Chapter 4: Open

Chu Tianshu acted decisively, dropped the dustpan, and turned to find a wooden handle from a mop.

He held the stick perfectly vertical, eyes fixed on its tip, shoulders level, posture upright.

As he drew a deep breath, the muscles along his arms swelled gradually, from shoulder to palm, movements radiating violence, yet his gaze remained as focused as if piercing a patient with a needle.

The wooden stick in his hand was a giant needle.

“Open!!”

The stick plunged straight down with a wet thud, piercing through the remaining soil layer, followed by a muffled crack from underground.

It was the lid of a decaying, thin-skinned coffin, pierced by the stick’s tip.

Inside the coffin lay a skeleton, black smoke coiling around the skull’s position.

“No, no…”

The smoke shook violently, but the stick swiftly withdrew.

From the hole above, a glass nail containing cinnabar fell down.

As the skull barely raised its yellowish-bone hands, the nail entered the coffin and exploded into a burst of glittering red cinnabar.

Boom!!!

Chu Tianshu stared at the pit below; after the muffled sound, the yin energy below gradually faded.

The smoke drifting from the hole shifted from black-gray to a cigarette-like pale gray.

Yet he did not stop, thrusting the stick repeatedly deep into the coffin.

“Rough fists and clumsy feet? Mountain bandits?”

“You, a rotten ghost that preys on children and can manifest with wind-like strikes—can’t a Daoist punch too?”

“Besides, I never said I was a Daoist!”

Thud!!

When he pulled the stick out again, no yin energy leaked from the hole.

Chu Tianshu stared for a moment longer, then exhaled, brushed the sweat-damp strands from his forehead upward, revealing a clear, relieved expression.

He looked ahead; the mist ahead churned and thinned, the blue stainless steel roofing of the factory now visible through the haze.

Turning back, the silk-like mist among the trees also receded; the distant blare of a truck horn drifted faintly.

The conditions for the emergence of overflow zones remain unpredictable, but predecessors had summarized the conditions for their dissipation.

Either the ghost had claimed all its victims, or the living had slain all the ghosts—without one or the other, this special environment where spirit and reality overlapped would fade.

Chu Tianshu leaned on the wooden stick with his right hand, plucked three needles from his own body, watched the thick mist vanish, and felt weariness creep over his mind and body, a dull heat and weakness rising—he unbuttoned two or three buttons of his shirt collar.

As he tilted his face to the breeze, basking in its coolness, he failed to notice the red cord pendant on his chest subtly changing—the metallic sheen faded, becoming like cloudy, fibrous jade.

“Hey! Chu Tianshu!”

Teacher Qiao shouted from the other side of the woods, waving his hand, “What just happened? Are you okay?”

Chu Tianshu didn’t feel like moving yet, only replied, “I’m fine.”

Teacher Qiao glanced at the sunlight now falling on the clearing and hurried over.

As Teacher Qiao approached, Chu Tianshu asked, “Did Mr. Li show any unusual behavior just now?”

Mr. Li’s demonic aura hadn’t fully cleared; his current state resembled sleepwalking. Being this close to the overflow zone, he might have been affected, showing odd reactions.

“When the mist first rose, he suddenly struggled, like he wanted to run into it.”

Teacher Qiao raised his electric baton, which crackled loudly.

“I could barely hold him down, so while his seatbelt was still fastened, I zapped him with this—he calmed right down. This thing really works.”

Chu Tianshu gave him a thumbs-up.

Electric batons are highly effective on humans and have some effect on unclean entities too.

As an experienced spirit medium’s assistant, Teacher Qiao always carried such gear—whether at home, traveling, teaching, or commuting.

As long as he wasn’t inside an overflow zone, he was quite skilled at handling emergencies with his equipment.

Teacher Qiao glanced around: “Good heavens, the stele’s fallen over! Hey, what’s that? Was there a patch of grass over there before?”

Chu Tianshu looked toward the corner.

