Chapter 342

Because I was rushing too much, I accidentally collided with someone midway.

"How could it be you?" Both looked up and were simultaneously shocked. The person I had knocked over turned out to be Yao Yirong.

She had been lifting her head angrily, but upon seeing it was me who had bumped into her, she froze instantly. I, too, froze when I realized it was her.

Today Yao Yirong wore a white off‑shoulder long dress that revealed a hint of her collarbone, her hair cascading over her shoulders; in the slanting evening light she looked like a fairy descended from heaven.

Even though we had always been at odds, I was so captivated by her appearance that I was dazed for a moment.

"How can you be so careless walking?" Yao Yirong pouted, rubbing her forehead as she complained.

I scratched my head, apologetic: "Sorry, I'm in a hurry chasing someone." After saying that, I went around her side.

"Wait a moment, I need to talk to you." She grabbed my sleeve, forcing me to stop.

I asked what she wanted, but she lightly bit her lip and countered: "If I'm not mistaken, you're a Daoist, right?"

Why would she suddenly ask that? I was puzzled, but I nodded instinctively.

"All right then." Yao Yirong clapped her hands, tugged my sleeve to lead me away, but I pulled her hand off and asked, "What are you doing?"

She turned back, blinking her big, watery eyes, and said: "You're a Daoist, so naturally you go catch ghosts!"

"Let's go—my cousin's company has run into trouble and needs a Daoist; since you're here, come with me." She tugged my sleeve as she said this.

I waved my hand, pleading with a pursed mouth: "Miss, stop messing around—I'm busy with important matters!"

Yao Yirong puffed her cheeks and huffed: "Who's bothering you? I'm talking about serious business too."

In my view, she's just bored and stirring up trouble for no reason. No matter what, her father is from the Lítóu Wū family; if her relatives encounter a ghost, would her father really ignore it?

I glanced at my watch; we'd been talking for half an hour. I was worried about the blood Buddha on the rascal Li's body—seeing the dark aura around him, I feared he couldn't last much longer, so I felt increasingly anxious.

"Let's talk later," I said, pulling my arm free from her grip and sprinting toward Dongtian Street, ignoring her shouting behind me.

After arriving in Dongtian, I headed toward the first turn's alley. Beside the public toilet I saw a tile house exactly as Old Zhao had described.

To be precise, it looked more like a rubbish heap—a house built of fired yellow bricks, though I don't know its era. From afar it evokes an involuntary feeling of dread, making one reluctant to approach.

Weeds and wild plants surrounded the house, along with the stench of rotting plastic bags; I can't imagine how ordinary people could endure such a harsh environment.

But is the rascal Li a normal person? Obviously not—he's a junkie addicted to sniffing powder.

I gently pushed the half‑open door and crept inside. Upon entering, a thick, choking stench flooded my nostrils; at the same time, pooled water dripped from the ceiling. Looking down, the floor was littered with discarded syringes and blood‑stained gauze.

The house isn't large; as soon as I entered I could see everything. Besides the main hall that resembled a trash heap, there was a small bedroom situated forty‑five degrees ahead.

I took a talisman from my pocket and headed toward the bedroom. It is the Maoshan Sect's Heavenly King Evil‑Suppressing Talisman; as mentioned before, the Yin‑Shan method combines Maoshan, Pǔān, and Lǚshan teachings. Among these three traditions, talismans for dispelling evil are never lacking. As a Yin‑Shan disciple, I focus mainly on black‑ink‑on‑white‑paper yin talismans, but I am also familiar with the red‑cinnabar yang talismans; though I rarely use them, I will still draw them in cinnabar when needed.

I prepared the talismans in advance because I feared that spirits might have formed from the excavated tombs; although it's only a possibility, I wanted to be ready for the worst case.

Just as I was about to reach the bedroom, a sudden, piercing scream erupted from inside. My heart clenched; I took three strides in two and burst into the bedroom, recognizing the anguished cry as Li's.

Nevertheless, I was too late. Upon entering the room I saw Li slumped in a corner, his neck twisted as he fell, a needle lodged between his index and middle fingers, blood streaming from his nose and eyes, his gaze filled with panic and unease.

Above his head hovered a dark, mist‑like mass that was greedily draining his yang energy.

Through the black mist I could make out its form, causing my eyes to narrow involuntarily.

This thing… is actually a Tomb Lord.

Perhaps the term "grave lord" is unfamiliar to everyone, but if I say "Xiaoqiang," everyone would surely understand. The grave lord refers to a cockroach; more precisely, it is the spirit formed after a cockroach dies. In corpse-raising grounds, snakes, insects, rats, and ants rarely arise, but rarity does not mean none. If, on a yin day or a day of thunder and lightning, one encounters the grave owner feigning death, and if at that moment there happens to be a cockroach in the graveyard that dies at the time when yin qi converges, a malevolent grave lord will form. However, a grave lord generally does not inevitably leave the tomb after death; like ordinary deceased people, he retains deep affection for the place he lived in while alive. Unless human intervention forces him to leave the grave.

When I entered the bedroom, Petty Li was already dead, and the grave lord also saw me; turning around, he fled out of the house.

I couldn't let him have his way; I quickly slapped a talisman at him. But this thing is just like Xiaoqiang's nature—although dead, its vitality is extremely tenacious; a single talisman can only cause him minor injury, and cannot inflict any substantial harm.

After the grave lord fled, I also held onto the talisman and chased after him relentlessly.

Inside the room lay a Petty Li who had died from greed, his neck cocked, staring dead-eyed at the spot where the grave lord had fled.

I couldn't save his life; I could only do my best to eradicate this grave lord, so that more people wouldn't be harmed. Perhaps, for Petty Li, death is the best outcome; the moment I first saw him, his veins were already exposed outside his skin, this is the result of years of injecting white powder, his blood had been thoroughly contaminated by toxins, even a slight cut with a knife would cause unstoppable bleeding. He had been bleaching for at least ten years, making it very hard to quit. Even if he were alive, his future would likely involve breaking the law to obtain the bleach, pointlessly sacrificing his life.

After leaving Petty Li's house, I relentlessly pursued the grave lord, but this thing's speed was too fast; although only palm-sized, its escape speed bore no resemblance to a cockroach, instead resembling a centipede, as if it had grown white legs on its feet, running like a gust of wind.

I even forgot where I was, merely staring fixedly at the grave lord, not letting him leave my sight. He fled into an alley, and I followed him inside; he ran into a building, and I followed, climbing in through a window.

However, just as I stepped out of the office, the grave lord's trace had vanished; I followed the trail on the ground, panting as I ran up to the fifth floor of the building.

I pushed open the stairwell door, but the sight before me made me involuntarily startle.

In the hall, someone was actually performing a ritual; in the center stood a table about a meter high, atop which lay candles, glutinous rice, and the Eight Trigrams command flag—everything complete. Beside the table stood a Daoist in a yellow robe, holding a peach-wood sword and chanting incantations. Aside from him, several people stood at the side of the hall; when they saw me come out, the leading man, a big fellow in a leather suit, stared at me with widened eyes.

"Who are you… How did you get into my company? Where are the security guards? Quick, catch the thief!" he shouted at me, pointing angrily.

Startled by his outburst, I felt a bit panicked; after all, I had come to capture a demon, and I didn't want to be mistaken for a thief. So I prepared to explain to this middle-aged man, but before I could speak, a soft, familiar voice came from beside my ear.

"How is it you? Didn't Weiqiang come with you?"

The owner of that voice turned out to be Yao Yirong……