It failed!
Li Yan's heart sank, but he was helpless.
Yesterday, while preparing the ritual, he'd pieced together the method's logic, guessing its essence.
Put simply, it was about tricking spirits.
The practice was ancient, with many variations.
In villages, it was common for families to raise boys as girls or girls as tomboys to dodge taboos, fearing kids wouldn't survive otherwise.
Widow Wang's method was like that, but went further—luring the *cold altar mad soldier* into the rooster's body, then burning it at noon to break the curse.
The deeper mechanics? Li Yan hadn't a clue.
But clearly, the thing didn't take the bait.
Staring at the rooster's mangled, pulpy innards, a chill crept up his spine.
What it did when it possessed something was terrifying.
His stand-in idol probably couldn't hold up much longer.
Not daring to slack, he burned and buried the rooster, then prepared again per Widow Wang's instructions.
She'd said to try two nights in a row.
Maybe tonight would work.
Waiting dragged on, endless.
Finally, night fell, silence blanketing the world. Li Yan tied another rooster outside, returned to his room, and buried himself in the pit.
Tonight's moonlight was even brighter, sharp as frost.
Unlike last night, as midnight neared, an eerie wind stirred in Li Family Village.
It swirled unpredictably, carrying dust and leaves, sweeping in from the village entrance. It dodged the Earth Temple, spiraling toward Li Yan's house.
In Widow Wang's home, candlelight flickered dimly.
The girl, awake but still in the red-roped circle, held her whisk, cocking her head as if listening.
Suddenly, her eyes snapped open, glaring at the door, jabbering nonstop.
Widow Wang's face went deathly pale.
"Trouble! That boy's in danger!"
…
The eerie wind spun, reaching Li Yan's house.
It whirled across the ground, kicking up dust.
To ordinary folks, it'd seem like nothing—a common dust devil from shifting weather.
But the tethered rooster sensed doom. Its feathers bristled, wings flapping wildly, straining to break free.
Then the wind hit, and it collapsed.
Moments later, the sturdy bird floated upward, as if lifted by an invisible hand.
*Crack.* Its head and feet twisted grotesquely, body dropping amid scattered droppings as the wind rose again.
But its aura seemed weaker.
Furious at being tricked twice, the wind spun once more, carrying leaves, and darted toward Li Yan's courtyard from the side wall.
It didn't get far.
*Thump.*
The "Hundred Battles Mighty" plaque above the gate let out a dull thud.
This sound was louder than the past two nights.
*Thump! Thump! Thump!*
After three collisions, a sharp *crack* split the plaque again, deeper this time, paint flaking off in clumps.
The wind weakened too, no longer charging but circling the house.
In the dark, it howled.
Buried under the side room's floor, Li Yan gripped his blade, on high alert.
He couldn't hear outside, but he *felt* it—the thing had come.
The icy chill on his back grew sharper.
Something was different tonight…
As he puzzled, a voice broke through.
"Boy, where'd you go?"
Muffled, weathered—it was Grandpa Li Gui!
Damn it!
Li Yan's hair stood on end, panic rising.
He hadn't been unprepared. He'd laced Grandpa's porridge with heart-soothing herbs like *fushen* and schisandra, a remedy from when the old man struggled with insomnia and nightmares. It always knocked him out till dawn.
Grandpa had been a fierce soldier in his youth, but his father's death broke his spirit. His health had faded, and he couldn't handle shocks.
Li Yan hadn't dared mention the evil spirit.
Now, something had gone wrong.
As panic surged, he recalled Widow Wang's warning: no matter what he heard or saw, he mustn't break cover, or the ritual would fail.
Was it real or fake?
Forcing calm, he listened closely.
There it was—a clue.
The voice echoed hazily, looping in his ears.
If Grandpa had woken and found him gone, he'd have barged in, searching the room. The pit, dug by the bed, was obvious.
But the voice just drifted, no footsteps, no movement.
It was fake!
Li Yan's gut settled, but a shiver ran through him.
This *cold altar mad soldier* could mimic voices? That was chillingly cunning.
Soon, the voice faded.
*Crash!*
Suddenly, the doorframe rattled violently, as if something was shaking it.
Then Grandpa's voice again: "Who's there?"
"Ahh! Save me!"
It was desperate, like he faced something dire.
Sweat beaded on Li Yan's forehead. He couldn't be sure.
How could he gamble on this?
Then, a spark of intuition hit. He nudged the bamboo breathing tube to his nose.
The oilcloth kept dirt from his mouth.
He inhaled deeply.
His keen nose, able to pick out unearthly scents, could also parse mundane ones.
Earthy soil, decaying furniture, the lingering aroma of fried meatballs on the table…
He sorted them all.
*Blind Third*'s bloody, rank stench was there—faint, not in the courtyard.
Grandpa's scent was absent too.
Relief washed over him, followed by a mental curse.
This thing could deceive like that? Too damn sly.
Voices came and went. Relying on his uncanny sense of smell, Li Yan never fell for it, but the ordeal drained him, his mind fraying.
Finally, the sounds stopped.
After what felt like forever, rooster crows faintly reached him.
Li Yan exhaled, ready to break free.
But as his head breached the soil, his heart froze.
The room was pitch-black. Through the papered window's cracks, he saw the sky.
Past midnight, yes, but nowhere near dawn's first crow.
He'd been tricked!
Regret flooded him.
Fooled at the last moment.
*Thump!*
A massive crash came from the courtyard gate.
This was no illusion—something real struck the plaque.
No time to waste. Li Yan burst from the soil, blade in hand, and charged out.
Widow Wang said the thing fled at the end of the *chou* hour, start of *yin*, with the first rooster crow.
It was close enough. With the stand-in idol, he might hold out.
*Thump!*
Another crash, louder, shaking the wooden gate.
Li Yan stood ready, blade horizontal, eyes blazing with killing intent.
Folklore said ghosts feared the fierce. Years of martial training had honed a vicious aura—maybe it could harm this thing.
"Cock-a-doodle-doo!"
His family's rooster leapt onto a wooden frame, neck stretched, crowing loudly, echoing everywhere.
The crashing stopped.
Neighboring roosters joined in.
Through the gate's crack, Li Yan smelled *Blind Third*'s stench retreating fast.
Maybe from clashing with the plaque, its scent was faint now. As it passed, village dogs went berserk, barking wildly.
Still, Li Yan didn't move.
Only when dawn's first light broke did he push the gate open.
As expected, the tethered rooster was dead—worse than yesterday, a sign of the thing's rage at being duped.
Li Yan's face was grim, no joy in surviving.
He'd seen the thing's cunning and terror last night.
What about next time?
*Crack!*
The "Hundred Battles Mighty" plaque gave way, splitting wide, its incense scent fading fast.
Li Yan sighed inwardly.
The house's ward was ruined—trouble piling on trouble.
Then, from the plaque's crack, something fell, clinking to the ground—three copper coins.
Li Yan picked them up, inspecting closely.
Round with square holes, their patterns were unlike common coins. One side bore a carved armored deity, surrounded by tiny runes.
The other sides showed sun, moon, and stars…
Please collect, recommend, vote, and comment.
(End of Chapter)