Chapter 50:
Peach Blossom Spring (Part 7):
The Ghost Lifted His Hand, Then Extended Its Tongue…
Chen Henian was tired, and unconsciousness was a welcome respite. He let himself drift off, his body feeling light and weightless, floating on a cloud, a cool, soft sensation, something tickling his palm, waking him up.
He opened his eyes, his eyelashes fluttering, to see a black tendril caressing his hand.
The tendril retreated as he woke. The ground was dirty, but the ghost, using its tendrils, had kept him from touching the dirt, lifting him slightly above the ground.
He appreciated that.
One hour. That was the time he had given the Great Shaman. He had communicated his intentions to the ghost within him, instructing it to purge the Gu from his system after an hour. He woke up in a different place, a dark, damp cell, not one of the village’s wooden houses, but a cave, the ceiling low and rocky, insects crawling on the damp floor, a pile of straw in the corner.
Zuo He and Jiang Wan were still unconscious. Chen Henian remembered the bag Zhao Cuicui had packed. What would she bring if she wasn’t planning to leave?
He opened the bag, finding silver thread embroidered flowers and small blue cloth bundles. He opened one, finding the same black pills Zhao Cuicui had given Zuo He earlier. He quickly gave two to each of them.
They coughed, spitting out the pills, then woke up, their disorientation quickly fading.
Chen Henian kicked them lightly. “Get up.”
“Where are we?” Jiang Wan asked, her voice filled with disgust.
“The Great Shaman’s private prison,” Chen Henian replied.
“My sword is gone,” Zuo He said, his face grim, his anger evident.
“Don’t bother looking, he took all our weapons,” Chen Henian said. “He’s not planning to let us leave.” His suitcase was also gone, leaving him with only a needle and a length of red string hidden in his sleeve.
They were prisoners, locked in a cell, but the Great Shaman didn’t know about the ghost inside him.
Chen Henian pointed at the lock on the iron gate. “Open it.”
A tendril emerged from his back, reaching for the lock, shattering the metal with a touch. The gate swung open with a loud clang, the sound echoing through the cave.
They stepped out of the cell. The cave was large, five identical openings before them, a confusing maze. The damp air masked the scent of yin energy, making it difficult to track, but the tendril extended again, entering the second opening, returning a moment later, dragging a snake behind it, the white snake that had been with Zhao Cuicui.
The snake was different now, blood on its head, its mouth open, its movements frantic.
Chen Henian had the ghost release it.
As the snake touched the ground, it transformed into a cloud of white smoke, then solidified into a handsome man in white robes, his long hair streaked with blood, his human form a temporary vessel for speech. “The Great Shaman is not a good person. Please, save her! Her blood, it’s being drained!”
The white snake explained that it had come from Zhao Cuicui. The Great Shaman had betrayed her trust, tying her up and cutting her wrists.
Its power was no match for the Great Shaman’s, so it had escaped.
“Lead the way,” Chen Henian said.
The white snake transformed back into its serpentine form, slithering into the opening.
They followed, their pace quick. One hour was the optimal time. The Great Shaman wouldn’t be able to deal with all three of them immediately, nor would he sacrifice Zhao Cuicui so quickly. But Chen Henian had suspected something was amiss, venturing into the village to investigate the source of the Great Shaman’s yin energy.
The smell of blood grew stronger, the potent yang energy of a young person’s blood. They followed the snake through the maze-like tunnels, seeing candlelight, then blood, a three-tiered platform at the end, a circular altar carved into the stone, runes etched into its surface, Zhao Cuicui bound at the center, her wrists slit, her blood flowing into the grooves of the array, tracing the runes.
Chen Henian saw his suitcase, his tools laid out beside it, Zuo He’s sword on a nearby wooden table.
The Great Shaman, initially hunched over, stood up, its black robe blending into the shadows. “You shouldn’t have disturbed me,” it said, its voice deep and resonant.
“But… you’ve arrived just in time.”
It removed its mask, revealing a grotesque face, its features barely discernible, only its eyes visible, the pupils small and black, like a spider’s.
Chen Henian had expected something unpleasant, but the sight still made him nauseous.
