Chapter 22: “I”

In fact, I could already see it clearly. The police barricades could only block off the house itself, but from the sidewalk, I could directly see the front gate of my home, blood constantly seeping out.

The police had already forced the front door open, and inside, blood flowed like a river. Even from ten meters away, the stench was overwhelming. The house was a complete mess—bottles shattered from my father’s drunken antics, blood-soaked trash everywhere.

The officers couldn’t disturb the scene, so they stepped carefully through the house. Even wearing masks, many of them grimaced at the smell.

An elderly man who looked like a scavenger was being helped to the side by the police. He was extremely agitated, almost hysterical. “I didn’t do it! It wasn’t me! I just saw blood at the door! The people inside… their skin was ripped off! Officer, save me!”

“We know, we know it wasn’t you. Please calm down. You’re the first witness—tell us what you saw,” the officers soothed him, fanning him to cool him down.

“I… I don’t know anything! I just looked through the window and saw two people without skin! Their chests were hollowed out! I swear, officer, I’m telling the truth!” The old man yelled.

“We believe you, and we’ll protect you. Don’t worry,” one officer said, then turned to a colleague: “He’s in shock. Take him aside to rest. If necessary, send him to the hospital. We’ll take his statement afterward.”

He glanced at the growing crowd and instructed the other officers, “Clear the bystanders. Don’t let them interfere or spread rumors.”

“Understood,” the auxiliary officers said, dispersing the crowd. “Everyone, please stay away from the crime scene. Do not interfere with the investigation, and do not spread rumors. The police will solve this case and bring the truth to light.”

The onlookers, curious about the gruesome scene, could only comply and step back.

I was in a daze, led away by Xiaoqing. My mind was blank. My family had never been harmonious, poor and constantly quarreling—but sixteen years of life erased in one night? My home was gone, my parents likely dead.

“It was that Painted Skin Ghost,” Xiaoqing comforted me. “It couldn’t kill you and was struck down by our ancestors, so it went after your family instead. I didn’t expect it to do this. I’m sorry, Xiao-gege. Don’t be too sad.”

“It wouldn’t have helped you. You saved me. It was the ghost that killed my parents. You’re not at fault. Don’t apologize,” I croaked.

Surprisingly, I didn’t feel overwhelming grief or despair. Perhaps yesterday’s shocks had already numbed me, or maybe I really had little emotional attachment to my parents. Not a single tear fell.

Xiaoqing had done enough. Even in my own house, she had risked everything, using herself as bait to summon the ancestral power that repelled the ghost. Even if she had known the ghost would retaliate against my family, what could she have done?

I knew the reality of my home: no ancestral hall, no protective talismans, no love or harmony, no fatherly care. The house was tainted with negative aura. Even if the ghost hadn’t come, the environment would have attracted minor spirits.

No wonder our family was always unlucky—parents quick-tempered, jobs lost in short order, business ventures failing, chronic illness, and my childhood filled with nightmares and sleep paralysis.

From the black mist I saw yesterday outside my house, it was clear: my family had long been haunted. Even without the Painted Skin Ghost, our days were numbered.

“Let’s go to school first,” Xiaoqing said sympathetically. “Only by completely eliminating the ghost can we avenge your uncle and aunt.”

Avenge the ghost? I could barely keep myself alive. But I kept that thought to myself.

With Xiaoqing guiding me, we headed to school. Though she had accompanied me the same way yesterday, the mood today was entirely different.

As we neared the school gates, a horrifying sight stopped me cold: a frail boy in casual clothes stood on the sidewalk, his pale face sickly and unexposed to sunlight.

“Xiao-gege!?” Xiaoqing exclaimed in shock. I was equally stunned. That boy was me—my original self. His clothing matched the regular clothes I had at home, easy to recognize due to our family’s poverty.

Seeing me, the other “me” displayed a bloodthirsty, malicious grin, eyes full of hatred and greed. The gaze was eerily familiar—I had seen it last night.

“No! Xiao-gege wouldn’t make that expression! That’s the Painted Skin Ghost!” Xiaoqing panicked. She never expected it to confront us in broad daylight.

Now without the home advantage or magical tools, Xiaoqing saw no way to resist the ghost. She grabbed me, attempting to flee. But what if the ghost caught up? She didn’t know what to do.

Just as we prepared to run in panic, an even more unexpected scene unfolded: a group of flashy delinquent boys appeared, surrounding “me” in layers, three deep on each side.

“Luo Xiao, you’re cocky! You dared bite me yesterday?!” one thug snarled, grabbing the “me” in front by the collar. He was the same delinquent whose arm I had bitten over the jade pendant.

“Who are you?” the ghost said disdainfully, but before he could continue, the thug punched him square in the face.

The ghost’s head tilted from the impact, his face reddening, but he said nothing. He only coldly stared at the delinquents. The surrounding pedestrians paused to watch but didn’t intervene.

“Luo Xiao, you little brat! You dare ask who your grandpa is? Today I’ll teach you a lesson! Brothers, drag him to the alley. I’m gonna beat him until he…!”

The gang hauled the ghost into a nearby alley, leaving me stunned. The onlookers, after a brief pause, went about their business, indifferent.