Chapter 74: The Hairy Demon

Chapter Seventy-Four: The Hairy Ghost

“Hurry!”

Song Nianqiang was some distance away from the man stabbing his own hand with an arrow, so he had no time to intervene. Having just fought that Skinning Ghost the previous night, he was well aware of its ferocity. Thus, instead of rushing forward to help, he called out to Li Runze beside him.

Everyone’s attention was instantly captured by Song Nianqiang’s shout, and they all turned towards the man holding the arrow. At that very moment, the ghostly green candlelight inside the room suddenly flared, and the Skinning Ghost’s shadow emerged directly from the wall. Its deathly pale, sharp nails reached straight for the back of Number 7’s head.

The Skinning Ghost moved with such speed that Song Nianqiang couldn’t even find time to shout. In that instant, everyone in the room—except for Song Nianqiang—was focused on the man stabbing his own hand with the arrow, so the ghost’s talons instantly descended upon Number 7’s nape.

Suddenly, a burst of golden light shot up from Number 7’s neck. The Skinning Ghost, caught off guard, was struck head-on by the light; it let out a blood-curdling scream and hastily retreated. At the same time, the man who had stabbed his own hand with the arrow stepped directly into the ghost’s path of escape and, with an arrow tip stained in his own fresh blood, drove it ruthlessly into the Skinning Ghost’s skull.

A series of agonized howls erupted from the Skinning Ghost. Hit again, it lost its composure, turned in panic, and fled sideways. At that moment, Li Runze bit through his own tongue, spitting a mouthful of blood onto his gloves, then drove his fist straight at the ghost’s face.

With a thunderous crash, the Skinning Ghost dissolved into a swirl of blue smoke. For a fleeting moment, everyone’s vision blurred. When their eyes cleared, they found themselves in a completely unfamiliar environment. Having been through this once before, Song Nianqiang immediately recognized it as the Skinning Ghost’s signature illusion—a last-ditch escape technique employed in the face of death.

According to “The Hundred Ghosts of China,” when the Skinning Ghost is dying, it unleashes its most powerful and cunning strike: it creates an illusion so vivid as to be indistinguishable from reality. The ghost itself is randomly cast into one of these illusions. If, within the illusion, it manages to kill any of the trapped individuals, it can take their place and escape.

This time, even though the Skinning Ghost conjured an illusion, it was gravely weakened. Under such dire circumstances, creating multiple overlapping illusions came at a heavy cost.

Song Nianqiang now found himself in a vast, barren desert. All around him stretched yellow-brown sand and a forest of weathered stone pillars. There was no sign of green; the rare clumps of grass he saw were withered and pale. A scorching wind swept across the landscape. After only a short while, Song Nianqiang’s mouth was parched.

“This illusion really is something,” he muttered, squinting up at the blazing sun and swallowing hard. He started searching for a way out.

Ahead was a cluster of weathered stone pillars. Walking among them, Song Nianqiang felt he’d become just another pillar in the endless forest. From the outside, the maze didn’t look so large, but inside, he quickly became lost. Everywhere he looked, there was nothing but yellow sand and identical pillars. Even if there were subtle differences, he couldn’t remember them—apart from his talent for fighting and hunting ghosts, he was hopeless at everything else.

After a short walk, his lips were already cracked and dry. He dragged his feet, scanning the horizon, but saw nothing but endless sand and those nearly indistinguishable pillars. Song Nianqiang reckoned that if he stayed here much longer, he’d be dried into a mummy—damn, it was hot.

As the saying goes, misfortune never comes alone. The Skinning Ghost, by a stroke of bad luck, had also been trapped in this illusion. It was in much the same state as Song Nianqiang; in its panic, it had conjured up this miserable desert. The Skinning Ghost’s illusions were indiscriminate, meaning the ghost itself was just as tormented under the blazing sun. Badly injured already, it was nearly annihilated by the sun’s merciless rays.

At that moment, the wretched Skinning Ghost was cowering in a hollow of a sand pillar, seeking shelter from the sun above. It felt utterly aggrieved—lucky, at least, not to have been killed outright by the sun, or it would have been a laughingstock for eternity.

Since this was an illusion conjured by the Skinning Ghost, there were bound to be other spirits within. Yet what kind of ghost could withstand such deadly sunlight? Song Nianqiang hadn’t a clue.

Very soon, dehydration began to take its toll on Song Nianqiang. This was no place for any living thing. He’d never seen a desert so vast; now that he had, he was about to lose his life to it.

He walked and stopped, not knowing how far he’d gone. Sitting still and waiting for death wasn’t an option, so he trudged onward as long as his legs would allow. Soon, dizziness clouded his mind. By then, the sun had set, but the desert remained stiflingly hot.

Meanwhile, in the sand pillar, the Skinning Ghost finally endured the day’s torment and, gathering its last reserves of spiritual power, transformed the desert into an ancient castle. Then it settled in to recover.

Just as Song Nianqiang was about to die of thirst, the scenery before him suddenly changed. He found himself in the kitchen of that ancient castle, and upon seeing the clear, cool water, he didn’t care whether it was another illusion conjured in his dying moments—he plunged headfirst into a barrel and drank greedily.

Coolness flooded his body. Song Nianqiang felt a wave of comfort sweep through him, a soothing sensation rising from his lower abdomen, flowing through his stomach and intestines, and finally escaping slowly through his mouth.

“Ah, that’s the life!”

Revived, Song Nianqiang let out a jubilant shout. Only then did he take a good look at the castle. It was built in the style of ancient Europe; as he stepped out of the kitchen, he saw both walls lined with numerous portraits. What puzzled him was that every painting depicted an exceptionally beautiful woman—graceful in figure and striking in appearance, each one a peerless beauty carefully selected.

He pushed open a door and entered a room, only to find the arrangement strangely discordant. A dressing table was wedged behind the door, a single dim lamp cast shadows about, and a gigantic full-length mirror stood at the foot of the bed, facing it directly. The sheets and covers on the bed were all a vivid, blood-red, adding a sinister touch.

Curious, Song Nianqiang approached the enormous mirror. One glance inside, and he was startled—the mirror reflected everything in the room except his own image. He looked left and right, picked up a wooden chair, hefted it, and found it to his satisfaction.

With a loud crash, he smashed the mirror to pieces. He glanced at the shards on the ground, still unable to make sense of it, and turned to leave.

He had barely stepped out when, from the splintered mirror, a ghostly figure drifted forth—covered head to toe in bright red hair, with a third eye on its forehead that lacked an iris, the ghastly white eyeball rolling in its socket before the creature vanished in a flash.

Had Song Nianqiang seen it, he would have been shocked, for this was an exceedingly rare Hairy Ghost—one found only in ancient texts such as “Records of the Netherworld,” “Strange Tales from a Scholar’s Studio,” and “Sequel to the Classic of Mountains and Seas.” Even in the “Hundred Ghosts of China” given to him by the old man, it was mentioned only in passing. Were it not for an illustration included in that book, Song Nianqiang might not have recognized it even if he’d seen it.

Descriptions of the Hairy Ghost are limited to ancient chronicles; in modern accounts of supernatural events, their appearance is vanishingly rare. This is owing to their particular appetite—for the hearts of both men and beasts. Nearly all who encounter a Hairy Ghost end up as its meal.

Of course, this Hairy Ghost was merely an illusion conjured by the Skinning Ghost, vastly inferior to the real thing. Still, it retained some of their traits—most notably, its love for devouring hearts.

The rooms were all similarly arranged, and soon Song Nianqiang found himself in the central hall.