Chapter Fifty-Four: Inviting the Spirit

“What’s your plan?” Old Liao and Ah Hao spoke in unison, their exclamation so startling that Xia Liang couldn’t help but glance over at us.

“Hush, keep your voices down. Don’t forget, I still have the art of Ghost Embroidery up my sleeve.”

Mentioning Ghost Embroidery gave me a thrill of pride. Ever since I witnessed Brother Xiao Lin’s miraculous demonstration, my confidence in the power of Ghost Embroidery had only grown.

“Have you decided on the pattern?” Old Liao asked.

“To deal with malicious spirits and matters of reincarnation, it has to be Zhong Kui.”

“But Zhong Kui is a fierce deity, his aura is overwhelming. Ordinary people can’t bear such a tattoo. I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Old Liao shook his head, rejecting the suggestion outright.

“Old Liao, didn’t you say Sun Xing’s ‘Nine Yin Convergence’ fate is peculiar, as if it’s been forcibly cobbled together? If I tattoo Zhong Kui on him, and he truly is born under this fate, he’ll naturally be able to bear it. Then those debt-collecting ghosts won’t come bothering him anymore.”

“Boss Zhang, you can’t do that! If this goes wrong, what will happen to my brother’s soul?” Ah Hao grew anxious, hurrying over to grab my arm.

“Let me finish. If he’s been reborn through dark arts and is neither fully human nor ghost, then let Zhong Kui’s Ghost Embroidery break the evil spell. This embroidery is nothing less than inviting the god himself to descend!”

As I spoke of the special powers of Ghost Embroidery, my excitement was plain. Ever since inheriting the Yin-Yang Embroidery, I’d experienced much chaos and the unexpected, but the discovery of the Ghost Embroidery compendium had only strengthened my faith in its powers.

There’s an old saying about Zhong Kui: a hero with a leopard’s head, round piercing eyes, and a bristling beard, his righteous presence as chilling as a rainbow; though a slayer of demons, he always shows a touch of mercy—after all, he was once a scholar.

Stories about Zhong Kui are many and winding. Legend has it he was born in the Zhongnan Mountains, a gifted scholar with handsome features. On his way to the capital for the imperial examination, he lost his way in a remote ravine and was attacked by a band of malicious spirits. Their leader, jealous of his looks, cried out, “Change his face, alter his appearance!” The minor ghosts swarmed him, and he felt a stab of bone-deep pain before they all vanished.

When he awoke, Zhong Kui found himself transformed into a hideous figure. Nevertheless, he pressed on to the capital, and with his talent, he topped the examination. Even the examiners hailed him as the best scholar. But during the final palace examination, the emperor, repulsed by his ugliness, refused to grant him the title despite the ministers’ pleas. After hearing Zhong Kui’s tale of the ghosts, the emperor even accused him of deceiving the throne. In a fit of true character, Zhong Kui dashed his head against a pillar and ended his own life.

In the underworld, his indomitable spirit shone even brighter. He berated the King of Hades: “The emperor in the world of the living is a fool, and you, King of Hades, are no better!” He even seized the palace scepter, ready to strike. Impressed, the Jade Emperor appointed him as the Demon-Quelling General, commander of three thousand ghostly troops—thus he became the renowned fierce deity.

We all knew Zhong Kui’s stories well. The pattern was indeed ferocious, and I couldn’t help but feel apprehensive.

I took the red-bound compendium of Ghost Embroidery from my bag, opened to the page bearing Zhong Kui’s image. There he stood, utterly imposing, eyes blazing, purple beard bristling, gripping a demon-slaying sword, a jade gourd hanging at his waist, lips moving in silent incantation. For a moment, it seemed a wave of malevolent force was emanating from the image.

I seated myself beside Sun Xing, laying the book open on his bedside table so Zhong Kui’s likeness appeared everywhere—in the ceiling, in the mirrors.

I fixed my gaze on Sun Xing. “You’ve been wondering why those souls seek you for repayment. Don’t you want to know who you truly are?”

Sun Xing bit his lip hard, glancing at Xia Liang, who was now in tears. No doubt, from our conversation, they’d pieced together most of the truth.

“Yes,” he finally uttered.

As soon as Sun Xing agreed, Zhong Kui’s reflection in the mirror began to move!

The image in the book remained still, but the one in the mirror floated, drawing its sword and slashing in all directions. The mirrors in the room started to shake violently, as if trembling in fear, dodging the sword’s glint.

Even the sinister wailing of the wind outside faded to a pitiful whimper, as though begging for mercy.

The three of us exchanged glances. “It’s working!”

If just the reflection of Zhong Kui’s image was so powerful, how much more would it be tattooed on flesh?

Sun Xing cowered in terror at the sight. “Look! There really are ghosts in the mirror!”

“Sun Xing, if you want the truth, let me give you a Yin-Yang Embroidery,” I said.

