Chapter Thirty-Five: Sudden Change

The black cat clamped the demon’s head tightly in its jaws. Its cold, vertical pupils—typical of a cold-blooded creature—somehow conveyed to me a sense of resentment and anguish.

“All its companions have been slaughtered. Perhaps because it’s a mysterious cat, it didn’t suffer the same bloody fate. Liu the Funeral Master underestimated it, truly treating the black cat as nothing but a beast. This is our chance!”

“Xie Yuan, get ready! I’ll go snatch it!” Mr. Wang suddenly declared. He sprang up from the underbrush and charged toward the black cat.

Everything happened in an instant; my heart was pounding so hard it felt like it would leap from my throat.

The moment Mr. Wang leaped out, Old Zhou’s ghost and the village chief’s entire family—six specters in all—rushed toward him.

Liu the Funeral Master’s face was twisted with displeasure, but he ignored Mr. Wang for the moment. With a sudden gesture, a ghastly white bone shot out from the ash urn on the ground.

With a whoosh, the bone flew through the air.

The black cat twisted in midair, dodging the bone, which missed its mark.

I held my breath.

Liu’s voice was venomous and full of spite. “Lay a finger on my son today, and I’ll wipe out your whole family tomorrow!”

Mr. Wang let out a hearty laugh. “Evil spirits returned to the womb, against all laws of heaven. I act in heaven’s stead. For villains like you, steeped in sin, hell awaits and suffering will come! Why should I fear you?”

By now, Mr. Wang was almost upon the black cat.

Liu’s face contorted further with rage. He flung both arms up, and a dozen more white bones launched from the ash urn, even faster than before, reaching the black cat in the blink of an eye.

The black cat moved like a shadow, darting and leaping. The moment it landed, it sprang up again, this time bounding right in front of Mr. Wang.

Mr. Wang reached out to take the demon’s head, but the black cat leapt, landing on his shoulder, ignoring him entirely as it continued its escape.

During this, the black cat’s jaws moved several times. To my shock, I saw that the demon’s ear, gripped in its teeth, was now half eaten.

“Black cats are said to attract ghosts; that’s why villagers keep black dogs, not black cats. But I’ve never heard of a black cat that eats spirits,” I thought, a chill creeping over me.

By now, the black cat was close to me, and I hesitated—should I step out?

If the cat devoured the demon, would this all be over?

All of this happened in mere moments. Old Zhou and the other ghosts had surrounded Mr. Wang.

Mr. Wang gripped a handful of yellow talismans, and with a few swift motions, slapped them precisely atop several ghosts’ heads. Old Zhou froze, rigid in place, while the other ghosts twisted in pain as if the charms burned them.

Just then, Wang Erjun crept up behind Mr. Wang without a sound.

Mr. Wang, unawares, dashed toward me.

My face paled. I shouted, “Mr. Wang, behind you!”

He whipped around. Wang Erjun’s face was twisted with malice as he lunged, grasping Mr. Wang’s throat in a powerful grip.

Wang Erjun, burly and stout, was nearly twice Mr. Wang’s size.

Mr. Wang was no match for him—especially now, possessed by a spirit, his strength was monstrous.

Mr. Wang was lifted off the ground, feet kicking at Wang Erjun’s chest.

But Wang Erjun showed no reaction, squeezing harder.

Terrified, I sprang up, forgetting both black cat and demon, and rushed toward them.

Liu the Funeral Master shot me a venomous glare, his expression utterly malicious.

My heart trembled, quickly replaced by hatred.

I threw a look of pure loathing back at Liu, but he continued after the black cat.

The black cat, startled by my shout as it ran toward me, arched its back and bolted in another direction.

In a matter of seconds, both Liu and the black cat vanished from sight.

I reached Mr. Wang and Wang Erjun.

Mr. Wang was on the verge of suffocation, his face red and swollen like a slab of raw liver.

“Erjun! Let go!” I shouted desperately, reaching out to pry them apart.

Wang Erjun’s eyes glinted with malice, sending a chill through me.

Mr. Wang, trembling, lifted a hand, clutching a talisman.

“Forehead… center…” My heart raced. I grabbed the talisman and slapped it onto the crown of Wang Erjun’s head.

