Chapter 128: Arrival at Ghost Tomb

Chapter 128: Under the Watchful Eyes of Four, the Vengeful Spirit Awakens!

Apart from her initial shock, Zhao Fusheng’s multiple encounters with ghosts had quickly steadied her nerves.

Though the coachman’s vengeful spirit had revived, his rank was low—likely able to move only because of the peculiar spectral domain here.

Judging by the aura, the coachman’s spirit was probably below the Sha level, perhaps merely a minor haunting.

Her own hell realm had ascended to the second tier, and she had enough merit points to attempt absorbing the coachman’s vengeful spirit into her hell if danger arose.

If that failed, she still had a life-saving coin on her.

Should the spirit rebel, she could use the coin to force him away.

But that was her last resort.

This was Wan’an County’s territory. If the coachman left, he might cause trouble elsewhere. So, unless absolutely necessary, Zhao Fusheng did not intend to expel him.

The vengeful spirit rose to his feet.

The other three were blank-minded, eyes wide and unblinking, staring at the newly awakened specter.

“Cough, cough.”

Just as tensions peaked, Zhang Chuanshi suddenly cleared his throat, nearly causing Magistrate Pang’s heart to stop.

Zhang Chuanshi looked at Zhao Fusheng and said, “I have something to say, though I’m not sure if I should.”

The old man seemed timid, but in the face of the spirit’s revival, while others stayed frozen, he still managed a coherent sentence.

Zhao Fusheng regarded him differently and replied without hesitation, “Then don’t say it.”

Zhang Chuanshi’s face, half-decayed yet still resembling its original form, showed a blank expression.

“But, sir, I can’t help it—I feel like I’m about to faint right here.”

Though calm in demeanor, his body trembled uncontrollably.

Hearing this, Zhao Fusheng immediately said, “If you faint, the three of us will leave at once. No one will carry you.”

Fan Bisi’s pale face twisted into a look of schadenfreude.

“...Hiss.”

Zhang Chuanshi gasped sharply, abandoning any thought of collapsing.

After staggering several times, the dead man steadied himself.

He still gripped the coach whip firmly. His arm bent at a right angle, as if he had stood there motionless for a moment.

“Clang—clang—”

From afar came the sound of chiseling.

Hearing it seemed to serve as a signal; the dead man mechanically moved one leg forward and began to walk slowly.

“Tap!”

As he moved, the others exhaled deeply in relief.

“What do we do now?”

Zhang Chuanshi, who had been holding his breath, finally exhaled exaggeratedly upon seeing the spirit turn and walk away without attacking them, and suggested, “Perhaps we should return—”

“Sir, shall we go back?” he pleaded.

Fan Bisi held the lantern silently.

Magistrate Pang, terrified and flustered, had long lost his composure.

Earlier, he dared not breathe upon seeing the dead move; the air had been expelled from his lungs, his chest pressed painfully against his back from prolonged oxygen deprivation.

His shoulders were so tightly clenched he felt weak and sore all over.

He knew cases handled by the Demon Suppression Department were dangerous but had never imagined it this perilous. Fear overwhelmed him, inclining him to flee.

“Nonsense!” Zhao Fusheng scolded.

She tried not to mention the word “ghost,” but once uttered, it made Zhang Chuanshi stomp his foot anxiously.

“Sir, my lord, how can you say that word—”

“Ghost?” Zhao Fusheng asked.

“...” Zhang Chuanshi dared not reply.

“What now?” Fan Bisi asked Zhao Fusheng.

Though deeply shaken by the coachman’s resurrection, he had witnessed many strange and terrifying events within the Demon Suppression Department.

Just last night, he had even seen the Zhao couple’s vengeful spirits awaken before his eyes.

So despite his shock, he remained composed, unlike Zhang Chuanshi who seemed on the verge of madness.

Having spent time with Zhao Fusheng, Fan Bisi had begun to grasp some of her methods.

No sooner had he spoken than Zhao Fusheng turned toward the direction the coachman had gone.

A wild yet chilling thought struck him: Could Zhao Fusheng intend for them to follow the ghost?

The thought was so extreme it didn’t seem absurd but rather amusing.

“We’ll follow him and see.”

Zhao Fusheng’s voice thundered in their ears, detonating in Zhang Chuanshi’s mind.

“W-what?”

***

Zhang Chuanshi pitifully rubbed his ear.