“Yin-Yang Embroidery?”

“Follow the way of heaven and the karma of reincarnation. This pattern is one you cannot refuse.” Old Liao’s gaze was stern, his voice gravelly.

Ah Hao, standing by, pulled out his silver bell and his corpse servant stepped forward, the wooden floor groaning under its weight.

I saw Xia Liang clinging to Sun Xing, her face pleading. This clever woman must have already guessed most of the truth from our words.

I’d already arranged with Ah Hao that if the two refused, he would simply knock them out and force the issue.

Sun Xing bit his lips until they bled, seemingly numb to the pain, and nodded.

“Go ahead. I can’t bear this torment from the spirits any longer.”

Xia Liang could no longer hold back. She crumpled against him and wept.

Old Liao sighed, tossing me his backpack.

From it, I took out my tattoo needles, alcohol, antiseptic, and a special concoction Old Jin had prepared for me.

I fished a pack of “Golden Leaf” cigarettes from Old Liao’s pocket, tore it open, and took out three.

“Come on, couldn’t you smoke the Red Pagoda Mountain first? I’ve been saving this good stuff for days!” Old Liao grumbled.

I ignored his complaints, lit the three cigarettes, knelt, and bowed three times.

“I am Zhang Xu, inheritor of the Yin-Yang Embroidery. I dare employ the secret arts of Ghost Embroidery to invite the deity’s presence. May the Sacred Lord bless this house and forgive my presumption!”

I then opened Old Jin’s jar for captured spirits. A wisp of bluish smoke floated out, drifting closer and closer to Zhong Kui’s mirrored reflection.

Just as the two were about to touch, the fierce god in the mirror seized the wisp with a stomp, stuffed it into his mouth, and with a grunt, swallowed it whole!

As the smoke vanished, Zhong Kui’s image threw back his head in laughter and bellowed three times: “Petty demons—what is there to fear? Let the wronged seek justice and the vengeful their due!”

He then transformed into a swirl of purplish-red mist and dove into the jar that had once held the spirits.

We looked at one another in stunned silence. Old Liao’s eyes were wide. “Did… did it work?”

At least Zhong Kui’s apparition hadn’t taken offense. Best to finish the tattoo and see.

I asked Sun Xing to remove his shirt and lie face down on the bed, ready to tattoo the entire image of Zhong Kui wielding his sword across his back.

I pricked Sun Xing’s finger with the needle, squeezing a few drops of blood into the jar. Nothing unusual happened, except the jar began to shake, faint chanting rising from its mouth.

Seeing no violent backlash, I pressed my hands together in respect and began the Ghost Embroidery.

This time, I started with Zhong Kui’s head. My grandfather had taught me that when depicting deities or Buddhas, you must never begin with the face. To paint the face is to imbue the image with spirit, a solemn act reserved for the very end. It also shows reverence; even if you’re the one applying the tattoo, a practiced artist treats this as an act of summoning—every gesture must be respectful to honor the god.

Ordinary people shouldn’t tattoo Guan Yu, but if some daredevil insists, the face is always done last, and the eyes must be kept closed. For once Guan Yu’s eyes are open, blood will be spilled and danger will follow.

I carefully outlined Zhong Kui’s hair and official hat. As a scholar who died in the Tang Dynasty palace, Zhong Kui is always depicted in his official garb. The black hat not only signifies his rank but also tells his story—no detail could be slighted.

I moved on to his beard, famed for its luxuriance and wildness. The technique had to capture both its savage energy and stately dignity.

This was the most nerve-wracking embroidery I’d ever done. I was obsessed with the secret power of Yin-Yang Embroidery. How great could it be? Ghost Embroidery was my first true step into the unknown—I had to be meticulous.

Sweat beaded on my brow. An hour passed in a flash. Sun Xing, exhausted, fell asleep as I worked, the image of Zhong Kui gradually taking shape. Only when I finished his airborne official boots did I finally let out a long sigh.

A fierce, imposing figure now adorned Sun Xing’s back.

I held my breath, the needle poised above his skin, hesitating to complete the final detail. Zhong Kui’s eyes are said to see through all illusions—his gaze is a weapon against ghosts. One must never cover his eyes in a tattoo. But just as I was about to dot them, I noticed a strange symbol on his forehead: the twisted, ominous swastika.

This sinister mark had been woven through everything from the beginning, a witness to the haunted house’s events, and a clue I’d picked up on through my own perceptions. But to have it appear unbidden on Zhong Kui’s image—would the deity take offense at me?

As I hesitated, my hand slipped and the needle touched the swastika. Instantly, Sun Xing’s body convulsed violently, as if in the throes of a seizure. Xia Liang rushed to his side, just as he began foaming at the mouth, his body wracked with spasms.

The jar on the table shook, echoing with hearty laughter from within: “Ha ha ha ha! Youngster with the ghostly fate, will you not invite me forth to uphold justice?!”