Wang Erjun tried to push me away, glaring wildly, but he released Mr. Wang’s throat.

I was faster, sticking the charm to his head.

Wang Erjun’s entire body convulsed violently. An agonized shriek pierced the air as a ghostly figure was forced out of him.

It was unmistakably the village chief’s youngest son, terror etched on his face as he fled into the woods behind the hill.

Mr. Wang dropped to his knees, gasping for breath.

Wang Erjun swayed, nearly collapsing. I caught him quickly.

He was deathly pale, shivering as he called out, “Xie Yuan?”

I trembled with relief; Wang Erjun was alright! Once the spirit left, he regained himself.

“Mr. Wang, are you alright?” I let go of Wang Erjun and moved to help Mr. Wang.

But Mr. Wang’s face was gripped by an unspeakable terror.

His gaze was fixed behind me.

A cold sweat drenched my body, my scalp prickling with dread.

A chill ran up my spine, as if my whole body had been plunged into an icehouse.

What had Mr. Wang seen to make him so afraid?

I turned, horror mounting inside me.

And what I saw nearly broke me.

A gaunt, skin-and-bones old man, as withered as a ghost, stood before the Earth God’s shrine, though I couldn’t say when he’d appeared.

He was cradling the ghost fetus in his arms.

The old man gazed at the ghost fetus with infinite pity, crooning softly as though soothing a child.

Even stranger, the fetus was utterly quiet, not crying or wailing.

That voice was so achingly familiar to me.

The old man was not among the living.

He cast no shadow at his feet. The hair on his head was almost entirely gone. His skin was parchment-thin, his eye sockets sunken, his eyes open and pitch-black—undeniably a ghost, one drained of everything.

I collapsed to my knees with a thud, my voice hoarse and full of grief.

“Father!”

This ghost was none other than my missing father!

He looked like this because Liu the Funeral Master had stolen all his years of life!

Yet even as a ghost, he’d been hiding nearby, and now he held the ghost fetus in his arms.

Mr. Wang’s voice quivered. “Xie Yuan, Wang Erjun, run—now!”

I gasped, “That’s my father. I won’t leave; I have to take him with me!”

Mr. Wang’s voice was urgent. “That’s a soul-reaping ghost! If you stay, he’ll take your life!”

As soon as he spoke, my father looked up at me. His face was terrifying, but his voice had grown gentle, “Xie Yuan, come here, come to your father.”

It was a chilling sight. I stood, breathing hard, compelled by some strange force toward my father. Mr. Wang, alarmed, scrambled up, seized my arm, and shouted, “Xie Yuan, are you mad? He died from stolen years! Now he’s holding the ghost fetus! He can’t possibly be your father! Have you forgotten how Old Zhou’s father came for your life? How he sought his own son’s life? Your father must have returned home! The dead come for their sons—to claim their lives! Do you want to die?”

Wang Erjun, white as a sheet, tried to drag me away too.

I was pale, my heart aching to the point of suffocation.

Yet I clung to a sliver of hope—hope that my father was still himself, that he wouldn’t harm me. I was his son!

But the ghost fetus was still in his arms. We couldn’t simply ignore it; it had to be destroyed.

I struggled desperately, my voice raw, “I’m fine, that’s my father! Let me go!”

My father’s face darkened further. Suddenly, he barked, “Let go of my son!”

Then, in a low, gentle tone, he called, “Xie Yuan, hurry over. It’s these people who destroyed our family. Aunt Hui was killed, your brother died before he was born—they cruelly ended his life too. They just want to tear our family apart.”

For some reason, his words sparked a fierce rage in me.

I roared, “Let go!”

Mr. Wang, already wounded, and Wang Erjun, weakened, were both easily knocked aside by my charge.

I rushed toward my father.

Mr. Wang screamed, voice cracking, “Xie Yuan! Come back!”

I was only a dozen steps from my father now.

He raised a hand, as if to welcome me.

Suddenly, an inexplicable dread rose in me. Now that I was close, I saw only coldness, greed, and a terrible longing in my father’s eyes.

A faint, weak voice suddenly whispered in my ear, “Xie Yuan, don’t go—run, quickly—”

My heart trembled, for this voice came from—