Author: 年终 / Nian Zhong
Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/
Chapter 110: Half-Human, Half-Ghost
It was like suddenly forgetting the name of a familiar person, memories of the ritual faded like a dream upon waking.
Yet the oppressive darkness around him gradually became pleasant. Fang Xiu breathed more easily, like a fish returned to water. Just a few steps away, the human-skin pajamas looked mild and refined, and even the coffin-bed seemed cozy and welcoming.
…Someone has trespassed in your home. Someone has trespassed in your home.
…You did not invite them. They are not your family. They must be expelled at once.
Fang Xiu rubbed his temples hard. Thoughts not his own echoed in his mind. More memories were being consumed. He could no longer recall why he was here or what he had intended to do.
…Other than protecting your home, what else is there for you to do?
Fang Xiu instinctively reached into his pocket, then remembered this wasn’t his body. The pouch wasn’t on him. The only things that had followed him were the anomalies tied to his soul… His body had been swapped? Had it really?
…Your appearance hasn’t changed. You’ve always been here.
…Those stray thoughts are just delusions born from the dark.
“Heh.” Fang Xiu covered his face with one hand and laughed.
“This thing’s skill is a bit sloppy. At least I didn’t think I was a tree.”
Bai Shuangying’s trick had been much stranger. His ghost seemed tailored to such situations. If he really had lost his memory, others might take advantage of him. But Bai Shuangying definitely wouldn’t. Professionally or personally, his ghost would always stand by him.
The thought gave Fang Xiu an inexplicable sense of peace.
He removed his shirt and sat on the stone coffin, dragging sharp nails across his chest. Blood immediately welled up.
In a slanted line across his chest, he carved the words: “Mine, Bai Shuangying.”
By the final stroke, his memory was nearly gone.
Fang Xiu rubbed his eyes with blood-stained fingers. When he opened them again, the warmth in his gaze had vanished, replaced by a cold cunningness.
Instinct guided him forward. He stopped at the edge of a “plaza”, where countless sealed stone coffins were neatly arranged. Each had a tiny tomb guardian carved on top, a gold plaque beneath it listing birth and death dates, and a brief biography.
He walked past rows of coffins, trailing his remaining hand lightly over them, leaving faint streaks of blood. He gazed at the shadowed coffins with satisfaction, like admiring a well-stocked wardrobe.
Soon, he picked a corpse of a young man.
It was unclear where his strength came from, but he slid the heavy coffin lid aside with one hand. He dragged the pale corpse from its liquid-filled chamber. The body twitched like an insect struggling without a head.
Then Fang Xiu bowed his head and spat out a mass of red threads. They slithered like blood vessels into the corpse, writhing beneath its skin. A jade cicada fell with the flow and burrowed into its mouth.
In the next instant, Fang Xiu’s field of view changed to that of someone leaning back in the coffin.
With the red threads transferred, he felt an itch on his back. With a tug, his old skin peeled off smoothly, revealing pale new flesh beneath.
Good. He had a whole body again.
After dealing with his missing limb, Fang Xiu cleaned up with the medicinal fluid from the coffin, then dried the new “shell” with ghost flame. The robe he now wore was a dark red funeral garment embroidered with silver longevity patterns, far grander than his previous outfit.
Fang Xiu looked down at the tattered “old clothes”. Beneath the open shirt, the words “Mine, Bai Shuangying” were carved across the chest.
He smiled, then copied the words onto his left arm using the medicinal liquid to ink his nails. The robe was loose, and a lifted sleeve revealed the writing.
Even without memories of this “Bai Shuangying”, he was willing to trust a message left by his past self. He didn’t know why, but the habit felt etched into his very bones.
Once the inscription was done, he licked the wound with his jade-cicada tongue, which deepened the red glow of the creature.
The discarded body slumped to the ground in shallow, almost imperceptible breathing.
To preserve corpses as backup vessels, each had a believer’s soul sealed inside, serving like a mothball for the body. With the transfer, the original soul curled unaware into the ruined husk.
Fang Xiu snapped his fingers and the remains of the corpse on the ground was engulfed in red flames.
The fire consumed it entirely, from feet to head, scattering sparks and ash. Not even dust remained. The soul, floating aimlessly without a host, was caught and shoved into his mouth.
The jade cicada that served as his tongue absorbed the soul completely, leaving no trace.
Fed and rested, it was time to get back to business.
…This was his home.
…Intruders must be handled. All who enter are enemies.
Coincidentally, footsteps echoed nearby. By the sound, it was a single human male, around eighty kilograms. The steps were careful, almost stealthy, but to Fang Xiu, it was like someone stomping on his nerves.
Since he was refreshed now, this was perfect for a warm-up.
He danced through the dark, nimbly avoiding traps. He passed hanging hands, eyeballs embedded in walls, hides of beasts and humans spread like tapestries and greeted each evil spirit along the way.
Unfortunately, they fled faster than mice before a cat. How boring.
