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墨書 Inktalez
Chapter 177: The Eerie Spirit Hall
Upon entering, I still couldn't see the Spirit Hall, which deepened my confusion. Hou Dequie introduced me to each of his family members, and I carefully observed their expressions. There was no sorrow; none of them displayed the emotions one would expect upon my arrival.
This was a conclusion I had drawn from many experiences.
At a funeral, the deceased is the pillar of the family. Everyone mourns deeply, crying and weeping, with smiles on their faces that are mostly forced in an attempt to suppress their grief.
When a loved one dies unexpectedly, the family often expresses feelings of resentment, complaining that fate has been unkind, insisting that the deceased should not have suffered such a cruel death.
In cases where someone dies due to various schemes, the family members who lack blood ties often appear indifferent, their faces devoid of expression.
For those whose loved ones died with grievances, aside from weeping bitterly, they would burn paper offerings while cursing the murderer to suffer a terrible fate in the Eighteen Layers of Hell and other vicious curses.
The people before me wore masks of falsehood; their unnatural expressions and stiff movements resembled those of walking corpses. Unlike true zombies, they still had breath in them, as if following someone’s orders to warmly welcome me—serving tea and offering fruits.
It felt as though they were welcoming someone else entirely, someone who was definitely not me.
I was a Mortician, here to handle the affairs of the deceased. I refused their tea and food, simply asking, “Are you sure you have the right person?”
With so many people looking at each other in confusion, unsure how to respond to my question, footsteps and voices suddenly came from the entrance. I turned to see a foolish-looking man in worn-out clothing, grinning widely as he waved his arms at me. “Yes, yes! It’s you!”
Hou Dequie was visibly displeased and angrily waved his hand at his family. “What’s he doing here? Get him out!”
Someone began to usher this newcomer outside. Sensing something was off, I quickly stood up. “I’m sorry; there’s nothing wrong with your family. I can’t stay here any longer; I have a busy shop to run. So I’ll take my leave.”
“Don’t go! My cousin really has passed away. We didn’t want to disturb anyone because it’s an inauspicious day for death; we thought we’d wait until you arrived to decide everything.” Indeed, dying on the fourteenth day of July is considered unlucky—a ghostly number.
Hou Dequie reached out toward me. I quickly dodged and stood my ground. “Let’s keep things civil.”
“Hey, hey! I’m just afraid you’d leave!”
If it weren't for my grandfather's teachings that once you choose to be a Mortician, you must commit for life—to help those in need—I would have seriously considered walking away right then. Seeing that I had no intention of leaving immediately only fueled their insistence.
Hou Dequie and his family gathered around me again, guiding me forward. “We’ll take you to the Spirit Hall now.”
Although I had my doubts, I was still constrained by professional ethics. Coupled with the persuasive words of the Hou family, I temporarily believed them. The Monkey Spirit was indeed dead; during its illness, no one took care of it, and the bed was a mess with excrement. Out of desperation, the family moved it to the Old House behind the Two-Story Building.
Now that it was dead, its body lay in the Old House. The mourning hall had not yet been set up; we would have to wait until I arrived to assess the situation.
"Why didn't you do this earlier?" I asked.
Hou Dequie forced a smile. "We didn't understand the customs. We thought we should wait for you to arrive and then ask when to start preparing. We never expected you would get angry."
"Respect for the deceased is paramount; we should accommodate the living as much as possible," I replied as they escorted me to the Old House.
The Old House was a row of houses with blue tiles. Aside from the windows being in disrepair, everything else seemed relatively intact. There were three rooms with blue tiles: two bedrooms and a central hall. The house was located behind the Two-Story Building, and overall, it appeared too dark, with fallen leaves covering the ground, making it hard to distinguish between dirt and leaves.
It was particularly shaded, and behind the tiled house were several tall pine trees, their thick branches stretching out like claws, completely covering the roof of the house. Due to a lack of sunlight for a long time, weeds and moss sprouted in the eaves.
I had always thought that haunted houses were cold places, but this one was even colder than my own Haunted House.
The corridor leading to the entrance was chilly, but this place felt even worse. My arms were so cold that goosebumps formed, almost numb. In the center of the hall lay an unsealed coffin, two white candles flickering in the cold wind, swaying left and right.
There were no portraits, no funeral wreaths, and certainly no stench of decay; the body inside the coffin was fresh. A cool autumn breeze swept over the roof and brushed against my hair, making the entire room feel chillingly cold. The flickering white candles seemed on the verge of extinguishing as they struggled in their final moments, adding a heavy sense of desolation to the silence.
At some point, everyone who had followed me stopped in their tracks, standing like wooden stakes until I stepped into the room. Almost in unison, they moved quickly; with a loud bang, my world was left with only the swaying candlelight and that unsettling black coffin.
I turned to pull open the door but found it wouldn’t budge. I instinctively understood that I had fallen into a trap. At that moment, just as I realized this, one of the flickering candles extinguished after struggling a few more times. Instantly, darkness enveloped me; the temperature plummeted as if I were in a tomb.
As the candle went out, a faint fragrance lingered in the air. What was that smell? I didn’t have time to ponder its origin because my situation was perilous; there was no time for further thoughts.
The fragrance wasn’t what terrified me; it was the rustling sounds coming from behind me and the chilling air that felt like ice creeping up my spine.
Suddenly, a wave of cold rushed up my legs like a snake slithering straight up my back without pause until it reached my neck. My hair stood on end as I remained alert and ready to respond to any sudden changes before me. As I struggled with the door that wouldn’t open and turned around, numerous thoughts raced through my mind.
The Monkey Spirit had become a Zha Shi.
I quickly dismissed this thought; typically, Zha Shi are devoid of judgment or consciousness and wouldn’t recognize their relatives. If there were indeed Zha Shi in that unsealed coffin, it would have jumped up immediately upon my entering the hall.
I am certain that what is happening before me has nothing to do with the Zha Shi. If it’s not Zha Shi, then someone is playing tricks, and there is one undeniable truth: the door was clearly shut intentionally by Hou Dequie and their group.
In the pitch-black room, I sensed some movement. I quickly pulled out my phone; the cold light from the screen illuminated five flags that had mysteriously appeared, each adorned with a white skull.
The Five Ghosts Gathering Soul Banner!!!
If I am not mistaken, beneath the Five Ghosts Gathering Soul Banner are five jars. The jars are open, suggesting they are the dwelling places of the Five Ghosts.
Li Gui has used the Five Ghosts Gathering Soul technique to plot against me. One of the Five Ghosts he found is the Monkey Spirit, while I have no idea who the other four are.
Just as I was pondering this, a cloud of smoke suddenly billowed out from the five jars.
I activated my Demon Eyes to see through the smoke, which dissipated to reveal the Five Ghosts.
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