C171 – The Haunting of Fengjia Town [6.37]

With this thought, Zhou Yuan took out the artifact named [Ghost Contract].

This artifact originated from a particularly unique malicious ghost within a ghost domain. On its own, it wasn’t especially difficult to deal with. However, after being modified by the Security Bureau, the [Ghost Contract] gained the ability to seal ghost domains. In fact, it could even be considered an extraordinarily powerful sealing artifact.

Originally, Zhou Yuan had never intended to use this artifact in Fengjia Town.

The reason was simple: the conditions for using the artifact were extremely harsh. It required the blood of a human who had some connection to the malicious spirit, and their suffering at the moment of death, as an equivalent exchange to activate the contract.

Usually, that meant a blood relative of the ghost.

It had once been successfully used to seal a malicious spirit that had destroyed an entire small country.

Among the thousands of sealing options the Security Bureau had developed, using the [Ghost Contract] was not off the table. However, the ghost king Gu Yin had no known blood relatives alive. In fact, Gu Yin’s background was still a mystery. All that was known was that he was born in Fengjia Town and was likely dismembered by the townspeople during his lifetime. Unable to release his resentment after death, he became a vengeful spirit.

Beyond that, nothing was known.

It was precisely because of these layers of mystery that the Bureau’s efforts to seal the ghost king Gu Yin had repeatedly failed.

One after another, the squad members sent in had gone missing, managing only to send back some fragmented information—like the layout of the ghost domain within Fengjia Town and the roaming routes of Gu Yin. But these details were of little practical use.

However, thanks to information from B, Zhou Yuan now knew more about Gu Yin.

For instance, that he had once been in love with a girl—suspected to be Feng Qi, another victim listed in the case files, who had been killed by her husband Feng Yun.

It now appeared that Gu Yin’s death in life was closely tied to this couple. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have died so early, even before the “Ghost Nightmare” incident broke out. It was clearly a case of a vengeful ghost seeking retribution.

This information could prove crucial in future sealing attempts, so Zhou Yuan had already transmitted it back to Bureau headquarters via the artifact.

Zhou Yuan unfurled the [Ghost Contract], made from human skin, and stared at the foul-smelling, blood-red writing that covered it. After a moment of contemplation, he rolled it back up.

According to the terms of the contract, if a blood relative wasn’t available, the next best substitute was a spouse of the ghost. But this would require more blood and pain to fuel the artifact and seal the contract.

If that priest had truly married the ghost, then his blood could potentially be used to seal the ghost domain.

But Zhou Yuan didn’t hold out much hope.

B had been trapped in the ghost domain for too long and had little understanding of the outside world. His mind was clearly unstable—anything he said could only be half-believed.

B had never experienced what it was like when a ghost domain descended upon a city and brought with it an apocalyptic nightmare. Zhou Yuan knew that B couldn’t comprehend the true nature of ghosts the way he could.

Even if they appeared humanoid, they were essentially killing machines, completely devoid of reason. Their sole purpose was to slaughter any living being that entered their domain.

This deeply ingrained understanding made Zhou Yuan instinctively reject the idea that the ghost king Gu Yin was capable of becoming obsessed to the point of losing himself over a priest. The contrast was simply too stark—too exaggerated for any rational person to accept.

Even if Gu Yin did have stronger emotional fluctuations than other malicious spirits, Zhou Yuan didn’t believe he could truly feel emotions like a living person. Madness was more plausible—especially since he had just come face-to-face with the deranged ghost king. The fear from that encounter still lingered deep in Zhou Yuan’s heart.

He no longer indulged in fantasies and continued searching for the priest.

This priest, said by the townsfolk to be everywhere, was in fact impossibly elusive. He had almost walked through the entire church, yet hadn’t glimpsed even a shadow of the priest.

The compass in his hand kept leading him in circles. Zhou Yuan glanced at the tall windows lining the church corridor—the sky outside was already darkening. He had been wandering since noon.

If he delayed any longer, he feared he would be forced to spend the night inside the church.

Zhou Yuan’s expression grew grim.

Even though the ghost domain was momentarily quiet, its danger was undeniable—especially now, when the church was the heart of it all. To spend the night here was no different from courting death.

