Chapter Seventy-Two: The Vengeful Spirit Reveals Itself

Chapter Seventy-Two

By the fire’s dark glow, flakes of skin flew in all directions.

Zhao Fusheng sat too close, and was showered head to toe in them.

She had heard that vengeful ghosts had also violated the laws in their past.

That familiar, maddening itch returned, burrowing deep into her skin. She clawed at her face and tore at her arms, scraping off pieces of skin and frantically pasting them onto the tattered paper figure in the dossier.

Streams of nosebleed dripped, pooling into a creek—a natural adhesive, binding her freshly torn skin to the paper figure’s original human skin, ‘repairing’ its body.

The blood flowed strangely, ‘trimming’ the scabs. The broken paper figure was now mostly restored, appearing more complete than before.

Zhao Fusheng summoned her last shred of clarity, and at the moment the vengeful ghost manifested, she unleashed the Infernal Capture.

The hell expanded, spreading toward where Wu Shaochun’s mother was.

Fengshen List notification: Capture failed, the vengeful ghost has already departed.

Three merit points were deducted. Zhao Fusheng had no time to feel the loss; her cognition was once again warped by the ghost’s law.

A sudden roar.

The flames blazed fiercely. The kitchen knife Wu Shaochun’s mother had been holding in midair slipped from her grasp, clattering onto the chopping board.

The human blood splattered on the chicken pieces and chopping board mysteriously vanished. Wu Shaochun, Wu Liyou, and the rest, who had been frantically scratching, regained their composure.

The owl’s cry, which had disappeared, returned—its eerie call sent chills down their spines.

…

Zhao Fusheng lifted her heavy, weary head, her expression vacant.

Everything had revived—except for the absence of Wu Shaochun’s mother, nothing seemed to have changed in the Wu Liyou household.

“This chicken was perfectly fine, why was it only half-cut and then left?” Wu Liyou, upon awakening, noticed nothing amiss but felt pained seeing the chicken lying on the chopping board.

He had slaughtered chickens and ducks willingly to reduce taxes, but seeing his beloved poultry left unattended, he couldn’t help but feel regret. “Who left it here like this? Ligong, Ligong! Call your wife to finish cutting and cooking the chicken.”

He then looked at Zhao Fusheng, noticing her lost, exhausted expression, and quickly added, “Sir, you must be tired from your journey. Why not eat soon, wash your face and hands, and rest early? Investigating the case can wait until tomorrow.”

Zhao Fusheng remained silent.

She realized the vengeful ghost had been here.

Upon waking, despite her muddled thoughts, her cautious and suspicious nature led her to first check her spiritual sea.

The Fengshen List within was unopened, hell had opened a layer—everything was as it had been when she first arrived in Doghead Village. But her merit points had changed, dropping from fourteen to six.

Things unrelated to the ghost were unaffected; moreover, the Fengshen List existed above the ghost’s law, immune to its influence.

She remembered: when she left the Demon Suppression Office, she had fourteen merit points. Upon arrival at Doghead Village, after moving into Wu Liyou’s house, they dropped to nine.

Some event had occurred in between, with gaps in her memory. Now, after her brief time outside the house, another three points were lost.

Zhao Fusheng’s gaze fell upon the half-unrolled dossier in her hand, which recorded a ghost case handled by the Demon Suppression Office years ago.

She rotated the dossier, noticing faint traces of ink—a sign someone had once written on it.

Unfortunately, the ink now looked washed, leaving only a few streaks, the characters themselves unreadable.

In the firelight, the half-opened dossier became translucent, as if a pair of strange eyes were peering at her from the other side.

“Sir…” Wu Liyou called out when he saw her silence.

“Hmm?” Zhao Fusheng responded, then turned her wrist and flipped the dossier.

The other side was slightly yellowed, revealing no oddities.

Yet the sense of being watched persisted. She was certain this dossier held secrets.

The vanished merit points, and the fact she wouldn't carry an old, useless dossier without reason, suggested clues to the ghost case were hidden within—but she couldn’t yet unlock its secret.

