Chapter 6: The Nether Altar Hall — A Correct Demonstration of Soul Retrieval Posture

Standing inside the door was a very beautiful woman: a wine-red gradient long dress, exquisite extended nails, a head of long curly hair in big waves spilling down her back, chin slightly raised, arms crossed as she looked the two of them over.

Lu You stepped inside of his own accord, tossing out a compliment: “Nice new hairstyle, Yang Yun.”

Yang Yun laughed: “Just permed it yesterday. Sister Hua charged me eight hundred-something yuan.”

Her gaze swiveled, thumb jerked at He Zhuchun: “New disciple?”

He Zhuchun put on a polite smile: “I’m his friend.”

“Unfamiliar face.” Yang Yun held the door wider, letting him in first, then teased: “Lu You actually makes friends now? Never thought I’d see it.”

He Zhuchun played along with interest: “Is it that rare?”

The main door slammed shut with a bang, and Yang Yun’s tone was exaggerated: “Extremely rare.”

He Zhuchun found it funny enough, and laughed a couple of times.

The compound looked decrepit outside, but the interior decoration was unexpectedly nice—uniform pale-green wallpaper with cream matte flooring, a little cluster of pale-yellow daisies arranged on the table with a few dewdrops dotted on them, very fresh—overall you could tell this was a home its owner had put care into dressing up.

The only thing jarring with the room’s style was the pitch-black sunken-wood Altar Offering Table standing dead center. Yang Yun apparently practiced a profession similar to Lu You’s, but where Lu You’s Altar Roster was grand and red, what she enshrined was an all-black roster.

Also three chi three in size.

The right side read: Netherwalking and Yang-walking, Watching Over Both Realms; the left side read: Relieving Suffering, Saving the Distressed, Saving All Beings.

The central writing was somewhat scrawled, yet four characters were inscribed with deliberate care: Traversing Yin and Yang Realms.

He Zhuchun poked Lu You: “Why is what she enshrines different from yours?”

Lu You’s pale pupils turned slightly, looking at Yang Yun. Yang Yun was still standing at the door, head lowered, carefully picking at the rhinestones glued on her nails.

“Yours is a Nether Altar Hall.”

He Zhuchun asked: “Isn’t what’s enshrined the Patron Spirits?”

“There are spirits, but not many,” Lu You explained. “A normal Altar Hall generally enshrines the Fox, Weasel, and Snake Spirits plus the Five Immortal Families of the Underworld—animal spirits as the mainstay, with Netherworld Immortals rare. But the Nether Altar Hall’s main force is the Netherworld Immortals, with the other four great clans’ spirits assisting.”

Netherworld Immortals were relatives who, after death, had gained Dao Attainment and opportunity.

“So there’s such a distinction.” He Zhuchun thought about it: “Is the work they do different from yours too?”

“Of course it’s different!”

He turned his head—Yang Yun had somehow made her way behind the two of them without a sound, smiling at them both.

“A lot of what a Nether Altar Hall takes on is Underworld work. Today, fetch a Specter; tomorrow, descend to the Underworld.” Her hand flicked a nimble circle before their eyes, ending propped against her cheek: “Traversing the Yin and Roving the Yang and such? Easy peasy~”

Having said her piece, she strolled a few steps and flopped onto the sofa: “Well then? When Lord Lu You pays a visit, it’s never without reason. You’ve graced my humble home today—surely not just to give the new friend a Metaphysics lecture?”

Lu You came straight to the point: “I have a little girl here whose soul needs Retrieving. Might have to trouble Auntie to make a trip.”

Yang Yun went “ah”: “You’re looking for my mom? Well, perfect timing—she just got back from her lash appointment ten minutes ago, and she’s in the bedroom scrolling livestreams.”

Lu You: “Call Auntie out and ask whether she’s free today.”

“She’s free, why wouldn’t she be free.” Yang Yun had no decorum on the sofa, half her body sliding down into it: “Mom adores you. If she’d known you were coming today, she’d probably already be painting her face by now.”

Lu You knew there was no filter on her jokes, and just smiled without taking the bait.

So Yang Yun hollered: “Mom! Come out! Lu You’s here for you!”

At the shout, a clatter of footsteps came from shallow to deep inside, the bedroom door slid open, and Yang Shengnan poked her head out: “Little Lu’s here?”

Lu You bowed his head slightly: “Auntie.”

“Sit, sit! Give Auntie a moment—Auntie’s little boyfriend is in a PK battle right now. Wait till I finish this round, coming right up!”

