Chapter 26 Part 1

The Wuchang’s true form was far too massive, completely blocking Xun Ruosu from view. But she quickly realized that aside from the sharp twinge in her old waist when it had pounced earlier, it had suddenly become as light as a feather afterward, almost like a cat lounging on top of her.

Xue Tong felt like her century of hard work had gone down the drain. This wasn’t raising a cat at all—it was more like nurturing an ungrateful wretch.

Xun Ruosu extricated herself from the Wuchang’s thick fur. Fortunately, as a spiritual creature, it didn’t shed. Otherwise, her mouth and nose would have been filled with drifting cat hair right then.

“It really seems to like me,” Xun Ruosu said, her arms wrapped around the Wuchang. Its body temperature was high, radiating a cozy warmth. Normally, that might feel too hot, but with the room so chilly and her still recovering from illness, having a living hand warmer was perfect.

“That thing’s impossible to tame. If you like it, it’s yours,” Xue Tong said, her face a mask of irritation.

The Wuchang was obedient enough. After nuzzling Xun Ruosu, it turned and tugged at Xue Tong’s sleeve with its teeth, trying to drag her onto the bed too.

Watching from the sidelines, Yan Qing couldn’t help thinking of the phrase “one big happy family.”

The room’s antics didn’t last long. Yuan Jie hurried in soon after. He had his monk robes rolled up, his arms tanned from the sun, but the old abbot always carried himself with calm composure—even draped in his kasaya, he never seemed to sweat much. Now, though, he looked flustered and disorganized.

His foot caught on the doorstep, sending him stumbling into the room. That mishap seemed to shake off half his panic.

He first scanned the scene inside. The enormous Wuchang had reverted to its original size at the sound of footsteps and was now sprawled across Xun Ruosu’s lap. Its cat-like eyes narrowed into icy slits as it gazed down at Yuan Jie, giving him the distinct feeling of being looked down upon.

Yuan Jie led the way, followed by a younger monk whose robes were even plainer by comparison—a junior disciple from Soaring Firmament Temple, most likely.

“Amitabha,” Yuan Jie said, cutting straight to the point. “There’s been more trouble. Of the eighteen monks I sent, only sixteen returned. The other two are missing.”

Missing could mean one of two things: either they were still alive, kept as “reserves” by the resentful ghost, or they were dead but their bodies couldn’t be found.

The victim from the news photos had died in a bizarre pose, one tied to religious rituals. Perhaps this resentful ghost bore a grudge against monks. If it was allowed to roam near Soaring Firmament Temple and kill more people, it could escalate from isolated murders to a full-scale massacre—maybe even the extermination of an entire faith.

Catching his breath, Yuan Jie continued, “This is my junior, Jue Kong. He’s one of the temple attendants. He inspected the scene nearby and might have some clues.”

Jue Kong’s eyes were shadowed with fatigue. He moved nimbly enough, avoiding the doorstep, but his face was pale, as if he hadn’t slept well in days.

“Amitabha,” he began. Before he could describe the scene, his lips trembled. Xun Ruosu wondered if he’d bite his own tongue.

“I was standing on the outskirts, several meters from the site. I shouldn’t have been able to see the victim clearly, but…” He shuddered. “There was Buddhist Qi lingering there, along with an intensely chilling bloody stench. And on the ground, I saw a small blue-purple flower.”

Jue Kong wanted to spit out the words quickly and forget it all, but he couldn’t help dwelling on the details. Finally, he added, “The flower’s center was hollow, like something had pierced right through it.”

A grown man like him—brave enough to investigate alone—shouldn’t have been this rattled by a crime scene, monk or not.

Sensing Xun Ruosu’s puzzlement, Jue Kong explained, “I was fine at first, but that Buddhist Qi at the scene… It was so abundant and pure, greater than anything in all of Soaring Firmament Temple. How could a place of death hold onto something so holy?”

Had a Buddha killed someone?

The more he thought about it, the more his faith shook. A single crack could shatter lifelong convictions, leaving him this haggard.

The room fell silent for a long moment. Xun Ruosu thought it over, then pulled a business card from her belongings. It read: Jiang Changting, National Level II Psychological Consultant. Specialties: Emotional stress, marital issues, adolescent psychology, and mental health diagnostics.

“…”

Jue Kong took the card. He hadn’t even seen a psychologist yet, but he already felt better.

Science was a headache; he’d stick to his Buddha!

“Got it,” Xue Tong said with a yawn. “I’ll head over now and handle it.”

She glanced back at Xun Ruosu. “Do you need more copper coins or yellow talismans? Soaring Firmament Temple’s incense offerings bring in plenty every year. Just say the word.”

It was as if she ran the temple herself.

“What, is Benefactress Xun coming too?” Yuan Jie asked, surprised. “A resentful ghost that’s already killed isn’t to be trifled with. Even my temple’s eighteen monks of deep merits didn’t all return unscathed. Benefactress Xun…”

He meant to say that her blessings were too shallow, without merits to protect her, so her skills were bound to be mediocre. Going would be suicide. But Xue Tong’s cool gaze cut him off. “Last night, when you lured her into the courtyard, those concerns didn’t cross your mind.”

“Amitabha.” Yuan Jie’s old face flushed with embarrassment. “This poor monk can’t afford to sin twice.”

“What, monks have a quota for sinning?” Xue Tong’s sharp tongue was too much for ordinary folk. The old abbot could only lower his eyes and pretend not to hear.

Silence settled again until a meow from the Wuchang broke it for Xun Ruosu. Her copper coins would suffice, but she was low on yellow talismans. Besides, Soaring Firmament Temple was a spiritual hotspot; their consecrated yellow paper was finer and more effective than anything from a standard funeral supply shop. If she weren’t tied up with this mess, she’d have tried to cart off a few crates.

