86: Deep in the Mountains (Please vote monthly)

After examining the traces, he saw that He Buchen’s soul had already completely scattered, so there was no fear of any clues being left behind. Yi Fan turned back, took out the gourd, gathered up the remaining ghosts, and then sprang into the air, preparing to slip out of Zhou Manor.

Suddenly, he halted.

His gaze shifted elsewhere, where a crowd of people was hurrying in a flustered retreat toward the back courtyard, escorting an old man amid bundles and parcels.

Was that not Master Zhou? He had actually not run yet. Truly a man who prized money over his life.

By now, some time had already passed since the ghostly assault. By rights, Master Zhou should have fled at the first opportunity. Instead, he had delayed himself until now, stubbornly intent on gathering his valuables.

Had Yi Fan not taken those ghosts away, Master Zhou would surely have come to regret his greed by now.

Seeing that Master Zhou and the others were about to flee Zhou Manor, Yi Fan moved in his heart and silently followed them. Once he was not far away, he took out the gourd, poured out a wisp of yin energy, grasped it in his hand, and flicked it lightly. It instantly turned into a flying arrow and struck Master Zhou squarely.

Master Zhou only felt a chill sweep through his body and shivered all at once. In that instant, he even felt more vigorous, as though he had swallowed some potent medicine; his whole body seemed brimming with energy. Though puzzled, he was in a desperate rush to escape this dangerous place and had no mind to care about anything else.

"Go, go, go! Hurry!"

The group fled in panic, and no one bothered to investigate further. Just like that, they escaped Zhou Manor.

Yi Fan did not continue following them. That wisp of yin energy would stir the yang within Master Zhou, leaving him briefly flushed with vitality, but his frail, aging body would not be able to bear it for long. Once his yang energy failed to keep pace, he would fall gravely ill. After this round of torment, nine parts out of ten of his life would be gone, and what remained would amount to little more than a lingering breath.

An old beast like that was not spared a slap to the face because he deserved mercy, but because he had not yet suffered enough. Only by tormenting him thus, until he finally collapsed in bed and watched his family turn against him one by one, would he understand regret.

To fornicate with his daughter-in-law, and for the sake of his own reputation, to beat his biological son to death such a creature beyond the pale of beasts deserved no less. No matter what torment he endured, it could never compare to the sins he carried on his body.

...

Before dawn the next day, Fortune and Peace Town was filled with lamentation, and coffins were seen everywhere. Even though Yi Fan and the Ghost Weary had spent the night exorcising spirits, many common people had still suffered. Such things could not be avoided.

Yi Fan opened the window and looked down at the street below. Pedestrians wore frightened expressions as they hurried away. Even the tea houses and inns that were ordinarily bustling were far quieter than usual; some shops had not even managed to open. Only the coffin shops and incense stores were doing brisk business, a sight that made one sigh.

In all these years, if not for the Money-Greedy Ghost stealing from wealthy households and bribing the ghosts, how could Fortune and Peace Town have enjoyed such peace and quiet today?

What a pity that the Money-Greedy Ghost never understood, even in death, that he had devoted himself to kindness and protected the place that had born him, raised him, and would have buried him in the end, only to meet a fate of soul scattering and utter obliteration.

Whom could he blame?

Only the venom of the human heart.

It was true that Master Zhou had invited He Buchen to exorcise the ghosts and take the blame, but even without that affair, one day the Money-Greedy Ghost would still have met the same end.

Why? Because human nature is intricate.

Take that shameless old parasite who feared death above all else. If he had gotten hold of the Money-Greedy Ghost’s weakness, would he not have extorted him again and again? And in the end, he might even have treated the Money-Greedy Ghost as a mountain of gold and a nest of silver. Once someone with designs on him discovered the truth, the Money-Greedy Ghost would still have been doomed.

Yi Fan shook his head and no longer dwelled on it. Just as he was preparing to pack his things and set out, there came a knock at the door.

When he opened it, there stood Master Zhou, face pale with panic, utterly at a loss. Several servants trailed behind him, among them Zhou’s steward.

Yi Fan frowned. "Master Zhou, what is this?"

Master Zhou suddenly dropped to his knees and wailed, "Daoist, I beg you to show mercy and save the dozens of souls in my Zhou household."

Then he recounted the events of the previous night, growing more and more frightened as he spoke. "Thankfully, this old man left quickly. Otherwise, Daoist, you might not have seen me alive today."

Yi Fan was speechless. Did you really think I knew nothing? Too lazy to answer, he said directly, "I have already told you about this matter. I cannot manage it, nor do I wish to. And is there not Daoist He Buchen?"

Master Zhou hesitated, then said after a moment's thought, "Daoist He did not appear last night. I asked the servants, but none of them saw any trace of him. He must already have gone."

Gone? He is dead, by my hand.

Yi Fan’s expression did not change. He nodded and said, "Since even Daoist He Buchen cannot resolve it, then this humble cultivator, being but a wandering practitioner, is all the more helpless."

With that, he swept his sleeve, shaking Master Zhou and the others back, and led the Ghost Weary downstairs.

He did not wish to linger here any longer. Who knew whether the Flying Cliff Mountain would send people to investigate? Though he was not afraid of trouble, avoiding it was always better.

The longer he stayed, the more clues he would leave behind. He had best depart at once.

The old donkey was in the inn’s back courtyard, leisurely chewing fine fodder. When it was led away, it was most unwilling, and only after Yi Fan kicked it several times did it sneeze a few times and lower its head to follow.

Once they left town, they headed into the nearby woods and hills. Reaching a secluded spot, Yi Fan stopped and looked around. Seeing no one and finding the place cool and shaded, he took out the gourd, shook it, and immediately a black wisp of smoke flew out. Rolling on the ground, it transformed into a short little ghost.

The little ghost looked flustered and terrified. Upon seeing Yi Fan, it dropped to its knees at once.

"Daoist, spare my life."

"Tell me where the Ghost King is, and this poor Daoist will give you a chance to enter the cycle of reincarnation," Yi Fan said expressionlessly, his voice cold.

These ghosts were filled with malice and resentment. Who knew how many living beings they had slain, and how much evil they had done.

The little ghost hesitated, its eyes darting about. Yi Fan impatiently shook the gourd again, and another little ghost popped out at once. He said, "Speak of where the Ghost King is, or meet the same end as it."

With that, the Ghost Weary, who had long been itching to act, seized the first little ghost and swallowed it whole. The newly emerged little ghost was so frightened it trembled all over and dared not hide anything.

"Daoist, spare me! The Ghost King is in the deep mountains some thirty li from here. Travel south along the road, and there lies an ancient battlefield. Once you reach that land, you will recognize it at a glance."

Yi Fan nodded, put it back into the gourd, and tied it to his waist. The Ghost Weary, who had been expecting more prey, was left deeply disappointed.

"Enough. Once we reach the Ghost King’s territory, there will be plenty of ghosts. Swallow as many as you like."

After scolding the Ghost Weary, Yi Fan mounted the donkey and headed south.

Thirty li was reached in little more than half an hour. There was no road ahead, only barren wilderness across the mountains. Farther up lay a stretch of desolate hills and wild ridges. Pressing onward, he soon came to a hollow in the mountains, where broken weapons lay scattered everywhere and pale bones were half-buried in the earth.

Indeed, it was an ancient battlefield. Who knew how many years had passed, yet the place still seethed with murderous aura, no wonder it had given birth to such fierce and vicious ghosts.

Though the sun shone overhead, one could still feel threads of icy cold seeping into the bones. When the wind passed through, it seemed to chill a person from the marrow outward.