Chapter 58 – The Setup

Wei Yang had never heard of a Forbidden Formation before, but its meaning wasn’t difficult to guess. If all the truly skilled masters were as unrestrained in their use of magic as that evil monk from the secret sect, the world would undoubtedly be thrown into chaos. Forget about earth-shattering spells that could overthrow dynasties, even something as simple as altering fate, summoning spirits, or exorcising ghosts would be more than ordinary people could handle. Therefore, those sects that taught such powerful techniques must have established taboos or rules to restrict their disciples. If they didn’t want to be expelled or killed, they had to obey these rules and avoid harming the innocent.

It seemed the “Forbidden Formation” on Longhu Mountain operated on a similar principle. In truth, there were probably other solutions in genuinely dangerous situations, but was Zhang Xiuqi the type of person to be “flexible”? He probably didn’t even care about his own life…

Upon hearing this, Wei Yang immediately changed his tone: “Since it’s forbidden, let’s not use it. We’ll think of another way. Brother Qi, is there any way to save this guy?”

Zhang Xiuqi shook his head: “No.”

That made sense. The developer who had the Upper Corpse Jade Cicada had jumped to his death, the Lower Corpse had caused chaos throughout the hospital, and now this Middle Corpse had already killed two people and created something called a “Corpse Puppet.” Clearly, this wasn’t something that could be easily dealt with. In truth, Wei Yang didn’t care whether the leader of this criminal organization could be saved or not. However, if they accidentally killed him while exorcising the evil, it would be difficult to explain themselves. They needed to at least hold out until tomorrow.

After some intense thinking, Wei Yang spoke seriously: “Brother Qi, no matter how much you want to eliminate this evil, you’ll have to hold back today. It’s almost nightfall, and we can’t afford any more disruptions to your remaining souls. I’ll figure out a way to give you time to stabilize your soul. As for the evil here, let’s see if we can deal with it during the day or tomorrow.”

Pulling off a covert operation like this under surveillance was no easy task, especially since they didn’t know how the Corpse Puppet would behave at night. The risks were still high. However, if they didn’t try, Wei Yang wouldn’t be able to rest easy. He and Sun Muhua just needed to hold out until the police arrived, but what about Zhang Xiuqi? What if he lost his remaining souls while exorcising the evil? Wei Yang would regret it for the rest of his life.

Zhang Xiuqi looked down at the hand gripping his wrist. Wei Yang, out of nervousness, couldn’t control his strength anymore. His grip was like a vice, causing a faint pain in Zhang Xiuqi’s wrist. Someone had held him like this before, with a larger hand. The killing intent that had been stirred up by the evil energy gradually dissipated, leaving behind a vague sense of attachment. He could hear the plea and seriousness in Wei Yang’s tone, and he knew he should agree.

Seeing Zhang Xiuqi nod silently, the weight in Wei Yang’s heart immediately lifted. He had seen Zhang Xiuqi recklessly kill monsters before, but today wasn’t the right time. Every time Zhang Xiuqi vanquished evil, his soul became the most unstable, and today happened to be the third day of the lunar month. Wei Yang didn’t dare to imagine what would happen if Zhang Xiuqi charged in without thinking.

Relieved, Wei Yang continued to ask: “Brother Qi, how do you usually stabilize your soul on the third night of the lunar month? Do you have any special preparations?”

Zhang Xiuqi shook his head: “No. Just lie down and clench my teeth.”

Wei Yang was taken aback: “That’s it? Just lying down? But don’t you sleep lying down every day?”

“Every day, I bind my soul,” Zhang Xiuqi replied matter-of-factly, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

However, Wei Yang’s heart twisted. He finally understood that Zhang Xiuqi’s rigid, coffin-like sleeping posture wasn’t due to discipline but necessity. For this little Celestial Master who had lost his soul, survival took precedence over everything, even if his strange habits made him seem dull and laughable.

Suppressing the lump in his throat, Wei Yang forced a smile: “Alright, I’ll definitely find a way to give you time to bind your soul later.”

Zhang Xiuqi’s brow furrowed slightly, as if he suddenly remembered something. He reached behind his back and pulled out an object, handing it over: “Killing Blade. Use this.”

It was a short knife. The sheath was likely made of ebony, with most of its patterns worn away. The handle was wrapped in a layer of red rope, also showing signs of age. The knife looked utterly unremarkable, but Wei Yang had seen it countless times. Every night, he saw Zhang Xiuqi tuck this knife under his pillow. This was a ritual instrument that Zhang Xiuqi never went without, and now he was handing it over?

Choking back his emotions, Wei Yang pushed the knife back: “Brother Qi, I didn’t mean what I said to that guy earlier. I don’t need the Killing Blade. Besides, I still have the Talisman Jade your father made. I’ll be fine.”

Zhang Xiuqi looked visibly confused. He couldn’t tell which of Wei Yang’s words were true and which were false, but the refusal was clear. After a moment of thought, he pulled out two yellow talismans from his pocket and handed them over: “Evil Suppressing and Filth Dispelling. Keep them safe.”

