Chapter 65: Substitution

Once Tan Xueci’s tears started flowing, they became completely uncontrollable. He bit his lower lip to keep from making a sound, but his pale cheeks and a wave of inexplicable, profound grief from some unknown source made his chest ache with sharp pain.

He Xunye instinctively pulled him into his arms to wipe away the tears. The fierce ghost’s eyes turned a deep crimson as his long-dead heart throbbed with fits of pain, almost making him believe his own soul was about to dissolve into ash and smoke.

He didn’t quite understand why Tan Xueci was crying. According to his understanding of human morality, it would be perfectly normal for Tan Xueci to cry if the ones who died were his own family or friends, but the ward was filled with nothing but strangers. Even if they were blood relatives, he still failed to comprehend what was truly worth crying over, let alone for these unrelated people. He had already witnessed far too much death, including his own, and could no longer be moved by anyone’s passing.

The fierce ghost lifted his eyelids. His eyes appeared dark and unfocused in this night filled with weeping and tragic wails. Assuming Tan Xueci was simply terrified by seeing so many ghosts, he raised his hand, and a gloomy, dark-red flame began to burn violently within his palm.

Although the fire hadn’t even touched the Disease Ghost yet, the reflection of the hellish light in the massive entity’s eyes caused its white-furred form to tremble uncontrollably. Even Xiao Man let out a sharp scream.

“Xiao Man!” Xiao Man’s father lunged forward, trying to gather his child into his arms, but her spirit was too weak and possessed no physical form. His hands scooped through empty air, and his tears burst forth as he sobbed uncontrollably.

Tan Xueci finally snapped back to reality. Realizing He Xunye seemed to intent on burning all these ghosts to ashes, he hurriedly stopped him. “Don’t!”

He Xunye’s low brow cast a deep shadow over his eye sockets, making him look frostily detached and filled with a cold, fierce malice. Such a person was normally detached, dictatorial, and impossible to approach. Yet the moment Tan Xueci’s cold, soft fingers rested upon his wrist, the black flames in his hand were extinguished bit by bit, as if Tan Xueci were their true master.

Chaos Beyond the Ward

By now, the Disease Ghost had completely finalized its fusion—the husband and wife bound tightly as one, never to be separated again. Xiao Man stared blankly at the corpse spots surface on her own hands. After dying and becoming a ghost, she had sensed her mother’s scent on the kitten, leading her to mistake it for her mother. She, too, didn’t understand why her mother had turned into a small cat.

“This is bad,” Yu He frowned, his expression growing exceptionally heavy.

The ghostly aura radiating from such a massive Disease Ghost could almost rival the chilling pressure He Xunye unleashed whenever he was enraged. Sensing this, the malicious spirits lurking around the hospital grounds began to stir restlessly. Earlier, the ghosts were confined inside the building; now, they were even drifting into the streets, pale, aimless apparitions passing directly through the nocturnal crowds.

In the guard room, a security guard was sleeping with his cap pulled over his face, vaguely wondering why the booth had suddenly grown so freezing cold. Rubbing his arms, he opened his eyes, his cap slipping down with the movement. He looked up, only to lock eyes with a green-faced ghost hanging upside down right against the window pane.

“…” The guard froze for a fraction of a second before shrieking at the top of his lungs, “Ah ah ah ah ah!!!”

His terrified scream reached a woman who had just finished working overtime. Exhausted and drowsy, the sudden noise jolted her completely awake. As she hurried forward, casting her gaze toward the source of the scream, she inadvertently slammed right into someone.

“I’m sorry…” Stumbling back, she quickly began to apologize, only for her breath to hitch instantly as she looked up.

Standing before her was a female ghost clad in white, her pitch-black hair trailing all the way to the ground, her complexion as deathly pale as Sadako.

The woman’s eyes rolled back as she passed out cold. Just before losing consciousness, a wave of tragic indignation washed over her: I’ve spent my entire life doing good deeds and accumulating karma, what on earth did I do wrong to run into this? At most, she had merely let her thoughts run wild while watching a variety show, jokingly muttering for Tan Xueci’s dead husband to drop dead somewhere else so she could take his wife for herself.

