Chapter Ninety-Five: The Paper Puppet

“Paper puppets?” I was momentarily stunned and hurriedly asked Wang Feiyang what that was.

Wang Feiyang furrowed his brow before explaining that it was an extremely sinister paper-binding technique recorded in the Origami Soldier Art, a method that had been banned for nearly half a century. More precisely, it was prohibited shortly after the War of Resistance. Had it not been documented in the Origami Soldier Art, this technique would have long since been lost.

I quickly pressed Wang Feiyang to explain what exactly a paper puppet was.

He replied that during the chaotic years of the War of Resistance, many young soldiers left their homes and families to fight on the battlefield, many never returning. Their loved ones waited anxiously and endlessly at home, only to be met with despair.

Witnessing this sorrowful reality, skilled paper-folders devised a method to bring those who died in battle back home, allowing them to spend a final period with their families.

The creation of a paper puppet involved first finding the three souls and seven spirits—the vital essences—of the deceased. These were forcibly infused into a paper figure crafted to be a perfect replica of the person, thus reviving them.

Because most people do not realize they have died within seven days after passing—unless they have become vengeful or malevolent spirits—if they were given a body identical to their own during this time, they would believe themselves still alive.

Of course, to craft such a body required incredibly advanced paper-folding skills, far beyond what Wang Feiyang himself could achieve today. Moreover, the materials used were extraordinarily special: both the internal organs and the outer skin were made from materials soaked in a unique oil-based substance, creating an oil-skin. This oil-skin was indistinguishable from real human skin. Thus, even as a paper puppet, the person would not immediately realize their body was no longer the original.

However, with the passage of time—usually one or two months—the oil layer would begin to deteriorate due to corrosion and the puppet’s own movements. The effect would weaken, and eventually, the paper puppet’s body would degrade into a mere paper figure. At that point, death was imminent.

Hearing this, the lingering doubts in my mind mostly cleared. No wonder Wang Lun reappeared in the public eye after his death—he had been made into a paper puppet.

This paper puppet technique bore a striking resemblance to the forbidden art of borrowing corpses to resurrect the dead in the Underworld Forbidden Arts—both achieved resurrection, differing only in their medium.

I asked in puzzlement, “So, if that’s the case, the original intent behind the paper puppet was actually benevolent—giving soldiers who shed blood on the battlefield a chance to spend a final journey with their families. Why, then, did it become a forbidden technique in your paper-folding guild?”

Wang Feiyang answered with two reasons. First, the technique violated the natural order, much like your grandfather’s corpse-borrowing resurrection, breaking the rules of the Underworld’s reincarnation system. That alone was enough to render the art forbidden.

Second, after the war, unscrupulous individuals used this technique to kill their enemies. To evade legal repercussions, they resurrected these victims as paper puppets. When the oil layer eventually failed, the puppet would die again through other means, allowing the true perpetrators to escape justice.

At this point, I finally understood the real reason behind Wang Lun’s paper puppet appearance. He had been killed by that mysterious driver and the monster. To avoid unnecessary trouble, they turned him into a paper puppet. Originally, Wang Lun would have died naturally when the puppet deteriorated, but fatefully, we encountered him within half a month—our misfortune brought us into the crossfire.

Though my doubts had largely been resolved, the mention of the driver and the mysterious creature from the old rat’s words sent a chill down my spine.

Was it mere coincidence that Wang Lun and the old rat had crossed paths with them? And later, that we met the paper puppet Wang Lun in the karaoke bar—was that also chance? If all these were truly coincidences, they seemed far too convenient.

Who exactly were that driver and the monster? Why were they associated with the forbidden paper puppet technique?

Wang Feiyang’s brow knitted tightly as he said the sudden appearance of a paper puppet craftsman was anything but accidental. Ordinarily, although such a craftsman could evade human law, they could not escape punishment from the Underworld. Should the Underworld discover a craftsman violating the rules of life and death through this technique, they would dispatch emissaries to seize the craftsman’s soul at once. However...

“Are you saying this involves the Underworld as well?” I asked.

Wang Feiyang nodded, “If the person using the paper puppet technique you mentioned had already been taken by the Underworld’s agents, it wouldn’t be a problem. But if they are still alive and paper puppets keep appearing here, it means the situation might be much worse.”

I was stunned. Since Wang Lun, I had heard no reports of other paper puppets. But this needed thorough investigation by the police. If what you say is true, there are two possibilities: either the craftsman is so skilled the Underworld cannot deal with him, or the Underworld itself is colluding with these people.

The more I thought about it, the more my scalp tingled. What I initially believed to be a straightforward supernatural case that could soon help Liu Dong’s exoneration had grown into something far more complicated. It felt as though we were being pulled into a dark, unknown vortex—one connected to a vast, untouchable organization.

These thoughts made me uneasy. I could only hope all my suspicions were unfounded—that I was merely overthinking.

But as fate would have it, the more I feared, the more trouble came.

Just as Wang Feiyang and I left the mortuary, Peng Li called me. He had found the ghost scholar’s address and urged me to go immediately.

Our rush to find the ghost scholar was simple: to fully clear Liu Dong’s name, we needed to locate the driver who had truly killed Wang Lun. The ghost scholar’s writings had described a paper puppet story that perfectly matched our current situation.

Moreover, Peng Li had found the old rat because the ghost scholar sent information to him via email. Though I didn’t know the ghost scholar’s motives, I was certain he was connected to the driver, even if he wasn’t the killer himself.

I asked Peng Li where he was, and we prepared to leave at once.

He gave me the location but admitted he didn’t know what kind of person the ghost scholar really was. If he was from the yin-yang realm, Peng Li, despite his abilities, wouldn’t stand a chance against him. He hoped I could arrive quickly to help.

From Peng Li’s tone, I sensed genuine fear—likely linked to a mission he undertook two years ago. Though I knew nothing of that mission, I was certain it had left deep psychological scars. Now, when the yin-yang realm was mentioned, even the fearless Peng Li showed signs of dread.

I told Peng Li to wait there quietly and not alert anyone. I would come immediately.