Chapter 55: Waterlogged Ghost

Li Zhuiyuan blinked, his eyes shifting between the two places where the Niu family's great-grandfather and Runsheng were pinned down, then looked toward Niu Lian in the distance.

He didn’t follow the “great-grandfather’s” order to grab Niu Lian. Instead, he ran toward the shed where there was rope, and where Grandpa Shan and Liu Jinxia were. Though both were injured, they could still help tie someone up.

The reason he didn’t go after Niu Lian was simple. It wasn’t because he was young or lacked strength—Niu Lian looked like she could be knocked over by a breeze. A child grabbing her by the sash could probably hold her in place.

What unsettled him was how the trio had started out together but were now scattered, like it had all been pre-arranged. One by one, the Niu family members had appeared as if waiting to be caught.

But after running a short distance, Li Zhuiyuan stopped. It suddenly struck him—wasn’t he also playing into their hands by running off?

A gust of chill wind swept by. He turned around. Behind him lay only pitch-dark fields—no sign of the great-grandfather or Runsheng.

Then came the sound of wooden fish clacking by his ears, mixed with muddled chanting, like the kind performed by monks hired for funerals.

Figures in Taoist robes began appearing around him, each holding ritual instruments and circling him.

It felt like his senses were being stuffed with static—ears ringing, vision clouded—until he could barely sense the world at all.

Li Zhuiyuan lifted his right hand and bit down hard on his forearm. He hadn’t held back. A bloody bite mark emerged, but the pain was faint, barely there.

No choice. He opened his palm, ready to use the trick he had just taught Runsheng—slap himself back to his senses.

But before he could strike, a man’s voice called from behind.

“Sigh. You’ve fallen under her spell after all.”

He turned and saw Uncle Qin standing there, radiating a calming presence.

Uncle Qin placed a hand on his shoulder. “She’s a cat-human corpse-dao. A corpse ghoul. Their specialty is messing with your mind.”

“Uncle, please, go help my great-grandfather!”

“Don’t worry. They’re fine now.”

Uncle Qin raised his right hand. In it, he held a black cat.

Its tail was half-gone, one eye blind, one leg lame. Patches of its fur were rotting, but it still twitched and writhed.

This was the animal corpse that had turned into a corpse-dao along with the old Niu matriarch?

“Uncle, you already caught it?”

“Not completely,” he said with a grin. “It’s badly injured, like your great-grandfather. The cat and human forms have split. I only got the cat. Once we find the human part and finish them together, the corpse ghoul will be dealt with.”

“What about my great-grandfather and the others?”

“Those possessed Niu family members are no threat to him. Focus on finding the old matriarch. Once she’s handled, it’ll be over. She’s in the old house on the west side of the village.”

Uncle Qin held the struggling cat in his right hand and took Li Zhuiyuan’s hand with his left, leading him west.

“Uncle, didn’t you say you don’t even bother helping if a soy sauce bottle tips over?”

“It’s past midnight. Your great-grandfather’s abstinence period is over. So me stepping in now has nothing to do with him. I just happened to pass by, saw a corpse ghoul messing around, and took care of it.”

“Oh. Uncle, you’re amazing.”

“Heh. This is nothing. You haven’t seen real power yet. This kind of corpse ghoul is a small fry. Back before Liberation, the big corpse-daos in the Martial World were the true terrors.”

“They were worse than this?”

“Much worse. Some were once nobles or officials drowned to death, turned into ‘general-daos’—corpse-dao generals who could command river-spirits and plague-ghosts.

Others came from regions with water burial traditions. Normally their scope was limited, but changes in waterways let their coffin-bound rage spill elsewhere, turning them into corpse kings.

And the scariest are the evil-path cultivators—taoists who used their bodies as vessels for immortality. They keep their pre-death powers, and unlike brute-force monsters, they’re cunning and know the methods living people use against them.”

Li Zhuiyuan looked up, curiosity piqued. “Uncle, if those corpse-daos were so dangerous, how come they’ve all disappeared now? Who got rid of them?”

“They were wiped out by the righteous path,” said Uncle Qin.

Li Zhuiyuan quietly pulled his hand from Uncle Qin’s grasp and stopped walking.

Uncle Qin noticed and turned to look at him.

Li Zhuiyuan didn’t meet his eyes. He was staring at the cat in his hand.

Its green eyes flickered with blood-red light, thick with resentment.

“Xiaoyuan, why’d you stop?”

Uncle Qin leaned down, peering at him, his right arm reaching behind the boy like to offer comfort.

At once, Li Zhuiyuan felt furry claws brushing his neck. He dodged, widening the distance.

“Xiaoyuan, what’s wrong!”

Uncle Qin’s tone hardened. The cat’s eyes glowed red.

“Be good and come with me. We have to settle this. That’s the only way your great-grandfather will be safe.”

This time, it was only Uncle Qin’s lips that moved. The cat’s mouth was opening and closing non-stop.

It reminded Li Zhuiyuan of a school anniversary performance he’d seen in Beijing. A ventriloquist had spoken while a puppet’s mouth flapped in sync, as if the puppet was talking.

But what he saw now seemed like the reverse.

Slowly, both Uncle Qin and the cat fell silent, realizing the child had seen through them.

Uncle Qin’s face twisted into an eerie grin. The cat’s mouth split open, dripping blood.

Suddenly, everything around turned blood-red. Every direction was smeared with gore.

Li Zhuiyuan stood firm, fists clenched. He was terrified, but didn’t panic or scream.

The Records of Strange Happenings in the Martial World described corpse ghouls as beings that prey on fear. A corpse retriever must stay calm, never let the enemy lead.

The more scared you are, the easier you are to manipulate.

And never close your eyes—doing so is a surrender of control.

Sweat streamed down his forehead. He swallowed repeatedly, his breath quickening like he stood in a furnace.

Then, a memory surfaced—of a dream after the luck-shifting ritual with his great-grandfather. In it, he stood atop his bed, surrounded by a sea of corpses.

With that comparison, the current horror seemed less terrifying. He had proof this wasn’t real.

The cat stopped grinning. Uncle Qin staggered back, rotting rapidly. Within moments, he was a puddle of sludge.

All illusions vanished. The night air was fresh again. Li Zhuiyuan exhaled in ragged gasps.

The cat was free. It limped toward him, stopped at his feet, and looked up.

He looked back.

They locked eyes in silence.

Then Li Zhuiyuan broke it.

“What… do you want?”

He was already confused by Li Sanjiang’s behavior. This corpse ghoul baffled him even more.

Was it revenge?

The cat looked weary. It opened its mouth, like trying to speak, but no words came—perhaps because Uncle Qin was gone.

It swiped a paw at him, then limped west.

Li Zhuiyuan stayed put.

The cat paused, looked back, eyes full of mockery.

He didn’t move. He had deep curiosity, but not the kind that made reckless decisions. And he had no extra sympathy to give.

“Meow!”

The cat cried out, a sound like a child’s wail—full of rage, but impotent and harmless.

“You want me to follow you?”

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