Chapter Thirty-Two: Revealing the True Form

Chapter Thirty-Two

Zhao Fusheng nodded, put away the lamp oil, and her face instantly darkened.

“You’ve killed without hesitation and nearly cost me my life before. I’ll remember these debts for now. I’ll go to Beggar Alley and see for myself. If things are as you say, then delivering the lamp and telling me the past today counts as a merit, and our previous grudges can be set aside for the time being.” Earlier, she had been all smiles, but after taking what she wanted, her attitude shifted without warning. “But if you dare deceive me, I’ll take your life without hesitation.”

“Wan’an County is under my jurisdiction now. For you to kill so many and flay people to make lanterns—your lawlessness is monstrous, your crimes unforgivable—” As she spoke, she stood up and tugged at the parchment made of human skin, pulling the lamp that had been pressed upon it toward herself.

With a nudge of her elbow, the lamp she’d pulled closer toppled over.

Lamp oil spilled out, soaking everything around. The messy layers of human-skin parchment beneath the lamp were instantly drenched, and the foul stench from the lamp spread through the air. The flame on the blackened wick, still alive, suddenly flared up with a whoosh.

All of this happened in a flash.

Paperman Zhang didn’t even have time to react before the flames roared skyward. The lamp oil, whatever it was made of, burned swiftly wherever it touched. Several sheets of human-skin parchment were caught in the fire, and from their surfaces surged a thick black smoke, condensing into faces twisted in pain and malice. Wails and groans rose one after another.

“You—”

Paperman Zhang was both shocked and furious, never expecting Zhao Fusheng to turn on him so abruptly. His anger boiled over, but he seemed to fear the flames. He reached out, intent on grabbing Zhao Fusheng’s arm, but before he could touch her, he remembered the vengeful ghost she commanded and hastily withdrew his hand.

The fire blazed higher and smoke billowed upward.

Seeing how flammable the parchment was, Zhao Fusheng immediately shoved the pile beside her toward the flames, snatching a few sheets to stuff into her own arms.

With a thud, the heap of parchment collapsed, smothering the flames. But the lamp oil was strange; Zhao Fusheng felt that once this fire was lit, it would not be easily extinguished.

Sure enough, thick smoke welled up from the gaps in the parchment. Witnessing this, she immediately dashed for the door, calling out as she went, “No need to see me out. Once I’ve finished my business, I’ll return for you!”

“Zhao Fusheng, you—!” Paperman Zhang watched as the human-skin parchments he’d collected over years were pushed into the flames. He understood the power of this lamp oil better than anyone, and frantically tried to dig them out—

But as soon as he scattered the pile, the flames beneath, as if seizing their chance, exploded upward with a roar, engulfing him in fire.

“Aaah!” His scream was shrill as the fire engulfed his hands—hands white as jade, now burning like paper, turning to ash in the blink of an eye.

Just before she left the house, Zhao Fusheng glanced back to see Paperman Zhang’s hands ablaze. The fire stopped abruptly as it reached his sleeves, but his hands had been reduced to nothing, only blackened stumps remaining, as if his arms were hollow tubes of rolled parchment.

Paperman Zhang was truly made of paper!

Though Zhao Fusheng had crossed into this ghost-haunted Han Dynasty and come to accept the existence of vengeful spirits, the sight of a living man revealed to be made entirely of paper left her deeply shaken.

“Ahhh!!!” Horrible, piercing screams rang out, some old, some young, male and female.

Paperman Zhang raised his wide sleeves, hiding his broken wrists within. The sleeve, as broad as a door plank, was lifted high to shield his face, but the fire quickly leapt up, consuming all the human-skin parchments in the room.

From the gap between his sleeves, a pair of eyes gleamed red with hatred, glaring at Zhao Fusheng.

“Zhao Fusheng, how dare you set my Zhang family alight—”

“I will—”

His words were cut off by the flames engulfing him, wrapping him in their blaze.

At that instant, Zhao Fusheng sensed an extreme chill enveloping Paperman Zhang—a presence of deathly coldness.