Steadying herself, Zhao Fusheng rolled up the dossier and looked up, asking, “Bring Wu Ligong here.”

Wu Liyou hesitated, then agreed and called out, “Ligong, Ligong! The official calls for you.”

Wu Shaochun, scratching his head, muttered, “Tonight Uncle Liyou’s family killed chickens and ducks, such a feast. Why isn’t my mother here—?”

Zhao Fusheng recalled this sharp young man, and glanced up at him. “Your mother likes crowds?”

He laughed, scratching the back of his head, carefree and boisterous.

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“These days, grain is precious. Whenever there’s a feast, everyone in the village comes to join in.”

“We haven’t had anything rich in ages. If my mother knew Uncle Liyou was killing chickens and ducks tonight, she’d come help and eat before heading home.” He sounded puzzled, finally saying, “Never mind, I’ll check in on her later.”

Wu Liyou, hearing this exchange while calling his brother, glared at him but smiled at Zhao Fusheng. “Shaochun’s a filial lad. His father died young, and his mother raised him alone. He used to work with the group from Huanggang Village, earned some money, but his mother disapproved, saying it violated the law and fearing he'd be executed, leaving her without anyone to bury her.”

“Uncle—” Wu Shaochun, afraid his secrets would be exposed, quickly interrupted.

Wu Liyou stopped himself.

Zhao Fusheng was about to probe further when Wu Ligong, summoned by Wu Liyou, arrived, interrupting their conversation.

Whatever Wu Shaochun had done was irrelevant to her—the urgent matter was solving Doghead Village’s major case.

Zhao Fusheng looked at Wu Ligong. This man was born in the Han dynasty…

At that thought, Zhao Fusheng was startled.

She’d never been to Doghead Village before, nor did she know Wu Liyou’s family. She was merely lodging here—

Thinking this, she sensed something odd.

If she wasn’t familiar with Wu Liyou’s family, why choose to stay here? Moreover, she seemed to know Wu Ligong’s birthdate intimately, as if it were ingrained in her mind.

“You were born in—” she thought a moment, following her instincts, “Han dynasty, year 198?”

She spoke without thinking, relying on subconscious recall.

Wu Liyou was surprised, then praised, “Sir, you truly have foresight.”

Wu Ligong stood quietly, not daring to speak.

He was forty-eight this year, but looked even older.

Thin as a reed, dressed in rags, barefoot, his back bowed from years of toil, shoulders uneven, he seemed even less articulate than Wu Liyou.

“Ligong, the official has questions. Answer well—she’ll reduce our taxes,” Wu Liyou instructed.

At the prospect of a tax reduction, Wu Ligong’s eyes sparkled, and he straightened his bent back.

Zhao Fusheng nodded and got straight to the point. “Wu Liyou told me that in the Han dynasty, year 205—forty-one years ago, on the first of August—you pointed at the moon and said you saw a figure there.”

This memory was from forty-one years ago. Years of labor had dulled Wu Ligong’s response, but given the promise of reduced taxes, he tried hard to recall.

Fortunately, that year Wu Dajing’s mother had a nosebleed—a notable event for the Wu family. As he remembered, he nodded repeatedly. “Yes, yes, yes!”

After speaking, he moved his lips, glanced furtively at Zhao Fusheng, and quickly lowered his head.

Zhao Fusheng’s pupils contracted. She barked, “Speak plainly. Do not conceal the truth or you’ll pay double taxes next year if I find you lying!”

She had seized the Wu family's lifeline.

Wu Ligong dropped to his knees, crying, “Please judge wisely, sir. What I saw wasn’t a person—it was a ghost!”

“What?” The answer surprised Zhao Fusheng, yet it felt oddly expected.

“I saw a ghost on the moon, like a newborn spirit.”

As the dam of memory burst, the scene from that year flooded Wu Ligong’s mind. He shivered. “That night, August first, I was misbehaving, refusing to sleep. While cooling off outside, I saw a child on the moon, newly born, dragging a blood-red cord, crawling around the moon, staring at my grandmother.”

He was young then—not afraid. Turning, he saw his grandmother lying on a bamboo chair, half asleep.

