"You… don't act recklessly! I really am a Taoist priest! If you try anything, I'll make sure your soul is shattered and scattered into nothingness!" I swallowed hard and spoke, my voice trembling.
"You're nervous?" The water ghost took two slow steps forward, studying me.
"Nonsense! Do you think someone like me would be nervous in front of a petty ghost like you?" I forced a laugh, clinging to a sliver of false bravado.
The water ghost circled halfway around me and exhaled a cold breath onto the back of my neck. A chill surged down my spine as he said coldly, "If you're not nervous, then why did you swallow?"
"I… I was just thirsty! Do I need to report to you every time I feel parched?" I snapped back.
The water ghost let out a low, eerie laugh and blew another icy breath near my ear. "Relax. Your three hun and six po—your complete soul—have already been extracted by a powerful figure. Until I retrieve them, I can't kill you."
I remembered—Senior Sister Xunu had already removed my soul, but she also warned me that if it drifted too far from my body, I'd be in grave danger.
So, where did she hide my soul? Hopefully not somewhere too easy to find. If the water ghost got to it first, I'd be finished.
I kept my eyes locked on the water ghost. Even after learning who I was, he made no move against me. Instead, his ghastly eyes flicked from one of the twelve ghostly villagers from Zhangjia Village to the next.
"Kekeke…" The water ghost suddenly let out a sinister laugh. What he said next sent a chill straight to my bones. "So here they are… I've found them!"
Without any visible movement, he simply raised his hand. A thin mist rose from the heads of the twelve spirits, swirling in the air and taking my form—three hun, six po—nine soul fragments in total, each a mirror of myself.
"You killed my son. I'll devour your soul piece by piece to avenge him!" The water ghost snatched one of the fragments from the air. I instantly felt a crushing pressure, like an invisible giant hand gripping my body. The captured soul thrashed wildly in his grip.
"Young man, before you die, do you have any last words? I don't like eating souls that carry regret," he sneered, as if soul consumption were some kind of gourmet ritual.
"Yes! Yes, I do!" I nodded quickly. "Just one thing!"
Seeing that he paused and didn't torment my soul further, I turned toward the room and shouted at the top of my lungs, "Senior Sister! Help me!"
The water ghost turned instinctively in the direction of my voice, but even after a full minute, the room remained silent—no response at all.
"Kekeke, in Shaobei, no Taoist dares challenge me. Not your senior sister, not even the head of Maoshan himself could stop me!" He lifted my soul fragment higher, preparing to swallow it whole.
I knew once my three hun and six po were consumed, even Senior Sister Xunu's paper offerings might never reach me in the afterlife.
Despair washed over me. My twenty years of life had been painfully mediocre. I had accomplished nothing. My girlfriend of four years left me because I couldn't give her a better life, and she married someone else. I had planned to give her a generous red envelope at her wedding, hence why I started working at the pharmacy. Who could have guessed things would end up like this? Worst of all, I clearly sold the boy honeysuckle from the drawer—how had it turned into broken soul grass?
"Wait… I'll accept death, but I have one last regret!" I didn't know why Senior Sister hadn't come, but at the brink of death, a strange calm settled over me. I wasn't as afraid anymore.
The ghost clenched my soul tighter, but didn't rush to devour it—perhaps he wanted to prolong my suffering. After all, I had taken his son's life.
Since he didn't object, I tossed my wooden sword to the ground, removed my Taoist robe, spread it flat, then knelt upon it.
I bowed three times toward the west. On the third kowtow, my forehead cracked open, leaving a bloodstain on the wooden floor.
"What… what are you doing?" the water ghost asked, his voice puzzled.
I didn't look at him. Instead, I murmured toward the door, "Little brother… I'm so sorry. I'm the one who hurt you. If I had been more careful with the medicine, none of this would've happened."
"Hmph. My son's soul has already scattered to the winds. Do you think your empty apology means anything now?" the ghost spat coldly.