She spoke up, ending the quiet. “If the abbot could prepare some more yellow paper, that would be a great help. Do you have any hollow cinnabar brushes? Regular vermilion brushes are inconvenient for inking, and I can’t keep cutting my fingers drawing talismans.”

Anyone skilled with talismans and incantations usually had one or two hollow cinnabar brushes. You hollowed out the shaft, filled it with cinnabar, and added a drop of water to make the ink flow steadily—like a fountain pen or ballpoint, though the cinnabar needed frequent refills and each brush maxed out at about ten sheets.

“Of course.” Yuan Jie might be a worldly old fox who didn’t hesitate to drag others into trouble, but he didn’t want allies dying needlessly. He’d procure whatever lifesaving gear she needed.

“Why not have this poor monk come along too?” Yuan Jie suggested. “I’m old enough not to cling to life anymore. And with temple members missing, it’s my responsibility.”

By traditional virtues of respecting elders, politeness demanded at least a refusal. But Xue Tong and Xun Ruosu both looked at him as if it were obvious. “You think you’re not going?” “We’ll tie you up if we have to!”

“…”

Once said, there was no room for polite back-and-forth. Resistance was futile.

Ten minutes later, the old abbot had changed into battle-ready garb: robes and sleeves tightly bound, gripping a black monk staff wrapped at both ends with golden cloth strips inscribed with dense Sanskrit script. He didn’t look a day over his prime—people would buy forty-something easily.

With that setup, Yuan Jie clearly favored physical exorcism, just like Xue Tong.

Xun Ruosu’s gear was bundled in a cloth pouch: twenty-four yellow talismans, two hollow cinnabar brushes, another string of copper coins, and a coil of red thread. Soaring Firmament Temple’s steward was Yuan Jie’s junior disciple, just over thirty and a top candidate for next abbot.

Pity he was such a worrywart. Before they left, he fussed over Yuan Jie, nagging the old man to temper his temper and not swing that staff recklessly. Then he begged Xue Tong to watch after his senior brother—don’t count on him for frontline fighting; not being a burden would be divine intervention.

“…You’re truly my dear brother monk,” Yuan Jie muttered, head throbbing from the lecture.

The incident site wasn’t far from Soaring Firmament Temple—a ten-minute drive.

It had been a villa development once, but five years ago, the developers fled with the funds. Surrounded by undeveloped wilds, weeds had overrun everything without human meddling. Vines swathed the abandoned building site, and even the near-complete archway entrance was choked with dodder vines, wild lantern fruit, and snakeberries. Stepping through was like entering another world.

Yet Soaring Firmament Mountain’s peak held the incense-rich Soaring Firmament Temple, and nearby were chain hotels, B&Bs, eateries, and stalls galore. Only this spot was anomalous: poor feng shui, north-facing and shadowy, ringed by untouchable ancient trees.

Summer day, cloudy on the mountain’s south side—not bad weather, but here it was oppressively eerie, raising hairs on the neck.

Xue Tong wore a sun-protective jacket and held a black umbrella, though there was no harsh sun; no need to bundle up completely.

Yan Qing had driven the trio over. A hundred or two meters from the archway, he flat-out refused to go farther. The bodies were long removed, forensics wrapped up; the seal-off must’ve lifted just days ago, police tire tracks still fresh.

Yan Qing felt a chill wind on his neck. He’d accepted ghosts existed, but his courage hadn’t grown—in fact, it had shrunk from nail-sized to a speck rattling in his chest since last night.

“Boss, can I head back first?” Yan Qing asked, hunching his shoulders.

Xue Tong nodded. “Go on. Take a bath when you get back, then have the temple monks chant over you awhile. Even if you pick up something unclean, it won’t stick.”

Yan Qing was near tears. “Boss… don’t scare me like that. If I freak out, no one’s coming to pick you up.”

A very practical point. Xue Tong was used to luxury; her feet weren’t made for walking. Normally, she’d demand a ride for three hundred meters. Expecting her to trek back to Soaring Firmament Temple afterward? She’d probably turn the resentful ghost into a mount.

“Don’t worry. With my protection, who would dare give you trouble?” Xue Tong’s gaze turned deadly serious in an instant.

The eerie wind that had been swirling around Yan Qing scattered at once. The young man slammed his foot on the gas pedal and sped away from this troublesome place as fast as he could.

Logically speaking, the abandoned building site was so remote and deserted that crimes were bound to happen there. But all the “ghosts” were driven by their obsessions—some lingered in the places tied to their deepest emotions, while others sought out the objects or people anchoring those obsessions. The abandoned building had never housed anyone except construction workers and developers. So why would a resentful ghost show up here?

Before they set out, Xun Ruosu had looked into it. The villas in this area had terrible feng shui and never sold, no matter what. From groundbreaking to abandonment, there had only been three provisional buyers, all of them still on the fence and none putting down a deposit. That cash shortage was why the developers eventually fled with whatever funds they had left.

Even if those deposits hadn’t been refunded, it was only thirty or fifty thousand at most. Property prices around Soaring Firmament Temple were sky-high, and anyone who could afford a villa here wouldn’t nurse a grudge over pocket change like that—let alone one strong enough to trap their soul in the mortal world, denying them reincarnation.

As for the construction workers and developers… any resentment they harbored had to be tied to money. So why were the victims all tangled up in religious matters?

Xun Ruosu had dug a little deeper.

There hadn’t been a temple on the peak of Soaring Firmament Mountain originally. It was built in the early Ming Dynasty by a renowned monk. Thirty years ago, it underwent a major renovation that brought it to its current grandeur. For all its booming incense trade and reputation for miracles, Soaring Firmament Temple’s history was anything but straightforward.