Chapter 64: Soul Capture

Suddenly, the drumming ceased abruptly.

The terrifying thing that was about to crawl out from beneath the earth let out a silent, resentful roar, then instantly fell quiet.

The deadly sense of threat that had weighed upon Fang Yue’s heart, making his hair stand on end, vanished entirely.

The room grew silent. A series of clattering sounds followed as the retainers’ knives and clubs slipped from their hands and fell to the floor.

Quick on his feet, Fang Yue caught the torch about to fall from Ren Junlin’s grasp.

By the torchlight, Fang Yue could see that Ren Junlin and the few retainers he’d brought stood motionless, their faces blank, as if their souls had flown away.

In truth, that was precisely their current state—their souls absent from their bodies.

Turning his gaze toward the bed, Fang Yue saw a woman’s dress huddled in the corner, trembling as if clutching its knees in terror.

The garment puffed up, as if an invisible woman were truly curled up within it, clothed in a cross-collared skirt and shivering there.

To an ordinary person, who could see neither head nor limbs, the sight of a dress acting with such uncanny humanity in the dead of night would be utterly terrifying.

But Fang Yue knew that within the cross-collared skirt was Yan Qiuhong’s soul, which Old Li had summoned and trapped inside her own clothing using the rattle-drum.

Faint voices drifted in from outside. This was a house the Ren family had purchased, meant for servants, and was not separated from neighboring homes.

The commotion of the door being battered down had clearly been heard by the neighbors. Still, it being so late at night, no one dared to approach.

Fang Yue shifted his gaze from the dress in the corner to Old Li.

At this moment, Old Li’s hair had turned completely white, his face deeply wrinkled, his skin clinging to his bones until he looked nothing more than a skeleton—utterly ghastly.

His eyes were wide open, yet he no longer breathed, unable to rest in peace even in death.

He still clutched the handle of the rattle-drum, but his hand could no longer move it.

The drumming had ceased because Old Li’s strength had finally failed him; he had died.

By the end, it was no longer Old Li shaking the rattle-drum; rather, the drum itself was siphoning away his life force, moving of its own accord.

A chill wind blew in through the broken door, making the torch flicker and the shadows dance across the walls.

Fang Yue drew a deep breath and continued the task he had left unfinished, reaching for the rattle-drum in Old Li’s hand.

The drum fell into his grasp without incident.

Its handle was made of bamboo, cold to the touch.

Examining it closely by torchlight, Fang Yue scrutinized the strange drum.

Its head was covered with a piece of beast hide, about the size of a palm, yellowish-brown in color, though the animal was unidentifiable.

Painted on the surface were two children, playing together.

At first glance, the scene seemed innocent and full of childish delight.

But under the light, the children’s faces appeared bluish, their eyes bulging, their postures twisted, their smiles warped into grotesque grimaces—nothing like ordinary children.

A strange sense of familiarity struck Fang Yue.

He recalled the jade pendant and bronze mirror he had encountered at the inn in the county town.

But the thought of this rattle-drum devouring Old Li’s life force, the swirling black mist, and the terrifying thing that seemed ready to emerge from below made Fang Yue hesitate. This was a sinister, ominous object.

Still, he steeled his resolve. Bringing his finger to his lips, he bit down hard.

A bead of blood welled up, vivid and bright in the firelight.

Fang Yue smeared his blood on the surface of the drum.

One of the painted children abruptly opened its mouth and swallowed the blood in one gulp.

Immediately, the entire drum began to melt, dissolving into a yellow-brown liquid that flowed up Fang Yue’s arm, swiftly merging into his body.

A chill coursed through him, icy and haunting.

After the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, a new entry appeared in the merit system within Fang Yue’s mind.

Fang Yue—

Merit: 546 points

Divine Abilities: Deduction, True Sight, Soul Capture

Martial Skills: Dao Comprehension Fist (Second Level), Basic Blade Technique (First Level)

More than a thousand merit points had been spent in a single night—on deducing cultivation methods, employing True Sight, resisting the rattle-drum’s sound, and finally dissolving the sinister drum, which alone cost two hundred points. Only a little over two hundred remained.

However, since Old Li had perished and the monstrous thing beneath the earth had failed to emerge, Fang Yue had been credited with a portion of the merit—about three hundred points.

After the subtractions and additions, he was left with more than five hundred points.

Fang Yue’s attention quickly passed over the merit points and focused on the divine abilities.

Now, besides Deduction and True Sight, a new ability had appeared: Soul Capture.

“Soul Capture,” Fang Yue murmured inwardly.

At his thought, a palm-sized rattle-drum materialized in his hand.

“So this drum has become my merit divine ability. Using it will consume merit points. That’s all right—if it still drained life force and longevity, that would have been truly fatal.”

No matter how precious merit might be, there were still ways to earn it.

But longevity—Fang Yue knew of no method to extend it without limit.

Thus, every moment of life was all the more precious.

With the rattle-drum in hand, Fang Yue first looked toward the shivering dress in the corner—Yan Qiuhong.

Though her form could not be seen, only the garment, Fang Yue sensed her cautiously watching him.

At this moment, only the two of them remained conscious in the room.

“I’ll send your soul back now, and erase your memories of tonight. Sleep well and have good dreams.”

Without waiting for a reply, Fang Yue gently shook the rattle-drum.

After three beats, the cross-collared skirt vanished, collapsing limply onto the bed.

Yan Qiuhong’s soul had been sent back.

Fang Yue then turned to Ren Junlin and his men; their souls had drifted from their bodies and must be hovering nearby.

He did not know if, left unprotected for long, their souls might dissipate.

Not daring to delay, Fang Yue shook the drum for them as well.

...

At dawn, autumn dew as cold as frost.

Having resolved the Ren family’s troubles, Fang Yue enjoyed a restful sleep, then bid farewell to Master Ren at first light, preparing to return to Fangqiao Village.

He still had much to do and did not wish to waste time.

Master Ren specially arranged a carriage to take him back—but the driver was no longer Old Li, but a young man.

In the carriage, along with Fang Yue and the bundles of medicinal herbs—ginseng, angelica, polygonum, ophiopogon, northern and southern varieties of ginseng, tortoise jelly, and more—sat a young maid, clutching her baggage and stealing glances at him.

She, too, was a gift from Master Ren, who remarked that since Fang Yue was living alone, someone was needed to attend to his daily affairs.

Unable to refuse Master Ren’s enthusiasm—and truthfully, pressed for time for chores like laundry and cooking—Fang Yue accepted the gift with gratitude.

The carriage bumped along the uneven dirt road, swaying gently as it carried them home.