Granny Zhao had said the Great Shaman was much older than her. He was the one who had created the blood Gu, earning him his title and respect. He was an immortal, a century old, his exposed skin covered in scars, as if his body had been stitched together.
They had to save Zhao Cuicui first. Even if she was destined to die, it shouldn’t be like this.
Zuo He leaped down from the platform, grabbing his sword, his movements fluid and decisive. He took a talisman from inside his robe, attaching it to the tip of his sword, and lunged at the Great Shaman.
It was a yang talisman, bursting into flames as it neared the Great Shaman, its heat a searing blade.
The Great Shaman, recoiling from the yang energy, retreated, and Zuo He, not pursuing him, ran towards Zhao Cuicui. Chen Henian and Jiang Wan followed, jumping down from the platform.
Zhao Cuicui was still conscious. Zuo He untied her, and the white snake, slithering to her side, licked her wounds, its energy stemming the flow of blood.
The Great Shaman ignored Zhao Cuicui, its eyes fixed on Chen Henian.
“You’re using a forbidden technique – borrowing lifespan,” Chen Henian said. “A blood exchange ritual, draining a young person’s blood to extend your own life.”
“The Chinan people, their lifespan limited to thirty-two years. You take the remaining sixteen, a clever method, each sacrifice extending your life.”
“Your Daoist techniques are insufficient,” the Great Shaman chuckled darkly.
“Insufficient for you, perhaps,” Chen Henian retorted. “You’re a Chinan, you don’t understand the essence of yin-yang. And you’ve broken the sacred laws.” He turned to Zuo He. “How should such a person be punished?”
Zuo He’s face was grim, his voice stern. “For repeated violations, his remaining lifespan will be spent in torment on Mount Xing.”
“I achieved what my master couldn’t,” the Great Shaman said. He was Zhao Changgong’s disciple, but unlike his master, he embraced foreign techniques. “Combining my tribe’s Gu techniques with forbidden Daoist arts, I’ve achieved immortality.”
Bulges appeared on his neck, insects crawling beneath his skin. He had used Gu on himself.
“What have I done wrong?”
“I’ve ensured the survival of the Chinan tribe.”
“I am a saint, who are you to judge me?”
“A saint?” Chen Henian laughed. “Sacrificing one to save a hundred, is that your brilliant solution?”
“A necessary sacrifice,” the Great Shaman said dismissively.
“Necessary?” Chen Henian scoffed.
“What if I’m the sacrifice, and I refuse? What will you do then?”
“You can’t capture me, you can’t kill me, but I can kill you. How will you play the saint then?”
“Arrogant fool,” the Great Shaman sneered.
“I have the power to be arrogant. You can only prey on the weak and defenseless, children of sixteen and seventeen, forcing them to be your sacrifices, calling it a noble act. It’s nothing but exploitation.” Chen Henian’s voice was cold. “You’ve lived long enough, stealing others’ lives. The underworld officials will drag you to hell for your crimes.”
“I am chosen by fate,” the Great Shaman laughed. “Otherwise, why would you be delivered to me?”
“I’ve seen your fate in the ancient texts. A Tai Yin body. With your blood, I won’t need any more sacrifices.”
“Wonderful,” Chen Henian said. “So you’re planning to kill me? Use my blood and flesh?”
He turned to Zuo He. “If a rogue cultivator tries to kill me, and I kill him in self-defense, is that a violation?”
Zuo He shook his head. “No, you would be rewarded.”
“Good.” Chen Henian smiled, stepping towards the Great Shaman, his hands open, his posture calm and confident, his chin raised, his voice filled with arrogance. “Then try to kill me. You better succeed, or you’ll suffer a fate worse than death.”
Enraged, the Great Shaman sliced his palm, letting the blood drip onto the floor, his lips moving in a silent chant. The blood Zhao Cuicui had lost stirred, the droplets rising into the air.
“He’s set a Gu trap! Get out of the circle!” Zhao Cuicui yelled, her voice weak.
Insects swarmed from the cracks in the stone altar, hard and soft, some with legs, some with wings, surrounding them.