The two talismans were genuine Dragon-Tiger Mountain scripts, worth a fortune on the market. Yet Zhang Xiuqi handed them to Wei Yang as casually as if they were tissues. Seeing the faint concern in Zhang Xiuqi’s expression, Wei Yang didn’t say anything. He took the talismans and tucked them into his pocket. Turning his gaze, he called out to Sun Muhua, who was still squatting nearby: “Woody, get over here.”

Sun Muhua was finally starting to recover. Today’s events—being kidnapped and then actually encountering a ghost—had been too much for his fragile heart. Seeing the grotesque, melting face of the figure on the bed and its twitching, bulging stomach had nearly driven him to the brink of hysteria. Only now did he realize he was a true skeptic. No matter how curious he was about supernatural things, actually seeing them in person was enough to scare the piss out of him.

Hearing Wei Yang call him, the guy almost burst into tears again: “Brother Qi, is this how the copper coins are supposed to be worn…”

“Stop babbling and get over here,” Wei Yang had no patience for this guy’s antics. He immediately instructed, “Today, we need to work together to buy Brother Qi some time. Pay close attention. This is what we’re going to do…”

Upstairs, Wei Yang was quietly discussing the plan with his sidekick. Downstairs, Wang Wei was growing increasingly agitated. He pulled his wet feet out of the glutinous rice water and kicked over the basin with a loud clang: “Uncle Miao, are these people just putting on a show? Washing their hands and feet with glutinous rice—does this look like exorcism to you?”

“It’s better to believe in it than not,” Miao Yun, who had also finished soaking his feet, shook off the water droplets. “An old man I knew once said that tombs shouldn’t be opened casually, and corpses definitely shouldn’t be touched. But none of us believed him. Now look what’s happened—big brother got cursed, and we can’t even figure out where it came from. And glutinous rice does have its uses. Old folks say it can draw out toxins and ward off evil. Maybe glutinous rice water can cleanse bad luck too.”

Miao Yun’s words were meant to be comforting, but even he wasn’t entirely convinced. Their generation had long since abandoned any reverence for gods or fear of ghosts. But when something they once laughed at suddenly became real, it was impossible not to feel fear. That Master Wei had spoken with such authority, as if he knew what he was doing. At a time like this, it was best to listen to the professionals.

Steeling himself, Miao Yun bent down and picked up a short knife from the table. The coffee table now held three or four knives of varying lengths, all taken from tombs. These items always sold well. Although they were technically contraband, there were plenty of fools who liked to keep a couple of “divine weapons” at home to show off. Luckily, two of his men were interested in blades and had stockpiled some at home. Otherwise, it would’ve been hard to find suitable weapons on such short notice.

Weighing the short knife in his hand, he gestured to one of his subordinates: “Go get the chickens we bought. Let’s kill a couple and see what happens.”

They were in a suburban village, where most of the residents were still farmers. Raising chickens and ducks was common, so getting a few roosters wasn’t too difficult. His men had already brought back three or five, but finding a true nine-catty yellow rooster would take a bit more effort.

Soon, a rooster was brought in—a young cockerel whose comb hadn’t even fully grown yet. Miao Yun frowned but didn’t say anything. With a swift motion, he slit the chicken’s throat. The little rooster thrashed wildly, not yet dead. Blood sprayed out like a fountain. Unfazed by the mess, Miao Yun grabbed the chicken by its wings and splattered the blood onto Wang Wei. The splotches of bright red blood clung to his body, making him look like the victim of a gruesome murder—chilling and horrifying.

But no one present cared about that. After dousing his nephew with chicken blood, Miao Yun cut open another chicken and splashed some blood on himself. The person sent to buy cinnabar hadn’t returned yet, but they had the Killing Blade, roosters, and glutinous rice ready. Since it was getting late, Miao Yun handed the short knife to Wang Wei and said gravely, “This knife has been blooded. You should keep it. It might come in handy. Let’s go upstairs.”

With these words, Wang Wei’s agitation finally subsided a bit. He tucked the knife into his waistband and followed Miao Yun upstairs. The fourth floor seemed to have its lights on now. The faint, yellowish light seeped through the gaps in the stairs, stretching their shadows long and thin, as if something lurked in the darkness. Miao Yun’s heart pounded as he thought about the half-human, half-ghost figure in the room. He couldn’t help but shiver.

In recent days, the boss had been acting even more erratically. At night, he would vomit black liquid and scratch at the bed. His stomach had also grown larger, as if he were pregnant. Could that so-called “Corpse Puppet” really be some kind of ghost fetus? If that ghostly thing tore its way out of his belly, would he survive? And what if that fierce ghost was born—would it seek revenge on them, the tomb raiders, like some kind of Egyptian pharaoh’s curse…

As he reached the top of the stairs to the fourth floor, Miao Yun’s heart was in his throat. He didn’t dare to breathe too loudly, carefully stepping onto the final stair. But when he saw the scene before him, his jaw dropped, and he was left speechless.