Chapter 31 - Soul-Capturing Yin House (Part VII)

Chen Shaoxian stretched lazily, startling everyone around him.

He glanced at his companions and scratched his head, asking, “Haven’t any of you rested?”

“Who can be as carefree as you?” Zheng Ruirui replied dully.

The others shared the same expression, seemingly agreeing with Zheng Ruirui.

Chen Shaoxian checked the time-it was eleven forty-five-and lit a cigarette. He took out a small box containing cinnabar and dabbed a bit on everyone’s forehead, earlobes, and throat.

As the clock struck midnight, a faint singing could be heard throughout the Zhuo Family house. Chen Shaoxian, well-rested, struggled to keep his eyes open upon hearing the sound.

Quickly, he pulled a bronze gong from his bag and started striking it vigorously.

With the sound of the gong, everyone’s sleepiness vanished. Chen Shaoxian looked around; fortunately, no one had fallen asleep. Instead, the gong’s clamor had everyone wide awake, their eyes wide open and fixed on Chen Shaoxian.

He handed the gong to Zhang Xinyi, instructing him to strike it if he heard the sound again.

Suddenly, a hissing noise echoed down the hallway, reminiscent of a lit fuse. Chen Shaoxian knew their visitor had arrived, as the sound drew closer, only to vanish at the doorway.

Simultaneously with the disappearance of the sound, streams of white vapor seeped through the door crack. As soon as the vapor touched the incense ash on the floor, it hissed, and the incense ash sparked like ignited cotton.

As the white vapor approached, a pungent smell filled the air.

Chen Shaoxian placed a copper basin in front of him and motioned for the others to stand behind him. He took out a box of mugwort powder, poured all of it into the copper basin, added some alcohol, and lit it with a match.

The white vapor, seemingly attracted by the flames in the basin, slowly drifted into it.

The moment the vapor touched the flames, the fire in the basin surged, hissing loudly, and the foul smell in the room dissipated significantly. Chen Shaoxian slowly pushed the copper basin toward the door, positioning it so that the white vapor entering the room would be drawn directly into it.

Chen Shaoxian called over Zhang Xinming and handed him a box of mugwort powder, instructing him to sprinkle some into the basin if the flames dwindled, making sure the fire did not go out.

He pulled out a vermilion pen and drew a talisman on the door, then grabbed the Altar-Stabilizing Wood and struck the door forcefully. With a sizzle, the vermilion cinnabar on the talisman instantly turned black.

Chen Shaoxian turned back and sternly warned everyone in the room, “Unless I call for you, no one leaves,” then nodded at Zheng Lei.

He picked up a kitchen knife that had been used to kill a chicken during the day, slung a backpack over his shoulder, and walked out the door.

Oddly, there was nothing at the doorway, only a heavy stench of blood, and the corridor’s floor had turned black.

Chen Shaoxian sealed the door behind him with an ink line and, carrying the knife, headed downstairs.

The incense ash on the floor was burnt and peeling, making a rustling sound underfoot. As he turned to descend the stairs, he found the entire hall enveloped in fog and a faint scent of incense.

The fog continuously poured out from the kitchen. Chen Shaoxian walked in and saw something boiling on the stove, bubbling and steaming vigorously.

He approached, used the knife to lift the lid, and looked inside. Despite his bravery, the sight startled him, nearly causing him to throw his knife away. It was a man’s head stewing in the pot, constantly rolling around.

As the head turned over, Chen Shaoxian noticed its hollow eye sockets and suddenly recalled the Vengeful Spirit Corpse from earlier in the day; this head was that very corpse’s.

Now it was clear why the corpse had no flesh; it had all been sliced off and stewed. Realizing this, Chen Shaoxian felt nauseous and quickly turned off the stove and left the kitchen.

The smell in the hall made his stomach churn, and he spat vigorously several times to suppress the nausea.

Suddenly, there was a knocking sound. Following the noise, Chen Shaoxian found a door.

Listening carefully, the sound was coming from behind the door. Observing it, he noted the door lacked an exorcism mirror and exuded a chill.

He took out the vermilion pen again and drew an exorcism spell on the door. As he drew, the pen hissed against the door, eerily similar to the sound in the corridor earlier. Once the talisman was complete, all that was left in his hand was the pen shaft.

He tossed the pen shaft aside and struck the door with the Altar-Stabilizing Wood, which creaked open.

The moment the door opened, a gust of cold air rushed out, giving Chen Shaoxian goosebumps. Behind the door was a staircase descending into darkness, its end invisible.

Steadying his nerves, he took out the ink line and tied one end to the leg of a coffee table in the hall. After securing the line, he stuffed it into his pocket and then pulled out a small box of cinnabar. He smeared a layer on both sides of the blade and then boldly proceeded downward.

With each step, he tapped the walls on both sides with the Altar-Stabilizing Wood. Each tap illuminated a section of the staircase in the hall’s light. With every illuminated step, the previous one would disappear, allowing the light to continuously follow Chen Shaoxian’s footsteps as he hesitated on the first step of the descent.

As he went further down, the chill in the wind intensified. After descending for a while, the steps beneath his feet vanished, and Chen Shaoxian stood as if he was back in the room he had first entered. As the room materialized, he discreetly stepped back, positioning himself right at the doorway.

The light from behind poured in, revealing the room’s details clearly. The decor indicated that it was a woman’s bedroom, featuring a large bed with an infant’s crib beside it.

Suddenly, the crib began to sway gently from side to side, as if someone were soothing a child. Accompanying the swaying, a song started to play, originating from the large bed.

Unnoticed until then, a woman lay on the bed, singing and laughing in a he-he manner, chillingly both sounds occurring simultaneously. She got up from the bed and walked towards Chen Shaoxian, yet neither the laughter nor the singing ceased.

As the woman drew nearer, Chen Shaoxian felt the cold become piercing.

Suddenly, Chen Shaoxian realized her attire was identical to that of the woman in his dreams: a white top with a red skirt.

The woman stopped right in front of Chen Shaoxian.

“Outside the door of the living, inside the door of the dead, a single step divides realms of life and death.”