Chapter 15: Snatching the Body She Fought to Keep

 Chapter 15: Snatching the Body She Fought to Keep

When night fell, the monks and Daoists at the mourning hall had already stopped chanting scriptures, and only a few people remained guarding the hall.

Outside, thunder rumbled, rain and snow fell, the cold wind howled, blowing so that the spirit paper inside the mourning hall fluttered noisily. Even the paper-crafted sedan chairs, horses, and men had some colored paper lifted up, exposing the bamboo framework.

Seeing this, Lang Caimeng said: “The wind is a bit too strong. Don’t burn any more spirit money for now, lest it be blown away and cause a fire.”

Inside the mourning hall, apart from the coffin, there were mostly the paper effigies and offerings. If they caught fire, that would truly be troublesome.

“Yes, Eldest Brother.” Lang Caicheng nodded, going over to extinguish the brazier. Yet suddenly, a chill struck his back, and he instinctively turned his head: “Who’s there?”

Lang Caimeng looked over: “What is it?”

Lang Caicheng’s heart tightened. He glanced toward that row of paper effigies of boys and girls, swallowed, and said: “Nothing, perhaps I was seeing things.”

Just now, he felt as though someone was staring at him, that gaze icy cold.

The third branch’s Lang Caize laughed: “Fourth Brother, don’t tell me you’re even scared in Grandfather’s mourning hall?”

Lang Caimeng frowned at him, clearly disapproving.

Lang Caicheng awkwardly said: “Of course I am not afraid.”

Lang Caize curled his lips, his eyes sweeping over the paper effigies: “Deng Ji White-Funeral Shop’s craftsmanship is indeed exquisite. These paper boys and girls are made so vividly, especially the eyes, painted so realistically, as if alive. Grandfather truly has fortune.”

Seeing his words becoming more and more inappropriate, Lang Caimeng rebuked: “Sixth Brother, in the mourning hall, you must not speak recklessly.”

“Tch, Eldest Brother lectures me. But compared to that village girl Lang Jiuchuan, I’m nothing. She never speaks without shocking people to death. Compared with her, I, your Sixth Brother, am merely a small trick. Besides, what did I say wrong? Look at these paper girls, aren’t they pretty? Fourth Brother, you tell me.” Lang Caize looked at the still unsettled Lang Caicheng.

Lang Caimeng’s face grew stern: “Though Ninth Sister has lived at the villa since childhood and is not versed in the fashions of the capital’s noblewomen, she is still our cousin, the daughter of Second Uncle and Second Aunt. For you to mock her so is to disrespect Second Uncle and Second Aunt.”

Seeing him so serious, Lang Caize found it boring, and sheepishly said: “Fine, I won’t say it then.”

He admired the prettiest of the paper girls, even reaching out to tap her red lips before turning away. Yet he did not notice—the eyes of that paper girl rolled as if alive, staring at the back of his head, and her crimson lips even curved slightly, eerie to the extreme.

Bang.

A gust of wind slammed in, banging the doors, spirit money flying everywhere. Yin energy surged from all directions, making the already extinguished brazier’s mourning hall colder still.

At this, even Lang Caimeng and the others frowned. Why was it suddenly so cold?

Bang, bang, bang.

The doors were beaten by the wind several times, then suddenly slammed shut. Inside, the candles were instantly extinguished.

“What the hell?” Lang Caize’s voice trembled.

Could it be that Grandfather has returned?

Lang Caimeng, worthy of being the legitimate eldest grandson, after a moment of shock, ordered Lang Caicheng to fetch a tinder to relight the candles, while he himself went to pull open the doors.

Yet the tightly shut doors did not budge in the slightest.

“Who is out there?” Lang Caimeng thought someone was playing tricks, and shouted sternly.

The only response was the howling wind outside.

Just as he was about to call again, suddenly behind him came a shrill scream. The fright nearly made him wet himself on the spot. Turning, he saw Lang Caicheng holding a just-lit candle, staring in terror at one spot.

He followed his gaze—there stood Lang Caize before the row of paper boys and girls, hands clawing at the air like tearing something away. His cheeks were sunken, lips puckered, drool running from the corners of his mouth. The sight was like someone had pinched his cheeks together.

That appearance—was it possession?

Or just an act?

“Sixth Brother, no fooling around!”

Lang Caize’s throat emitted hoarse sounds, struggling to say: “Help…”

This was no act!

The two brothers realized this instantly, and rushed forward. Yet as they neared, yin energy wrapped around them, and before their eyes appeared a ring of living boys and girls circling them, grinning as they spun around.

The three: “!”

Ghostly disturbances at a mourning hall were rare but not unheard of. There were tales of coffins refusing to close because the deceased’s descendants were unfilial, or of coffins too heavy to lift because of lingering grievances. But never had they heard of paper effigies at the mourning hall turning into real ghosts.

Now, the Lang family had set the precedent.

The paper-crafted boys and girls had come alive.

It was haunted.

The three brothers screamed silently, staring at the grotesque ghostly children, their lips and cheeks crimson while their faces were ghostly pale. The brothers’ complexions were no better—so pale they nearly matched the paper ghosts.

All at once, the three rushed madly toward the doors, tugging frantically.

They had to get out.

Just then, Lang Jiuchuan arrived. The courtyard that had monks chanting during the day now only had white banners fluttering. A few servants were rehanging the white lanterns blown down by the wind, while from inside the mourning hall, yin energy was already spilling forth.

Her eyes narrowed.

Oh? A few unlucky souls were inside.

Hearing the cries for help from within, Lang Jiuchuan walked forward and lifted her foot.

Bang.

The doors were violently kicked open.

Lang Caimeng and the others, standing by the door, were knocked back, sprawling on the ground.

Yin energy rushed straight at Lang Jiuchuan.

Ghostly wails pierced into her ears, cold and shrill.

How unpleasant.

Lang Jiuchuan waved her hand: “Shut up, all of you, so noisy!”

The chaotic ghost cries instantly fell silent.

But then, they rose again. Ridiculous—why should they heed this sickly girl? Look at her, almost at death’s door. Better to take this body for themselves, and once more taste the world of the living.

However, there were not enough bodies to share…

So—whoever seized it would own it!

In an instant, countless ghostly shadows lunged at Lang Jiuchuan.

She had already used spells earlier, and this body was at its weakest. Unprepared, one ghost slipped inside her, fighting her for control of the body.

A tiger fallen to the plain, bullied by dogs.

Lang Jiuchuan sneered. She might be weak, but not so weak that these dead wretches could trample her. This body she had obtained through backing—she hadn’t even warmed it yet, and they wanted to snatch it? Were they tired of being ghosts?

Did they not even inquire who she was—the very terror of the underworld?

Lang Jiuchuan directly dragged out the ghost that had entered her. In front of the others still trying to possess her, she focused her will into her hands—and tore.

Before their eyes, the unfortunate ghost that first possessed her was ripped to shreds, soul scattered.

The crowd of little ghosts: “!”

So terrifying.

They had met a ruthless one.

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh.

Like birds scattering, they all fled.

Not a single ghost remained in the mourning hall.

Lest they be torn to pieces as well, they dared not stay. Couldn’t provoke her, but could flee.

Lang Jiuchuan did not pursue. With a wave of her hand, she scattered the yin energy in the hall. After all, her body was frail—she couldn’t afford the cold.

Turning, she met three pairs of stunned eyes on the floor. She nudged Lang Caize’s leg with her foot: “Your soul’s back.”

(End of Chapter)