Wu Ligong woke her, saying, “Grandma, someone’s watching you.”

Wu Dajing’s mother, roused by her grandson, asked, confused, “Where?”

Wu Ligong pointed at the moon. “There.”

The elderly woman, seeing him point at the moon, quickly stopped him, saying it was unlucky and would mean his ear had to be cut.

Later, when the Wu family looked at the moon again, its light was clear—no one could be seen.

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Everyone dismissed it as childish nonsense, perhaps a trick of the eye.

But Wu Ligong later whispered to his grandmother, “Grandma, the watcher looked like a child, dragging a red cord—”

Earlier, Wu Dajing’s mother had helped deliver a strange child at Wu Datong’s house. Hearing her grandson’s words, she was instantly terrified.

Wu Dajing soon changed the subject, and his mother said nothing more, but her nose suddenly began to bleed.

Wu Dajing’s mother must have known her days were numbered, but for reasons unknown, she never explained it to her children and grandchildren. This allowed the Wu family a rare forty years of peace.

…

As Zhao Fusheng pondered, Wu Ligong suddenly exclaimed, “There’s a figure in the moon again—”

“Grandma, look!”

This stooped man seemed unable to distinguish illusion from reality, his consciousness drifting back forty years. He even mistook Zhao Fusheng for his grandmother, tugging at her sleeve.

The bonfire had, at some point, been subdued. The air grew cold and oppressive.

Wu Shaochun and Wu Liyou, though not in control of vengeful ghosts, both turned pale at the ghost’s impending presence.

Wu Ligong, oblivious to everything around him, pulled Zhao Fusheng’s sleeve, pointing at the sky. “Look, there’s someone.”

Zhao Fusheng’s heart clenched.

She instinctively looked up. The moon’s color had changed. A faint black mist curled around its edges.

From the mist, a shadow slowly emerged from the moon’s corner.

Under the moon’s dim halo, the shadow was tinged with a faint red glow.

Then, those blood-red eyes opened, meeting Zhao Fusheng’s gaze directly.

The instant she was stared at by that shadow, a chill enveloped her.

The moon hanging high in the sky began to sink. The orb grew larger and larger, and the ghost, dragging a bloody umbilical cord, silently crawled down from the moon.

Moonlight spilled onto the ground, and the rich scent of blood spread. Subtle ghostly mist appeared around them.

“Don’t point—” Zhao Fusheng’s head felt as heavy as a millstone, and she shouted.

Wu Ligong, pointing at the moon, couldn’t hear her. His mind was trapped forty-one years ago, still calling, “Grandma, someone’s watching you.”

“…Looks like a child, dragging a red cord—”

His figure was bathed in moonlight, and a ghostly shadow followed the light, slipping into the darkness behind him.

Wu Ligong still pointed at the moon. In the next moment, the skin on his face peeled away like broken porcelain, sliding off in sheets. His entire body collapsed, dissolving into a pool of blood and flesh, vanishing before everyone’s eyes.

…

A gasp!

Zhao Fusheng jolted awake.

She had been suffocating, unknowingly fallen asleep, now gulping for air and struggling to lift her eyelids as she looked around.

Her vision was blurred; first, she saw the bonfire burning fiercely.

On the ground was a filthy chopping board with half a chicken and a pile of cut meat.

Several men stood nearby, one holding a chicken—his face vaguely familiar.

She gripped a dossier tightly in one hand, and in the other she held a piece of thin skin.

Zhao Fusheng blinked. Her head throbbed, and as she restarted her thoughts, her mind felt rusted. After a long moment, fragments of memory flooded her mind.

Wu Shaochun, Wu Liyou—

Familiar names surfaced, and she finally matched the people before her with her memories.

She had received a ghost case, came—

At that, she paused, then realized: she had come to Doghead Village to investigate a ghost case, where the village chief’s family had mysteriously disappeared.

She had lodged with Wu Liyou’s family, who were preparing a welcome feast. She came out to chat, and somehow lost consciousness, falling asleep.

Perhaps it was exhaustion from the journey?

That thought entered her mind, but she quickly dismissed it.

She had encountered a ghost!