The Hungry Ghost

The dim glow of lanterns flickered against the carved wooden panels of the Xie Manor, casting elongated shadows along the silent corridors. Inside a secluded chamber, two young girls hurriedly changed their clothes, their hushed whispers barely audible over the rustling of silk.

"Hurry up and wear this," the older sister whispered urgently, holding out a servant's plain cotton robe. Her fingers trembled slightly with excitement as she glanced toward the door, listening for footsteps.

"What if Father finds out?" the younger sister asked, her voice tight with worry. She took the rough fabric reluctantly, clutching it to her chest instead of putting it on. "He'll be so angry."

"Don't worry, he won't," the older sister replied, her eyes bright with determination. "And just think about all the sweet candies and lanterns and all the fun things we can do at the festival! Even if we get caught—" she squeezed her sister's shoulder reassuringly, "—it will be worth it. I promise I won't let him scold you too badly."

Finally convinced, they changed into the servant clothes, giggling nervously as they helped each other with the unfamiliar ties. Together, they tiptoed toward the gate, wincing at every creak of the floorboards beneath their feet.

As they carefully pulled the heavy gate open, ready to taste freedom, both girls froze. The younger sister's scream tore through the night, high and terrified.

"Ghost! A ghost!"

The older sister stood paralyzed beside her, mouth open in shock. Hanging from their family gate was A grotesque paper effigy hung from the manor gates, its tattered limbs swaying in the night wind. A crude face had been drawn on it in dark, clotted blood, its expression eerily resembling Lord Xie himself. Its gaping mouth had been stuffed with lotus seeds, an ominous sign of mockery.

The household erupted into chaos. Servants rushed out with lanterns, their faces pale with terror. Lord Xie stormed from his chamber, his robe barely fastened, his face dark with fury.

"Who dares to disgrace the House of Xie?" His voice thundered through the courtyard. "I will have their heads displayed on these very gates!"

With a furious kick, he sent the effigy sprawling to the ground, its lifeless eyes staring up at him mockingly.

"What are you all standing around for?" he barked. "Find the wretch who did this! Bring me his head!"

As the servants scrambled to obey, his sharp eyes landed on his daughters, still clad in servant attire. His gaze darkened.

"Sneaking out, were you?" He advanced toward them, his voice dangerously quiet. "Or were you the ones behind this insult?"

"No… no, Father! We—" The elder girl stammered, bowing low, her hands trembling.

"Quiet!" Lord Xie snapped. "Go back to your chambers. No meals for three days!"

He called a servant with a sharp gesture. "Miang! Lock them in their rooms. Not a single grain of rice for three days."

As the girls were led away, wiping their tears, another servant approached Lord Xie cautiously, keeping his eyes downcast.

"My lord," he murmured, "you have a message from Lord Jin. The council is waiting for you at the opera house."

Lord Xie was an important man in the Lotus Sect - in charge of medicine supplies and herbs, owning lands in many villages. He was wealthy and powerful, and he despised common people, keeping his family strictly separate from them.

Lord Xie exhaled sharply, adjusting his robe. "Prepare my garments and bring wine."

Within moments, two maids attended to him, preparing his bath with fragrant herbs. They helped him dress in embroidered robes of deep vermilion, his fingers adorned with rings of jade and gold. He took a slow sip of wine before stepping into his grand carriage, oblivious to the murmurs of resentment that whispered through the servant quarters.

The journey to the opera house was uneventful until the carriage jerked to a sudden stop.

"What is the meaning of this?" he spat, but no response came from his guards

"What happened?" he called out. No answer came.

"You stupid servants, I'm talking to you!" he shouted angrily. Still nothing.

Frustrated, he climbed out of the carriage only to find himself in a dark, empty alley. His servants and guards had vanished. A cold feeling crept up his spine as he looked around the unfamiliar surroundings.

A shiver ran down his spine.

"Those worthless fools—I'll have them punished severely for this!" he threatened the darkness, trying to hide his growing unease.

"Why not?" a quiet voice asked from the shadows.

Lord Xie flinched. "Who's there?" he demanded, his voice less steady than he would have liked. "Do you know who I am? These tricks won't scare me!"

The sound of a flute drifted through the air, its notes eerie and unsettling. Lord Xie felt goosebumps rise on his skin as the melody seemed to surround him.

When he tried to run, a dark figure appeared in front of him. Lord Xie's eyes widened, and he backed away.

"W-who are you?" he stammered, his earlier confidence gone. "W-what do you want?"

The figure spoke softly. "Death."

Before Lord Xie could react, a blade flashed, and his throat was cut. As he collapsed, a second figure stepped out from the shadows.

