16: Sacrifice of the Soul

Time sometimes seems to slip by so quickly, and other times it feels unbearably slow.

Staring at Xu Buhuo’s back, I wonder if he’s retreating to advance, trying to force me to reveal the truth about Old Qin behind all this, or if he genuinely wants to resolve the matter and uncover the culprit lurking in the shadows.

Thinking of the various traps set in the courtyard to deal with Old Lady Wang, it would be reasonable if only one failed, blaming it on someone with idle hands. Yet, in reality, every single arrangement was tampered with.

Especially the manipulations on the spell array—I checked everything, found nothing amiss, and still it collapsed.

A sudden thought sprouts in my mind: Could it be Old Qin who sabotaged everything?

Why would he do that?

I can’t fathom any motive for Old Qin to disrupt our efforts against Old Lady Wang, nor imagine what unknown benefit it brings him.

Looking at the threshold of the main hall, recalling how Old Lady Wang was repelled when she tried to enter, I realize that people like Old Lady Wang and Jiang Yan shouldn’t be able to step into the old house—hence, grandmother’s mourning hall remained intact, while only the courtyard arrangements were meddled with.

Understanding this, I’m certain it was Jiang Yan who sabotaged the arrangements. If we manage to deal with Old Lady Wang, Jiang Yan would lose her claws, so she lured me to the graves on the back hill, a classic diversion.

Having dispelled my suspicion of Old Qin, I finally feel a weight lift from my chest. But, as I gaze at Xu Buhuo, who stands by the door waiting for my answer, I’m at a loss for how to explain the tampering of the jade pendant.

If I don’t clarify, he’ll leave. If Old Lady Wang returns, I’ll have no idea how to handle it.

Grandmother instructed us to keep her body for seven days, but what should we do during those seven days? Should we proceed with the burial or keep her body longer? She left no guidance.

For a moment, I am truly troubled.

As I agonize, Xu Buhuo rises to his feet. He doesn’t turn around, but he does look back at me.

“Have you thought it through?” he asks.

Standing up, I take a deep breath and say, “I remember now—someone once looked at the jade pendant. He said it was odd, so I handed it to him for inspection, and afterward he returned it to me.”

Not explaining would only complicate matters further, so I decide to lie again.

“Who was it?” he presses.

“Old Qi from the east end of the village.”

Xu Buhuo clearly doesn’t believe me. He fixes his eyes on me while I force myself to remain calm, my fingernails digging into my palm to ease my nerves.

“He came to pay respects to your grandmother?”

I nod and ask, “Was he the one who tampered with the arrangements?”

“It’s possible, but it could also be someone else. The only thing I know for certain is that the arrangements in the courtyard were deliberately sabotaged.”

I sense Xu Buhuo is intentionally saying this for my benefit.

This feeling is strange and hard to articulate, but I can’t shake the sense that his words are meant for me.

Someone sabotaged the courtyard—I tense again. Could it really be Old Qin?

Recalling the corpse worm that Xu Buhuo produced earlier, I ask, “If the mother corpse worm crawls into the coffin, what happens?”

“As the mother worm, it would lay eggs. Once those eggs absorb corpse energy, they’ll erupt, and your grandmother would be devoured down to the bone, and none of us would be the wiser.”

Hearing this, I realize someone is trying to stop us—seemingly just to cause trouble, but clearly with deeper motives we don’t understand.

Anyone could be involved. I remind myself to stay vigilant, to trust no one blindly.

Though the courtyard arrangements were sabotaged, Old Lady Wang still suffered and the latter half of the night was quiet.

At dawn, my mother took over, and I returned to the new house to sleep.

---

I drift in and out of uneasy sleep, until a cold wind blows and jolts me awake.

When I open my eyes, I nearly scream.

I had lain down on my bed, yet now I find myself kneeling beside Jiang Yan’s grave, my nails caked with dirt, digging at her burial mound.

“Keep digging, boy,” Xu Buhuo’s voice sounds from behind. He grins at me, looking every bit the villain from a TV drama, and I’m so startled I collapse onto the ground.

“You—I…”

It takes me a while to recover and realize this isn’t a dream. Just like last night, I’ve somehow ended up at Jiang Yan’s grave, mindlessly digging.

This time, it seems Xu Buhuo has been by my side all along.

“Old man, is this another case of ghost possession?”

After reading through grandmother’s collection, I know ghost possession is real—but during daylight, with strong yang energy, spirits shouldn’t emerge; normally, ghost possession wouldn’t happen.

Yet here I am, possessed at dawn.

“I was about to ask you the same. As soon as you lay down, I heard you get up. I called out, but you ignored me, then came here. At first, I thought it was ghost possession, but I realized it wasn’t. It’s as if you’re acting on instinct,” Xu Buhuo says, standing beside Jiang Yan’s grave and inspecting the soil I’ve disturbed. “Looks like someone wants you to dig up this grave.”