“I didn’t quite catch that.”

“Heh heh heh,” Fan Bisi chuckled awkwardly and kindly translated, “Sir says we follow the dead man.”

“...”

Zhang Chuanshi wanted to faint, but Zhao Fusheng had warned him—if he did, the three would leave immediately, no one to carry him.

Thinking this through, he forced himself to stay upright.

Zhao Fusheng glanced at the three.

“We’re lost.”

They were in a ghost domain.

The ghost incidents in the west of the city had become quite serious; this ghost domain was far larger than the Beggar’s Alley from before.

Moreover, the terrain in the west was different from Beggar’s Alley.

Zhao Fusheng had explored the Confucius Temple during a safe window, so she remembered Beggar’s Alley well.

But she had never been to the west side, where the terrain was more complex.

She had missed the chance to familiarize herself with the path, and it was now the active time for vengeful spirits.

The coachman had died from his spirit’s revival but, drawn by the chiseling sounds, seemed to be walking deeper into the mist.

Zhao Fusheng analyzed,

“Though revived, the coachman’s vengeful spirit carries only a faint Sha energy. I estimate he’s either a minor haunting or a rudimentary revenant.”

“...”

No matter the rank, a vengeful spirit was still a ghost, which made Zhang Chuanshi tremble and fall silent.

Zhao Fusheng continued,

“I’ve handled several ghost cases and believe the rules governing vengeful spirits relate somewhat to their lives.”

For example, the ghost in Beggar’s Alley was a beggar in life, so after death it maintained begging behaviors.

The vengeful spirit in Dog Head Village had stealth and killing methods tied to its origins.

The Zhao couple’s case involved coffin lids and door marks associated with their killings.

“The coachman was driving a carriage before death, and we were originally headed to the western ghost mausoleum. It’s very likely his spirit now also heads there.”

As she spoke, she strode after the coachman.

Fan Bisi was scared but trusted Zhao Fusheng’s investigative skills and feared being abandoned.

Among the four, Zhao Fusheng was the only one with ghost-handling methods.

He was young, while Zhang Chuanshi was useless and Magistrate Pang elderly—at best, holding a lantern.

If left behind, the three would perish in the ghost domain; he could not afford to be left alone with two burdens.

So Fan Bisi followed without hesitation.

Zhang Chuanshi did not want to go but also feared being abandoned.

When Zhao Fusheng left and Fan Bisi followed, only the frail Magistrate Pang remained near him, heightening his anxiety.

“Sir, wait for me!”

His fear steadied his breath and legs, and he hurried forward.

Magistrate Pang, left alone, grew uneasy and hurried after, eventually overtaking Zhang Chuanshi.

“...”

They chased closely, quickly catching up with Zhao Fusheng.

Fan Bisi and Magistrate Pang held oil lamps, illuminating both sides.

Zhang Chuanshi hunched his shoulders and lowered his head, nervously glancing all around.

“This is off.”

Fan Bisi surveyed cautiously.

Their copper lamps lit only a small radius of about half a yard around them.

Beyond the faint glow, the west city had sunk into endless darkness.

The four were like solitary boats adrift in a vast dark sea, surrounded by unknown terrors.

Fan Bisi forced his mind to stay alert, fearing that if he stopped thinking, fear would consume him.

“Sir, ghosts suppress one another.”

He fixed his gaze on Zhao Fusheng, avoiding looking at the coachman ahead, who swung his whip like chiseling the void.

The sound of “clang, clang” echoed intermittently, and a strong scent of blood clung to him.

Under the lamp light, the vengeful spirit appeared grim and menacing.

Blood stains near the hem of his jacket were half-dried.

His heavy steps left bloody footprints, as if even in death dutifully guiding them.

“Logically, once a vengeful spirit awakens in the same ghost domain, no second vengeful spirit of equal rank should exist.”

Ghosts suppressed each other; two of the same rank in one domain would likely counterbalance, eventually falling into perfect slumber.

Zhao Fusheng’s parents were an exception.

They had both revived simultaneously, forming a unique dual-spirit case unprecedented in Han Dynasty history.

Zhao Fusheng nodded approvingly at Fan Bisi.

“You’re right.”

“Since a ghost domain formed over the western city, the mausoleum’s vengeful spirit must be powerful.”

Judging by the domain, the mausoleum’s spirit was no weaker than Sha rank.