"You got blood on my boots... again," the newcomer said with a sigh.

The first figure turned, face expressionless. "It was your idea."

The second man gave a short laugh. "I should really stop drinking," he muttered. "Come on, let's move him and go."

He bent down, grabbing the corpse by the arm, only to realize his companion had already turned to leave.

"Oi, what now?" he called after him.

The figure glanced back with his usual indifferent stare. "I killed him. You carry him."

The second man let out an exasperated chuckle. "Just admit I'm stronger than you."

He muttered curses under his breath as he hefted the body over his shoulder, following the dark figure into the night, leaving only a trail of blood in their wake.

The seventh moon hung low and bloated over the capital, its light gauzy as funeral silk. It was the Hungry Ghost Festival 'Zhongyuan Jie' when every alleyway smelled of burnt offerings and desperate prayers. Families gathered to leave offerings - plates of fruit, cups of wine, and stacks of paper money, all to feed and appease the wandering spirits who had no families to remember them. People whispered that during this month, the hungry ghosts walked among the living, searching for nourishment or, sometimes, revenge.

Away from these humble ceremonies, Within the grandeur of the Vermilion Peony Opera House, the nobles and lords of the empire reveled in luxury. All were esteemed members of the Lotus Sect, the most dominant religious order in the land. Draped in silk and adorned with jade, they sipped fine wine and exchanged pleasantries, their laughter rich with arrogance. Among them sat their sons, the young lords of noble lineage, brought here to learn the ways of power and ambition. Some spoke of poetry, others of martial prowess, each vying to outshine the other in wit and skill.

Beyond the spectacle of wine and vanity, the Lotus Sect held dominion over the empire, revered and feared in equal measure. Cloaked in benevolence, they had ensnared the people with a rare and precious medicine " Heaven's Nectar ". At first, they had distributed it freely, claiming it to be a divine gift. But once addiction took hold, the true cost was revealed. Lands, homes, and livelihoods were stripped away in exchange for another dose. Those who resisted found their lives ruined, their families cast into ruin.

Yet in public, the sect pretended to be kind and wise. Their white lotus emblem was everywhere, a constant reminder of their power.

Tonight, young lords awkwardly mingled while their fathers plotted and schemed. The sons had been brought along to show off and to start building connections that would help them later in life. They were trying hard to impress each other some reciting poetry, others bragging about their fighting skills or debating complicated ideas.

"Young Master Jian, don't you want to join our little contest? Or do you think we're not good enough for you?" one young noble called out, pretending to be friendly while actually challenging him.

Jian Yu, barely looked up from his tea. "Yes," he answered flatly, leaving everyone to wonder which question he was answering.

A hush fell over the group before uneasy laughter followed. At twenty years of age, Jian Yu was already a name known throughout the noble circles, arrogant, disciplined, and above all, untouchable. Born to a lineage of wealth and power, With his perfect complexion and expensive clothes, Jian Yu perfectly captured the attitude of someone who knew he was better than everyone else. Like most nobles, he measured his importance by how far above others he stood.

He knew why his father had dragged him here. Being the most talented young noble at the gathering made his father look good. But he was tired of these fake social games.

"Aren't you all bored of this?" he asked suddenly, standing up. Several others quickly agreed, eager to be on his side.

As Jian Yu walked toward the exit, several young lords followed him like ducklings after their mother. Among them was Young Master Xiao, who had been trying desperately to become Jian Yu's friend for years. No matter how many times he was ignored, Xiao kept trying always there, never acknowledged.

This wasn't about friendship. Every year, the Lotus Sect held a competition for young nobles, with winners getting membership, a position that brought wealth, influence, and respect. Part of the competition required working in teams, and being on Jian Yu's team practically guaranteed success.

Meanwhile, in the next room, the fathers were playing their own version of the same game. They raised their wine cups in false modesty while bragging about their sons and secretly calculating how to get ahead.

"It's all thanks to good fortune," Lord Jian said smoothly when someone complimented his son's talents, though his eyes gleamed with obvious pride.

"Where's Lord Xie? I sent him a message earlier," one lord asked, looking toward the door.

"That's just like him showing up late so everyone notices his entrance," another replied, causing knowing laughter. Despite their jokes, Lord Xie was important in the sect, and many hoped to get on his good side to help their sons' chances.

While the adults continued drinking inside, the young lords wandered through the festival lit streets. Common people were out despite the late hour, their faces glowing in the lantern light as they burned offerings and told scary stories to wide eyed children.

Suddenly, a scream cut through the night, followed by more screams and the sound of running feet. The young nobles, curiosity winning over caution, hurried toward the commotion.