“Help—help!” Zhang Chuan-shi’s screams now rang out as well. He had been making tea and staying out of sight during Zhao Fusheng’s exchange with Paperman Zhang. Now, after the fire started, he could hide no longer and was trapped inside as well.

These two, both surnamed Zhang and even related by blood, were the same breed—harboring ill will toward her and the Demon Subjugation Bureau.

Zhao Fusheng had no intention of saving him; her thoughts remained on whether Paperman Zhang would survive.

Though the man possessed strange abilities—especially after she discovered his paper body—she wondered if this was his true form. But today, she’d burned all bridges with this act. Their enmity was now irreconcilable; only one of them would survive in the end.

All she could hope was that, whatever dark arts he possessed, paper would ultimately yield to fire, and that he would perish in the blaze.

As Zhao Fusheng thought this, a sudden change occurred.

A wave of chilling, evil energy rose at her feet. Sensitive as she was to the presence of ghosts, she felt a surge of ghostly power shoot skyward.

She instinctively looked down. Within the burning house, she saw a shadow spreading outward, extending across the ground.

Amid the flames, Paperman Zhang’s body—already consumed by fire—reappeared.

But now, his figure was grotesquely altered. His black robes billowed, swelling like a balloon. In Zhao Fusheng’s horrified gaze, his body, wrapped in black, shot up in height and size at a frantic pace.

The house could no longer contain him; walls and beams cracked as his body forced its way out, swallowing the fire into his belly.

His body grew ever larger, the skin stretching taut, deep wrinkles on his face smoothing away, his flesh turning pale and translucent, swelling like a balloon until he towered over twenty feet tall.

The unquenched flames inside him lit up his belly, rendering him semi-transparent, the inner light glowing, making him look from afar like a monstrous, hellish lantern.

His colossal form shattered the house, emerging before Zhao Fusheng. His head, grotesquely distorted, turned to look down at her, his features huge and misshapen, eyes burning with malice.

“You dare destroy the Zhang family—”

Now that he’d grown, his voice had changed, echoing hollowly.

“Destroyed my human-skin—”

Zhao Fusheng had never witnessed anything so bizarre, not even in the ghost films of her previous life. Terror overwhelmed her reason; under his gaze, she tore down a lantern hanging from the eaves and fled, running as fast as she could from that accursed house.

She ran blindly, not daring to look back.

She could feel Paperman Zhang’s head, perched atop his giant lantern-like body, his blood-red eyes fixed on her, cold laughter dogging her every step. That gaze stabbed like a poisoned needle into her back.

In the howling wind, Paperman Zhang’s legs, limp and twisted, “stood” awkwardly, and from his sleeve emerged a long, pale arm, swollen like a wind-filled doll’s limb, reaching for her.

At the sound of the wind, Zhao Fusheng turned in terror and saw this horrifying sight.

A stench of death washed over her, the shadow looming, her heart nearly stopping. The pallid, bloated hand swept toward her, threatening to crush her like a mountain.

In that instant, Zhao Fusheng felt like Sun Wukong, trapped beneath Buddha’s palm, certain she was about to die—

But under the power of the fire, Paperman Zhang’s ballooned body floated upward like a kite.

“Ah!!!” he screamed, his icy fingers brushing past her. As he howled in fury, his body, like a sky lantern, drifted up into the heavens.

Zhao Fusheng, escaping by a hair’s breadth, watched as Paperman Zhang’s burning, lantern-like form rose higher and higher, putting distance between them.

Panting heavily, she stared at the scene above. “Too terrifying! Too terrifying!” Her heart hammered madly, as if trying to burst from her chest.

She had accepted the presence of ghosts in this Han Dynasty, learned of their terrors from Fan Bisheng, seen the power of ghostly curses, and even witnessed her own parents nearly possessed by vengeful spirits. She had once used a ghost’s power to subdue her parents and thought herself prepared.

But nothing could have readied her for Paperman Zhang’s transformation into a giant lantern, swallowing fire into his belly. The shock to her soul was profound.

This era was one of unspeakable danger.

