Studying Zhao Na again, I realized my earlier mistake: her sallow complexion wasn't just bad luck. A mix of black and yellow qi above her nose indicated death energy overwhelming her life force.
"M-Master, what is this?" Zhao Na stammered.
Taking a deep breath, I knew I'd stumbled into trouble. "This is a dark art called 'Rat Resentment.' To create it, dig a pit beside a barren grave, imprison a dozen female rats, keep them in the dark, and feed them human flesh daily. After 15 days, starve them until only one remains, then introduce a male. The pregnant female will eat the male, then be fed blood-soaked rice at dawn for a month. When her belly swells, roast her alive with candles."
"Rat Resentment" is sinister in its absoluteness: the victim doesn't die immediately but slowly loses their mind. Once the rotting stench spreads, family members die violent deaths. Originating in Yunnan-Guizhou, it was originally made with five 3-year-old children—too cruel, so later modified to use female rats. Ironically, this vile technique was meant to help farmers find herbs in mountains—proof that magic itself is neutral, only men are good or evil.
Clearly, the Rat Resentment buried under Zhao Na's bed aimed to kill her. I recalled Grandpa's warning: dark arts are governed by fate. Meddling in karma—whether retribution or misfortune—could backfire. Helping with misfortune earns merit, but interfering with retribution... is asking for trouble.
"Sorry, I can't take this job." I pushed the 1,000 yuan back. "Check if your family offended someone. This is too (sinister). Only the caster can undo it. I'm not skilled enough."
I turned to leave. After breaking the Jade Rabbit tomb, I couldn't risk more karma. But Zhao Na burst into tears, grabbing my arm. "Master, don't go! What will I do?"
"I really can't help." But she knelt, hugging my legs. "Please save me! Every night I hear strange noises, even children playing. I haven't slept in two weeks. My dad's obsessed with my stepmother, cut off my money after I hit someone drunk driving. I came to you out of desperation—you're right, my stepmother and I clash, but she's trying to kill me! You can't abandon me!" Clinging tighter, she added, "We're the same age. Be my boyfriend if you save me."
I refused. She was beautiful but promiscuous—loyal today, cheating tomorrow. Yet her plight tugged at me. The Rat Resentment had rotted, likely to bring disaster within a week. Children's voices meant the rat's evil energy attracted spirits.
After hesitation, I asked, "Does your stepmother live here?"
Zhao Na wiped her tears and hugged me—summer clothes left little barrier, making me blush. "Yes, why?"
Rat Resentment curses the household. As her stepmother was family and pregnant, she was also at risk. "Your stepmother didn't do this. Ask your dad if he offended someone. He must be having bad luck—missing items, chest and stomach pains at night."
I still intended to leave. Even removing the rat corpse wouldn't break the curse; only the caster could help. But Zhao Na blocked me, tearing her blouse. "Leave, and I'll call the police for assault!"
Her tough northeastern spirit showed: no reasoning, just threats. I was trapped. As I glowered at the rat corpse, something caught my eye—its belly bulged with a hard object.
Puzzled—rat bellies hold resentment; damage would break the spell. But parting the fur, I flew into a rage. The bastard caster had used a zombie to nurture evil—and that bone fragment was a child's finger!
Zhao Na sensed my fury. "What's wrong?" I silenced her. Grandpa taught me to stay righteous. The finger's (patterns) belonged to a child.
I called Grandpa, explained everything, then asked, "Should we help?"