Slumped on the ground, she let out a final, mental sigh. Sigh, they really weren’t kidding when they said constantly coveting someone else’s wife brings bad karma. Talk about instant retribution.

At a nearby crossroads, several ghosts materialized in the center of the intersection. Passing drivers were startled out of their wits, slamming on their brakes so violently they nearly triggered a massive, multi-car pileup.

Yu He’s eyes sharpened. He swiftly hurled dozens of talismans, using the force of wind and thunder to obliterate those few spirits, but there were simply too many. Relying on his strength alone, he couldn’t possibly hold them all back. He cast his gaze toward He Xunye, but the fierce ghost’s dark, brooding eyes were fixed beyond the hospital. The inner corners of his eyes were flushed a deep red, nearly weeping blood, yet he remained utterly indifferent to the unfolding chaos, caring only about cradling and coaxing Tan Xueci.

“Xiao Mie,” the fierce ghost murmured, holding Tan Xueci tightly against his chest as he kissed the crown of the youth’s head, his voice strained and slightly hoarse. “Don’t cry, Xiao Mie.”

Lu Qi was nearly frightened out of his wits. Wiping his tears, he and Jin Chen shivered as they squeezed as close to Tan Xueci as possible. Looking at the dead ghost’s hands wrapped snugly around Tan Xueci, a wave of profound, helpless frustration rose within his chest.

The hospital had descended into absolute bedlam. Numerous on-duty doctors and nurses were frantically calling their department heads and the director, reporting that the patients were rioting without pause and claiming the hospital was haunted. Because this particular floor housed the psychiatric department, many of the patients had regressed, weeping out loud like frightened children.

An elderly woman with completely white hair clutched the corner of her blanket, calling out for her parents in terror, clear tears glistening at the corners of her faded eyes. Others were crying out for their lovers, their children, or searching for nothing at all—simply overcome by a sudden, uncontrollable urge to wail.

A living hell on earth.

“Daoist Master,” the director turned to Yu He and the others in sheer panic, desperate for guidance, only to realize that the Daoist named Fan had vanished without a trace. His panic escalated. “Where is Daoist Master Fan?!” Amidst the chaotic chain of events in the ward, no one had noticed where he had gone.

Left with no alternative, the director could only cast an imploring look at Yu He and He Xunye. “Mr. He, Daoist Master Yu, what do we do now?”

Yu He’s brow furrowed tightly as a layer of frost settled deep within his eyes. Lifting his peach-wood sword, his initial instinct was to slay the Disease Ghost. Yet, seeing Tan Xueci’s obvious distress, a trace of reluctance and pity surfaced in his heart.

The Request

Tan Xueci always considered himself a particularly cold-hearted person who had never truly loved anyone in his life. Perhaps he had been fond of the Tan family when he was a child, but that was so many years ago that he had long since forgotten the feeling. Now, he found everyone he met to be annoying in their own unique way. He often felt it would be better if these people simply dropped dead right at his doorstep so he could enjoy the spectacle. He should have been looking forward to a day like this.

Even with someone like Old Man Wang, who hadn’t truly crossed him—when he saw the old man acting like a mushroom in the corner earlier that night, scaring him into a cold sweat, he had still cursed him in his mind as a stubborn old fool. He loathed everyone equally.

Yet, perhaps it was because the small pork ribs from earlier tonight had been too delicious, and the sudden realization that he would never get to eat them again made his tears fall uncontrollably.

“He Xunye…” Tan Xueci turned his head through his tears.

The fierce ghost paused, his eyes downcast as he followed Tan Xueci’s voice. This was the first time Tan Xueci had ever called him by his actual name.

“Do you…” Tan Xueci knew it was absurd to seek help from a malevolent spirit. He Xunye clearly possessed not a shred of mercy for these humans. Yet his voice still trembled slightly as he whispered, “Do you have a way? Can you perform a ritual to cross them over? Don’t… don’t kill it.”