Yang Yun denounced her: “You’re spending money on shady men out there again!”

Yang Shengnan clicked her tongue: “This old lady does as she pleases!”

The bedroom door shut again.

In the ninth lunar month, darkness fell much earlier than in summer. Lu You and He Zhuchun rode the Yadea up front. Back at the shop, Liu Yingying dozed against the doorframe, and Qin Shuheng was again copying scriptures—through the clear glass door he saw his Master return, dropped his brush, and ran out, looking left and right.

“Master, did you bring Auntie Yang back?”

Lu You: “They’re driving over, behind us.”

Qin Shuheng wriggled shyly: “Is Sister Yang Yun coming too, Master?”

Lu You said: “She has to drive. Auntie Yang’s license got revoked last month.”

“Revoked again?” Qin Shuheng was about to ask more when, in the corner of his eye, a silver-white BYD came down the main road and pulled up at the door.

Qin Shuheng waved: “Sister Yang Yun!”

Yang Yun climbed out of the driver’s seat and waved back: “Long time no see, Qin Shuheng.”

Qin Shuheng grinned foolishly: “It really has been a while. Sister Yang Yun, you’ve gotten prettier again.”

Yang Yun was amused by him too: “Such a smooth talker.”

When mother and daughter were led to Yuanyuan, Yang Yun felt behind the child’s ear, clicked her tongue twice: “Thinning hair, darkened face, hoarse voice, dull eyes—this is a swapped soul, isn’t it? Truly ruthless, doing this to a child so small.”

Yang Shengnan set her Hermès on the table, taking out in turn a bag of yellow millet, two small ceramic bowls, and a strip of red cloth, then turned back and pried open Yuanyuan’s eyelids to look.

“Not bad. The soul-loss side isn’t too severe.”

“It had better not be severe.” Yang Yun’s tone needled: “Her soul’s already been swapped into this state. Any more soul lost and this child would’ve been a simpleton long ago.”

Lu You went to the Altar Hall to offer incense. The smoke rose in a leisurely spiral and shot straight up; the scent of Incense Offerings spread through the shop, and the lotus-shaped Everburning Lamp on the Altar Offering Table gleamed especially bright.

Qin Shuheng turned on the lights, and with practiced motions cleared away his scripture-copying things and everything else on the table, then fetched a small quilt from the second floor and, skirting Yang Shengnan’s pile of items, spread it out.

Having finished the table, he took one of the ceramic bowls, filled it with water, and set it down squarely at the head of the quilt.

Yang Yun picked the child up and laid her on the quilt, head aligned with the water bowl.

Liu Yingying had jolted awake the moment they came in, and now stood helpless at the outer edge, looking toward the only person here she knew.

He Zhuchun gave her a “stay calm” look.

Yang Shengnan suddenly raised her voice: “Is there anyone here the child is familiar with?”

Liu Yingying’s hand shot up: “Me!”

Yang Shengnan’s gaze landed on her, and her brow knitted tighter: “Young lady, what’s all this filth you’ve got on you?”

“Huh?” Liu Yingying looked herself up and down, a little awkward: “It’s fine, isn’t it? I changed into fresh clothes just this morning.”

He Zhuchun knew Yang Shengnan was referring to the problem of Liu Yingying’s magnetic field. He soothed his junior sister a little: “Don’t worry. Your matter will be dealt with later.”

Liu Yingying hadn’t known there was something on her that needed dealing with; she could only muddle through with an “oh.”

Yang Shengnan asked: “Young lady, what’s the child’s full name?”

Liu Yingying: “Li Jiayuan.”

“You come here, take Shuheng’s place.” Yang Shengnan beckoned to her, then looked to Lu You: “Little Lu, get Auntie a cigarette. Auntie forgot hers.”

“All right.” Lu You drew a carton of Soft Pack Zhonghua Cigarettes from the Altar Hall drawer, took out a pack, and tossed it over.

He Zhuchun leaned in: “The Altar Offering Table opens up underneath? Pretty high-end. Did you make it yourself?”

Lu You: “Bought it on Pinduoduo. Eight eighty-eight.”

“……”

Everything ready, Yang Shengnan had Qin Shuheng turn off the lights, and Lu You produced a palm-sized glass Offering Lamp, lit it, and set it before Yang Shengnan.

