After dinner, it was already past seven in the evening. Guo Ziping sat on the living room sofa chatting with me for a while before his eyelids grew unbearably heavy.
I could tell he was struggling—exhausted, yet unwilling to fall asleep.
By nine o'clock, he finally gave in and began snoring right there on the sofa.
I woke him gently and led him upstairs to his bedroom.
Uncle Huzi stayed downstairs, ready to help at a moment's notice.
Guo Xiaotong, his curious daughter, wanted to follow me and watch how I would drive away the evil spirit. She even insisted on entering her father's bedroom with me, but I refused, claiming her presence would interfere with the ritual.
In truth, I was more concerned about her discovering the truth of her father's condition.
Reluctantly, she returned to her own room, still looking unwilling.
Once Guo Ziping was lying on the bed, I changed into a burial shroud bought from the funeral goods street—clothes that had been worn by the dead—and hid inside the wardrobe.
The wardrobe was positioned perfectly to face the bed. I left the doors slightly ajar so I could monitor him at all times.
The moment I put on the shroud, a strange and stifling sensation washed over me. My breathing felt constricted, as though the air itself was heavy.
Perhaps the person who had worn this before death carried great resentment, which had clung to the fabric. That lingering malice seemed to seep into me.
The longer I wore it, the stronger the feeling became—until I felt nearly suffocated.
I steadied my breath, formed two hand seals, and silently recited the calming mantra several times. Only then did the discomfort ease.
How could the resentment be so thick that it even affected me?
Once I was done with Guo Ziping's case, I'd have to track down the original owner's home and investigate.
Unfortunately, the man who'd sold it had left in a hurry, and I hadn't managed to get his phone number or address. Now, unless he came looking for me, I had no way to reach him.
I stayed in that wardrobe for over two hours. Guo Ziping slept soundly, snoring steadily, without a hint of disturbance.
I began to doubt my earlier judgment—perhaps the problem lay within him and not from an external source, and my own skills simply weren't sharp enough to detect it.
Standing for so long made my legs numb, and watching him without being able to do anything else was maddeningly dull.
I was already thinking that, once this job was done, the Guo family had better pay extra—this was far too time-consuming.
Just as I was about to lose patience, something changed.
The sound changed.
The snores stopped.
I instantly tensed, staring through the wardrobe crack without blinking.
After a moment, I saw the blanket covering him slowly lift, inch by inch, before sliding to the floor.
His snoring had stopped, but now his breathing grew heavy and ragged.
In the pale moonlight streaming through the window, his expression was hazy, as if caught between pleasure and pain.
His body writhed slightly on the bed, and his hands groped through the air as though caressing something unseen.
I knew then—the thing had come.
Forming a seal with two fingers, I muttered an incantation and brushed my eyelids, opening the Heavenly Eye.
Let's see exactly what's been clinging to him every night… and why it's ignored me.
The moment my sight opened, a flash of light passed through my vision, and what I saw made my heart jolt.
There was another figure on the bed—a stunningly curvaceous young woman, her back to me, skin smooth and pale as snow.
She was… doing unspeakable things with Guo Ziping.
As a seventeen-year-old guy, I'll admit my face flushed instantly.
I'd seen certain Japanese "films" behind my master's back before… but this was my first time witnessing the "live performance."
Even from the back, she was breathtaking enough to make most men lose their souls. An eighty-year-old in a wheelchair might have stood up on the spot.
If not for concern over Guo Ziping's safety, I might have stayed hidden to watch longer.
I bit my tongue hard to regain focus, then pulled out the Tianpeng Ruler from my robe.
With a push, the wardrobe door swung open, and I rushed toward the bed. The engraved runes on the ruler glimmered faintly under my spiritual energy.
Sensing danger, the woman suddenly turned her head toward me—
—and my raised weapon froze in midair.
Her face was… devastatingly beautiful, enough to stir the soul.
Her gaze was pitiful, shimmering with unshed tears, as though striking her would be a crime against heaven itself.
I had never seen such beauty—except, perhaps, for the eight-tailed fox spirit who'd once appeared in my dreams.
But this was a different kind of beauty. One that hurt to behold.
She rose from the bed, walking toward me with slow, deliberate grace, and reached out a slender, jade-like hand to touch my cheek.
Her touch was icy cold, sending a shiver through me.
Then, to my shock, she wrapped an arm around my neck and leaned in, lips parting.
My throat went dry. My blood roared.
For a moment, I nearly gave in.
But then, a fleeting image of the eight-tailed fox flashed through my mind, snapping me awake.
I realized—I had been bewitched.
Snapping back to my senses, I gripped the Tianpeng Ruler tightly as she continued to draw closer, still stunningly beautiful.
"Evil spirit! Prepare to die!" I shouted, bringing the ruler down toward her head.
If you want, I can also translate the next scene where the confrontation unfolds and adapt the style to fit Western supernatural thriller pacing. That way, the tone stays consistently gripping for an English-speaking audience.