Chapter 18: Bloody Battle

“Hey?”
Only then did I notice the printed talismans stuck to the window were giving off a faint glow.
Each time the window seemed to be forced open by a crack, the talisman would draw on the house’s aura and snap the window shut.

It looked as if a raging lunatic were battering the door outside, and the thin strips of talisman paper were like iron chains locking the door tight.
Although in reality the Painted Skin only needed to break a pane of glass to get in, the talismans were, dangerously and miraculously, holding it back.

“It seems to be working!
The Painted Skin can’t get in!” I shouted excitedly.
Xiao Qing, however, immediately doused my excitement with a bucket of cold water: “Printed talismans won’t last long!”

Sure enough, I saw blood seeping into the corner of one talisman.
The talisman’s spiritual glow faded rapidly and soon it was nothing but worthless paper.

Just as the window was about to be forced open, Xiao Qing finally mustered her courage, leapt up, and slapped a fresh talisman in the center, forcing the advancing Painted Skin back once more.

But the glass was already plastered with bloody handprints, the entire pane stained red, and the filthy blood oozed through the window seams, splattering and dyeing the talismans.

The spiritual light drained much faster now; talismans soaked by the filthy blood were covered over and became useless.
Xiao Qing kept pasting talismans to the window, but the stain crept in ever faster.

Meanwhile the pounding grew more violent; it didn’t feel like mere slaps anymore—the Painted Skin was ramming its head at the glass, trying to force its way in.
Its bloody aura seeped through the gaps along the sill.

“Not good! I’m running out of talismans!” Xiao Qing cried in panic.
She had plastered talismans all over the house already, and the usable ones left in her hands were few; after patching a few to the window, they were gone.

She cursed herself for not photocopying hundreds of talismans earlier; even if each one were weak, they would have held longer.
Too late for regrets—the Painted Skin kept assaulting the window fiercely.

I scanned frantically for anything that could help, and then I saw the Dharma artifacts scattered around the room.
They emitted spiritual light, strengthening the house’s aura and helping the talismans resist the blood-qi’s onslaught.

I remembered how the painted spirit had been repelled by the jade pendant before.
Stepping forward, I pressed the pendant against the glass.
A blinding spiritual radiance erupted and forcibly pushed back the incoming blood-mist.

Not only that, the bloodstains on the remaining talismans were purified by the pendant’s light, returning the paper to its pale apricot color and resealing the window.

Xiao Qing, overjoyed at the sight, cried out, “Brother Xiao, your jade pendant is truly effective!”

The battering on the glass ceased as if the Painted Skin feared the pendant’s light and chose to withdraw.
I asked tensely, “Has it gone away?”

“That’s not so simple.
The Painted Skin isn’t injured and won’t give up easily.
It’s only retreated for now.”
Xiao Qing said calmly, though she knew all too well this was only the beginning.

“Bang!”
A thunderous crash came from the living room, and Ou Zhiqin’s face changed as she shouted, “The Painted Skin has shifted its attack to the living room window!”

We scrambled to the bedroom door, and the moment we stepped into the living room we saw the talisman papers sealing the windows rapidly stained red.
The instant the talismans were smeared over with blood, the window was smashed open and the papers were torn.

In a flash the incandescent lights in the living room flickered a few times and went out, leaving only our room’s light still holding.
I smelled that familiar metallic tang of blood— the Painted Skin had come in!

“Get back into the room! Close the door!”
Ou Zhiqin yelled as she sprinted toward the computer.
I didn’t know what she planned, but I obeyed and rushed back to shut the door.

Just as I was halfway through closing it, a massive force slammed into the doorway and threw me across the floor; the door flew open and I fell, sprawled and dazed.

In the pendant’s light I saw the snarling fiend before me, flesh hanging in strips from its frame.
It stared at me with hatred and ravenous longing, a wavering blood-shadowing claw reaching for my chest.

At the last instant I thrust the jade pendant before my breast to block the claw.
The ghost recoiled as if its hand had been seared.
At the same moment a slow, solemn chant rose—wooden fish, temple bell, pipa forming a solemn rhythm.

“Namo he luo da na duo luo ye ye.
Namo a li ye.
Po lu jie di shuo bo luo ye.
Pu ti sa duo po ye.
Mo he sa duo po ye.
Mo he jia lu ni jia ye…”

A stream of sutra chanting sounded from the speakers—not just one speaker.
Two subwoofers connected to the computer and two Bluetooth speakers in the door corners created instant stereo.

The Painted Skin, about to lunge again, heard the chanting and clutched its skull in agony.
That bought me a breath; I staggered to my feet and backed away to Xiao Qing’s side.

Playing the sutra in surround sound was part of Xiao Qing’s plan; her music player was already open.
On the screen I saw three characters: “The Great Compassion Mantra.”

From the start she anticipated the talismans alone wouldn’t hold the ghost forever.
Her plan was to lure it in, then trap it in the room with the mantra played on loudspeakers and strike when the moment came.

Seeing the fiend writhe in pain, Xiao Qing snatched the last genuine talisman and lunged at it, her eyes emitting a faint blue light like someone who had tasted the supernatural.

Perhaps sensing real danger, the Painted Skin suddenly opened its mouth and let out an unbearably grating scream—like an old cat being tortured—making me clamp my hands over my ears.

The chanting in the speakers immediately deteriorated into noise, distorted and chaotic, mingling with the creature’s shrieks; blood even seeped from the speakers.

We weren’t monks chanting in person, and neither Xiao Qing nor I expected the Buddhist sound to last even a few seconds.
Once the sutra failed, the Painted Skin leapt up at once.

“Ah!!”
Xiao Qing, who had charged it, was struck aside by a ghostly paw; her slip was torn and claw marks bled across her shoulder.

“Xiao Qing!”
I shouted and lunged toward the demon, but the real danger now pointed at me.
After flinging Xiao Qing away, the Painted Skin refocused on me.

I raised the pendant to press it against the creature—but my wrist was grabbed by an icy, jagged claw.
The world blurred, and I was hurled heavily to the floor.