Several discarded plastic buckets and some water stains lay there; a single weed growing there wasn’t unusual—but this weed looked nothing like ordinary grass, glowing faintly emerald.

Chu Tianshu walked a few steps closer, studying it carefully.

The weed stood about a foot tall; besides its central vein, it had no lateral veins whatsoever, and both sides of its leaves shared the same tone, unlike normal grass with light and dark variations.

The small flower sprouting from its center was a pale black, gleaming with an oily sheen under sunlight.

“I think I’ve seen this before.”

Chu Tianshu strained his memory, then brightened, “This is Ghost Tooth Grass!”

Ghost Tooth: In stillness, the heart goes awry; teeth knocked out, swallowed silently; those who endure humiliation and become ghosts, yet refuse vengeance, instead aiding evil—spirit realm responds, giving birth to this plant.

This weed must be a remnant of the overflow zone.

If the ghost claimed all its victims, causing the overflow zone to fade, the spirit realm’s energy retracts with the ghost—leaving only bloodstains behind.

But if the living slew all the ghosts, the dissipation of the overflow zone is called “dispelling.”

Things from the spirit realm must leave traces in the mortal world.

Among spirit mediums, some sects raise and command spirits to perform tasks.

Ghost Tooth Grass is highly valuable to such sects; its trait of aiding evil, when processed into ointment, allows spirit mediums to control spirits with greater ease.

Chu Tianshu himself had no use for this grass—but he could sell it.

Another substantial income!

After fifteen minutes, Chu Tianshu wrapped the Ghost Tooth Grass in his coat, roots and all, along with clumps of soil, and returned to the car.

Mr. Li slumped in the passenger seat, the needles on his head now fully extended.

“The malevolent entity has been eliminated. Awakening him won’t be hard—when we reach my home, take a small cup of that medicinal wine from the corner, rub it on his Renzhong point, then dilute a whole bottle of mineral water with it and make him drink it all…”

Chu Tianshu watched the passing scenery outside, feeling dizzy, half-dozing as he chatted listlessly with Teacher Qiao, his voice gradually fading.

When he opened his eyes again, sunlight outside the window was blinding.

The sky was bright—must be noon already.

He’d fallen asleep without realizing it; he opened the car door, squinted outside, then stretched his legs out.

The car had stopped outside his home’s courtyard.

Mr. Li’s family and Teacher Qiao sat by the door; hearing the noise, they all rose and came over.

“Master Chu, you’re awake!”

The first to speak was Mr. Li, striding forward, voice hoarse but warmly enthusiastic.

“I know everything now—I’m so grateful, Master. You saved my whole family.”

Mr. Li seized Chu Tianshu’s hand, shaking it repeatedly.

He still held his phone, screen showing the image of the toppled stele.

It was a photo Teacher Qiao had taken: the toppled stele, the chewed-up broom, the footprints stamped into the ground.

Chu Tianshu had seen that album before—it even contained a short video of Mr. Li thrashing wildly in the passenger seat.

Mrs. Li pushed Li Xu forward: “Xu, bow to the Master.”

Chu Tianshu hurriedly said, “No!”

He blocked Li Xu—but not Mr. Li.

“Then I’ll bow to the Master myself!”

He dropped to his knees on the spot; Chu Tianshu rushed to hold him up, but Mr. Li’s knees were already dusted with dirt.

He had indeed saved their family—but these people had never actually encountered the ghost scholar. Could they truly grasp the danger?

A businessman kneeling and kowtowing like this felt excessive.

Chu Tianshu grew suspicious: Could this family be financially strained, putting on an exaggerated show to avoid payment?

As he pondered, Mr. Li pulled out a card and placed it in Chu Tianshu’s hand.

“Master, there’s one hundred thousand here. The password’s on the back.”

