Chapter 53: The Four Symbols Transform into Corpses

Upon hearing this, Xia Liang’s furious gaze slowly gave way to one of blankness and terror.

“What do you mean... he might not be human?” Xia Liang stammered, her body trembling uncontrollably.

I recounted to them the visions I had witnessed during my episodes of synesthesia. Even the seasoned Old Liao fell silent, deep in thought.

Xia Liang helped Sun Xing up and sat him on the sofa. It had to be said, this woman’s devotion to Sun Xing bordered on obsession—even after learning he might not be human, her brows were still furrowed with concern for him.

Old Liao walked over, pried open Sun Xing’s eyelids, rolled his eyeballs gently with a finger, pulled out his palm and examined it closely for a while before sighing.

“He, like you, possesses the Fate of the Ninefold Yin Convergence.”

“How can that be!” I had heard of the Ninefold Yin Convergence since childhood—one in ten thousand, if that. How could this person before me possess such a cursed fate? Besides, if he truly bore such a fate, why would Sun Xing remain unharmed in this haunted house all this time?

Old Liao seemed to have sensed the turmoil in my heart and the shock in my eyes.

“It’s his fate, but not truly his own.”

“Not his own? What do you mean by that?”

“In simpler terms, his fate was artificially created.”

Could fate really be manufactured by human hands? This was the first I’d heard of such a thing. In the world of the occult, one acts in accordance with Heaven’s will, defying it brings disaster. All things have their causes and consequences. No matter the method, could an artificial fate truly be tolerated by the heavens?

“If that’s the case, then Sun Xing having my brother’s face becomes less of a mystery,” A Hao, now calm, interjected.

“Oh? Explain,” Old Liao prompted.

“Brother Liao, have you ever heard of the Four Symbols Corpse Transformation Ritual?”

At that, Old Liao slapped his thigh and shouted toward A Hao, “Could it be that forbidden art?!”

“If that’s truly the case, then I swear those who did this will be buried with my brother!” A Hao stomped the ground, the bell at his waist jingling sharply. The spirit corpse standing by suddenly sprang to life, slamming a fist into the wall and punching a hole straight through, leaving a pit over thirty centimeters deep.

I couldn’t help but gasp. Thank goodness I hadn’t clashed with A Hao when we first met—given the combat prowess of his spirit corpse, even ten of Old Liao and myself would have been no match.

“What exactly is going on?” Their half-spoken explanations left me utterly confused. Artificial fate, forbidden arts—how did any of it connect to Sun Xing?

With a faint groan, Sun Xing, who had been lying on the sofa, slowly propped himself up.

“What... what happened?” It seemed his consciousness had returned.

“What did you just see? What are you afraid of?” I asked.

Sun Xing shook his head, trying to recall. After a moment, he suddenly looked up.

“I saw two men and two women, covered in blood, demanding my life! They kept telling me to return something to them, but I haven’t taken anything from them!”

He seemed to recall something truly terrifying, curling up on the sofa and trembling. Xia Liang soothed him, gently stroking his back until he calmed down.

“Old Liao, what exactly is the Four Symbols Corpse Transformation Ritual?”

“It’s said to be a legendary forbidden art capable of raising the dead, but I don’t know the specifics.” Old Liao shook his head.

A Hao’s voice was agitated: “If it really is this forbidden art, my brother’s soul may never reincarnate!”

Could Sun Xing before us truly be someone brought back from the dead?

Then what was his true identity?

Why had someone with such a sinister fate been sent to this haunted house to perform such a strange task?

Doubt after doubt crowded our minds. Perhaps this house was far more than a mere Yin-raising residence.

“Miss Xia, didn’t you say you once saw ghosts in the mirror at night, when you first moved in?”

“Yes... yes, but that was just in the first few days...”

“And you, Sun Xing—when did you start seeing those vengeful spirits?”

“Only recently...”

Old Liao suddenly seemed to realize something. “So, at first, the ghosts went after Xia Liang. Ever since you two... shared a room, they started haunting Sun Xing instead?”

The bluntness of the question made the young pair blush, but after a moment’s thought, they both nodded.

Old Liao pulled A Hao and me aside. “That’s it. Sun Xing really might not be human.”

“Why do you say that?” I asked.

“I told you his Ninefold Yin fate was artificial, didn’t I? Such a thing, forged by forbidden arts, could never be as natural as the real thing. If he was revived through such a ritual, he’d be nothing but a walking corpse, devoid of any Yang energy. And to acquire Yang energy...”

