The two of them didn't know He Xiaoyi, but he certainly knew them.
One came from the city's most popular Buddhist temple, and the other hailed from the city's oldest Taoist monastery.
Since ancient times, monks had looked down on Taoists, and Taoists had looked down on monks—it had become something of an unspoken rule.
Naturally, the relationship between these two was not good.
It was said that during their most heated argument, Taoist Master Dingyi had pointed at Master Guangliang's head and cursed him as a "bald donkey," while Master Guangliang had yanked on Taoist Master Dingyi's beard and called him an "ox-nose."
Usually, they wouldn't cross paths in a million years, yet they never expected to be brought together today.
“Heh, Master, Taoist Master, my ancestors are from the Questioning Spirits He family. When this building was haunted before, I was the one who handled the ritual. But because the ghost committed suicide, the resentment was deep and exceptionally difficult to deal with. Even with the help of the Dragon Boat Festival's yang energy and the vitality of the living, I couldn't drive him away. I nearly faced retaliation instead.”
He Xiaoyi recounted his previous encounter in a few sentences and added, “Furthermore, this ghost is different from any we've encountered before—”
He glanced at Qin Yue and hesitated. “This ghost manifested on the surveillance footage.”
The expressions of Master Guangliang and Taoist Master Dingyi changed simultaneously, and they spoke in unison: “What?”
“That's absolutely impossible!”
Qin Yue's brows knitted together, unable to understand why they were reacting so strongly. “Why are you both so certain? Modern science has many technical means, and electronic equipment is being updated faster and faster. If an image of a soul was accidentally captured, it doesn't seem impossible.”
“There is, of course, a reason for this belief,” Master Guangliang said, pressing his palms together and chanting a prayer. “The matters of this world are mysterious and profound beyond measure. There are things the human eye cannot see; how could a dead object perceive them?”
“Little comrade, how should I explain this to you?” Taoist Master Dingyi scratched his head and gestured a circle with his hand. “It's like taking a photo. The scene the human eye sees is always better than what a camera captures. Why is that? Because the human body contains three souls and six spirits. When the eyes look at something, it's not just the eyeballs moving; the 'spirit' and the 'flesh' are moving together. So, no matter how technology develops, a camera is ultimately a dead object without a soul. It cannot see what the human eye can.”
Qin Yue remained silent.
A room full of researchers frowned as they listened, some even jotting down notes in their notebooks from time to time.
The scene was as absurd as it could possibly be.
“So it's impossible!” Taoist Master Dingyi said cheerfully. “It's like playing with magnets when you were a kid. You know that opposites attract and like poles repel. If you try to force two positive poles or two negative poles together, you'll feel a force. You can't see or touch that force, but can you say it doesn't exist? A 'ghost' is the same—unseen and untouchable. When a person dies and the soul leaves the body, it becomes a 'ghost.' Some can feel its presence and be influenced by it; others can't feel it and think it doesn't exist.”
Dingyi became more animated as he spoke, his grey beard trembling as if he were having a fit. “A ghost can only affect your mind. It cannot interfere with reality. It can make you irritable, sensitive, or insecure, but it cannot harm you physically. How could such a thing manifest on camera? I've lived most of my life and never seen a Greater Ghost that could manifest before people. Most are just minor spirits that haven't come to anything. Unless it's one of those fierce vengeful ghosts recorded in ancient books—ones that have taken dozens of lives and slaughtered thousands of living beings—only then might it be possible.”
“That's impossible!” He Xiaoyi instinctively denied it. “Chen Ping was just an ordinary citizen, not some mass-murdering fugitive. Even if his resentment from a violent death is a bit heavy, it's definitely not at the level of a fierce ghost.”
“Amitabha.” Master Guangliang smiled, looking as cheerful as a Maitreya Buddha. “What the Taoist Master says is exactly what I am thinking. If this were before the liberation, perhaps such a thing could exist. But in today's law-abiding society, it's impossible for such a...”
“Please take a look, Master.” Qin Yue had been listening quietly, but now she gestured with her hand.
Immediately, someone began playing the surveillance footage.
“Please pay attention to this position at the 137-minute and 49-second mark. A face suspected to be 'Chen Ping' appears here. Our people have compared it countless times, and we can responsibly tell you that the person in the video is indeed Chen Ping.”
Despite it being broad daylight, everyone present felt a chill run down their spines as they looked at that ordinary face.
“My Great Heavenly Lord!” Taoist Master Dingyi stared at the video, his mouth hanging open wide enough to fit an egg. “This is impossible! Even if a suicide ghost's resentment is this heavy, how could it be this powerful?!”
“It is indeed strange. If it wasn't intentionally nurtured...” Master Guangliang's brow darkened as a possibility occurred to him. “If there is a more powerful ghost in this building, it's not impossible for it to become like this under the influence and erosion of ghostly energy...”
“Are you saying—” Taoist Master Dingyi's face paled, and he was so shaken he could barely stand. “Is it possible there's a super-fierce Greater Ghost hidden in this building that's allowing Chen Ping to manifest?”
The atmosphere suddenly turned peculiar.
Qin Yue's expression grew increasingly grim.
The researchers looked at each other, and after a moment, their eyes gleamed with excitement.
Two ghosts?
That meant they had one more experimental subject!
However, the monk and the Taoist looked terrible.
They understood exactly what this implied.
Since the spiritual energy had been depleted, the path of cultivation had become increasingly difficult.
Hundreds of years ago, ghosts and monsters had vanished overnight.
Even demons had gradually withered away because of the iron prophecy that "nothing can become a spirit after the founding of the republic." Often, if a single ghost appeared, over a dozen monasteries would fight over it.
Unlike He Xiaoyi, they didn't have special constitutions that allowed them to communicate with spirits occasionally.
Cultivators were more like practitioners of the Dragon-Slaying Art born into a world without dragons. They possessed the skills but could only sit in their temples or monasteries telling fortunes.
In the records, the last Greater Ghost capable of manifesting before people with sky-high resentment appeared before the liberation.
That ghost had been a murderous bandit in life. After being executed, he became a ghost and terrorized the countryside, taking three lives in a row.
According to the records, that ghost could not only manifest but also speak and eat.
In the end, the soldiers brought in two cannons and bombarded the thing's grave for over half an hour, performing a physical exorcism. The bones were ground to dust, and the soul naturally couldn't remain. The Greater Ghost vanished without a trace.
Who would have thought that in such a peaceful era, another such Greater Ghost might have appeared?
“Haha.” He Xiaoyi denied the theory with forced confidence. “The ancient records could be wrong. Cultivation is hard nowadays. Forget ghosts—demons haven't appeared in centuries. How could it be such a coincidence that two fierce ghosts popped up in one building?”
Despite his words, his feet were inching toward the elevator, bit by bit.
Clearly, he was ready to bolt at any moment.
Rate on N.U.
