Chapter 3: Zheng Yanxia Part 2

The blood-drawn “Vermilion Bird Burns Evil Talisman” pattern ignited like fire upon leaving her palm, a burning firebird drilling straight underground along the ghost-seeking talisman path. Wang Ya vaguely felt the talisman’s rune power turn into burning flames below, and the old ghost’s howl rang in her ears again, as if scorched by fire. The air’s yin qi vanished, the night’s dark gloom lifted, and the air lost its chill; the breeze carried the coolness unique to summer nights.

Wang Ya had burned essence blood in one go to draw four divine talismans and fired three extremely draining blood talismans, nearly exhausting herself. Her legs trembled, knees buckled; she could barely stand.

Whether the old ghost relied on a yin vein or yin acupoint for survival, those two talismans into its lair couldn’t destroy it. Wang Ya didn’t dare slack; she dragged her weakened body back to the roadside, sat by the bus station shelter smashed by a boulder, laid out the Big Dipper Seven Stars Formation with ancient bronze coins for protection, and sat cross-legged in the center to rest.

Eradicating the old ghost entirely wasn’t hard—shove these ancient bronze coins into its body, and it’d dissipate. But Wang Ya was reluctant. She truly didn’t want to capture it. Who asked those guys not to pay her and ditch her heartlessly to face the old ghost alone while they fled!

Wang Ya knew even more: if the old ghost depended on a yin acupoint or yin vein, capturing it in its lair without it emerging was extremely hard and dangerous. Though she’d wounded it earlier, the site now had formed evil qi from the old ghost and yin acupoint. Without exorcising the ghost and breaking the evil qi, it’d become a place of great calamity—no building or selling houses; even avoiding deaths would be impossible!

Wang Ya recalled the Taoist among those who rushed out in the car wasn’t very skilled, but the Retro Tang Suit Woman who led them out from right above the old ghost’s burial spot had some ability. She should know the site’s danger. Wang Ya wouldn’t bleed and toil tonight for nothing; she needed payment. She was broke now.

Wang Ya sat another half hour; no movement around, insect chirps resumed from the bushes. She figured the old ghost wouldn’t emerge tonight, sighed in slight relief, and relaxed. Exhaustion crashed like a tide; her whole body ached, especially her right calf—she’d swept the Ghost-Possessed Taoist’s legs earlier, kicking steel-like shins, and it hurt badly. No energy to check the bruising; as long as she could run and jump without bone or tendon damage, it was fine. Sleepy but afraid to sleep lest the old ghost return, she forced her eyelids open, pinched her thighs to stay awake until cockcrow. Then she relaxed fully, collected the ancient bronze coins and Ghost-Capturing Copper Bell, leaned against the Bus Station sign, and closed her eyes to sleep.

Wang Ya rolled over, felt softness beneath and a blanket over her as if on a bed. Something felt off—she’d slept roadside! She jolted awake, eyes wide; snow-white sheets met her gaze. She shot up, scanned around: a hospital room, with an IV stand by the bed, bottle dripping into her. Single bed, sofa, LCD TV, fridge nearby. Wang Ya paused: Who sent me to the hospital? Is this a hospital?

She pulled the needle, got down, found herself in Hospital Gown.

Wang Ya reached the door to open it when a toilet flush sounded behind. Someone in the bathroom. Did those who ditched me yesterday return this morning, see I wasn’t dead, and send me here? Is that Retro Tang Suit Woman in there?

Wang Ya went to the bathroom door, arms crossed, casually waiting for “that woman” to emerge and question her shamelessness! The door opened; a stranger in plaid vest and pleated skirt appeared, startled by Wang Ya—”Ah!”—then asked upon recognizing her: “You’re awake?”

Wang Ya eyed the unfamiliar woman: “Who are you?” Nurses in hospitals weren’t odd, but a white-collar dressed woman was.

“I’m Liu. Call me Assistant Liu.”

Wang Ya asked: “Why are you here?” She turned, sat on the sofa, hungry, grabbed an apple from the tea table, and bit in.

Assistant Liu said she’d fainted roadside that morning; company colleagues sent her here, left Assistant Liu to care for her. Wang Ya guessed it was that haunted real estate company.

This Assistant Liu wasn’t caring but watching her. Just awake, and she called someone. Wang Ya’s sharp hearing caught a woman’s voice: “She’s awake?”

Assistant Liu: “Yes.”

“Hold her there. I’ll be there at six.”

Wang Ya calmly finished the apple: “No food?”

Assistant Liu: “There is!” Grabbed takeout menu, asked what she wanted.

Wang Ya ordered; Assistant Liu asked where she was from—accent sounded Yun-Gui-Chuan.

Wang Ya disliked the prying, hummed vaguely, grabbed remote, turned on TV, ignoring Assistant Liu.

Assistant Liu pouted quietly at Wang Ya’s attitude, sat aside flipping a magazine.

Wang Ya ate her fill; time was just past two PM, back to bed to sleep. She was truly drained; those four talismans last night consumed massive essence, qi, and spirit. She felt her own wilted state; mirror showed pale face, bloodless lips.

By past five PM, Wang Ya woke refreshed. She found her luggage in the cabinet but not her changed clothes; bag looked rummaged. Asked Assistant Liu; she’d thrown them out. Wang Ya fumed—she had only three outfits to rotate, and they tossed without asking!

Assistant Liu saw her anger, pursed lips: a ragged T-shirt treated like treasure.

Wang Ya crossed arms, snapped: “No matter how ragged, it’s my clothes. You have no right to throw my stuff!”

Assistant Liu raised brows: So what if I did?

Wang Ya truly angered, dug out clothes, showered, changed, packed, and headed out.

Assistant Liu jumped up as Wang Ya grabbed bag for door: “Hey hey, where you going?”

Wang Ya amusedly eyed her: “Where I go your business?”

Assistant Liu stiffened, then smiled: “Little sister, my bad for tossing your clothes. I’ll buy you a new one. Just twenty or thirty bucks for a T-shirt, no biggie. Come on, you’re hospitalized; doctor didn’t discharge you!” Reached for the bag to pull her back.

Wang Ya “hmph-hmphed,” shook bag free, yanked door open—and saw a blank-eyed young woman at the threshold. She blurted: “Zheng Yanxia!” Then narrowed eyes, sneered: “So it is you!”

Author’s Note:

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