Mr. Li said, “Of course, your life-saving grace cannot be repaid—this sum is certainly insufficient. I’ll visit often, never forget you on holidays. Any future acupuncture or medicine costs for me and Xu will be separate…”

One hundred thousand was no small sum—he must have learned the going rate from Teacher Qiao.

Chu Tianshu’s suspicions vanished; a smile spread across his face.

Perhaps Mr. Li, when not possessed, was simply this straightforward and deeply grateful.

He didn’t know that Mr. Li had deeply felt the ghost scholar’s malevolence.

Not because of the possession experience—he barely remembered it.

Rather, after this incident, Mr. Li recalled that much of his recent failures over the past half-year likely stemmed from the ghost scholar’s influence.

Previously, though he had high hopes for his son, he’d never forced Li Xu into calligraphy or guqin extracurriculars during such a critical high school phase, nor dragged him to math Olympiads.

He’d fly into rages over these classes, letting his temper spill directly into his business dealings.

For the past half-year, his factory had declined sharply.

He used to remember to prepare a card to gift company liaisons before negotiations.

But now, if a single sentence went wrong, he’d explode, sneer, act as if he were some erudite scholar commanding empires.

No wonder deals fell through.

This was what terrified Mr. Li most—if he’d waited another month or two, even if the ghost didn’t kill him, every local client would have turned against him.

If he went bankrupt and returned to some remote mountain valley, that would be worse than anything else.

“You won’t need acupuncture going forward—I’ll prescribe you a formula. Li Xu gets a different one. Also, Li Xu mustn’t overexert himself—let him rest as much as possible, and don’t burden him with trivial matters.”

Chu Tianshu walked into the living room with his coat, sat back down in his own chair, and felt utterly at ease.

“Mr. Li, the one who harmed you may no longer be a decent person, but that stone tablet was a gross insult. When you get home, have someone smash it and haul it off somewhere to dump it.”

Mr. Li nodded vigorously.

Chu Tianshu checked the pulses of both father and son again; Mrs. Li, eager to join in, ended up examining all three of them and prescribed a separate formula for each.

Mrs. Li’s prescription was solely for health maintenance and regulation.

“Buy these herbs at a legitimate pharmacy. Take one full course, then return for a follow-up.”

Mr. and Mrs. Li thanked him again and turned to leave.

“Wait.”

Chu Tianshu called out, pointing to the sugar spread on the table. “Li Xu, come pick one.”

Li Xu felt his parents watching him. He didn’t look back, hesitated a moment, then walked over and picked up a piece of chocolate.

Chu Tianshu smiled slowly: “Good. Farewell.”

“Thank you!”

Li Xu bowed his head in thanks, spun around quickly, and dashed out the door—only then calling back, “Goodbye, Teacher.”

Teacher Qiao watched the two cars drive away, then walked over and said, “This kid’s mindset is finally improving.”

Chu Tianshu turned his head to look at him, the card pinched between his fingers: “Want me to split it with you after I withdraw it?”

“You underestimate me—I’m a veteran. I already got the cash.”

Teacher Qiao pulled out a stack of red bills, showed them off, then slipped them back into his pocket. “I didn’t really help much, yet I took so much—I feel a bit guilty.”

Chu Tianshu said, “You risked getting dragged into trouble just to bring their son here. Without you, their family might’ve fallen apart. I think what they gave you is barely enough.”

Teacher Qiao huffed. “A teacher may not be like a father in ancient times, but we still have professional ethics. I just meant I didn’t help you much.”

Chu Tianshu cracked his neck. “Then treat me to a meal.”

Teacher Qiao was about to agree when Chu Tianshu grinned again: “Not today—I’ve got no appetite. Wait till I’m fully recovered, then I’ll take you out for a feast and turn your guilt into heartache.”

Teacher Qiao laughed heartily. “Alright then, I won’t disturb you. Rest well. See you.”

He stepped outside, strapped on his helmet, swung onto his motorcycle, and the engine roared as he crossed the bridge and turned away.