Helpless, Zhou Yuan decided to follow the compass through the corridors into the chaotic main hall before night fully fell.

He would leave the church and find somewhere else to rest.

The hall was calm now. With the flesh and blood gone, it had returned to its former state.

Red cloth, festive ribbons, flowers in bloom. Wedding decorations hung from the walls, gilding the place in a kind of gaudy splendor.

Passing by, Zhou Yuan felt a flicker of hesitation. But after looking at the deranged townsfolk, his doubts quickly faded.

With things this chaotic, there was no way a wedding was really being held.

Leaving the church, Zhou Yuan walked along the street.

 

After two ghost domains had clashed, the whole Fengjia Town was in disarray.

Collapsed buildings stood alongside others that were barely upright. Here and there, scattered townsfolk lingered in the streets, carrying on their baffling acts of self-harm.

Zhou Yuan avoided them, found a house still intact, and slipped inside.

He shoved B into another building at random, leaving him to fend for himself.

B had lost his value to Zhou Yuan. He couldn’t drag such dead weight around on a mission. All he could do was leave the man in a relatively safe shelter.

If he survived the mission and made it out, he could collect him on the way. If not—then it would all depend on B’s luck.

For Zhou Yuan, nothing was more important than the mission.

Once he confirmed there were no townsfolk nearby, Zhou Yuan sat cross-legged on the floor, pulled out several yellow talisman papers, and shut his eyes in concentration.

Before leaving earlier, he had stuck talismans in several corners of the church, and even managed to slap a few on some of the crazed townsfolk when they weren’t paying attention.

The purpose was to use the talismans as remote eyes to observe the church.

In the ghost domain, surveillance cameras and similar equipment malfunctioned easily. It was just that talismans could run reliably and remain unnoticed.

If only their duration lasted longer, he wouldn’t even need to step into the ghost domain himself—remote observation would have been enough to save him the risk of his own life.

Perhaps the Security Bureau would one day issue more durable talismans. For now, he had to make do with these, good enough only for scouting.

Through the talisman’s vision, Zhou Yuan observed the church interior.

At nightfall, the ghost domain remained quiet. The once-bosterious townsfolk were fewer now, seemingly driven out.

The handful that remained were silent—eeriely so.

Sparse silhouettes wandered the dim corridors in utter silence, like puppets under someone’s control, their facial expressions blank.

From afar, it was a chilling sight.

These townsfolk were already something no longer human.

Zhou Yuan switched to another talisman’s vision and caught sight of one stuck to a wandering townsman. As the man shuffled along, the charm brushed off, fluttering down into the corner of a wall—landing just right to reveal a dimly lit, oppressive kitchen.

From within came the steady thud, thud, thud of chopping.

A towering figure stood at the counter. He was broad-shouldered and narrow-waisted, his back was all muscle and mass. Only his silhouette was visible. He gripped a cleaver, chopping the meat on the board into paste.

Blood seeped over the wood, dripping down into a spreading pool on the tiles.

The figure seemed vaguely familiar to Zhou Yuan—yet not. After all, the Ghost King Gu Yin would never be dressed in a casual loose-knit sweater, with an apron tied neatly around his waist.

At last, the chopping ceased. The man scooped the meat into a bowl, then ground it with mortar and pestle.

Each pound tightened the muscles of his bare forearm, then released them again. He had rolled up his sleeves to avoid the blood—but his arms were already stripped of skin, the raw muscles were exposed, clinging with scraps of torn flesh.

Zhou Yuan’s scalp prickled.

The man froze mid-motion, dissatisfied with the amount of meat. He lowered his head in thought, then suddenly snatched up a knife and pressed it against his own bloodless arm.

The sound of slicing flesh filled the kitchen. Strips of meat fell into the bowl and were quickly ground into paste.

Zhou Yuan’s distant vantage point spared him the finer noises. Had he been closer, he might have heard the man chuckling under his breath, his words a cold hiss:

“Disgusting… filthy things!”

The skin and flesh tainted by contact with the wraith was repulsive, unfit even to remain on him.

His pupils thinned into vertical slits, venomous with hatred. The pestle struck harder and harder until the ceramic bowl shattered, scattering pulp across the counter.

