Even a cultivator of the Nine Streams, caught off guard by the ghostly howls of five Hanged Ghosts, would have their soul shaken on the spot. Within three to five breaths, their body and soul would separate, leaving them unable to move.
When Old Qian worked for his master, the job was often over as soon as those five Hanged Ghosts charged in.
The five Hanged Ghosts split into three groups, each targeting the front door or one of the two windows before launching their assault.
The stepmother hid beneath the window. Outside in the courtyard, the bamboo dragonfly relayed images from every angle.
Crouching down, the stepmother struck a pose like a "heavenward kick." Her delicate body was impossibly supple. Her long leg swept up and kicked down—BANG!—sending the entire window flying!
Crack...
The window landed in the courtyard without breaking. Instead, it joined itself back together with a clatter, transforming into a cage.
Then it rose into the air on its own!
An irresistible force seized the five Hanged Ghosts and dragged them all into the cage.
The cage door slammed shut, locking every Hanged Ghost inside.
These Hanged Ghosts were Yin soldiers, without physical bodies. The cage was only three feet square, and the five of them writhed inside like tangled water weeds. They struggled desperately, but no matter what they did, they could not escape.
The bars were the window lattice from before, only as thick as a thumb. Lightning clung to them, crackling and flashing as the Hanged Ghosts let out one shriek after another.
Old Qian stood outside the courtyard, his weathered face as still as an ancient well.
If the Hanged Ghosts wouldn't do, he'd try something else.
Whatever his master had ordered, he had to get it done.
He pulled a dripping wet netted cage out of the shadow behind him. As soon as he opened it, the Drowned Ghosts inside sprang out, looking vicious.
These Drowned Ghosts were half human, half fish. Some had fish tails and human torsos; others had fish heads and human legs. Some had fish bodies but human arms, while others looked human but were covered from head to toe in scales.
Without exception, every one of them had a gaping maw, with long fangs jutting past their lips. Long whiskers swayed on either side of their mouths, lined with barbs like thorns!
Amid the viscous Yin energy, this school of Drowned Ghosts swam as freely as fish in the open sea. They moved even faster than the Hanged Ghosts had.
Every one of them had no doubt devoured countless living people who had accidentally fallen into the water. Bloodthirsty, foul-smelling Baleful Intent clung to them as they charged into the courtyard, heading for the open window to squeeze inside.
A lamp inside the room flickered, its light and shadows swaying.
A beautiful woman stood behind the window. Behind her sat a young man, wearing an utterly helpless expression.
What delicious, succulent Blood Food!
The Drowned Ghosts opened their gaping maws and lunged.
The window wasn't large; at most, two Drowned Ghosts could rush through it at once.
But there were only two pieces of Blood Food, so the ghosts jostled to get ahead. Several of them crowded together at the window.
The strongest one fought its way free and rushed into the room first.
It snapped at the woman, but although she seemed stiff, she was somehow astonishingly quick. As she moved, she seemed to flicker and sway.
It lunged at her again and again, but every bite missed.
The Drowned Ghost wasn't particularly clever. It gave up on the woman, turned, and lunged at the young man.
Behind it, the other Drowned Ghosts rushed into the room as well.
Suddenly, the lamp inside went out. They didn't care; without the light, they had the advantage.
But right after that, the world spun around them. The room, which had been square, abruptly became spherical and began shrinking at a dizzying speed.
They were inside a ball!
The tables, chairs, and every other furnishing in the room—including the two people—turned into flat cutouts and were rapidly pulled away.
The Drowned Ghosts crashed into one another, and not a single one escaped the net.
This wasn't a real house at all, but a shadow play. The lamplight had cast shadows that tricked both the Drowned Ghosts and Old Qian outside.
The Drowned Ghosts had walked right into a trap, charging straight into a bag.
The mouth of the bag had been opened behind the real window!
The stepmother gathered up the bag in her hand, shrinking it to the size of a water ladle. A swarm of Drowned Ghosts was packed inside, still struggling wildly.
Xu Yuan's Family Tradition—the "ancestral trade" he'd inherited—was the theater stage next door.
That old theater could host a troupe, or it could put on shadow plays.
Xu Yuan's father had been skilled at shadow puppetry. He could manipulate the figures and sing the parts, and he could also make shadow puppets out of all kinds of materials.
It was an Artisan Cultivator's craft, so naturally, he had passed it on to the stepmother as well.
Old Qian furrowed his brow. This was getting troublesome.
He began fiddling with the battered bottles and jars.
"I've seen the wider world with my master in the Southern Capital."
"You think these tricks can stump me?"
Shanhe County wasn't even as big as a single ward in the Southern Capital.
He found a small, dusty jar that looked entirely unremarkable. He'd just dug it out from beneath a corner of the wall, and dirt still clung to it.
A bowl covered the jar. When he lifted it away, he found the mouth sealed with mulberry-bark paper smeared with pig's blood, lime, rice paste, and other things.
Whatever was inside seemed to sense something. It grew especially excited and pounded against the seal. The tough mulberry-bark paper boomed with each blow, bulging outward again and again.
"Easy now, easy," Old Qian said. He was remarkably patient with the things in his bottles and jars, a kindly smile on his face.
When he'd released the Hanged Ghosts and Drowned Ghosts earlier, he'd seemed like an overseer driving laborers to work.
Now, he sounded like a grandfather calling his own grandson to get up and study.
Old Qian pointed the jar's mouth toward the courtyard and murmured, "Eat up. Eat your fill." Then he tore away the mulberry-bark paper sealing it.
Whoosh—
In an instant, dense, murky Yin energy blasted forward like flames. A huge shadow, thick as slime, climbed over the courtyard wall, raced across it, then skimmed along the ground toward the room where Xu Yuan and the stepmother were.
Wherever the thing passed, it left behind a huge trail of Yin-energy corrosion, as though the ground had been brushed with concentrated acid.
The stepmother gave a cold snort. She stood proudly at the window, and somehow, she was already holding the candlestick from the table.
In the darkness, the monster rushed closer at terrifying speed, its stench washing over them!
It had no visible organs at all—just one great, black, sticky mass, a full zhang across.
Using its peculiar nature, it could form limbs, claws, horns, and all sorts of other shapes at will.
When it reached the house, countless tendrils unfurled from its body, seeking to worm their way inside through the window, the cracks beneath the door, and every other gap.
Seeing the thing, the stepmother's face changed. "Outrageous! You actually raised a Corpse Water Monster!
"It takes the corpse water seeping from at least a hundred and fifty bodies as they rot to raise one to this degree!"
Outside the courtyard, Old Qian heard the stepmother's words. To her surprise, his expression was that of a kindred spirit meeting her far from home.
Shanhe County was simply too small and too backward.
It was hard for the "children" in his bottles and jars to meet anyone who knew what they were.
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