Wang Junhui changed into his ritual robes and stood in the courtyard. He instructed me to bring out the low table from my grandfather's room. I obeyed without question.
He paced the yard, tracing cryptic patterns with his steps. After a moment, he pointed southeast. "Place the table there."
I set it down. "What now?"
"Incense burner. Candles."
Our funeral supply shop kept such items stocked. I fetched them quickly.
He handed me a talisman. "A protection charm. Drawn by a friend—a master of this craft. Hold it. Even if your grandfather's yang energy fades, this will shield you."
Grandpa once mentioned talismans: yellow, blue, violet, silver, gold—five tiers. I didn't know the distinctions. "What tier is this?"
He raised an eyebrow. "You know the ranks? Violet. My friend's earlier work. Minor for him."
Violet? Grandpa said most talisman masters struggled just to create one. Tiering them was rarer still. Yet Wang Junhui called it "minor"?
I started to ask about this friend. He cut me off. "Enough. Back inside. Don't disrupt the ritual."
I retreated to Grandpa's room. If Wang Junhui failed, we both might die here.
The yard was unnaturally cold. Midsummer noon, yet no warmth touched it. Once, I'd have welcomed the chill. Now, fear clenched my chest.
I gripped the talisman, mentally sifting through Grandpa's ghost-breaking techniques. Many came to mind—all requiring controlled qi. I'd only dabbled in his breathing exercises, my focus sporadic…
Regret washed over me.
I'd never believed in ghosts. Never practiced seriously. That would change.
Outside, Wang Junhui lit the candles. He laid a stack of talismans on the table, then drew a short coin sword from his briefcase. Red threads bound the coins, now grimy, almost black in places.
He adjusted his ritual crown. "Chu Yi. Whatever you see—no panic. No shouts. Understood?"
I nodded. Shut the door. Watched through the window.
He gazed at the second floor, thoughtful. Suddenly, he flicked his sleeve, bit his index finger, and let blood drip onto the table.
"By blood, I open this Soul-Summoning Altar. May the Three Pure Ones grant protection."
The drops sizzled on the wood, bubbling like boiling water.
Incredible.
He tossed two talismans at the candle flames. Whoosh. They ignited, fire leaping a foot high.
Twin plumes of blue smoke rose.
Wang Junhui formed a hand seal, pointed. "By the Great Dao, boundless purity—Soul-Guiding Qi, heed my command! Go!"
The smoke coiled like serpents, merged, and snaked toward the second floor.
Ignoring it, he lit another talisman, chanting. Finished, he flung it skyward. It fluttered like a paper butterfly, following the smoke.
I stared, awestruck. If not for his warning, I'd have applauded.
Just as wonder began to eclipse fear, an icy gust swept down from upstairs—straight for the altar.
The candle flames guttered wildly. Near extinction.
Wang Junhui snorted. His robe swept out. The wind died. The flames steadied.
He roared at the second floor: "Wretched spirit! Dare you defile this altar? Think I lack the will to destroy you?"
Anger edged his voice. I guessed few ghosts challenged him so brazenly.
A plume of blue smoke—the earlier summoning—burst apart upstairs. Scattered. Xiang Lili had shattered it.
My shock deepened. How? Dead days, yet this strong?
Grandpa said ghosts of illness or age, unless trapped on cursed ground, were seldom fierce. Only the wronged or suicidal became truly violent.
Was Xiang Lili murdered?
But the coroner said heart failure…
A woman's shriek tore from upstairs. Xiang Lili's sealed door slammed open. A chair flew out—aimed at Wang Junhui's head. A talisman clung to its leg.
He snatched another charm, chanting rapidly. "By the Law's decree—Shatter!"
Crack! The talisman struck. The chair veered, smashing beside him.
He eyed the wreckage. "That Restraining Talisman hurt, didn't it? One more, and you're finished. Show yourself!"
His voice boomed like temple bells. Even I felt it in my bones.
Crimson light erupted from the room. It clung to the second-floor railing, coiling like a snake before solidifying. Naked. Xiang Lili.
Her head swiveled—toward me, toward the altar.
Wang Junhui's robe rippled. "I grant you one incense stick's time. Speak your grievance. If it harms none, I will fulfill it and send you onward. Refuse… and I will damn you for eternity."
Power radiated from him. The oppressive gloom thinned. Xiang Lili's grip on the railing faltered; half her body sagged.
She hooked her legs over the rail, dangling upside down. Her eyes locked on Wang Junhui.
Pure terror filled them. She feared him.
My respect for Wang Junhui soared.
He showed no pity for her nakedness. Another cold snort. "Get down!"
The command shattered her hold. She plummeted, landing hunched before the altar.
Shivering, curled tight—utterly defenseless.
I swallowed. This was the ghost who chased me through streets? Subdued so easily? What level of Daoist was he?
Before I could ponder, Xiang Lili knelt, kowtowing frantically. Pleading for mercy.
Wang Junhui sighed. "You've shed no innocent blood. For that, I show leniency. But haunting a home? Terrorizing Chu Yi? These are forbidden acts for your kind."
She looked from him to me, whimpering. Without his spell, I understood nothing.
She bowed toward me several times. Apology.
Wang Junhui turned. "Chu Yi. Come out. She has words for you. As her landlord, you were closest to her in this town. Send her on her final journey."
Pity stirred in me.
I opened the door, stepping cautiously. The fear of her leaping onto my back—never again.
I reached his side. He touched my forehead. "Done. You'll understand her now. Remember: stand as her kin. Grant her wish, unless it demands too much."
I nodded, looking down at the naked, shivering woman kneeling in the dust.