Chapter Thirty-Eight: Guiding the Dead

Incense plays a significant role in the eyes of those who walk the shadowy path. For instance, summoning the restless dead depends greatly on the strength of one’s spiritual force—the stronger the mind, the wider the reach. With the aid of incense, the summoning can extend even farther. Incense, in this context, serves to widen the scope.

Of course, it’s not as though a shadow walker can summon a wandering spirit with a mere gesture. The dead, too, are wary of the living; if you haven’t dealt with them before, they’re unlikely to heed your call. It’s much like calling out to strangers on the street as if beckoning stray dogs—few would respond, and you might even provoke hostility. Only because he had made contact earlier that morning did Chen Yushu have confidence in summoning that particular departed soul.

Soon enough, Chen Yushu slipped into his trance and entered the shadow state. He began to softly chant, calling out the name the spirit had once borne. Yet all around was stillness; the wind on the river died, and even the water seemed lifeless, undisturbed.

“Not nearby?”

Chen Yushu slowly opened his eyes and spotted the anxious Shi Hao standing to the side, his own eyes lighting up.

“Come here. Step into the water.”

He beckoned him over.

“Huh?”

Shi Hao was visibly startled, fear plain on his face.

“Don’t worry, I’m here. Stand in the water, and it’ll know you’ve arrived. Otherwise, you’ll be waiting here till midnight.”

Chen Yushu waved his hand, reassuring him.

Shi Hao, half-believing, half-doubting, edged into the water, sticking close to the riverbank and not daring to venture deeper.

Only then did Chen Yushu resume his trance and return to the shadow world. Almost at once, he sensed the unique aura of the dead, swiftly approaching from afar.

A pungent odor of decay spread across the river. Shi Hao, standing in place, tensed visibly. He, too, could sense it.

It was here.

It wasn’t just the stench of a corpse, but also that familiar, bone-chilling cold.

“Don’t move. Remember what I told you.”

Chen Yushu’s voice was low and stern.

Shi Hao, who had just lifted his foot, froze mid-step. Then he felt a sudden chill clutching his ankle.

This sensation was all too familiar—he’d been seized like this twice before. Thankfully, the grip soon loosened. As he hesitated, he felt a weight settle on his shoulder—a hand. Then another on the other shoulder.

His heart quivered; he fought the urge to turn around, daring only to glance sidelong at the hands resting on him.

They were two hands, horribly swollen from soaking in water, their skin gelatinous—one could imagine that a mere prick with a needle would draw forth a trickle of fluid. The fingernails were long, purple-black, far longer than they ever were in life; they must have grown after death.

He had no doubt that if those nails scratched his skin, the poison—the corpse toxin—would leave him worse than dead.

In that moment, time seemed to stretch unbearably long, and he nearly bolted in panic.

But just then, Chen Yushu spoke: “Let’s go! Lead the way!”

As he said this, his gaze involuntarily shifted to the river, where he faintly sensed a second presence.

“This kid—what a peculiar constitution, attracting so many wandering dead?”

Startled, he watched as Shi Hao hurried ashore, while he himself slowly backed away, unwilling to get too close to the spirit. As Shi Hao climbed onto the bank, the second presence faded away.

Only then did Chen Yushu breathe a sigh of relief. One was trouble enough; two would be unbearable.

After coming ashore, Shi Hao felt chilled to the bone, not just from the autumn night, but from the icy grip that had rested on his shoulders, cold as blocks of ice, sending a trickle of water down his neck—enough to make anyone’s skin crawl.

Yet he kept Chen Yushu’s instructions in mind, not daring to linger, but moving forward step by step.

Behind him, the wandering dead matched his pace, step for step, in perfect synchrony. Further behind followed Chen Yushu, who neither dared to walk ahead nor to turn his back on the spirit. To Shi Hao, he explained that he simply didn’t know the way.

Throughout this, Chen Yushu remained in a meditative, shadow-walking state. Only thus could he maintain absolute composure and react instantly if needed.

The town of Jianghuan is neither large nor small. From their starting point to East Street was at least a couple of miles. To avoid encountering townsfolk, Shi Hao chose to skirt through vegetable patches and low-lying ground, making the journey slower and more arduous.

Fortunately, the wandering dead kept quiet throughout, never straying. Shi Hao, despite his discomfort, pressed on, step by uneven step. The night was so dark they could barely see the path; not even the chirr of insects broke the silence. It was eerily quiet. Had he not occasionally glimpsed Chen Yushu close behind at a bend in the path, he might have lost his nerve and fled.

Chen Yushu, for his part, was tense as well. In the shadow state, one’s perception of spirits is heightened. Not only could he sense the dead ahead, but he could also ‘see’ the restless ghosts and lingering souls scattered all around.

On this short journey alone, he counted at least five such presences. Luckily, he merely glanced at them without making eye contact—otherwise, he might have trailed a whole host of them behind him, with unpredictable consequences.

Suddenly, Chen Yushu’s heart skipped a beat.

From a distant house, he felt a surge of powerful, oppressive energy. Even from a hundred yards away, it was unmistakable.

“So fierce? Isn’t there a spiritual warden in town? Why hasn’t anyone dealt with this?”

He muttered to himself, knowing full well his current limitations. He dared not look any longer and obediently trailed Shi Hao.

At last, they reached East Street. Having taken a route through secluded fields and hollows, they arrived at the rear courtyard of Ma Dong’s house. Not far from the yard lay a large pond, and Shi Hao followed the muddy path beside it to the back gate.

“We’re here,” Shi Hao announced, only then realizing how hoarse his voice had become.

Chen Yushu then spoke again, in a low voice: “Every grievance has its cause, every debt its debtor. Your enemy is inside. This young man has done what he ought. Please, show mercy and let him go.”

As soon as he finished, the spirit released its grip on Shi Hao’s shoulders. The corpse’s body lurched forward, moving with a halting gait toward the back courtyard.

Shi Hao felt the weight lift from his shoulders as the dead spirit slipped past him. He hurriedly retreated to Chen Yushu’s side, anxiously asking, “What do we do now?”

“What do we do? We leave, of course. Or do you want to stay here and join the feast?”

With that, Chen Yushu turned to go. Their part was done; what followed was no longer their concern. He had no intention of lingering.

At his words, Shi Hao quickly followed.

Creak—

Just then, the sound of a gate opening reached their ears. Both their faces changed, and they couldn’t help but turn to look back.

…

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