What they saw made even Jian Yu's calm expression falter. Hanging from the roof of a building was what first looked like a festival dummy but turned out to be something much worse, a paper body with Lord Xie's actual severed head attached to it. His eyes were frozen open in terror, blood still dripping down onto the paper body below.

People panicked. "Ghosts! The hungry ghosts have come for revenge!" some cried, falling to their knees while others ran away in fear.

Then, as if by magic, burning papers began falling from the rooftops like fiery snowflakes. When one young lord caught a piece, his face went pale. "These are land contracts," he said quietly. "They have Lord Xie's official seal on them."

Each burning page represented a farmer's stolen property contracts Lord Xie had used to take their family lands. Now these documents were falling from the sky like fiery accusations, lighting up the night with evidence of his cruelty.

In that moment, as both nobles and common people stared at the gruesome display, the line between the living and the vengeful dead seemed very thin indeed.

On the roof across the street, two figures lounged casually, watching the panic they'd caused. One passed a wine jug to the other, spilling a bit down his chin.

"Damn, that's good stuff," he said, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. "Where'd you get it?"

"Stole it," his companion replied, barely paying attention. His eyes never left the chaos below, his body tense despite his relaxed posture.

The first man snorted with laughter and took another swig. "Look at them running around like headless chickens "

"It's the White Ghost!" someone screamed from below. "Bai Gui has come to avenge us!"

The name rippled through the crowd. Some people ran, while others actually stopped, their faces showing a strange mix of terror and hope. For months now, stories had spread about this White Ghost who targeted corrupt officials, especially those connected to the Lotus Sect.

Young Master Xiao, always eager to appear important, stepped forward with a forced laugh. "Ghosts? Really? You peasants will believe anything!" His voice cracked slightly, betraying his nervousness.

A few other young lords joined in his mockery, their laughter too loud, too forced.

An old man near the front of the crowd spoke up. "If it's not a ghost, then who else would dare go after a Lotus Sect lord? Who else could get away with it?"

"You'd need more than skill—you'd need magic to escape their guards," someone else added.

Xiao's face reddened. "This 'White Ghost' is nothing but a coward! A common criminal hiding behind superstition!" He pointed dramatically at the gruesome display. "He knows he can't face the Lotus Sect openly, so he sneaks around like a rat!"

Xiao's voice grew louder as the crowd's murmuring increased. "I'm telling you, there's no such thing as—"

The first notes of a flute cut through the night air, soft yet somehow heard by everyone. The crowd went silent, heads turning, searching for the source.

That's when they saw him.

Every eye turned as a tall, spectral figure emerged from the shadows. Draped in dark robes, his face was hidden beneath a pitch-black scarf that revealed nothing save for a pair of piercing, unyielding eyes. His long, grey hair cascaded like a veil, the only feature that betrayed his identity. In his hand, he clutched a finely crafted bamboo flute, its notes both mournful and resolute.

For a second, nobody moved.

"It's him! It's really him!" a woman cried, promptly fainting into her husband's arms.

Young Master Xiao's face turned from red to ghostly pale. His knees wobbled, and he grabbed the sleeve of another lord to steady himself. "I... that's just... it can't be..." he stammered.

Jian Yu, standing apart from the others, narrowed his eyes. Unlike his peers, he didn't seem frightened, just curious. He took in every detail of the mysterious figure, from the quality of his black clothing to the way he balanced effortlessly on the narrow roof edge.

Another young lord, desperate to save face, stumbled forward. His hand shook as he drew his sword. "C-come down and fight me like a man!" he yelled, trying to sound brave while practically wetting himself. "I bet you bleed just like everyone else!"

For a moment, there was only silence.

Then a laugh, a very human laugh, warm and rich echoed across the square. Without warning, the White Ghost leapt down, moving so fast he was almost a blur. Before anyone could blink, the young lord was flat on his back, his sword lying useless beside him, and the White Ghost was tapping his flute against the boy's throat like a warning.

"Next time," the White Ghost said, his voice surprisingly normal, "bring better wine as an offering."

Before anyone could recover, the White Ghost backflipped onto a nearby cart, then seemed to melt into the shadows between buildings. The haunting flute music started again, growing fainter until people weren't sure if they were still hearing it or just remembering it.

"He'll come for all the corrupt lords," a child whispered, loud enough for everyone to hear. "My father says Bai Gui punishes the wicked."

Young Master Xiao, still shaking, tried to regain his composure. "Th-that was just some trick... just some... some..."

But nobody was listening to him anymore. Even the other young nobles were looking at each other with the same unspoken question: whose father would be next?