After the door opened, the exhausted Yao Shunyu stood outside. He looked even worse than before. Before the Fatty could rush over and hug him, Yao Shunyu opened his mouth and spat out a mouthful of black mud.
The Fatty was closest and reacted fastest. With a bang, he slammed the door shut and braced his back against it. "A ghost! Yao Shunyu really is dead. There's a ghost outside!"
Zhang Qizheng, however, seemed to have figured it out. After a brief pause, he exclaimed, "What ghost? He's human! You clever kid—you actually held a mouthful of grave soil in your mouth. No wonder you didn't dare speak last night."
Tang Qisheng nodded repeatedly. He couldn't help but regard Yao Shunyu more highly, too. "Grave soil is steeped in yin energy. Holding it in your mouth suppresses the yang energy of the living, making those filthy things mistake you for one of their own. But the moment you open your mouth, you give yourself away."
The Fatty wasn't interested in any of that. All he knew was that Yao Shunyu had survived. His attitude changed in an instant, and he happily pulled Yao Shunyu inside. Then he poured a full bowl of tea for him to rinse his mouth.
After spitting out the grave soil, Yao Shunyu looked at everyone before him and let out a long sigh of relief. His pale complexion gradually improved. Just as Tang Qisheng had said, the grave soil was thick with Evil Spirit. He had held it in his mouth for an entire night and could barely stand it anymore. He felt cold seeping out from his very bones. He had escaped with his life, but he was bound to fall seriously ill.
Yao Shunyu ate some food and rested for a while. Once