His eyes brimmed with unshed tears as he clutched He Xunye’s sleeve, looking up at him with a faint glint of hope—as if the entity before him were not a terrifying wraith, but a savior who could deliver him from this living hell.

“…” The fierce ghost quieted for a moment before speaking. “Xiao Man can be crossed over, but the Disease Ghost and that kitten cannot.”

The kitten ghost’s eyes had already turned a stark, bloody red. It had transformed into a feline abomination fueled entirely by hatred, its sharp fangs protruding past its lips. As for the Disease Ghost, once such an entity was born, it was fated to harm countless lives and bear a sin so heavy that even hell itself would refuse to receive it.

They had only been inside the ward for less than half an hour, yet the faces of Lu Qi, Jin Chen, and the director had grown significantly paler than before. They were panting heavily, their physical exhaustion visibly apparent to the naked eye.

Tan Xueci bit his lip. He watched as the massive Disease Ghost turned around. It looked as though it wanted to say something to him, yet it couldn’t open its mouth. Finally, its gaze settled upon his and He Xunye’s intertwined hands.

In that silent exchange, Tan Xueci could almost visualize Old Man Wang’s beaming eyes and hear his familiar tone, as if the old man were saying to him: See, I told you so. You have a good marriage destiny. Since I got it right, you’ll have to invite me to your wedding.

The Cost of Mercy

The fierce ghost looked into his wife’s tear-stained eyes. Silently resolving himself, he slipped the string of black Buddhist beads from his wrist, and the dark flames erupted across his hand once more.

The director’s heart sank into despair, assuming He Xunye was still going to burn the Disease Ghost to ashes. However, as the flames enveloped the entity’s white fur, they merely began to shrink its massive proportions down smaller and smaller. From a height that couldn’t even stand upright inside the ward, it was ultimately reduced to about the height of a person’s waist.

Yu He crossed his arms, his face darkening as he let out a cold, sharp laugh from the side. “Since when did you become so soft-hearted?”

He Xunye offered no reply. His dark, brooding features shifted subtly beneath the flickering firelight. The boundless black flames began to ripple outward from beneath his feet, surging beyond the hospital walls with an all-consuming momentum, as if the entire capital were about to plunge into a vast, endless sea of fire.

The agonizing shrieks of ghosts nearly pierced their eardrums as countless phantoms thrashed and writhed within the inferno.

The fierce ghost’s naturally pale complexion grew increasingly deathly and rigid, taking on a faint greenish hue. His hands gradually turned a bruised, mottled white as fresh, dripping blood began to pour continuously from his fingertips.

Tan Xueci’s breath caught sharply. This was the first time he had ever seen He Xunye look like this, and he frantically grabbed the ghost’s hands to inspect them.

The black Buddhist beads He Xunye held were completely drenched in his own blood. Every single one of his fingers was a mangled, bloody mess—completely devoid of fingernails. Just looking at them made it clear how agonizing it must have been when they were torn out.

“Hubby…” Tan Xueci’s mind went entirely blank. He wanted to touch them but didn’t dare to. In a flustered panic, he yanked up the hem of his own shirt to wipe away the blood on the back of He Xunye’s hand, but there was simply too much of it to ever clean off.

It suddenly dawned on Tan Xueci that his husband might have been brutally tortured to death. Even for an eccentric, unconventional ghost like He Xunye, it must have been terrifying and agonizingly painful when he was murdered.

The fierce ghost curled his lips, and another improper, teasing comment was about to slip past his teeth. But looking into Tan Xueci’s red, swollen eyes, he paused. Turning his head, he let out a few low, weak coughs. Feigning frailty, he reached out and wrapped his arms around Tan Xueci. His dark, down-slanted eyes crinkled with a faint smile, though his voice remained raspy and deep as he whispered, “Xiao Mie, it hurts so much.”

Tan Xueci hurriedly began searching for gauze to wrap the ghost’s hands. Though they were inside a hospital, he had absolutely no idea how one was supposed to treat a spirit. What department would a ghost even register for? It felt like he should just be wheeled straight to the morgue.