Her words weighed heavily on Magistrate Pang and Fan Bisi.

Zhang Chuanshi also froze, his eyes darkening.

Though vengeful spirits were rampant in the Han Dynasty, not all hauntings were at the Sha level.

If all were that strong, the Demon Suppression Department would be helpless.

Most cases were below Sha level; Sha-level cases were rare.

Cases above Sha level were reported to the prefecture.

At calamity level, generals were called for aid.

But Wan’an County, shrouded in ghost mist, had seen several Sha-level or higher cases within just over a month—a true disaster.

“In this ghost domain, a newly awakened vengeful spirit should be suppressed by the mausoleum’s spirit, forced into slumber. Or the new spirit is extremely dangerous, born with a high rank, and can suppress the mausoleum’s spirit.”

Zhao Fusheng’s calm confidence seemed to influence Magistrate Pang and Zhang Chuanshi.

Though still fearful, they tried to control their panic and follow her reasoning.

“Sir, are all ghost domains the same?” Magistrate Pang asked.

Zhao Fusheng smiled.

“Not necessarily. But one thing’s certain—the mausoleum’s spirit is not being suppressed.”

If the coachman’s vengeful spirit was free, he should have been suppressed by the mausoleum’s spirit, but he moved at will.

“Could these two ghosts be allies?”

Zhang Chuanshi suddenly blurted.

He and Magistrate Pang, abandoning their mutual disdain, walked together like brothers in misfortune.

Zhao Fusheng replied,

“Old Zhang, that’s a good point.”

She paused.

“Look at the coachman’s actions.”

The others dared not look.

Following a ghost with a lit lantern was creepy enough, let alone watching a man who had just died, revived, and was now leading them.

Yet Zhao Fusheng’s amused expression was infectious.

Her confidence suggested she had this case well in hand.

Fan Bisi hesitated but forced himself to look up.

The coachman’s corpse stiffly moved forward, whip raised, arm swinging repeatedly as if chiseling the air.

“...”

Magistrate Pang trembled so fiercely his beard shook.

“My wife did the same—”

But when Mrs. Pang lost control, she struck a mirror with a hairpin, not chiseling empty air like the coachman.

“His movements resemble chiseling. Considering he died from a chest wound and now acts this way, I suspect his revival is influenced by the mausoleum’s vengeful spirit.”

In other words:

“He may have become a puppet or extension of the mausoleum’s spirit.”

Upon hearing this, the others widened their eyes and fell silent.

A vengeful spirit capable of summoning puppets was no ordinary ghost.

Much like the vengeful spirit controlled by Jia Yi, who commanded the Soul Ledger in the Han court.

Fan Bisi grew anxious, taking a deep breath.

“Sir—”

“Don’t panic.”

Zhao Fusheng waved him off.

“We’ll follow him. If I’m right, he’ll lead us to the vengeful spirit.”

She concluded,

“I suspect this ghost is sabotaging something.”

“Sealing?”

“Ghost seal!”

Magistrate Pang and Fan Bisi spoke simultaneously, their anxiety rising.

The ghost mausoleum bore seals carved by great generals of past dynasties, which restrained the mausoleum’s vengeful spirit.

Now, with the seal broken after the spirit’s revival, the spirit sought to escape.

If the seal shattered and the spirit fled, disaster would spread swiftly.

“Yes.”

Zhao Fusheng sighed.

“We can’t let the calamity worsen, or the whole of Wan’an County will be endangered.”

Thus, the four followed the coachman deeper into the ghost domain, seeking the hidden mausoleum to reseal the vengeful spirit.

They fell silent.

In the quiet night, the newly awakened puppet spirit continued swinging his whip, chiseling the void.

Behind him, the four clustered together, lanterns raised, silently following.

However, the oil in the lamps had been mostly spilled when taken, and the eerie environment drained the fuel rapidly.

After some unknown time, the lights dimmed—from barely illuminating their surroundings to flames no larger than a soybean.

Just as the flames threatened to die—

Their hearts leapt into their throats.

Within the ghost domain, once the fire went out, the suppressed terror would surge forth, scattering all reason.

Fan Bisi’s arm muscles stiffened and trembled; anxiously, he raised his hand, instinctively shielding the small flame.

Amid the terror, Zhang Chuanshi suddenly shouted,

“Sir, we’ve arrived!”

(End of chapter)