Chapter Seven: There Really Is a Ghost

After Zhang Yang’s commotion, all the servants in the house rushed out, men and women, young and old, more than twenty in total. Zhang Hua feared Zhang Yang would stir up more trouble in front of everyone, so she instructed a man and a woman standing among the crowd, “Uncle Zhong, Aunt Zhao, take Zhang Yang outside to calm him down. Don’t let him disturb the master’s ritual.”

The two stepped forward: Uncle Zhong, a well-dressed, sturdy man with a broad face, and Aunt Zhao, a kindly round-faced woman in an apron, emerged from the crowd and replied, “Yes, Madam.”

They walked to Zhang Yang’s side, disregarding his anxious, pleading gaze. Uncle Zhong was the first to grab Zhang Yang’s arm. Though he always seemed honest and gentle, his strength was considerable, and he was half a head taller than Zhang Yang. In an instant, Zhang Yang’s feet left the floor, helplessly suspended.

“Let’s go, young master. Don’t upset Madam,” Uncle Zhong advised in his wooden manner, bowing his head.

“You... you’re turning against me?” Zhang Yang glimpsed Uncle Zhong, who usually cared for him deeply, now wearing the face of a traitor. Enraged, he struggled desperately to free himself from Uncle Zhong’s iron grip, but it was futile.

Aunt Zhao then moved in, clutching Zhang Yang’s other arm. She pinched him with hidden strength, then furtively shot him a look. Zhang Yang winced from the pain, opened his eyes wide and stared at Aunt Zhao. After a few seconds of silent exchange, it was as if an agreement had been reached; he stopped resisting.

Only then did Aunt Zhao chime in, “That’s right, young master. Don’t bother with that fortune-teller. Let’s step outside for some air; out of sight, out of mind.”

Thus, half coaxing, half dragging, the two escorted the unwilling Zhang Yang out the apartment door.

After this brief interlude, Lin Hai composed himself, produced his compass, and examined each room with meticulous care, yet found nothing amiss. Lin Fan, draped in talismans and equipment, followed closely behind, inwardly admiring, “My uncle’s act is flawless—what a waste not to be an actor.”

Just then, a faint herbal fragrance drifted into Lin Hai’s nose. He sniffed vigorously, followed the scent towards the staircase leading upstairs. He glanced at Zhang Hua for confirmation; after all, it was the women’s quarters above, and he was a grown man. If he stumbled upon something inappropriate, it would be awkward.

With Zhang Hua’s silent nod, Lin Hai quickly ascended to the top-floor apartment, guided by the aroma.

Most of the Zhang family’s servants were female, and though their looks were reassuring, aside from the older aunties, many were still young. In the eyes of elders, youth is their capital, and beauty counts. Lin Fan, mindful of this, stuck closely to Lin Hai, rushing up second, worried his unruly uncle might do something improper in the women’s rooms.

None had witnessed such a scene before; the group followed after them upstairs.

The upper apartment was less luxurious and fashionable than the lower, but still refined and presentable. The scent indeed came from above; as Lin Hai walked, it grew stronger. Unconsciously, he stopped before a bedroom door.

Lin Fan, Zhang Hua, and the servants gathered at the door, all trying to inhale deeply, but none detected anything unusual.

Lin Fan kept his eyes on Lin Hai, noticing that on the upper floor, he was far more restrained, not rummaging through drawers as before, which relaxed Lin Fan’s guard somewhat. He glanced at the door before them but found nothing odd.

Lin Hai sniffed a few more times, confirmed his suspicions, then turned and asked, “Whose room is this?”

Amid whispers, Zhang Hua nervously stepped forward and replied, “This is Aunt Zhao’s room.”

“Aunt Zhao? She lives alone?”

“Yes, she’s our housekeeper. Zhang Yang was raised by her, and she’s always been most tender to him. Zhang Yang listens to her. Is there something wrong with this room?” Zhang Hua was shocked and surprised by Lin Hai’s question.

“It’s hard to say yet. Aunt Zhao—is she the plump woman who went out with Zhang Yang just now?” Lin Hai frowned, probing further.

“Yes, that’s her. The other is our steward; he’s been with us for years. Since Zhang Yang’s accident, they both watch over him daily. Zhang Yang tried to jump several times—it was always them who saved him. If you say Aunt Zhao is involved, I really can’t believe it.”

Zhang Hua was usually busy and rarely involved at home. All affairs were handled by Aunt Zhao and Uncle Zhong. Though nominally servants, in Zhang Hua’s and her son’s hearts, they were family.

“Perhaps, but I need to check inside first. Please step back.” Lin Hai didn’t want to affect their relationship before the matter was clear, so he pushed the door open and entered.

Distressed by the commotion, Zhang Hua waved her hand, dispersing the crowd, leaving only herself and Lin Fan at the door.

Lin Hai had barely entered when his compass began to spin wildly. He looked up at the dim room, heavy curtains blocking most sunlight. There was a single bed, a wardrobe, two chairs, a few wall paintings, a desk—the fragrance seemed to emanate from the incense burner atop the desk. Nothing remarkable stood out.

After a cursory inspection, Lin Hai retreated to the door, but as he stepped out, the door slammed shut behind him.

He put away his compass, unconcerned, “Heh, must be the wind.” He turned to Zhang Hua and instructed, “Mrs. Zhang, please stand guard at the door; don’t let anyone disturb my ritual.”

“All right, Master. Don’t worry—I’ll stay here,” Zhang Hua replied, trembling as she leaned against the wall. The servants hadn’t noticed anything, but she was closest to the room and saw everything inside. The curtains hadn’t moved—where could the wind have come from?