Expressionless, he began cleaning up—only to panic when the meat soaked into the food he had set aside. He rushed to wash it, scrubbing carefully.

This was tomorrow’s breakfast for his beloved. It must not be spoiled.

But as he rinsed, the unhealed wounds on his arm bled freely into the sink, staining the food crimson.

He stared at the sight, dazed.

Gu Yin imagined his beloved lifting the food to his red lips, his white teeth biting, chewing, swallowing what had been baptized in his blood.

A rush of longing struck him.

If only it were not food—but his own flesh he consumed. Then they would be closer than anyone in the world. Then he would never again fear a ghost stealing him away.

But… his beloved hated to see him hurt. Hated to see his blood.

He was kind. Gentle. Always so gentle.

Gu Yin exhaled slowly, quelling the thought. He rinsed the food again and again until no trace of blood remained.

Yes. He could endure anything—even the ghost gnawing at his soul—so long as he could see his beloved’s warm smile.

That alone was enough.

More than enough—for a monster who once wasn’t even allowed near the priest.

Gu Yin repeated the same words over and over in his heart, but the images kept replaying in his mind—

That wraith’s lips pressed against Jiu Shu’s throat.

Those slender hips pulled into its embrace.

Even his lover’s soft earlobes rubbed red beneath its shameless touch.

“……”

Crack. The porcelain fragments in his hand were crushed into dust.

Through the talisman’s vision, the towering figure remained frozen at the counter for so long that Zhou Yuan thought the spell had failed. Only then did it move—slowly wiping down the table.

Not once, but again and again, the figure scrubbed until no trace of blood remained. Then it splashed water several more times, polishing the surface until it shone. Only after everything was immaculate did he reach for the knife again.

Zhou Yuan couldn’t fathom the man’s logic. Still, not daring to miss a clue, he forced himself to keep watching.

The behavior grew stranger.

First, the man produced some unknown viscera, laying it reverently on the board. He lowered his head, carefully dicing it piece by piece.

Blood seeped steadily from the flesh beneath the knife.

The man tilted his head, almost dreamily, pale face softening into a smile. His eyes glimmered, cheeks flushing faintly with color.

Once he finished, he sprinkled spices over the meat, massaging them in with practiced hands—preparing it like a fine dish.

From afar, Zhou Yuan realized the organ resembled a heart. He couldn’t tell whether it was a human or animal. In this cannibal’s domain, either was possible.

Then the man turned, placing the marinated organ into the refrigerator. The talisman’s angle caught a glimpse of his sweater—darkened across the chest with a spreading bloom of blood.

As if a massive wound lay hidden beneath.

Yet his face betrayed no pain—only that hopeful, fevered smile.

With the heart stored away, his mood visibly lifted. He moved with brisk efficiency, cleaning the counter, returning every knife to its rack, polishing the walls until they gleamed. Finally, he set aside the rag and untied his apron.

 

Checking the time on his phone, he noted it was nearly midnight. His beloved should already be asleep.

Tonight, he couldn’t share their bed—and it was all because of that wraith.

Because of it, Jiu Shu had decreed he would sleep in the guest room until the day their soul fully merged, leaving the master bedroom to the ghost.

Gu Yin had been forced into the room next door, no longer able to hold his lover through the night.

His expression darkened. But then he remembered tomorrow’s breakfast, and the gloom lifted. He smoothed the apron carefully, hung it on the wall hook, and left the kitchen.

He could hardly wait for morning.

From Zhou Yuan’s low vantage point, only the lower half of the man’s face was visible— his bloodless lips stretched into an unyielding smile. In the darkness, it was terrifying.

The tall, oppressive figure finally left.

Zhou Yuan guessed it must be one of the domain’s spirits, a puppet controlled by the Ghost King. They might mimic normal people until some killing rule was triggered—then snap into slaughter.

He was about to shift talismans when fresh footsteps echoed near the kitchen.

Along with the steady drip… drip… of water.

The sound drew closer.

Zhou Yuan froze.

It was the same figure again—same clothes, same ghastly pallor.

But something was wrong.

But it carried with it a suffocating, frenzied atmosphere.

