repayment for his ancestor’s debts.”

“I’m taking the child away alive tonight,” Old Ma declared, his tone resolute.

The old woman fell silent for a long while before speaking. “Why bother? You don’t have much time left yourself.”

Not much time? What did she mean—was Old Ma’s end approaching? He was old, yes, but her tone carried a strange undertone I couldn’t quite place.

“My fate is no concern of yours. I will take the child!” Old Ma insisted.

The old woman coughed twice, her voice sandpaper-rough. “Very well. For the sake of old acquaintance, I won’t stop you. The child is in one of those burial mounds. Find him yourself.”

She buried him in a mound! How could he still be alive?

The old woman shuffled out of the house. As she moved, the stench of rot grew so thick it was impossible to block out, even by pinching my nose. It seemed to emanate from her very body. In the eerie green glow of ghostly fire, her figure was indistinct, but her skeletal thinness was unmistakable. Her steps were light yet steady, eerily reminiscent of Old Ma’s own movements. She slowly made her way toward the woods behind the house.

I asked Old Ma, “You’re just letting her go?”

“We came to rescue someone, nothing more. Let’s focus on the situation at hand!”

The situation at hand?

That chilling aura was thickening, and shadowy little figures began crawling out of the burial mounds. In that ghostly green light, none of them had faces; their features were nothing but inky darkness. As they emerged, I saw that their clothes—some for girls, some for boys—were blue, green, red, or white, all made in the style of the paper garments burned during Qingming Festival.

“My good apprentice, the time for practice has come. Remember the ghost-warding chant—I’ll recite it just once!” Old Ma suddenly called out, and he began chanting, his voice rising and falling in strange, sing-song cadences. Or rather, he sang it!

I was dumbfounded. What language was that? I couldn’t understand a word! It sounded faintly like Zhuang, but the cadence was so alien I couldn’t tell.

“Did you get it?” Old Ma asked after finishing.

“No, not at all! What language is that?”

“Old Yue,” he replied.

Ah! No wonder I couldn’t understand—it was that ancient tongue! But why Old Yue? Wouldn’t Mandarin do?

“These incantations have been passed down from ancient times. I don’t know their exact meaning. Just recite them! Chant the ghost-warding spell, pair it with this hand sign, and press it to a ghost’s forehead—then it will have nowhere to hide! Go on, now!”

He demonstrated the hand sign, but before I could see it clearly, he shoved me forward.

By then, all the little ghosts had crawled out of their mounds and were drifting toward us on tiptoe. The nearest was already almost upon me. I barely had time to react before it lunged, both hands clutching at me—yet the moment it drew near, it was flung back as if shocked by electricity.

It was the protective charm! Thank goodness Old Ma had given me two before we came.

But the charm only repelled ghosts and warded off evil; it didn’t destroy them. The ghost was merely knocked back, unharmed. More and more were swarming toward me. Aside from the protective charm, I only had one ghost-subduing talisman left—and once I used it, I’d have nothing.

I glanced back at Old Ma and the others, only to find they’d already gone far away—I was on my own!

“What are you doing? I can’t handle this alone!” I called out frantically.

“I’ve taught you the method! You draw the ghosts off while we look for the child. A living person buried in a mound can’t last long!” Old Ma shouted.

“I really can’t do this!” I protested.

“Whether you can or not, solve it yourself! Off you go!” Suddenly, Old Ma flicked a talisman at me, which stuck right to my body.

At once, the little ghosts went wild, racing toward me even faster. Terrified, I tore off the talisman, but it was too late. The ghosts were locked onto me, ignoring Old Ma and Gu Yangyu completely, swarming only in my direction.

They surrounded me, front and back, a dense, chilling mass. Several ghosts lunged, their attacks swift and relentless! In panic, I slapped the ghost-subduing charm onto one of them. With a shriek, it was blasted away, dissolving into a puff of white mist. The other two were repelled by the protective charm, but not destroyed.

More ghosts converged, and this couldn’t go on—I had no idea how long the protective charm would last! Forget it! Desperate times call for desperate measures! I had to try!

I tried to recall the chant and shouted it out loud, but the ghosts showed no reaction at all. Clearly, I’d gotten it wrong. I hastily tried to imitate the hand sign from memory, then, after a moment’s hesitation, pressed it toward the blackened face of the nearest ghost.

With a screech, it was blasted away, dissolving into white smoke.

Wow! It actually worked!

I tried the same on the others. Several were thrown back, and I began to notice a pattern: the blue-clad ones turned to white smoke when struck; the green-clad ones didn’t dissolve but lost the ability to fly, crawling sluggishly along the ground; the white-clad ones were barely affected; the red-clad ones were thrown only a short distance.

It seemed the color of their garments reflected their strength—blue the weakest, red the strongest!

More and more ghosts pressed in, overwhelming me. The protective charm was weakening, and cold, clammy hands were starting to brush my skin!

“Use the ghost-warding chant, idiot!” Old Ma shouted.

Damn it! I wanted to, but I just couldn’t remember that singsong Old Yue incantation!

The ghosts closed in, thick as a swarm, the air heavy with gloom and chilling winds. I was about to be engulfed, and Old Ma and the others showed no sign of helping.

My hair stood on end—I was panicking, on the verge of terror. No use worrying now—I’d have to rely on luck!

I kept pressing hand signs against the nearest ghosts and reciting the chant from memory, again and again, changing the intonation each time it failed.

The protective charm’s power faded further. Pale little hands clutched at my clothes, tugging hard.

No good! I was done for! If I couldn’t get the chant right, I’d have to scream for help!

Suddenly, the ghosts around me froze, as if the power had been cut. They stopped without warning.