The Li family had once mentioned, when they went searching for Suniang, that they had scoured the mountains nearby, even specifically talking about the north. Their words implied that there was something unusual about that place. It was very likely Suniang had died there in the end.
Yun Jiao didn’t know what was in the north, but Bai Yu did. To the north of the Lis’ home lay a rarely visited forest. Hunters whispered that it was shrouded year-round in poisonous mists, so even the most seasoned never dared venture close.
But for those of the Xuan Sect, it wasn’t just miasma. The entire forest was thick with ghostly qi, cloaking the land in shadows—a veritable nest of spirits. Its other name was the Pit of Resentful Women.
Legend said there had once been a large village there. Life was harsh, the villagers ignorant and poor. To lessen their burden, they had a cruel tradition—abandoning newborn girls. As the years passed, fewer and fewer women remained. Most men could no longer find wives and had to buy women from traffickers, or acquire slave girls. Male infants were allowed to live; female infants were discarded. The women brought in this way met terrible fates.
The murdered girls and abused women became vengeful spirits. At first, the villagers asked cultivators to suppress them. But they never stopped their cruelty. The resentment only grew, birthing more and more fierce ghosts, until the village was overrun. One night, countless spirits rose and wiped out the village completely. Not a single survivor remained.
The north became a cursed ground. Anyone who entered perished. One sect once tried to cleanse it with their entire force. None came back. Since then, no one dared approach.
Bai Yu’s master had told him of this place. He himself was never strong in Daoist arts—he couldn’t even resist ordinary miasma, let alone fierce ghosts—so he had never gone near. Until now, he thought it nothing more than rumor.
But when that ghost threatened to summon a hundred spirits—though Mount Kui held no such number—the Pit of Resentful Women certainly did. Hundreds, even thousands, lay within, and it was less than a hundred li away.
A single ghost had nearly ended them. What about a horde…
Bai Yu shivered violently, pounding on the tower doors even harder, wailing in desperation. “Ancestral Master, save us! Qingyang faces calamity, ahhhh…”He cried for four hours straight, until his throat was raw, but the tower stayed silent. The one who had once appeared at every mealtime never showed.
The doors stayed tightly shut—for two days.
“Girl…” Bai Yu’s eyes brimmed with tears. “The Ancestral Master… he hasn’t… ascended back to Heaven, has he?”
“I don’t know.” Yun Jiao shook her head.
“Then what do we do?!” He nearly sobbed. “That ghost will be back. If she truly brings a hundred spirits, the runes on the gate won’t hold. Qingyang will be destroyed!”
Yun Jiao looked toward the tower. “We’ll have to think of something else. Time is short.”
“But we can’t leave. What if she’s waiting out there?” Bai Yu pulled at his hair in panic. “No, I need to draw more talismans—at least we’ll have something.”
He dragged Yun Jiao to the talisman room. “Come, help me grind the cinnabar.”
He spread out yellow talisman papers and began drawing. Yun Jiao mixed the cinnabar, watching his work. Out of dozens, only a handful faintly glowed with spiritual light. The rest were duds. She frowned, plucking out the few usable ones. “These work. The others are useless.”
“What?!” Bai Yu gawked. “Impossible!” But when he tested them—one burned with power, the other stayed dead. They really were failures.
Yun Jiao looked him over. “With a success rate this low, it’s a wonder no one’s beaten you to death yet. How did you even use these before?”
“I always just threw a whole handful!” he replied, utterly serious.
“….”
“What now?” Bai Yu despaired. In the past, he hadn’t cared—whether they worked or not, tossing a bunch was enough to bluff. But looking at the useless pile now, compared to the few that actually worked, was crushing. Did he really have no talent at all?
“Draw. I’ll watch.” Yun Jiao ordered crisply.
“…Fine.” Bai Yu braced himself. No time for despair. If the ghost returned and he only had duds, they were finished.
The room filled with Yun Jiao’s sharp comments.
“This line isn’t smooth—you dragged the stroke back, so the energy scattered. Didn’t you read the Book of Talisman Spirits?”
“That corner must be a 90-degree angle. You drew 45.”
“This gap should form an equilateral triangle—60 degrees each. Yours is at least 70.”
“This should be a circle, not a square. Wait—let me make you a compass.”
“Don’t shake! One more tremor and it’s ruined!”
“Here—watch me draw one. Copy it directly through tracing.”
Bai Yu: “…”
For some reason, it felt like his master had risen from the grave, breathing down his neck. The pressure was immense.
(_)
Meanwhile, high atop the tower…
Someone still sulking inside the ancestral tablet, unaware of everything happening outside: So angry! And no amount of chicken soup can make it better… unless it’s three big bowls!
(╰_╯)#
(End of Chapter)