Lu Zheng summoned a cloud and rose into the air. He saw a luxurious manor nestled in the nearby forest. The cooking smoke he spotted rose from the kitchen in the manor’s back courtyard.
This manor covered several li in radius, with five courtyards front to back. It had grey bricks and white walls, golden tiles and red lanterns, pavilions and towers, carved beams and painted rafters. Compared to the earl’s mansion Lu Zheng had seen in Jizhou, it had an extra touch of nobility and extravagance.
“What a grand manor!” Lu Zheng exclaimed.
Without even opening his spirit eyes, Lu Zheng could sense the clusters of yin energy enveloping the manor, covering several li around. It was invisible, intangible, yet present in fine threads everywhere.
A true haunted house!
The key point was that this ghost mansion was festooned front and back with red lanterns. Faint sounds of silk and bamboo music drifted out, the estate bustling with voices, clamour and noise. Who knew how many ghosts lurked inside.
“Ghost wedding?” Lu Zheng’s eyes flickered, his mind puzzled. “How in the yang world? Are they planning to honeymoon in the mortal realm right after the marriage?”
Lu Zheng shook his head, curiosity absent. He prepared to leave.
But as he turned back, he saw dust billowing on the official road not far from the manor. Three riders galloped towards it.
And among these three, one was an acquaintance of Lu Zheng’s.
…
“Daozhang, look, cooking smoke?”
Rong Song rode ahead at that moment. He looked up upon hearing this, formed a hand seal, sensed for a moment, then nodded. “It’s right there!”
The one who had just spoken beside him was a burly man with a great sword on his back, sharp-eyed, his sword qi soaring to the heavens.
“Brother Zhang, wasn’t Qianqian kidnapped by ghosts? Why is there cooking smoke?”
The last to speak was a scholar in a brown cloth robe, washed to near whiteness. He seemed unused to riding horses, merely clinging on with effort, gripping the reins, his face pale.
“Can’t ghosts cook?” The man surnamed Zhang chuckled. “Just that the meals ghosts make are not vegetables or poultry.”
Seeing the Zhang man’s smile, the scholar knew nothing good would follow, so he shuddered but dared not pursue the topic.
“Then let’s hurry!” The scholar whipped his horse and urged. “Too late and Qianqian will be eaten!”
Rong Song and the Zhang man both nodded. They advanced a bit further, then saw a fork branching off the official road.
“Ghost-luring path?” Rong Song paused slightly, turning to the scholar. “Young Master Ning, on this official road by day, is there such a path?”
It was now past mid-you hour, yang energy receding, yin energy rising. Though the sun had not set, the surrounding forests already exuded eerie yin qi, blowing wisps of cool wind carrying the bone-chilling cold of winter, brushing over everyone.
The scholar paused at the words, looked at the small path, then the surroundings, and decisively shook his head. “No!”
“This official road has seven or eight villages and towns around, each with small paths connecting, but mostly after Wolong Hill. On this side, only Jin Family Town and Shanglin Village, but we just passed Shanglin Village’s path, and Jin Family Town’s is not yet reached.”
The Zhang man’s eyes flashed, his brows furrowing. “Since they’ve set a ghost-luring path, Miss Qianqian should be safe for now.”
Rong Song nodded. “Now we’re the ones in trouble.”
“What, Daoist, getting cold feet?” The Zhang man looked at Rong Song.
“Wuliang Tianzun!” Rong Song proclaimed his Daoist title, turning to the scholar. “Young Master Ning, the situation ahead is unclear. You might return first…”
The scholar shook his head, pulling a wooden slip from his bosom, his face resolute. “Ning has some means of self-protection. He can share the burden however much he can.”
The Zhang man laughed heartily. “This scholar’s alright, good man!”
Rong Song frowned. “To manifest a ghost-luring path, the opponent has no weak cultivation. Young Master Ning has only one illuminated Huayan Sutra for protection, too dangerous.”
“How fierce can ghosts in the yang world be? However many come, all will perish under my sword!” The Zhang man laughed boldly, clamped his legs, and his mount veered onto the ghost-luring path.
The Ning scholar was also anxious, cupped his hands to Rong Song. “Daozhang need not worry for this one. We grab Qianqian and run.”
Rong Song could only nod, and with the Ning scholar, turned onto the ghost-luring path.
…
At the end of the ghost path, the ghost manor took shape.
Emerging from the forest path, the first sight was the two dark red gates at the ghost manor’s front.
Under the eaves hung two man-high red lanterns, round in shape. The lights inside were eerily red, the flames burning not in normal tongues but twisted human forms, emitting faint, almost inaudible wails.
Under this twisted lamplight, shadows flickered on the gates, as if continuous liquid flowed from top to bottom. Paired with the dark red doors, it resembled blood-soaked wood, blood flowing endlessly.
On the two gates were distributed exactly thirty-six copper nails, but these nails were not round. Each was a skull head, empty and pitch-black eye sockets like black holes, staring at the ghost-luring path outside the gates.
When had the Ning scholar ever seen such a sight? His heart raced, feeling it might leap from his chest.
“Tricks to frighten!”
The Zhang man’s eyes sharpened, he uttered a low clear shout, drew the great sword from his back with a reverse grip, spurred his horse forward, sword qi shooting a zhang ahead.
“Jie jie jie!”
“He he he!”
“Ha ha ha!”
“He he he!”
The skulls on the gates’ lower jaws opened and closed, countless eerie laughs issuing forth, forming a sound wave that met the sword qi head-on.
Then, the sword qi advanced unbroken, shattering the sound wave entirely, striking straight at the gates.
The next moment, twisted shadows emerged on either side of the gates, dark red all over, half-real half-illusory. With four palms, under the red light’s boost, they blocked the thick sword qi.
“Golden Palace Heart Sword, slay!”
Rong Song uttered a clear shout, formed finger-sword, pointed forward.
Two screams rang out. The two shadows twisted, their hands loosened, and sword qi entered their bodies.
The Zhang man’s mount did not stop. He drew sword in horizontal sweep again, sword qi passing over, thoroughly mincing the two shadows.
“Tear! Tear!”
Rending sounds rose. The two red lanterns shattered on their own, the lights inside blown out by yin wind in an instant.
It was midwinter now, dusk falling early. Past you hour in the forest, with dense dark clouds overhead, no stars no moon. If not for lights from the manor, outside would be pitch black, unable to see one’s hand.
“Open!”
Sword qi rose again. Though the thirty-six skulls still laughed strangely, the two gates swung open on their own.
The Zhang man led on horseback, charging into the manor.
Rong Song took two talismans from his bosom, flung them out. Two spirit-suppressing talismans stuck to the gate lintel, golden light flashed, spiritual energy converged.
“Go!”
Then, Rong Song spurred his horse, and with the Ning scholar, entered through the gates.