After a ten-minute stroll, he encountered the intruder.
The man appeared about forty, with a decent face spoiled by puffy eyelids. Not the look of a good person.
Fang Xiu stepped from the shadows with a bright smile, hands behind his back. “Are you Bai Shuangying?”
The moment the man saw the red funeral robe, he drew a peachwood sword and began forming seals at lightning speed. He began chanting rapidly, too busy to answer Fang Xiu.
The sudden figure of the young man before him was pale, delicate, and handsomely dressed. That pristine robe screamed “not human”.
Unfortunately for him, all of it was just an illusion.
Anomalous skill: “Illusion Creation”, aligned with Dui trigram.
The real Fang Xiu was hidden in the dark, silently approaching from behind. Within a step, he reached out and touched the man’s neck.
Immediately, the man’s brewing spell failed completely, and his peachwood sword dulled.
Anomalous skill: “’A Single Thread to Sever Heaven” aligned with Qian trigram.
The illusion vanished. A warm hand rested gently on the man’s carotid artery. He froze, terror-stricken, swallowing hard.
In this sealed tomb of over a decade, a “person” in full dress and with a warm body was far more terrifying than the grotesque ghosts. The latter could be explained. This one couldn’t.
“Are you Bai Shuangying?” Fang Xiu asked softly from behind.
The man didn’t answer right away. Veins bulged on his temple. He was clearly calculating something desperately.
“I know Bai Shuangying,” he finally said after half a minute. “He’s not here, but I can take you to him.”
“Ah.” Fang Xiu tilted his head shyly. “No need. I’ll find him myself.”
His fingers slid along the man’s neck. The man reached into his pocket, trying to cast something, but nothing happened.
Cold sweat streamed down his face as his panic grew.
Fang Xiu’s hand brushed a red string. With a flick, he hooked out a green jade pendant.
“I’m a disciple of the Guishan Sect!” the man cried, drenched in sweat. “You’re the divine being enshrined in our holy land. Please… show mercy. Return… Return…”
The smile vanished from Fang Xiu’s face.
His instincts said visitors must offer incense and recite the proper prayers to be allowed in. His heart told him, whatever the reason, he deeply disliked this man.
He waved casually, summoning a ghost hand from the tomb ceiling. It yanked the man upward. The man lunged at Fang Xiu, but didn’t even graze his clothes.
“This is my home.”
Fang Xiu toyed with a ghost flame in his palm, watching the man struggle above him. “You’re not welcome. Please leave.”
Sensing new prey, nearby low-level evil spirits crept forward. They resembled hairless, skeletal dogs with bluish-black skin.
“Eat while it’s fresh.” Fang Xiu patted their heads.
At his word, seven or eight spirits leapt and tore the man limb from limb. Fang Xiu stayed within arm’s reach the whole time to prevent spellcasting.
Blood poured down from the cultist’s head amidst his inhuman screams, raining onto Fang Xiu’s hair and face. His freshly cleaned robe was now soaked again. But…
“Blood smells better than the medicinal fluid.”
He flung away a stray piece of intestine, sniffed his sleeve, and decided to look at this problem more optimistically.
Too bad that soul probably tasted great. He should’ve saved it for… someone…?
Regret filled him as he watched the man’s remains vanish, devoured completely. Only half a skull dangled from the ghost hand.
Fang Xiu signaled, and the ghost hand released it. The spirits pounced, stripping even that to nothing.
Around a nearby corner, a panicked heartbeat echoed.
Fang Xiu snapped his head around, eyes piercing the shadows…
There stood a young man, face covered with black gauze, startled and tense. This boy looked far more pleasant than the last, not in terms of appearance, but there was something about his presence.
Even if he was an intruder, Fang Xiu could let this one live a bit longer.
He instinctively smiled at the blindfolded boy, but the boy’s expression grew more conflicted.
Ah, right.
Fang Xiu touched his cheek. Half his face was still caked in blood. Of course a human would be afraid.
“Are you Bai Shuangying?” Fang Xiu asked again, wiping away the blood, smiling faintly.
……
Not far away, deeper in the shadows…
Ghost Immortal A’Shou blended perfectly into the darkness, silently observing.
She had told Mei Lan the ritual would be monitored by the Underworld. But Dian’er was too naive, and this time involved the notoriously troublesome Fang Xiu… With few tasks at hand, A’Shou had decided to watch in person, curious about the so-called “Danger of the Disaster Relief Tower”.
But she hadn’t expected this.
She had a general idea of how the Tomb-Sealing E worked from the Underworld’s inspection.
This thing was unique. It would follow taboos and cling to a recognized controller until that person’s soul was completely destroyed.
Once chosen, the controller’s original personality would vanish. They would come to believe they were the tomb’s rightful owner, becoming a proper tomb guardian.
…But Fang Xiu’s condition wasn’t right. He clearly retained some of his self.
…Just what is that kid?
The author has something to say:
Xiao Fang, now a brand-new species of ghost.
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