Yang Shengnan first pinched up small handfuls of millet into the ceramic bowl, one handful after another, until the millet filled it level. Then she pressed it down a bit firmer, made sure there were no gaps inside, wrapped the whole bowl in the red cloth—the bowl’s mouth sealed tight by the cloth’s center, the cloth’s edges twisted into a tuft at the bowl’s base.

Gripping the cloth, Yang Shengnan turned the bowl upside down, held it loosely above Li Jiayuan, and rotated it slowly clockwise. As she turned, she recited rapidly:

“Heaven startles, earth startles. Frightened by rooster crow, dog bark, cat’s cry—come fast, be summoned fast; the true soul enters its Aperture; when hungry, eat rice; when thirsty, drink water. Li Jiayuan, come back, come back—come home for dinner.”

He Zhuchun listened carefully for a while, made out what she was reciting, then found himself thinking of what Lu You had muttered that day while doing his exorcism. Both were chanting, but what Yang Shengnan and Lu You chanted were clearly different. What Lu You chanted was, most likely, not human speech.

Yang Shengnan turned a full three circles clockwise and three counterclockwise, then suddenly asked: “Has Li Jiayuan come back?”

Liu Yingying answered softly: “She’s back.”

“Has Li Jiayuan come back?”

“Back.”

“Has Li Jiayuan come back?”

“Back.”

A light breeze brushed past their ears, and the bowl was set upright.

The sky was verging on full dark now, the sunset’s last glow unable to reach inside the shop. In the darkness, everyone relied on the Offering Lamp’s weak light on the table to watch Yang Shengnan slowly peel back the red cloth.

The ceramic bowl that had been heaped full with millet now, inexplicably, had a hollow missing along the bowl wall.

Liu Yingying was the closest, and couldn’t hold back a soft gasp. She had watched the entire process of Yang Shengnan turning the bowl to Retrieve the soul, and was certain no one had touched the bowl’s surface from start to finish—yet when the cloth was lifted, a small pit had been gnawed into it as if by magic.

Even though she’d been dragged here to take part in this baffling soul-calling ritual, Liu Yingying knew she had only been grasping at straws in desperation. The second before, she had even been doubting the choice, wondering whether the first thing to do was take the child to a hospital.

That thought was finally doused now—and with it, the no-ghosts-no-gods creed Liu Yingying had believed for over twenty years.

Yang Shengnan showed not the least surprise. She pinched up another handful of millet, filled the pit level, and repeated the procedure; each time the red cloth lifted, the pit was much smaller than the last.

After roughly five repetitions, when the red cloth lifted once more, the millet in the bowl finally held level.

Liu Yingying quietly let out a breath: “So Yuanyuan is safe now?”

Yang Shengnan said: “We’ve only brought the soul back. The root problem is still unsolved.”

She turned and called: “Shuheng, lights on.”

Qin Shuheng had been standing by the switch the whole time; he hurriedly flicked the lights on.

Yang Shengnan rubbed her eyes, and gave final instructions: “Feed this bowl of millet to the birds, pour the water on flowers. Don’t dispose of them carelessly—when you’re done, just leave the bowls here in the shop. I’ll swipe them next time I come by.”

Liu Yingying nodded to remember it, then asked anxiously: “Then when will Yuanyuan wake up?”

“Don’t rush, young lady. Hasn’t Little Lu not made his move yet?” Yang Shengnan pocketed her cigarettes and went to the door with a smile, lighting one.

“There’s more?”

Liu Yingying turned around—and saw Lu You before the Altar Hall, burning a talisman into ash and mixing it into water.

During the soul retrieval, in the middle of that darkness, Lu You had drawn an entire Evil-Repelling Talisman by touch, dipping brush in ink and working blind. Now he carried the bowl of talisman-ash water, a chopstick of unknown origin held in his hand, crossing to Li Jiayuan in a few steps.

The chopstick, dipped in the water, was pressed into the child’s mouth, prying open her jaw, water trickling down the chopstick inside.

Liu Yingying watched anxiously but dared not reach out to stop him: “Will a fainted child swallow on her own? It won’t go into her windpipe, will it?”

Just as she fretted, she saw Yang Yun walk over, right hand’s index and middle fingers pressed together, and give a light upward lift at Li Jiayuan’s throat.

Liu Yingying saw it clearly: one second Li Jiayuan was utterly unconscious, and the next she was swallowing automatically. The talisman-ash water was fed until nearly half the bowl was gone; Lu You stopped, and the remaining half bowl was splashed at the shop entrance.

By the time he came back carrying the empty bowl, Li Jiayuan’s eyelids were fluttering twice—awake.