Zhou Yuan watched the tall silhouette step into the kitchen. It glanced around expressionlessly, then dropped the sack it had been dragging.

Along the way, blood had been dripping steadily from it—pat… pat… onto the floor.

 

It seemed the figure intended to dispose of it, but hadn’t found the place yet.

When the sack hit the ground, its loose mouth spilled open, scattering mangled chunks of flesh. Perhaps it was an illusion, but Zhou Yuan thought they looked eerily similar to the meat chunks from the Flesh Domain.

Only, these were torn apart rather than ground into paste—shredded savagely, as if in a fit of rage.

Then the tall figure opened the refrigerator.

Seeing the food inside, it curled its lips—something between a smirk and a sneer, it was cold and unsettling.

It stared into the fridge for a long while. Then, taking a phone from its pocket, it fumbled clumsily through the screen—as though unused to such devices.

The figure saved a video, one it had secretly recorded from the shadows earlier. It scheduled it to send in the morning. The recipient:

Its beloved, Jiu Shu.

The moment the setting succeeded, love welled in its pale eyes. It stood there, transfixed, staring at the phone.

The lock screen wallpaper was a photo of itself with Jiu Shu—taken earlier that very day.

The priest’s skin was luminous white, his lips were red, and his teeth bright; his handsome face brimming with allure. No angle could diminish that beauty.

Especially when held in the man’s arms—his loose strands of hair were brushed upward, and his composure had softened into lazy warmth.

They looked every bit like true lovers.

Even closer than the wallpaper Gu Yin once kept.

No—that was wrong. Compared to Gu Yin, he was the one who truly belonged at the priest’s side. They matched better.

The wraith gazed at the wallpaper, utterly enraptured. He wasn’t supposed to want this much. He should be satisfied—the priest had forgiven him, the priest lived, there was no regret.

But… this was his fault, wasn’t it? And all he did was show his lover the truth. Surely that wasn’t wrong.

The thought pulsed through him with blinding intensity: If I am eaten, we will be together forever.

To be recorded was only natural.

In the kitchen’s dim light, the man with black hair raised his long arms, lifting the phone childishly toward the ceiling lamp.

As though admiring a priceless treasure.

He stared at the priest’s blurred smile on the wallpaper— until it seemed to melt straight into his own eyes and become inseparable.

He smiled, pale face alight, as if sharing the priest’s laughter.

Meanwhile, through the talisman, Zhou Yuan was utterly baffled. These two tall men were so alike, yet their actions were nonsensical—unreadable.

Still, the upward reach lifted the hem of the man’s sweater.

Zhou Yuan had to admit—his physique was impressive. A perfect inverted-triangle frame, with his muscles taut with strength.

His firm abdomen was wrapped in thick bandages and blood was seeping through.

Where the bandages ended, flesh was peeled back, revealing hollows of raw red muscle, as though pieces of meat had been carved straight from his body, leaving empty cavities in his chest.

The talisman’s angle couldn’t see above that —but Zhou Yuan could already imagine it: nothing but a blur of mangled flesh.

 

If an ordinary person had sustained such grievous wounds, they’d have been bedridden long ago. Yet this man stood as though nothing were wrong—eerily unfazed.

Zhou Yuan studied the abnormalities. They didn’t seem helpful for finding the priest, so he prepared to shift the talisman’s vision elsewhere.

But suddenly, the tall figure in the kitchen seemed to sense something.

It turned its head.

Their gazes met.

For the first time, Zhou Yuan clearly saw the face.

The man’s tall frame was paired with a ghastly pallor, and his features strikingly handsome. The sharp outline of his profile carried a sinister chill.

The black eyes that flicked toward him were void of warmth, as it were staring at a corpse.

And yet—hauntingly familiar.

Zhou Yuan’s face went bloodless. He remembered the blood-smeared visage of the Ghost King, Gu Yin.

The next instant, the talisman ignited in cold flames. The vision collapsed into darkness.

Outside the church, Zhou Yuan screamed, clutching his eyes as he struggled to recover.

The talisman was destroyed. He had never imagined a mere ghost could do such a thing.

No—perhaps it hadn’t been a ghost.

