Chapter 27: Horror in the Ghost Market (1/2)

I froze, unable to move as the woman approached. Only then did I see her blood-red eyes, ashen face, and a tongue extending a foot long, swaying at her chest—classic attire of a hanging ghost. She glowered at us, murderous intent radiating as if ready to pounce.

My hair stood on end, cold sweat pouring. Half my soul seemed to flee. Gasping, I looked to Old Wang for help, but neither the Clear Spirit Incantation nor the Taoist "Pure Heart Mantra" worked.

"Don't be afraid." Old Wang strode ahead, unflinching. To my shock, he began unbuckling his belt, moving with the swagger of a roadside ruffian. Terror gripped me—this ghost was far more frightening than the urn-carrying woman. If not for Old Wang, I would've fled.

The ghost cackled eerily at him. "Am I not beautiful? Why won't you praise me?" Her laughter sent chills down my spine.

My green satchel was back at Yi Zhai; normally, I carried pure yang items for self-defense, but today I had nothing. I involuntarily stepped back.

Old Wang sneered at the ghost. "You call this beautiful? I've got something better." He yanked down his pants, red boxer briefs sliding low—ready to expose himself.

The ghost shrieked, retreating several paces before vanishing into the crowd. "You're ruthless!" she cried, leaving the path clear.

I dashed to Old Wang. "What just happened?"

"You were scared," he said flatly.

"No, of course not!" I lied.

"Ghosts sense fear through emotions. Your yang fire was already weak—showing fear let her target you."

I scanned the surroundings: wilderness teeming with ghosts. Children chasing each other hovered off the ground. "Master Wang, what now? Let's run!"

"Fear not. With me, they can't harm you." He patted me, and for a moment, he reminded me of Grandpa—confident, capable of turning any 凶险 situation around.

"Thank you," I said earnestly.

He handed me a talisman. "Hold this. Stay close. Ignore everything—this ghost market is beyond your control."

Nodding, I followed as he explained the danger: hanging ghosts, second only to water ghosts, harbored deep resentment. His "unconventional move"—exposing himself in red underwear—was a folk tactic. "Ghosts were once human. What scares people often scares them too," he said. "This trick works on female ghosts, but not male ones."

We walked along a long bluestone path. The talisman made me invisible to wandering spirits. I noticed men with red cords bargaining with 阴气森森 (yin-energy dense) figures—trading golden ingots for red strings, likely sealing soul deals. Drums and acrobats added to the chaos, while elderly women in vibrant clothes sold oddities, tossing real silver coins for trinkets.

Panic surged—how had I ended up here? What grave mistake had I made?

Minutes later, another figure blocked our way: a man in a black suit, eyes piercing mine. The talisman in my hand suddenly burned, scalding me. "Master Wang, what's happening?"

He glanced between us. "You have deep karma with him. The Yang-Protection Talisman couldn't withstand his resentment."

Karma? I'd never seen this middle-aged man before. Old Wang told me to ignore him, but the man's hateful gaze suggested a profound grudge. He held a brick-like object—was he going to attack?

As we passed, he sidestepped to block us, bowing respectfully to Old Wang. "Our meeting today is fate. I hope you'll honor it, Master."