Chapter 70: Tomb Lord

Because I was rushing too much, I accidentally bumped into someone along the way.

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

She had been raising her head in anger, but seeing it was me who had bumped into her, she froze instantly. And I, upon recognizing her, also froze.

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

Even though I had always been at odds with her, this sight left me dazed for a moment.

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

I scratched my head, full of apology: "Um, sorry, I'm in a hurry to chase someone." Having said that, I went around her.

"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 remember correctly, you're a Daoist, right?"

Why bring this up out of the blue? Though I was puzzled, I instinctively nodded.

"That'll do." Yao Yirong clapped her hands, tugging my sleeve to leave. I pulled her hand away and asked, "What are you doing?"

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

"Come on, my older cousin's company has run into trouble and needs a Daoist; since you're here, come with me." She said, pulling my sleeve.

I waved my hand, pleading with a pursed lip: "Miss, don't make trouble—I'm busy with important business!"

Yao Yirong puffed her cheeks and snorted: "Who's making trouble? I'm talking serious business with you."

In my view, she's just idly stirring up trouble for no reason. No matter what, her father is a member of the Plowshare Witch Sect; if her relatives encountered a ghost, would her father possibly ignore it?

I glanced at my watch; half an hour had passed while we were talking. I was worried about the blood Buddha on Pizi Li's body, seeing the dark aura clinging to him—I feared he couldn't last much longer, so I felt very anxious.

"We'll talk more later," I said, pulling my arm free from Yao Yirong's grip and continuing to run toward East Field Street, ignoring her shouting behind me.

After reaching East Field, I headed toward the first turn's side alley. Next to the public toilet I saw a tile house exactly as Lao Zhao had described.

To be precise, it looked more like a garbage heap; the house was built of fired yellow bricks, and I don't know its era. From afar, it inevitably inspired a feeling of dread that made one hesitate to approach.

Weeds and wild plants overran the surroundings, along with the stench of rotting plastic bags; I could hardly imagine how ordinary people could endure such a harsh environment.

But was Pizi Li a normal person? Obviously not—he was an addict who loved bleaching powder.

I gently pushed open the half‑closed door and tiptoed inside. As soon as I entered, a thick, suffocating stench hit me; 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; at a glance I saw that besides the main hall resembling a garbage heap, there was a small bedroom situated forty‑five degrees ahead.

I took out a talisman from my pocket and headed toward the bedroom. The talisman was the Maoshan Sect's Heavenly Monarch Evil‑Suppressing Charm. As mentioned before, the methods of Yinshan combined with Maoshan, Puan, and Lushan—three teachings that never lack charms for dispelling evil and eliminating malign influences. As a Yinshan disciple, I focus mainly on the black‑ink‑on‑white‑paper yin talismans, but the vermilion‑drawn yang talismans are no stranger to me; though I use them less, I still employ vermilion to draw talismans when needed.

I had prepared the talismans in advance because I feared that the excavated tombs might have formed spiritual entities; although this was only a possibility, I wanted to be ready for the worst case.

Just as I was about to approach the bedroom, a sudden, piercing shriek erupted from inside. Startled, my heart tightened and I lunged in three quick steps; I recognized the anguished cry as Pizi Li's.

However, I was still a step too late. Upon entering the room, I saw Pizi Li slumped in the corner, his neck cocked as he collapsed, a needle lodged between his index and middle fingers, bright red 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 sucking his yang energy.

Through the black mist I could see its form clearly, causing my gaze to involuntarily lock onto it.

This thing… is actually a Tomb Lord.

The term Tomb Lord may be unfamiliar, but if I say "Xiaoqiang" everyone will understand. A Tomb Lord refers to a cockroach, more precisely the spirit formed after a cockroach dies. In burial grounds, snakes, worms, rats, and ants rarely arise, but rarity does not mean nonexistence. If, on a yin day or during thunder and lightning, one encounters the grave's owner feigning death, and at that moment there happens to be a cockroach that dies at the juncture of yin energies, it will become a vengeful Tomb Lord. Usually, after a Tomb Lord dies it is not destined to leave the tomb; like any ordinary deceased, it retains affection for its former dwelling. Only human intervention can make it depart the grave.

When I entered the bedroom, Pizi Li was already dead, and the Tomb Lord spotted me, turning and fleeing out of the room.

I couldn't let him have his way; I hastily slapped a talisman at him. But this creature shares Xiaoqiang's nature—though dead, its vitality is extraordinarily tenacious; a single talisman can only inflict a minor wound, not any real harm.

After the Tomb Lord fled, I too chased after it, talisman in hand.

Inside the house lay the corpse of Pizi Li, who had died from greed, his neck askew, staring unblinkingly at the spot where the Tomb Lord had escaped.

I couldn't save his life; all I could do was eradicate the Tomb Lord to prevent further harm. Perhaps death was the best outcome for Pizi Li—when I first saw him, his veins were already protruding beyond his skin, the result of years of injecting white powder; his blood had been thoroughly contaminated by toxins, so even a light cut would cause unstoppable bleeding. Having been bleached to this extent for at least ten years, quitting is nearly impossible. Even if he lived, his future would likely involve crime to sustain the habit, pointlessly throwing away his life.

After leaving Pizi Li's house, I kept chasing the Tomb Lord, but its speed was too great; though only palm‑sized, its escape pace bore no resemblance to a cockroach—it was more like a centipede, as if it had grown countless white legs, running like a gust of wind.

I even forgot where I was, merely locking my eyes on the Tomb Lord so it couldn't slip from my sight. It darted into an alley, I followed; it ran into a building, I climbed in through a window.

However, just as I stepped out of that office, the Tomb Lord's trace vanished; I followed the marks on the floor, panting as I ran up to the building's fifth floor.

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

In the hall, someone was conducting a ritual; in the center stood a table about a meter high, fully equipped with candles, glutinous rice, and the eight trigrams banner. Beside the table stood a Daoist in yellow robes, holding a peach‑wood sword as he chanted. Aside from him, a few others stood at the hall's edge; when I appeared, the leader—a burly man in a leather suit—stared at me with wide eyes.

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

Startled by his outburst, I felt a flicker of panic—after all, I was here to capture a demon, not to be mistaken for a thief—so I prepared to explain to the middle‑aged man, but before I could speak, a familiar, coquettish voice sounded beside my ear.

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

The speaker turned out to be Yao Yirong….