Looking at He Xunye’s lowered eyelashes and his unusually pale face, Tan Xueci asked anxiously, “How are you feeling? Can you still stand? Where exactly does it hurt?”

The moment the words left his mouth, the fierce ghost’s tall, imposing frame swayed slightly. “I’m a bit unsteady on my feet.”

“Then lean on me.” Tan Xueci was terrified that He Xunye might fall over; if he accidentally aggravated his hands, the pain would be excruciating. He quickly wrapped his arms around He Xunye’s waist, secretly thinking this dead ghost was incredibly dense—couldn’t he have used his wife for support in the first place?

Tan Xueci puffed out his slender chest, trying his best to show he was perfectly reliable. The fierce ghost let out a low chuckle. He didn’t bother being polite, but the height difference between them was simply too vast; he couldn’t properly rest his head against him, so he could only loop his arms around the youth, effectively draping himself over Tan Xueci’s back.

“I couldn’t cross it over,” the fierce ghost murmured, his long eyelashes casting a downward shadow as he looked at the downsized Disease Ghost. His voice carried a trace of exhaustion and a hint of an apology. “I could only change it into this form. I’m sorry.”

“It’s… it’s okay.” Tan Xueci was scared to death. He felt He Xunye’s hands were significantly colder than usual, but knowing they were injured, he didn’t dare apply too much pressure to warm them.

“But now that it’s small, it can be locked away,” the fierce ghost lowered his head, pressing his forehead gently against Tan Xueci’s. “This way, it won’t be able to harm anyone else. If we place it inside Qilian Temple to listen to Buddhist scriptures for a hundred years, there might still be hope for its eventual salvation.”

The kitten ghost remained behind as well, while only Xiao Man was successfully crossed over. Xiao Man’s father knelt on the floor, his tears flowing freely as he watched his daughter depart from this world. Wang Yong also remained kneeling on the floor. Ever since his parents fused into the Disease Ghost, he had barely shown any reaction. His gaze was entirely vacant, though his tears continued to stream down out of control.

Seven Steps to Rebirth

“What exactly is going on here?” Yu He took a deep breath, suppressing the heavy, stifling sensation in his chest, and turned to question He Xunye.

The fierce ghost flicked a sidelong glance at him, not particularly inclined to pay him any mind. He felt it was incredibly difficult to communicate with men who didn’t have a wife. He held his precious Xiao Ci in his heart; with his heart full of mercy, his actions naturally grew soft. As for these unwanted, solitary bachelors, they would never understand him.

However, seeing Tan Xueci also looking up at him with wide, expectant eyes, eager to hear his explanation, He Xunye suddenly felt a surge of desire to express himself. Opening his mouth, he offered: “I suspect it might be a case of ‘Life Substitution.'”

“How is that possible?” Yu He knitted his brows, instantly voicing his skepticism. “Doesn’t a Life Substitution require finding someone with a purely Yang horoscope?”

“Substitution for what?” Lu Qi asked, entirely befuddled.

Yu He possessed a fair amount of patience, so he took a moment to explain: “To put it plainly, it’s a fate swap. If you’re on the verge of death or have a terrible destiny, you find someone with a purely Yang horoscope to swap fates with you so that you can live.”

“But how many people can actually possess a purely Yang horoscope?” The fierce ghost lifted his thin, cold eyes. “Legend has it that when the Buddha was born, he pointed one hand toward the heavens and one hand toward the earth, taking seven steps in each of the four cardinal directions. With every single step he took, a lotus flower bloomed beneath his feet—each step an enlightenment, each step a progression toward divinity. Upon reaching the seventh step, his virtue attained absolute perfection, as if attaining a brand-new life.”

The others stared at him in utter bewilderment.

The fierce ghost’s pale silhouette appeared increasingly ominous against the deep night. Embracing Tan Xueci from behind, he rested his chin against his wife’s shoulder, rubbing against it as though he were entirely incapable of standing on his own. A faint smile played on his lips as he murmured, “Therefore, if you find seven distinct people to piece together the missing fragments of a cosmic alignment, you can achieve the exact same Life Substitution.”

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