“I have medicine in my bag! If you take it, you’ll be immune to Gu poison for three hours!” she said.
“That’s wonderful,” Jiang Wan grinned. “We’ve already taken it.” She raised her hand, and the Black Wraith emerged, its roar echoing through the cave. She frowned at Zhao Cuicui. “But your cooking is terrible. Couldn’t you have made something more palatable?”
Her words broke the tension, the insects did not dare approach them.
The Great Shaman’s face contorted in surprise. Zhao Cuicui’s words were true, they showed no signs of being affected. He had underestimated her.
“A mistake is a mistake. Either die, or come with me to be punished,” Zuo He said, his movements swift as he lunged, his sword aimed at the Great Shaman.
But as he approached, a wave of malevolent energy struck him, dispelling his protective qi, the force like a blow to his chest, sending him flying backward, landing hard on the ground.
He looked at Chen Henian, his face pale, his voice filled with confusion. “What happened?”
Chen Henian didn’t understand either. Why hadn’t it gone as planned?
He hadn’t moved, but the temperature plummeted, a chilling cold.
“It’s out,” Jiang Wan warned him, but he already knew, the icy grip of death on his back.
The ghost emerged from within him, its form like a towering wall.
It stood behind him, and Chen Henian didn’t dare turn around. He felt a sharp pain in his shoulder, the ghost’s cold breath on his neck, its teeth sinking into his flesh, not piercing the skin, but leaving a deep, red mark.
He winced, the icy touch sending shivers down his spine. The ghost, its teeth still on his shoulder, didn’t let go, grinding its teeth against his skin, a single bite not enough.
Jiang Wan, fearing the Great Shaman would attack, moved to intercept him, but the ghost, its eyes snapping open, glared at her, its hostility directed at everyone present. The Great Shaman retreated to the edge of the altar, half-kneeling against the wall.
The ghost’s aura filled the cave, making them dizzy, the oppressive yin energy constricting their chests.
“Do something!” Jiang Wan yelled, rushing to Zhao Cuicui’s side, shielding her.
“Shut up!” Chen Henian shrugged off the ghost’s grip, turning and striking it with his palm, his Three Yin Hand technique effective even against powerful ghosts, dispelling some of the black mist.
The ghost released him, its eyes glowing red, a furious roar echoing through the cave, its rage unlike anything he had seen before.
Tendrils erupted from its body, wrapping around Chen Henian’s waist, lifting him into the air, pulling him closer, more tendrils coiling around him, its hands gripping his wrists, pulling him down onto the altar.
Its grip was strong, inescapable.
Chen Henian watched its every move, his eyes narrowing as he noticed a small, pulsating bulge in the swirling mist, an insect, emerging from the ghost’s forehead, its head raised, its antennae twitching.
“A Gu? You’ve been poisoned?” he asked, surprised.
The ghost ignored him, its face close to his chest, inhaling his scent.
“It’s being controlled by a Gu,” Zhao Cuicui called out weakly, recognizing the insect. “But that Gu, it looks like… like…”
“Like what?!” Chen Henian snapped, his patience wearing thin.
“A love Gu.”
“…”
Chen Henian was speechless. “A love Gu?”
“Yes,” she explained. “I’m sure of it. It amplifies a person’s desires.” Her face flushed, and she lowered her head. “It won’t stop… until it’s satisfied… the only solution is… to satisfy it.”
A love Gu, as its name suggested, induced powerful feelings of lust and desire, a primal urge for physical intimacy.
“What does that mean?” Zuo He asked, coughing. “Satisfy what?”
“Damn,” Jiang Wan understood, her eyes widening. “Here? Now? That’s not appropriate.”
“Shut up,” Chen Henian scoffed, his annoyance evident. How could a powerful ghost like this be affected by such a low-level Gu?
And ghosts weren’t human.
Its desires wouldn’t be sexual, it would want to consume him.
Its only thought now was likely to devour him whole.
The ghost’s tendrils tore open his shirt, revealing the bite marks on his shoulder.
It lifted his hand, then extended its tongue, licking his neck, leaving a trail of cold, sticky residue.
It wanted to eat him. He was certain of it.