“You mean, Xia Liang’s task wasn’t to nurture a Yin house at all, but to nurture Sun Xing—the one revived by forbidden arts?” I exclaimed.

“Exactly. According to my deductions, the four vengeful spirits demanding repayment are likely the souls sacrificed in the Four Symbols ritual—among them, perhaps one is the real Sun Xing.”

I was reminded of the scene when I touched the swastika symbol—the spirit of Sun Xing demanding repayment. Perhaps Old Liao was right after all.

“His face and features may well have come from the real Sun Xing. Who knows how such a wicked ritual was performed, to the extent of using four lives to resurrect one dead man,” Old Liao muttered, glancing at A Hao.

A Hao clenched his fists, teeth grinding in rage. Old Liao patted him sympathetically on the shoulder, then addressed the couple, “Come with us. Let’s see justice done for those vengeful souls.”

Naturally, Sun Xing’s true origins had to be kept from Xia Liang. We decided to let fate run its course and let the spirits determine how things would end.

As Sun Xing stepped back into Xia Liang’s bedroom, the mirrors hanging on the walls began to emit a dim, eerie glow. The room’s lights abruptly went out, and a chill wind swept through.

Strangely, when Xia Liang followed him in, the lights instantly brightened, and the cold wind vanished.

At that moment, I finally understood why both Xia Liang and Sun Xing had been sent to this mansion.

First, Sun Xing had just been revived by forbidden art. To call it resurrection was misleading—it was more like stitching together the parts of four people who met certain criteria, creating something neither fully human nor ghost. According to Old Liao, those chosen likely had Yin fates, all in service of manufacturing this false Ninefold Yin Convergence. The masterminds had gone to great lengths.

Sun Xing needed Yang energy to become truly alive, or he’d remain a mere shell. Xia Liang just happened to have an extremely Yang-dominant fate. The mastermind must have seen this, arranging for them to share a room. If they fell in love and became intimate, so much the better. Even if nothing happened, Xia Liang’s instructions were to sleep facing a mirror. The mirror array would gradually channel her Yang energy into Sun Xing. After forty-nine days, the forbidden art would finally make him fully human.

Second, Sun Xing was plagued by the resentment of four spirits. In this mirrored environment, it was inevitable that ghosts would use the mirrors to seek repayment. Xia Liang’s Yang fate, however, also protected Sun Xing from harm. Once the forty-nine days passed, the vengeful spirits might be utterly destroyed, never to reincarnate.

Whoever was behind this Anle Realty was not only deeply versed in the occult, but also ruthless and cruel, taking not only lives but also ensnaring the souls of the dead in their machinations.

A figure began to form in my mind—a businessman in a suit, gold-rimmed glasses on his nose, smiling pleasantly.

Could all of this be connected to Brother Wang?

“A wise bird chooses its tree, and a true hero recognizes the times,” I suddenly recalled Brother Wang saying over dinner, and a chill ran through me.

If all these haunted house events truly traced back to him, had we already touched upon his greatest taboo?

Old Zhao had also hinted that Brother Wang was not a clean man. My heart grew heavy with dread.

Suddenly, with a thud, A Hao fell to his knees before us, silver bell at his waist chiming softly, the spirit corpse bowing low. A Hao, kneeling on one knee, cupped his fists to Old Liao and me.

“Boss Zhang, Master Liao, I, A Hao of the Miao clan, have rarely begged for anything in my life. For us occultists of Xiangxi, everything is done for the sake of love! Now my brother is lost—his soul separated, suffering outside the cycle of reincarnation. I beg you, help me bring him home in peace!”

He thumped his chest, then dropped to both knees and kowtowed three times, each blow to the ground resounding through my soul.

We rushed to help him up, but he refused to rise. Old Liao could only stoop and brush the dust from his shoulders. “Brother, don’t say such things. Since we came here together, we can’t just stand by. For us occultists, righteousness comes first. If we call each other brother, we’ll see this through together!”

Old Liao nudged me with his elbow. Of course I understood, but my heart ached for Xiao Wei—still in Brother Wang’s hands. As long as Xiao Wei hadn’t returned, I dared not turn against Brother Wang. Worry gnawed at me.

I watched A Hao remain kneeling, hair disheveled, tears dripping onto the floor, leaving scattered stains.

A man does not shed tears easily, unless his heart is truly broken.

So be it. Even if it means opposing Brother Wang, what of it? After so many vile deeds, today we shall curb his arrogance!

“I have a plan to break this predicament,” I said, patting my collection of bottles and jars.