Cold sweat drenched him as terror gnawed at his mind. He didn’t dare dwell on whom he had just faced.

If it truly was the Ghost King—why was he in a kitchen, and why did he wear the same guise as another man?

Zhou Yuan couldn’t make sense of it. But before he could think further, agony split his head. His body burned and froze in waves. Though it was only early autumn, it felt as if he had plunged into an ice pit.

He knew something was wrong. Clutching a protective charm, he saw it: a black line had crept from his palm up to his forearm.

A ghost’s curse mark.

Once the line reached his heart, there would be no saving him.

It had to be the Ghost King—he had angered him.

He recalled that time he had faced the Ghost King’s madness, nearly crushed beneath its overwhelming spiritual pressure. His lips whitened with fear.

Training meant nothing before death’s shadow.

But duty outweighed fear.

Shaking, he forced himself upright, mustering his resolve. He had to hurry.

His time was short—by tomorrow, the curse would reach his heart. He had to find the priest, gather what information he could, and pass it on.

Lay the groundwork for the next agent. Every spared life was worth it.

Zhou Yuan planned tirelessly through the night. By dawn, he hadn’t closed his eyes, his body on the verge of collapse.

Only by using a spiritual artifact to restore his strength did he manage to rise, heading once more for the church.

This time, it was do or die.

—

Meanwhile—

In the guest room, Jiu Shu’s eyes opened.

Morning light filtered through the curtains, it scattered across his profile making his pale skin gleam like porcelain.

He sat up, ready to wash.

Today, he would prepare for the fusion.

There were many methods, but Jiu Shu never considered himself particularly adept with the supernatural. He needed to be meticulous.

After washing swiftly, he was about to change clothes when—

Knock, knock.

The sound at the door made his hand pause at the button of his shirt. He thought for a moment, then said, “Come in.”

Their bond was already confirmed; there was little need for restraint.

Sure enough, the ones who entered were Gu Yin and the wraith.

Both wore the same style, the same muted tones of loose shirt and trousers. Even the smiles on their faces were nearly identical.

 

“Darling, you must be hungry—I’ve already made breakfast!”

“D-Darling…”

Gu Yin’s affectionate voice faltered, trailing off.

Its gaze had fallen on the white shirt Jiu Shu was wearing. Heat rushed up its ears, turning them scarlet.

The shirt was meant to be worn beneath a cassock, so they were thin enough that the smooth pale lines of Jiu Shu’s back were faintly visible.

His frame was slender and well-proportioned. Though not as tall as Gu Yin, among ordinary men he was still considered tall.

His muscles weren’t bulky, yet every line of flesh and bone was in balance. There was no excess, only lean beauty. His waist in particular was so narrow it seemed one hand could encircle it.

Every inch of skin looked so flawless it invited touch.

Jiu Shu, unconcerned with Gu Yin’s strange reaction, lowered his eyes and calmly continued fastening his buttons before putting on the priest’s cassock.

That focused expression only made him appear more alluring in Gu Yin’s eyes.

Its cheeks burned so red it looked as if blood would seep through. It dared not look further.

Only after Jiu Shu finished dressing did Gu Yin step forward, feigning composure as he slipped an arm around his shoulders and leaned close, looking handsome and bright as he murmured a sparkling-eyed “Good morning.”

As a thoughtful husband, waking one’s spouse each day was a duty.

Jiu Shu arched his brows, eyes softening. “Mm. Good morning.”

The wraith also moved closer.

It, too, had frozen earlier in a daze, and its ears were still faintly red. Now, however, it imitated Gu Yin—embracing Jiu Shu, whispering a good morning to his ear.

Unlike Gu Yin’s exuberance, its voice was low and magnetic, carrying deeper affection.

The rumble of it brushed Jiu Shu’s ears, staining them red. He glanced at the wraith, then curved his brows again in reply: “Good morning.”

Gu Yin’s smile didn’t falter as he watched the mimicry. Yet the hand hidden behind his back was clenched so tightly blood welled from the flesh. Darkness clouded his gaze.

This started yesterday. The wraith kept imitating him—clothes, smiles, even innocent gestures to win favor.

To Gu Yin, it was revolting. But bound by Jiu Shu’s request, he could do nothing.

