Chapter 28

This question struck right at the heart of the matter. Xue Tong hadn’t expected Xun Ruosu’s ability to connect the dots to be so sharp. For a moment, she couldn’t come up with any evasive way to respond and could only answer, “Not necessarily.”

“There are eight hundred and ten Ever-Burning Lamps in the prayer hall that Yuan Jie is guarding for me—representing the eight hundred and ten karmic obstacles of all living beings. If all the lamps are lit, they can suppress all manner of demons and ghouls. But now, one of them has gone out… Just one, and it’s already enough to set ten thousand ghosts howling.”

Though Xue Tong’s words were vague, her candor had already exceeded Xun Ruosu’s expectations, so Xun Ruosu didn’t press her. Instead, she proactively changed the subject. “Then why did you ask that Female Ghost whether she came here before or after she died?”

“Many years ago, something happened on Soaring Firmament Mountain.” Xue Tong looked far too young. After spending time with her, it was easy to forget that she had lived for over a century—Yuan Jie would seem like a mere grandson to her. She had witnessed the rise and fall of countless dynasties, and many of the fragmentary accounts in history books were things she had experienced firsthand.

She continued, “Back then, Jue Zhen—the eminent monk who founded Soaring Firmament Temple—hadn’t yet arrived in the county. Clear Canal County wasn’t called that either; it was originally known as Abandoned County, a place where no one wanted to live. Floods from upstream would repeatedly sacrifice it to the waters, and even in the aftermath of disasters, plague victims were driven here and slaughtered. That’s how the Ten Thousand People Pit on the mountain came to be.”

Perhaps because that history was so dark, and anyone who could flee this godforsaken place had long since done so, few families remained across generations. Knowledge was passed down by word of mouth, and those literate enough to write it down wouldn’t linger long in such a hopeless county. As a result, almost no records survived.

The Xun Family’s collection of books was extensive, but Xun Ruosu had never known about this chapter of Clear Canal County’s past from childhood to now.

Xue Tong went on, “Even if obsessives were one in a hundred, the Ten Thousand People Pit could still spawn a horde of them, plaguing the local yamen, county offices, and passing merchants alike. To suppress these grudge souls, even the county magistrate and the prefectural authorities racked their brains for solutions.”

Xue Tong’s choice of words felt archaic. The more Xun Ruosu listened, the more distant she felt from her. Lost in thought, she took another step back.

Xue Tong noticed Xun Ruosu’s movement. She hooked a finger, catching only the zipper on the other’s jacket. It slid smoothly away, and even that small, cold metal piece slipped from her fingertips.

In an era when containing plagues meant mass slaughter, the methods for suppressing ghosts were surely no more honorable. Sure enough, Xue Tong said, “At the time, the Zhu Family stepped forward and proposed a ‘kill to stop killing’ approach: burying a Fierce-Eyed Bodhisattva statue in the Ten Thousand People Pit.”

Xun Ruosu knew that the Zhu Family practiced esoteric arts. Her family had a bamboo slip dedicated to them—the first half was detailed, but the latter half was full of uncertain phrases like “it is said,” “rumors,” and “possibly.”

Rumor had it that the Zhu Family was a branch line of the Zhong Family, but through the female line, so they didn’t take the Zhong surname. They had hoped this method would circumvent the restrictions of the Big Dipper Number. At first, it worked flawlessly; they even received heavy patronage from the imperial court and flourished for three generations. The main Zhong Family line was delighted, believing they had found a loophole in the rules. But one day, the entire Zhu Family was wiped out.

According to the rumors, it happened overnight. Every single member of the Zhu Clan—from the youngest children to the two guard dogs—perished. Blood soaked an entire plot of land scarlet. The yamen officers who cleaned up the scene labored for two full days and nights without rest just to make it presentable. Within six months, half of them had taken their own lives.

But the bamboo slip didn’t explain why the Zhu Family was exterminated or by whom. Now, it seemed not only tied to the Zhong Clan’s fated number but also inextricably linked to this Ten Thousand People Pit.

“After the Bodhisattva was buried, things stayed quiet for three months,” Xue Tong’s voice continued. “The Little Ghost settled down during that time, allowing the people a chance to recover. But three months later, the situation worsened dramatically. Not only did grudge souls and malicious ghosts stir in the Ten Thousand People Pit, but it even drew wandering souls and wild ghosts from elsewhere.”

“The people back then were terribly superstitious. They thought the Bodhisattva was demanding tribute. It started with fruits and vegetables, which did nothing. Then it escalated to livestock, and finally to human sacrifices—burning young girls alive, offering up boys and girls… The atrocities turned Abandoned County into a living hell.”

One could imagine it just from the description.

“The sacrificial rites provoked outrage from both heaven and man, drawing imperial officials to crack down. But the hauntings couldn’t be resolved. Officially, the practices stopped, but underground, they evolved into a cult worshiping that Fierce-Eyed Bodhisattva as their chief deity. It wasn’t until Jue Zhen came to the mountain, spreading kindness and building Soaring Firmament Temple, that the cult gradually faded. It was wiped out completely decades ago.”

