Chapter 38: Lay Taoists (2/2)

This prejudiced treatment irked me. Sure, I looked ragged from Zhoujiazhuang, arms and shoulders clawed by the ghost, but did I really look like a thief? Sitting curbside, stubbornness flared—I'd wait all night.

By 1 AM, no call back. It wasn't summer; night wind chilled me to the bone. I'd always seen Zhao Na as good-hearted—she'd funded my shop, shown me love. I needed to talk to her.

As the wind howled and the security room light dimmed, a yin wind gusted before me. Not just cool air—this made my skin crawl. I activated my Divine Eye, took out my Luopan. The needle spun wildly—yin spirits had disturbed the magnetic field. When it pointed northwest, I chased after with my Five Emperors Coins. No good came from wandering spirits at midnight.

At the crossroads, wind whipped 纸钱 (spirit money) into the air. A white-haired 老太太 (old woman) crouched, burning offerings. Picture it: a silent street, an old woman and fluttering ash—it was eerie.

"Madam, burning paper so late?" I squatted beside her. Northerners are talkative; she didn't flinch, instead urging, "Lad, go home—don't worry your parents."

"I'm a migrant worker," I lied. "Why burn paper at midnight?"

She sighed. Her daughter had died in a car crash here last year. It was the 忌日 (death anniversary), but she'd overslept. Urban rules forbade daytime burning.

I nodded—road accident deaths often leave spirits wandering. Families burned paper to give them money, fending off bullies in the afterlife.

"Look at the time—go home and rest."

"Already so late?" She 自责 (chided) herself for being late. Suddenly, a red-clothed woman materialized behind her—young, pretty, in a dress and heels.

Most untimely deaths breed 怨气 (resentment), but spirits usually avoid living kin. This ghost—her daughter—was 趴在 (leaning on) her mother's back. Folklore says: "Ghosts tap your shoulder at night, call your name three times—each response extinguishes a yang fire; three responses mean death." But family ghosts rarely harm loved ones.

When I met the ghost's gaze, she knew I saw her. As a vigorous 20-something with restored lifespan, she couldn't touch me while I stayed near the old woman. Maoshan Sorcery Annals say most spirits linger from unfulfilled wishes—only those wronged and buried in yin places turn malevolent.

The ghost leaned into her mother's ear, mouthing words. The old woman burst into tears: "Yes, Mom is here. Where are you, child?"

This response extinguished the old woman's right shoulder yang fire. A black qi coiled around her forehead. I grabbed her shoulders, drew a Yang-Locking Talisman with cinnabar—used to prevent "ghost - blown lamps" at gravesides.

Side note: Resentment differs from 怨鬼 (grudge ghosts). Abortion, for example, steals reincarnation; heavy resentment becomes black qi. Humans can bear three black qi marks; more drains vitality. Ever see elders with "mysterious" illnesses? Check their youth's karma. Some aborted fetuses forgive, but others haunt at 50.