“Go find people, open the grave.”

“We’ve already opened it before—Old Lady Wang was inside. Could she be back?”

“If she’s inside, all the better. We can deal with her in broad daylight.”

There’s no avoiding it. Xu Buhuo stays put while I rush down the back hill to find the village chief.

Stepping into the chief’s courtyard and asking about his whereabouts, I’m met with a torrent of curses from his wife, Sister Hu. From her tirade, I learn the chief has been missing for days, and Sister Hu suspects he’s run off with another woman.

Thinking back, the village chief hasn’t been seen since he invited Xu Buhuo. Could he have disappeared then?

Puzzled, I seek out the remaining village committee members—those who helped open Jiang Yan’s grave before. Upon hearing we need to open it again, they all balk, urging me to find someone else.

Not wanting to beg, I grab a hoe and head out. Just as I leave, I bump into Uncle Li from next door to the old house. Hearing about the grave issues, he grabs a hoe and joins me up the back hill.

Three of us take turns digging.

Since the grave was recently disturbed, it’s easy work. As soon as the soil is cleared, I spot feet through the hole in the coffin lid and shout, “There’s someone inside!”

Xu Buhuo pries open the coffin with his hoe while I raise mine, ready to strike.

With a crash, the rotten lid flies off, and seeing who lies inside, I shudder.

“The village chief,” Uncle Li exclaims, eyes wide as if he’s seen a ghost.

I never expected the missing chief to be inside Jiang Yan’s grave. Dropping the hoe, I rush forward to pull him out, but Xu Buhuo blocks me with his foot.

“Do you have a death wish?”

Following Xu Buhuo’s gesture, I see several needles stuck in the chief’s body, each tipped with red thread that trails beneath his back, connected to something below.

“Is the chief still alive?” Uncle Li asks, voice trembling.

---

I shake my head, saying I don’t know.

Xu Buhuo uses the hoe to peel aside the chief’s clothing, revealing something drawn on his abdomen—bright red, as if freshly painted in blood. Xu Buhuo gently removes the needle from the chief’s chest and signals me to approach.

“Be careful; there’s likely more beneath.”

Once we lift the chief from the pit, I peer into the grave, finding a clay jar identical to the one we dug up yesterday, the red thread from the needle trailing into it.

I check the chief’s breathing, expecting him to be dead, but to my surprise, he still has a faint pulse. I call softly to rouse him.

“Don’t bother. Two souls and five spirits are missing. Even if you shout yourself hoarse, he won’t wake.”

His soul is gone?

Lifting the chief’s shirt, I see the spell array drawn on his belly in vivid red, reeking of blood.

Who did this?

From the spell on his chest, I know the culprit must be someone skilled in these arts, like Xu Buhuo.

“Tsk tsk, he’s been sacrificed,” Xu Buhuo remarks, making my heart skip. I ask what that means.

“His three souls and seven spirits have been sacrificed. Two souls and five spirits are already gone. If we hadn’t found him early, by tomorrow morning, all would be gone—then he’d be utterly dead.”

Sacrifice—instinctively, I think of dark magic.

Originally, the chief’s plight was a separate matter, but his presence in Jiang Yan’s grave makes me suspect it’s linked to the recent events.

Reviewing everything, I realize only two people in the village could do this: Xu Buhuo or Old Qin. Both are versed in these arts and are the most likely to have sacrificed the chief’s soul.

“Ziwu, looks like someone is sending you a message,” Xu Buhuo says.

I look at him, puzzled.

“Why would you come here to dig graves for no reason?” Xu Buhuo deliberately blinks several times, and I quickly catch on. Twice now, I’ve been compelled to dig graves, all to discover the chief inside. The situation was too strange last night for me to see the intent.

Regret wells up in me—if I’d realized the purpose sooner, perhaps I could have saved the chief.

“Old man, who do you think did this?” I fix my gaze on Xu Buhuo, searching for any change in his expression, but he remains calm, detached, muttering, “Who knows? Maybe it’s Old Qi you mentioned.”

Uncle Li interjects, asking who Old Qi is, and I quickly brush it off, telling him to fetch help to carry the chief down.

Old Qi is actually Old Qin.

Staring at the chief lying lifeless on the ground, I can’t help but suspect Old Qin, wondering if such evil was his doing.

As I ponder, Xu Buhuo, rummaging in the grave, suddenly calls out, “Ziwu, come see if this is your birth date.”

I turn, and see Xu Buhuo pulling a straw figure from the clay jar at the bottom of the grave. On the straw figure, a yellow talisman is attached, bearing a set of eight characters.