"I don't expect forgiveness. I made a mistake, and no excuse can change that. You can kill me now." I rose to my feet and stood tall, looking the ghost in the eye, ready to meet my fate.
"Ahem…" Just then, the sound of a woman coughing came from outside. The ghost's face twisted with fear. He vanished instantly, but I knew he hadn't gone far. My soul was still in his grasp—if he left for real, I wouldn't survive.
"Is anyone there… cough cough… anyone?" a frail voice called from beyond the door.
An elderly woman appeared—white-haired, hunched over, one hand clutching a cane, the other groping blindly in the air. Her eyes were shut tight; she must've been blind.
I rushed forward to help her in. "Ma'am, are you alright? What brings you here?"
"Is this the Fragrant Remedies pharmacy?" she asked.
Her eyes remained closed, confirming she couldn't see. But how did she find this place?
"Young man?" She reached into the air again, sensing my hesitation.
"Yes, this is the Fragrant Remedies pharmacy. Do you need something?" I asked gently.
"Good, good… I left home around six this morning, and I've been wandering all day. Finally, I've found the shop…" she said with a grateful smile.
Six in the morning? I checked the clock—it was just after two in the afternoon. That meant she'd been searching for over twenty hours! How far had she walked?
"Ma'am, where do you live? Why did it take you so long to get here?" I asked. Even if she walked slowly, twenty hours meant she must've traveled over a hundred miles.
Her answer stunned me: "I live on West Street, right here in Shaobei."
West Street—the very street this shop was on! She must have gotten lost and wandered in circles.
"Young man, was there often a little boy, around four or five years old with a mole by his brow, who came to buy honeysuckle from you?" she asked.
"Yes, there was," I replied, surprised.
The old woman shakily pulled out a wad of crumpled bills from her pocket. "These… these are for you."
"For me? Why?" I asked, confused.
"My grandson told me that the new clerk at the pharmacy always gave him extra change. I've tried the honeysuckle myself—it's top quality," she said.
"Extra change?" I frowned. I never gave him too much change… did I?
As for the high-quality herbs, yes, because I knew how hard it was for a child to buy medicine late at night. I always chose the best for him.
"My grandson said you were kind to him. Even when he miscounted the money, you never turned him away…" the old lady added.
That made even less sense. We were running a business—why would I ever kick out a paying customer?
"Last night, my grandson came to me in a dream. He said someone took him, and begged me to find you—to ask you for help…" she said.
My heart pounded. Her grandson? But hadn't he died from ingesting the wrong herb and turned into black smoke?
"Ma'am, please sit and tell me everything from the beginning." I helped her to a seat, sensing there was more to this than met the eye.
The old woman sat and continued, "Every day, my grandson bought honeysuckle for me. But yesterday, he didn't come home. That night, he appeared in my dream. He said he overheard the pharmacy uncle saying he had given him the wrong herb. Just as he realized the honeysuckle was actually broken soul grass and was about to return it, someone took him away…"
A dream—it might be unreliable, but at least it gave me a new possibility: the boy might still be alive. The one who came to the pharmacy last night… might not have been him.
"Ma'am, are you saying your grandson never took the medicine himself? That Was it always for you?" I asked.
She nodded. "He hated the taste of Chinese medicine. He never took any."
Then it made sense—if he didn't ingest the herbs, then even if I did make a mistake, he wouldn't have been harmed. That meant… he might still be alive!
As that thought took hold, a cold droplet fell onto my cheek. I looked up. The water ghost crouched silently on the ceiling beam, staring down at the old woman with an expression I had never seen before—complex, conflicted.
"Ma'am, did your grandson mention what the person who took him looked like?" I asked. If the dream was real, the one who took him might be the Thirteenth Person—the one who slipped into the pharmacy unnoticed, perhaps even hiding among the twelve ghosts from Zhangjia Village that night.