Chapter Twenty-Six: Battle with the Five Spectral Fiends

Black Market

"Here's your thousand bucks. Where's the bronze mirror?"

The fat man reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of cash. The thug, true to his word, handed over a bronze mirror encrusted with verdigris. "Good heavens, this really is an old piece."

"How much for this mirror?" A mirror like this wasn't something you stumbled upon every day. Song Nianqiang took the mirror and examined it closely, confirming it was indeed ancient—certainly not cheap. But to his surprise, the thug waved his hand dismissively. "Someone asked me to deliver this to you."

Song Nianqiang glanced at the mirror in his hand, then at the thug, skepticism written all over his face. He found it hard to believe such a stroke of luck could happen. "Stop overthinking it," the thug said, "I really don't know the guy. Our boss brought him in himself." With that, he lost interest in further conversation and turned away to play cards with the others.

"This is bizarre. Who would willingly give us such an old mirror?" Song Nianqiang was utterly baffled as he walked back, but soon gave up trying to puzzle it out. One thing was certain: this was no ordinary object. With it, catching the Five-Wonder Ghost would be much easier.

The dull days passed quickly. These days, apart from school, Song Nianqiang spent most of his time at the hospital. He'd already arranged everything in the morgue: the bronze mirror hung from the center of the ceiling, red threads and candles linked below in a Bagua formation, and the pipe residue was placed on a talisman, to be wielded by the fat man when the time came.

With everything set, all that remained was to wait for the Five-Wonder Ghost to appear. Song Nianqiang estimated that after five days, the corpses the ghost had taken last time would be almost used up, so tonight it would surely return to the hospital morgue.

As the clock struck midnight, Song Nianqiang knew the ghost was coming. He had someone place him and the fat man inside the cold storage drawers for corpses. Of course, the refrigeration was turned off—otherwise, they'd become ghosts themselves before catching anything.

A chilling wind swept through, sending a shudder down Song Nianqiang's spine even inside the drawer. Clearly, this ghost's power was no small matter. The sound of drawers opening rang out one after another. Soon, Song Nianqiang's own drawer was yanked open by a force. He was already forming a seal with his fingers, ready to strike the moment he emerged.

A ghost appeared before him—a face with no eyes but otherwise intact features. The ghost seemed startled to see him, likely not expecting a living person. Being a composite entity, the Five-Wonder Ghost quickly sensed something was wrong, and the one-eyed ghost tried to control the collective to escape.

"Fatty!" Song Nianqiang glanced around urgently but saw no sign of his companion. His heart sank. Without the pipe residue to subdue the one-eyed ghost, this fight would be much harder.

"Thunderbolt Curse!"

A blue flash struck the bronze mirror hanging from the ceiling, which instantly glowed with a faint yellow light. The red candles below all ignited at once, and the red threads flared bright—trapping the Five-Wonder Ghost.

Meanwhile, the fat man was sweating profusely in his own drawer, unable to get out. For some reason, his compartment was locked from the outside.

"Fine, I'll handle you myself!"

Steadying his nerves, Song Nianqiang quickly formed another seal. At this point, only the Thunderbolt Curse was still usable; the fat man's talisman was out of reach.

Though composed of five spirits, the Five-Wonder Ghost was controlled by a single mind. To destroy it, he had to subdue the one-eyed ghost—a formidable task. Time was running out; if the candles burned out before he succeeded, he might never have another chance.

Song Nianqiang was anxious. After two Thunderbolt Curses, the one-eyed ghost kept dodging too swiftly to be hit. Sweat poured down his face. He had enough strength left for only two more spells, but now he found himself surrounded.

The one-eyed ghost kept its distance, manipulating the other four to press in on him. Helpless, Song Nianqiang retreated step by step, careful not to leave the area marked by the red threads. If the formation lost its yang energy, the ghost's yin aura would quickly snuff out the candles.

Now, all Song Nianqiang could do was hope the fat man would escape soon. The one-eyed ghost stood right beside his friend's drawer, making it impossible for Song Nianqiang to approach.

"Dammit! Forced into this mess by a ghost—how humiliating!" Enraged, Song Nianqiang leapt up and kicked one of the ghosts, but its body was so solid that he bounced off, nearly tumbling out of the ritual's protective boundary.

"Thunderbolt Curse!"

This time, the spell evolved—five blue bolts appeared in midair and struck three of the ghosts. But after this, Song Nianqiang could no longer use his Maoshan arts; only his physical strength remained. He glanced at the ground—the candles were already half-burned. If he didn't finish off the one-eyed ghost soon, things would get truly out of hand.

Taking advantage of the opening when the ghosts were stunned by the lightning, Song Nianqiang lunged forward, but there was still some distance to the one-eyed ghost, and another eyeless ghost now blocked his way. Desperate, he grabbed it by the neck and hurled it over his shoulder.

With a dull thud, the ghost's body broke apart—arms and legs scattered across the floor. Not quite drawn and quartered, but close enough.

Seeing the move worked, Song Nianqiang darted behind another ghost and repeated the maneuver, smashing it to pieces. In the blink of an eye, he'd dealt with two of them. But before he could lift his head, he felt a force seize him and send him flying. He crashed painfully to the ground, knocking over several candles.

Now less than a fifth of the candles remained. But at that moment, a talisman floated out of the fat man's drawer. At last, his companion was contributing. Still, to reach the talisman, Song Nianqiang had to get past the remaining three ghosts.

Estimating the distance, he saw that he was five steps away from the ghost with the talisman at its feet. To grab the talisman and press it onto the one-eyed ghost now was nearly impossible for him.

"I'll have to try this!"

He hadn't completely mastered the technique and there was a real risk of failure, but the situation was dire. With only three candles barely burning, there was no time for hesitation. Song Nianqiang rapidly formed seals with his hands.

"Heavenly Thunder Strike!"

This was a single-target spell from the Maoshan tradition, far more powerful than the Thunderbolt Curse. He'd never used it before because he lacked confidence—if he missed, the consequences could be dire, especially in a room full of metal. Most of all, he was afraid of hitting himself.

A blue bolt as thick as an arm flashed across the room, making Song Nianqiang duck in fright. He could only pray it hit the one-eyed ghost. Even as he crouched, his eyes never left the target.

Perhaps luck was on his side—the Heavenly Thunder Strike landed squarely on the one-eyed ghost. As the last candle burned to its end and flickered out, Song Nianqiang released a long-held breath.