With his departure, today’s matter was finally settled.

Chu Tianshu tucked the card away, stretched, locked the front door, warmed a large carton of milk, drank it down, swallowed his pills, and collapsed into bed.

Outside, the sky shifted from bright white to the orange-red of sunset; time passed until even the afterglow faded.

A startled gasp echoed from inside the room.

After a moment, the bedside lamp turned on.

Chu Tianshu sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes glazed.

He’d fallen asleep after taking medicine—and yet had another nightmare.

The feeling of helplessness, of only being able to flee, still clung tightly to his chest—oppressively heavy, yet strangely hollow, making him want to vomit.

Recalling the “Ghost Gate Reverse Needling,” the sensation of his entire body swelling with power and vitality, now contrasted with his current state, deepened his misery.

When Chu Tianshu raised his hand, his racing heart still tugged at the fine tendons throughout his body, triggering uncontrollable tremors.

The throbbing in his temples made him dizzy; he shut his eyes, groped for the pendant, and began chanting the incantation.

Outside, darkness had fully settled; streetlights along the cement sidewalk flickered on one by one.

Chu Tianshu exhaled slowly; the palpitations and trembling had faded. He released the pendant and sat silently on the bed’s edge.

Long moments passed before he came back to himself.

“Right—Ghost Tooth Grass.”

He went downstairs, found a large Coke bottle, cut it in half, and planted the Ghost Tooth Grass inside.

He screwed the top half shut, turning it into a cup, then filled it with tap water.

As he watered it, he fumbled for his phone—every button press yielded only a black screen. It was dead, as expected.

Phones were fragile. Not only did supernatural events damage them, but sometimes even Chu Tianshu’s own quiet cultivation, when his mental energy fluctuated, could accidentally fry the device.

So he kept a spare at home.

After watering, he fetched the backup phone, swapped in the SIM card, scrolled through his contacts, and dialed a number.

Beep-beep-beep—

The receiver emitted a flat, mechanical dial tone.

“Hello, Tianshu.”

A low, gentle male voice answered: “What’s wrong? Did the medicine’s effect weaken again?”

Chu Tianshu sat on the sofa, relaxing slightly, and tried to sound playful: “Brother Bai, every time you answer, you bring up the medicine. If you didn’t know better, you’d think you were a drug dealer.”

Lin Baishui, disciple of Chu’s grandfather, was technically Chu Tianshu’s senior by one generation—but they were less than ten years apart in age.

He disliked being called “Uncle,” so since childhood he’d insisted Chu Tianshu call him “Brother,” and the habit stuck.

Now he worked for the Jianghuai Regional “Special Capture Bureau,” the official agency handling anomalous incidents.

He was the one who originally secured the source of the special medicine.

“My medicine’s still effective. Don’t worry too much.”

Chu Tianshu said, “But I’m calling you today precisely because I’ve got something to discuss about drug dealing—I got a hundred-year-old Ghost Tooth Grass. I plan to list it on your trading site.”

“What price should I set?”

Lin Baishui was surprised: “A hundred-year-old Ghost Tooth Grass? You… didn’t stumble into an Overflow Zone, did you?”

Ghost Tooth Grass wasn’t exclusive to Overflow Zones—how did he guess so accurately?

Chu Tianshu was equally startled: “I did encounter one—no big deal, I handled it. Aren’t Overflow Zones supposed to be random and rare? How’d you jump straight to that?”

Lin Baishui fell silent for a moment, then said: “Some things are no longer secrets. I can tell you.”

“Since the twenty-first century, the frequency of Overflow Zone incidents across China—and globally—has been rising.”

“Jianghuai lies in the southeast of Shenzhou, where yang energy is strong. You’re in the Yangtze River Delta, surrounded by water. Recent river management has improved feng shui, making conditions more dynamic—probably for reasons like these, your area had never seen such events before.”

Lin Baishui sighed, his voice heavy with resignation.