Lin Hai smiled, comforting her, “Don’t be nervous, Mrs. Zhang. There’s nothing unclean here—I’m just tuning the feng shui for your house!” He didn’t want to frighten his valuable client; after all, the payment hadn’t been settled yet.

Taking advantage of Zhang Hua’s distraction, Lin Hai pulled out a talisman, tossed it to the floor, then kicked it through the gap beneath the door. He quickly formed seals with his hands, murmured an incantation, then reached for the door handle. At that moment, the talisman inside sprang up, wrapping around the handle as his fingers touched it.

With a gentle push, the door opened. Lin Hai beckoned, “My disciple, come inside.”

Lin Fan, suspecting Lin Hai was up to his tricks, glanced sympathetically at the trembling Zhang Hua, then resignedly replied, “Yes, Master.” Clinking and clattering with all his gear, he followed Lin Hai into the bedroom, closing and locking the door behind them.

Seeing they were alone, Lin Fan whispered his complaint, “Uncle, isn’t this a bit much? Scaring Mrs. Zhang like that when she’s already worried about her precious son—just help her out, comfort her, and let’s go.”

Lin Hai ignored him, took out yellow paper, brush, and cinnabar, muttered an incantation, and drew a talisman, sticking it to the door.

“Uncle, you’re still pasting talismans on their door? Have you no conscience?” Lin Fan reached to peel it off.

“Stop! That’s a sound-blocking seal, you idiot. If you take it down, I’ll chop your hand off.” Lin Hai was exasperated, but knowing Lin Fan didn’t understand, resorted to intimidation.

Lin Fan withdrew his hand; the threat worked.

“My dear nephew, you never believed in ghosts, did you? Well, today I’ll open your eyes.” Lin Hai approached the desk, his hands shifting through intricate gestures, faint white light flickering. Suddenly, he thrust his right hand at one of the ink-wash landscape paintings on the wall, shouting:

“O Holy Light, gather here, illuminate the darkness, reveal your true form—Soul Search, Appear!”

In an instant, the landscape painting flared with white light, and a white shadow shot out from within, accompanied by a crisp voice.

“You stinking priest! The road to heaven you won’t tread, but you insist on barging into hell. Are you tired of living?” The blurry white figure gradually sharpened, the dazzling light faded, revealing a fashionable young girl standing angrily by the bed, her eyes glowing green, hair swirling, and long, sharp nails flashing as she shouted at Lin Hai.

“You talk big, but let’s see if your skills match your mouth,” Lin Hai responded with the casual air of someone spotting onions and cabbage at the market, adopting a lofty stance.

Lin Fan, however, was wide-eyed and slack-jawed, involuntarily retreating to the door. His talismans and implements clattered to the floor as he stared in shock, tears, snot, and drool streaming down his face.

He lasted only a few seconds before his vision darkened and he fainted.

The two men and the ghost had barely met before Lin Fan was overwhelmed by the bizarre scene and lost consciousness.

“Tch! Coward. So, stinking priest, will you faint like him, or let me knock you out?” The ghost girl saw Lin Fan collapse at first sight, figuring this fat priest was just here to swindle money.

Lin Hai looked at Lin Fan in dismay, sighing, “Alas, you’ve disgraced our profession.” He then turned to the ghost girl, furious: “Since ancient times, women gossip. To prevent you from spreading rumors and ruining my reputation, I must deal with you today.”

He produced a handful of talismans from his robe, scattered them overhead, quickly formed seals, completed the spell, and pointed at the ghost, “In my name, I summon the hellfire, ignite my wrath—Spirit Burst, go! Blow you up, you ill-mannered ghost!”

The talismans floating in the air flared with fire at his command, darting one after another straight toward the ghost girl.

She hadn’t expected Lin Hai to attack suddenly. With the room so small and the distance so close, she had no way to evade. In panic, she flailed her arms, desperately blocking the incoming talismans.

“Bang! Bang! Bang!” Each talisman ignited and exploded upon contact with her.

The barrage continued, and at first, the ghost girl struggled to resist, fearing the energy blasts would shatter her soul. But after a frantic effort, she realized the priest wasn’t trying to annihilate her, merely torment and humiliate her. The more she thought about it, the angrier she became, and eventually she gave up, curled up on the bed, and wept.

“Hahaha, how about it? My talismans have quite the flavor, don’t they?” With the first exchange, Lin Hai had already sized up the ghost girl. Seeing her crying and wailing from the blasts, he laughed with satisfaction.

As his mood improved, the explosions gradually subsided. The ghost girl, hair disheveled, crawled from the bed, pouting and sobbing, “You stinking priest, you win. I’m done with you—just wait!” With that, her figure began to fade, turning transparent as she spun and tried to vanish into the wall.

But Lin Hai wouldn’t let her escape. He quickly whipped off his robe, tossing it in the air, and dozens of glowing talismans shot from it, filling the room.

The robe spun rapidly overhead, the embroidered Eight Trigrams shining brilliantly, instantly revealing the ghost girl’s form.

Half her body had already slipped into the wall, but the intense light drew her back beneath the robe, where she curled up, despairing, “Stinking priest, what grudge do we have—why must you...”

Lin Hai sneered, launching a palm at her and shouting, “Soul Capture—Seal!”

The talismans formed a net, wrapping tightly around the ghost girl, shrinking until it was the size of a baseball, which Lin Hai grabbed.

He donned his robe again, tossing the talisman ball contemptuously. “Grudge? Blocking my path to wealth—that’s the biggest grudge. And you dare act so arrogant? If you weren’t halfway decent-looking, I’d have wiped you out in an instant.”

He glanced at the unconscious Lin Fan by the door, sighing, “Alas, a soul lost, what good is a strong body? All show, no substance.”