Only now did she truly understand Fan Bisheng’s warning, and why he said, “If you can survive a year or two, consider yourself lucky.”

Her face was ashen, a mix of fear and unwillingness. Had she come back from death only to cower and wait for doom?

Her expression shifting, Zhao Fusheng’s trembling hand reached for her side, where she had stashed a dossier of the ghost case from forty years ago, a box of lamp oil taken from Paperman Zhang, a roll of human-skin parchment, and the half-finished lantern she still held.

After a while, her racing heartbeat slowed, fear faded, and reason returned.

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m not doomed yet. I still have resources.”

She still had time.

Though haunted by a vengeful ghost, that ghost was now a source of power. And she still carried the Investiture of the Gods—one day she would open the divine registry, enshrine the vengeful ghosts, and send them to their proper place.

She possessed human-skin parchment and lamp oil, enough to craft ghost-repelling lanterns.

If she could resolve this ghost case, she would gain merit.

Her face grew calm, her panic giving way to determination.

“I won’t die. I won’t die—”

She looked up at the sky. By now, Paperman Zhang had floated several stories above the ground, his massive body shrinking with distance, the terror he’d inspired gradually ebbing.

Wiping the cold sweat from her brow, Zhao Fusheng knew he could do her no harm for the moment.

With her resolve settled, she glanced behind her.

In truth, after fleeing Paperman Zhang’s house in a panic, she had no idea where she’d run, nor which direction his house lay.

Yet she looked back, seeing only rows of low, dilapidated dwellings.

Such a commotion at the Zhangs, with Paperman Zhang transforming into a monstrous lantern and flying into the sky—this could not be a minor affair in Wan’an County. She could sense eyes peeking out from many of the ramshackle houses, stealing glances at the strange spectacle above.

Yet, no one screamed or cried out. It was as if the common folk were long inured to such horrors, enduring in silence.

This abandoned county was as quiet as a city of ghosts.

Zhao Fusheng was keenly aware that this was a strange era, where human life was as worthless as dirt. She was utterly alone here—no backup, no friends, no family.

In danger, there would be no one to save or help her. She could rely only on herself.

She looked up at Paperman Zhang drifting in the sky, her eyes growing resolute.

No matter what, there was no turning back. She would resolve the matter of Beggar Alley before the Fan brothers returned.

Fan Bisheng had mentioned that Beggar Alley was in the south of the city. In Zhao Fusheng’s own memories, she knew nothing of Wan’an County’s layout.

Fortunately, Fan Bisheng had said the Confucius Temple in the south was well-known. After winding her way out of the alleys and back to the main street, she finally saw a few scattered figures.

The vast Wan’an County appeared half-deserted.

She stopped someone to ask directions. At first, the person was reluctant to speak, and seeing her alone, even regarded her with malice.

Only when Zhao Fusheng revealed her identity as an officer of the Demon Subjugation Bureau did the man turn pale, pointing out the way to the south.

Worried he might lie, she made him lead her personally.

The man, about thirty, gaunt and haggard, shook his head in terror at the prospect of going to the southern part of the city.

“I won’t go, I won’t!” he cried, nearly falling to his knees in fright. “The ghosts are raging in Beggar Alley. Many went in and never came out—they’re all trapped there.”

“If there weren’t ghosts, I wouldn’t go either,” Zhao Fusheng replied, tightening her grip on his arm. “Just lead me to the entrance of Beggar Alley and you can go home.”

Though she spoke calmly, her heart was anxious.

Clearly, the disturbances in Beggar Alley were severe.

Though the common folk were now aware of ghosts, if the government wished to keep things secret, most people still believed the world was at peace and considered themselves lucky, thinking ghostly deaths were rare.

But the situation in Wan’an County had worsened to such a degree that even the ghost trouble in Beggar Alley was common knowledge. Clearly, in the absence of the Demon Subjugation Bureau, the county’s situation was already spiraling out of control.

Second update!

A double-length chapter of 4,000 words.

Thanks to mkyjy and Miao Sha Tudou for their generous support.

These two chapters are extra updates as thanks.

(End of chapter)