“Now it’s happened there too. I foresee our Jianghuai Special Capture Bureau will soon be drowning in overtime.”

Chu Tianshu frowned slightly: “Then be careful.”

“It’s not that dangerous. We have few spirit mediums here, but plenty of martial cultivators. Every mission, I’ve got several teammates backing me up.”

Lin Baishui dropped the subject, gave Chu Tianshu a price range for the Ghost Tooth Grass, exchanged a few more words about recent events, then hung up.

Chu Tianshu set down his phone, stared at the screen, lost in thought.

In the past, when Lin Baishui was invited to join the Special Capture Bureau, he’d discussed it with Chu’s grandfather. The benefits were good.

His grandfather refused to join—and warned Chu Tianshu not to either.

One, spirit mediums enjoyed greater freedom as private practitioners; two, the Special Capture Bureau faced higher risks.

Had Lin Baishui not insisted on joining—and had he not leveraged his connections to obtain the special medicine—Chu’s grandfather would’ve tried to stop him too.

But if Overflow Zones are increasing in frequency, will scattered private cultivators truly be safer?

Chu Tianshu stared at his phone, still undecided, when he suddenly noticed his pendant.

When had this small token changed to the texture of jade?!

Holding the token, Chu Tianshu activated his spirit vision—and froze, straightening his spine.

The red light within the token was completely full.

It had once resembled a can of Red Bull, slightly empty at the top. Now, that final gap was gone.

At least by Chu Tianshu’s perception, no trace of emptiness remained.

When spiritual light is fully saturated, great fortune awaits!

Over the past two years, Chu Tianshu had placed more and more hope in this pendant, believing it might eradicate his illness.

But now that the red light was truly full, a flicker of caution stirred in his heart.

The sudden filling today was unusual—and what exactly this “great fortune” entailed remained entirely unknown.

Xuan State, Jianghuai Regional Special Capture Bureau Headquarters.

Lin Baishui hung up, entered his office, typed rapidly, and filed a report detailing the Overflow Zone incident in Hailing.

On his computer screen was a national map, dotted with red markers. The southeast region had been the sparsest—none at all in the Yangtze River Delta.

Now, Lin Baishui’s cursor hovered over that once-pristine area, his brow furrowed.

The Special Capture Bureau had originally recruited and trained many personnel, but over recent years, other regions had grown increasingly busy, forcing them to divert staff there.

Now Jianghuai was showing serious signs too. Would this report prompt swift action from above?

Even if they didn’t send back more people, at least more funding—so they could hire more private practitioners—would help.

Soon, his desk phone vibrated.

Lin Baishui released his mouse and answered immediately—it was his team leader.

“Didn’t you just report an Overflow Zone incident? Your case is the third in the Yangtze River Delta this quarter, according to the new quarterly summary.”

The team leader’s voice was grave: “The higher-ups have long wanted us to establish direct communication with local police departments, sharing case data and streamlining procedures—but there’s been resistance.”

“Now we have justification. Come to the auditorium—we’re attending a meeting.”

Hailing, Chu Tianshu’s home.

He had removed the pendant and placed it on the coffee table before him. Leaning forward, elbows on knees, hands clasped under his chin, his expression was complex.

Leaving aside unknown risks—how exactly was this fortune supposed to activate?

The red light was full, yet nothing changed automatically.

The texts mentioned no special method; simply pouring mental energy into it probably wouldn’t work.

Before Chu Tianshu knew the pendant was full, he had already infused it with mental energy while chanting, and now residual energy remained, identical to his previous feedback experience.

Suddenly, a wisp of white smoke flickered from the pendant.

Chu Tianshu’s spirit sight was abruptly severed; with normal eyes, he saw the pendant.

The pendant, moments ago cloudy like turbid jade, was now utterly clear, transparent as ice.

Chu Tianshu’s spirit reeled, suddenly feeling emptiness beside him, and collapsed onto the grass.

(End of Chapter)