Xue Tong had spoken at length in one go and finally felt thirsty. She glanced at the insulated cup in Xun Ruosu’s hand but said nothing. Only when Xun Ruosu offered it did she remark with mild disdain, “You’ve drunk from it.”

“…Then give it back.” Xun Ruosu rarely felt like calling out her pretense, but Xue Tong seemed determined to pick a fight.

If that Female Ghost had truly come to Soaring Firmament Mountain after her death, it meant her presence was connected to the Ten Thousand People Pit—she had been drawn here. If she had been on the mountain in life, she was likely tied to that cult demanding living sacrifices.

Nailing a flower garland into someone’s skull pointed to only three possibilities: ritual, torture, or revenge. Ritual seemed most likely; torture or revenge wouldn’t require fresh hyacinths.

When the two returned to the second floor, Yuan Jie and Zhong Li stared at them with strange looks. Even the Female Ghost lying on the ground joined in the spectacle. Her neck was pinned by the Black Cat, limiting her movement, but her eyes brimmed with terror.

What on earth were these two? How did they know so much?!

Xun Ruosu quickly distanced herself. “I just asked the questions. Xue Tong’s the knowledgeable one—it has nothing to do with me. From now on, if you need anything, bother her. I’m just an ordinary diviner from the Xun Family; I can’t help much.”

The onlookers naturally understood. Their gazes shifted unanimously to Xue Tong.

Yuan Jie had known Xue Tong for a while and was aware she was no ordinary person, though his knowledge of her was limited. She didn’t visit the mountain often—sometimes going half a year without appearing, other times lingering in the nunnery for over ten days, arriving and leaving without a word.

Yet every generation of Soaring Firmament Temple’s abbots treated Xue Tong with utmost respect, as an honored guest. They never charged her for lodging and even covered food and entertainment.

Xue Tong was accustomed to such probing stares. She walked over to the Female Ghost and nudged her with her foot. “I’ll ask you one more time: did you come here before or after you died?”

Though the soundproofing was poor, they had been at a distance, and Xue Tong’s voice wasn’t loud. The snippets of conversation had been garbled, so the Female Ghost continued playing dead. Even under harsh interrogation, she seemed ready to “die before yielding.”

“Xue Tong,” Xun Ruosu said after a moment of silence nearby. “Do you think we can remove the flower garland on her head?”

The Female Ghost on the ground froze. She had been focused on guarding against Xue Tong and forgotten about the “ordinary” diviner beside her.

Xun Ruosu held copper coins threaded with a red thread. She gripped one end; the thread wasn’t sealed at the bottom, defying physics as the coins hovered midair, vibrating rapidly with the thread. With her other hand, she performed calculations. “The grudge soul we’re looking for seems connected to this flower garland too.”

“Really?” Xue Tong knew Xun Family divinations were never wrong, but she had to voice doubt to feel satisfied.

After asking, she glanced down at the Female Ghost’s reaction. “Looks like it is.”

Bitten badly by Wuchang and terrified of the beast pinning her neck, the Female Ghost had long since stopped resisting. Now, she trembled all over, trying to crawl away from this mess.

Given her desperate struggle, the flower garland on her head had to be something crucial.

Xue Tong extended a finger and pressed it to the top of the Female Ghost’s head. The ghost, who had been twitching slightly before, was now pinned as if by a mountain. Forget crawling forward—her limbs seemed locked by invisible shackles. Her eyes rolled back, desperately trying to glare at Xue Tong to stop her from removing the garland.

The garland was handmade, with a seam in the middle. Pulling out the nails from the seam caused it to spring open and fall to the ground.

Upon touching it, Xue Tong realized the garland was an ordinary mortal item—not some lifeless object like the Female Ghost herself.

How could something from the human world be embedded in a ghost’s head?

Xun Ruosu bent down and picked up the garland from the floor. It matched the token Xue Tong had received: clusters of hyacinth florets plucked entire, nails driven through each flower’s heart and into the green vines, then woven into a ring.

Both the hyacinths and vines were fresh and tender, as if picked recently. Yet this woman had been dead for years—even wearing the garland before death, with scars of inflammation and healing on her scalp. Something was deeply off.

“Xue Tong,” Xun Ruosu murmured, stroking the garland. “You received the token yesterday. It was just an ordinary hyacinth. Whether grown in water or soil, keeping it fresh for hours after separation is already impressive. Why hasn’t yours wilted at all in your hands?”

“For the same reason as this garland… The token draws on my merits to briefly extend its life.” Xue Tong explained, “But even nurturing a single hyacinth with my merits for a century wouldn’t consume much.”

As she spoke, she smirked. “You’ve been watching me closely?”

“No.” Xun Ruosu’s first instinct was to deny it, but she laughed as soon as the word left her mouth.

She had once called out Xue Tong’s intentions and received the same firm “No.” Now she was doing the exact same thing—trying to hide it in plain sight.

“What are you giggling about?” Xue Tong asked, baffled.

“Nothing…” Xun Ruosu coughed twice, her face flushing as she earnestly steered the conversation elsewhere. “You just said ‘same as this garland.’ So this one is also sustained by merits? From this woman, or its other owner?”