Chapter 33 (1/2)

Translator: Atlas Studios

Editor: Atlas Studios

The team had started to get used to Li Ang’s behavior so they did not visibly react. They only criticized him silently.

After planting the land mines, the team left the basement. Li Ang took out an electric motor, a welding machine, and a bunch of steel odds and ends. Using all these, he built a vacuum cleaner, absorbed all the dust on the floor, and sprayed it out again to erase any traces of footsteps.

Next, the team headed to the other places in Solitary Temple and planted various concealed land mines. The day of the banquet was drawing close, and the temple was about to be filled with demons. Hence, these mines needed to be remotely controlled to prevent any accidental explosions from happening.

Then, the team used the information Chai Cuiqiao provided and the geography of Solitary Temple to create a plan to kill the mandrill. This plan included ways to deal with the participating demons.

Time flew so five days passed quickly. Nothing happened during this period. All was calm.

On the night of the sixth day, the battle-ready team returned to its assigned room to rest.

At midnight, Li Ang was lying in bed and chatting with Chai Cuiqiao about the world the spirits could see.

Li Ang asked, “People become spirits after death. Does the netherworld not send out people to lead these spirits away?”

Chai Cuiqiao replied, “Usually, yes. However, there are some places untouched by people where spirits will stay on. Nourished by the Death Qi, they become vengeful ghosts that wreak havoc. They will either become greater ghosts or will be forced to be reincarnated by Daoists or monks.”

Chai Cuiqiao paused for a while. As though she was afraid that Li Ang might misunderstand, she explained further. “Of course, there are some ordinary ghosts who are less vengeful. However, because their skeletons are buried in places where the Yin Qi is abundant, these ghosts live on. They do not come into contact with the living and live peacefully side-by-side. Under special circumstances, these ghosts will even help the living.”

Li Ang nodded upon hearing that. The book The Thatched Study of Close Scrutiny narrated the story of a ghost who had helped a human.

A man surnamed Liao, who had lived in the north village of the Guangdong District, had buried the nameless skeletons he had found by the village, helped them build a tomb, and formed a burial ground.

Later on, a plague had befallen the district. The man had dreamed that more than 100 people had stood before his house and one of them had approached him and said, “The plague demon is about to arrive. We hope you can burn a dozen paper war flags and 100 wooden knives wrapped in tinfoil to prepare us for battle with the plague demon and repay our gratitude.”

The man had been inquisitive by nature and had thus followed the instructions.

One night a few days later, the villagers had heard a ruckus outside. It had been the sound of weapons clashing, as though a military battle was happening. This noise had stopped during daybreak.

During this plague, no one in the village had been infected.

Stories like these were recorded in novels like The Thatched Study of Close Scrutiny, Strange Stories from a Chinese Studio, and Miscellaneous Stories from Youyang. Chai Cuiqiao also explained in deeper detail about the netherworld to let Li Ang know that the dead and the living were not completely on opposite teams.

As Li Ang was engrossed in listening to her, he heard a chant coming from outside the temple. Two people could be heard arguing outside and a fight occurred.

A ghost?

Li Ang raised his eyebrow. A ghost outside shouted, “This fella is criticizing my poem. This made me really angry so I beat him up. Why don’t you listen to my piece and give your opinion, sir?”

The ghost started to recite its own poem, even throwing punches to create a beat.

The poem included more than 100 stanzas. Another ghost listened to it recite while moaning in pain and ridiculing the poem for how unsophisticated it was.

Li Ang listened carefully as he sat by the window. This poem seemed to indeed be very average, as if an uncultured person was throwing flowery words together to write a poem.