Chapter Fourteen: The Fate of Nine Shadows

In my recollection, Wang Feiyang was never one to play coy, but at this moment, his demeanor filled me with unease.

I stared at him nervously and asked, “What exactly did Luo Xiu tell you?”

Wang Feiyang took a deep breath and sat heavily on the bed beside him. After a long silence, he lifted his head and regarded me with utmost seriousness. “Wu Dao, all of this began because of you. Are you sure you want to know?”

The more he spoke in riddles, the more desperate I became to uncover the truth. I nodded emphatically. “Brother Yang, please, stop hiding things. Tell me everything you know. Who is that female ghost, and what does she want?”

“Her name is Yang Li. Twenty years ago, when catastrophic floods swept through the middle and lower reaches of the Yangtze River, she fled from Hunan and came to our region, Bashu. Later, she was tricked and sold to White Street.”

Over the next twenty minutes, Wang Feiyang recounted the entire story, and as he had said from the beginning, the root of it all was me.

Twenty years ago, the floods affected Bashu as well. The rain poured endlessly for over a month, and during that time, my mother was in the last stages of her pregnancy. On that fateful night, my parents were returning from my mother’s family home when they were caught in a car accident. My mother, before dying, gave birth to me among a cluster of graves.

That is my origin. When my grandfather finally found my parents, they were already lifeless. Only I remained, crying atop a desolate grave. Grandfather took me home, and when he asked the fortune-teller Zuo Daoyin to name me, he discovered I was born in an inauspicious month, day, and hour, at night, among graves. This marked me as bearing the “Nine Yin Fate,” a destiny that meant I would not survive beyond three months.

Those born with the Nine Yin Fate possess an entirely yin constitution, able to commune with spirits, attracting evil ghosts. Unless born into a powerful Daoist family and cleansed by mystical artifacts or elixirs, such a child is doomed to perish within a hundred days.

In White Street, grandfather and Zuo Daoyin practiced the arts of yin and yang, but compared to true Daoist masters, their skills were but superficial, incapable of altering my fate.

During those three months, grandfather searched everywhere for Daoist practitioners, hoping to send me to an authentic sect. My fate, though fraught with peril, could become a great talent in Daoism if I survived.

But the so-called Daoist sects were legendary, virtually extinct after the purge of supernatural beings decades ago. Perhaps they still existed, but all traces were hidden.

As my hundredth day approached and death drew near, grandfather somehow acquired a forbidden ritual that defied the laws of heaven, intending to change my fate.

Even Luo Xiu did not know the specifics of this ritual, only that Zuo Daoyin had mentioned it in passing—something called the “Netherworld Prohibition.”

With this forbidden art, grandfather gathered Zuo Daoyin the fortune-teller, Wang Bilin the paper craftsman, Old Mrs. Chen from the shroud shop, Luo Xiu the spirit medium, and himself, the coffin maker, to devise a plan to defy fate.

No one can now detail the precise steps of their scheme, but it is certain it was not a righteous ritual. Its essence was to use another person’s life to exchange for mine.

Not just anyone could be used; the substitute needed to possess the “Ziwei Fate,” a destiny of imperial fortune. In ancient times, this was the fate of emperors. Ordinary folk could not bear such a powerful fate. If someone with the Ziwei Fate survived past eighteen, their life would be filled with wealth and power, and their destiny would be nearly unbreakable.

The Ziwei and Nine Yin Fates are polar opposites: one pure yang, the other pure yin. If my Nine Yin Fate was rare, a Ziwei Fate surviving past eighteen was even rarer.

By chance, Yang Li, displaced by the flood, ended up in Bashu, then was trafficked to White Street. She was the very person grandfather and the others had sought—a bearer of the Ziwei Fate, already twenty-three years old.

A twenty-three-year-old with the Ziwei Fate was the perfect candidate for my ritual. Grandfather purchased Yang Li and planned to use the Netherworld Prohibition to change my fate.

To substitute one living soul for another is a cruel act, but grandfather, desperate to save me, could not care about such things. At the time, Luo Xiu and Wang Bilin opposed the plan, Old Mrs. Chen remained neutral, while grandfather and Zuo Daoyin insisted on proceeding.

Grandfather’s motive was to save me; Zuo Daoyin’s intentions were unclear, perhaps he wished to witness the legendary Netherworld Prohibition.

Finally, on my hundredth day, I developed a high fever and coughed blood endlessly. That afternoon, storms raged, ghosts wailed, and more than a hundred stray cats inexplicably gathered around our coffin shop, howling incessantly.

Zuo Daoyin calculated that my time was nearly up, and supernatural phenomena abounded. The wind carried hidden evil spirits, the stray cats were drawn by the impending death. All awaited my demise; once dead, they would devour my soul. A soul with the Nine Yin Fate was, like the sacred flesh in Journey to the West, a coveted prize—not enough to grant immortality, but certainly to increase their power.

Grandfather would not allow my soul to scatter. He resolved to use the Netherworld Prohibition at once. Though Luo Xiu and Wang Bilin still opposed it, grandfather and Zuo Daoyin somehow forced them to yield.

That night, grandfather crafted a crimson coffin, Wang Bilin made a pair of golden boy and jade girl, a carriage, four coachmen, and a spirit house from paper. Old Mrs. Chen prepared a brand-new shroud. Zuo Daoyin selected a feng shui burial ground on the mountainside, and Luo Xiu served as the spirit guide.

By dawn, I was on the brink of death. Grandfather placed me into the crimson coffin and had it carried to Zuo Daoyin’s chosen spot. Meanwhile, Zuo Daoyin and the others brought Yang Li, drugged into unconsciousness.

Yang Li was dressed in a new shroud. When the coffin arrived at the burial ground, grandfather used the forbidden ritual to lift me out and placed the unconscious Yang Li inside.

Then, according to burial customs, they buried Yang Li alive beneath the earth.

Luo Xiu said that as the coffin was about to be sealed, Yang Li awoke. She beat against the coffin, screaming, her fists pounding the lid until it echoed. Grandfather and Zuo Daoyin steeled themselves, driving seven rivets into the coffin, sealing Yang Li within. Even as the earth covered the coffin, they could still hear her cries and pounding from below.

Luo Xiu remembered one thing most clearly: Yang Li cursed them all, vowing they would die miserable deaths for generations, and that even as a vengeful ghost, she would claim blood for blood.

As Wang Feiyang finished, I felt my blood freeze. It turned out all of this was because of me. My Nine Yin Fate should never have existed; grandfather used the forbidden ritual, sacrificing that woman to alter my destiny.

Now, the curse has come true. She has returned for vengeance. Grandfather is dead, Old Mrs. Chen from the shroud shop is dead, the Wang family’s paper shop was nearly wiped out, Luo Xiu is dead, leaving only Zuo Daoyin, myself, and Wang Feiyang, who should never have been drawn into this curse.

Who will die next?

Wang Feiyang looked at my shattered expression, sighed softly, and said, “Luo Xiu also told me there might be a way to save ourselves. Do you want to hear it?”

I replied, “What is it?”

Wang Feiyang was about to speak when his phone vibrated. He pressed the answer button, held the phone to his ear, then quickly set it aside, covering the receiver with his hand, his face grave.

“What is it? Who’s calling?” I sensed something was wrong and asked urgently.

“Zuo Daoyin!”