After greetings came breakfast.

This time it was served in the dining room; the wraith’s body had fully recovered, and eating in bed seemed unnecessary.

Inside, both Gu Yin and the wraith reached to pull out a chair for Jiu Shu. Two identical smiles met each other as tension thickened the air.

But Jiu Shu, serene as ever, simply pulled out his own chair and sat down.

The two froze, then gave up, instead sitting at his sides—one left, one right.

Jiu Shu ignored the competition.

His gaze shifted to the dishes on the table. Several plates of meat. Something about them drew his brows upward ever so slightly.

He parted his lips to speak—

But his phone rang.

He pulled it out, opened the new email, and his expression lowered into stillness.

He watched the attached video all the way through, face calm and unchanging.

Then he skimmed a few other messages. Only after a while did he lift his eyes toward the two across the table.

Gu Yin’s expression held a trace of nervousness.

The wraith, more reserved, wore its habitual gentle smile—but its fingers twitched tightly at its side, betraying even greater tension.

Clearly, Jiu Shu’s reaction was far from what it had expected. Anxiety brewed.

But soon it forced itself to be calm, donning its usual quiet mask as if the text meant nothing.

Yet in the depths of its lowered gaze lurked something thick and vile—malice wrapped in gleeful anticipation.

It was waiting—waiting to see Gu Yin’s face when he was finally exposed.

Jiu Shu sat calmly, his gaze lingering on the two of them until both grew visibly uneasy beneath it. Only then did he smile faintly.

“I forgot to tell you,” he said softly, “I’ve already found a method of fusion.”

At his words, both Gu Yin and the wraith lowered their heads. The smiles on their faces faltered and became hard to maintain.

Holding his phone, Jiu Shu idly tapped his screen with slender white fingers. “It’s very simple. We place your birth dates and mine together, use incense for a ritual, and I act as the medium to aid the fusion. After seven days, the souls will merge completely.”

He paused, tone still light but carrying weight. “But there is one thing. As the medium, I cannot eat meat during those seven days. If I do, I’ll bleed from all seven orifices and die.”

The calm way he said it only made the words strike deeper.

Gu Yin’s body froze at once, his pupils dilating. The wraith, too, trembled, its dark eyes flickering.

“!”

 

Gu Yin recovered quickly, shoving the meat dishes away from the table. “It must have taken you effort to prepare.”

Jiu Shu’s lips curved in apology. “I’ll eat the other dishes.”

There were six or seven in total—three were meat, the rest vegetarian.

“N-no, even the others aren’t necessary, darling. I’ll make something else for you.” Gu Yin’s tone was frantic, his hand reaching to clasp Jiu Shu’s with aching care.

“Cooking is simple, it’s no burden at all. I don’t want you to feel pressured.” He forced a tentative smile, but his eyes betrayed fear.

Jiu Shu’s peach blossom eyes blinked slowly. “Why can’t I eat the others? Did you put something in them?”

Gu Yin fell silent, guilt written plainly across his face. He couldn’t answer.

Jiu Shu lowered his gaze, lashes veiling his eyes as he reached for a spoon.

This breakfast had been prepared by the two of them together. The purple rice porridge before him was made by the wraith.

“It’s fine. No need to make more. I’m not very hungry. A bowl of porridge will be enough.”

His voice cooled as he added, “But there must not be a next time. I’ll be angry.”

The warning was quiet, yet it carried sharpness.

He lifted the spoon, about to taste the porridge—

But another hand caught his wrist.

He turned to look at the wraith.

“…” It dared not meet his eyes. Its pale face had broken into a cold sweat. The smug malice from earlier was gone, replaced with unease.

“…”

Jiu Shu set the spoon down again, smiling brightly with curved eyes.

---

TN:

WOOOOOOOOOOOO

I found the RAWS again.

Reason I stopped updating this was that the site I was using to get the RAWS went down, and I couldn’t find an alternative that was up to C171, butI finally tracked down a site with updated chapters. Bad news: it’s only 10 or so chapters ahead, but I’ll update the ones I can find and keep trying to find more chapters 🤞.

I missed my unhinged couple ♥️

 

Sorry for any mistakes, I was so excited to post.