Chapter Sixty-Four: The Ghost King's Token

“Why not take a stroll through the flea market?” suggested the hefty fellow. “You might just stumble upon something worthwhile.” Since there was still plenty of time before heading home, Song Nianqiang gladly agreed. After eating their fill, the two made their way to the market, which was conveniently just a hundred meters away from their restaurant.

After wandering for a while, Song Nianqiang stopped at the stall of an elderly man who looked to be in his eighties or nineties. At such an age, coming out to earn a living was no easy feat. Out of sympathy, Song Nianqiang decided to patronize his stall and picked up a skull-shaped token from a pile of small trinkets. He glanced at it, then asked the old man, “How much for this token?”

The old man was robust, his hearing and vision still sharp. He smiled at Song Nianqiang and replied, “You have a keen eye, young man. That’s the Ghost King Token—it can command ordinary spirits. Hold it and shout, ‘By the order of heaven and earth, return at once to the Netherworld! Disobey, and you shall be cast into the Eighteen Levels of Hell, never to be reborn!’ That’s all it takes.”

“Is it real? What kind of ordinary spirits can it handle?” Song Nianqiang asked, curiosity piqued. The old man chuckled, stroking his long white beard. “It’s very effective against ordinary ghosts summoned by the second or third ghost category,” he explained. Hearing this, Song Nianqiang’s expression shifted subtly—this seemingly ordinary old man was clearly an adept hidden from the world.

“Well then, I’ll take it. How much?” Song Nianqiang decided to buy the Ghost King Token after considering for a moment. The old man glanced at him and said slowly, “I see you’re also versed in the ways. Ten yuan is enough.”

“That won’t do. Here’s a hundred—no need to say more!” Song Nianqiang pulled a crisp hundred-yuan bill from his pocket, handed it to the old man, and walked away. For him now, a hundred was a trivial sum—whether the token proved useful or not, it was a charitable gesture for the elderly vendor.

“What an interesting young man. I like him!” the old man chuckled as he watched Song Nianqiang leave, then closed his eyes to rest.

At a quarter past two in the night.

Accompanying the mother and son in the police station, the hefty fellow chatted with them while Song Nianqiang occasionally wandered outside. The vast police station was deserted; only their room was lit, the rest plunged in darkness.

As Song Nianqiang finished his round and prepared to return, a chill suddenly crept up his back. He quickly turned, but found nothing unusual. Still, he knew the Skinning Ghost had arrived. He kept his composure, scanning his surroundings carefully.

Suddenly, a hand landed on his shoulder and Song Nianqiang’s heart clenched. But this was not the time to turn around—he had no doubt that if he did, he would end up skinned like the previous victim. Instead, he dropped into a crouch and shot forward like a cannonball.

The Skinning Ghost, having missed its target, vanished. Song Nianqiang proceeded cautiously, illuminated by the bright moonlight. It was the fifteenth of September; though the moon wasn’t full, its light was luminous, bathing the earth in brilliance.

A door creaked open on its own. Song Nianqiang rushed toward it, forming a spell with his hands at the threshold. He kicked the door open. Suddenly, darkness engulfed him and a wave of sinister energy surged forth. Thinking quickly, he cast the Five Thunder Curse in front of his forehead. A blue bolt of lightning flashed past his nose, restoring his sight.

Inside, the room was filled with human skins and several freshly-skinned corpses. The stench of blood assaulted him, nearly making him retch. But then he realized the flaw—this was the police station, and there was no one here. Where did these corpses come from?

According to “Hundred Ghosts of China,” the Skinning Ghost belongs to the second ghost category, possessing basic skills. Its specialty is creating illusions to ensnare victims, so it can sneak up and skin them.

“Damn!” Song Nianqiang cursed, leaping forward without worrying about colliding with any corpses. The Skinning Ghost was likely behind him; if he didn’t act quickly, he’d lose his own skin. He didn’t forget to cast another Five Thunder Curse behind him.

A thick blue bolt of lightning appeared, followed by a shrill scream, and the ghostly shadow vanished. The scene before him reverted to normal—nothing special except for the darkness. He hurried to the door, but as he reached for the handle, it transformed into a human mouth, opening to swallow his hand.

“Pathetic trick!” Song Nianqiang sneered. He pulled a talisman from his pocket and slapped it onto the mouth. Smoke billowed, the mouth howled in agony, and he opened the door.

Once outside, Song Nianqiang moved forward. Even with his Yin-Yang Eyes, he couldn’t reliably detect second-category ghosts—their level was beyond his current abilities. Tonight, he and the Skinning Ghost would battle wits and courage.

Back in the room he had just left, a flash of green light flickered in the landscape painting on the wall. A beautiful woman emerged from the painting, no different from an ordinary person except for her unnaturally long nails, half a meter in length, glowing green.

She glanced at the talisman Song Nianqiang had left on the door and disappeared. The moonlight, once bright, was suddenly obscured by clouds, plunging the corridor into darkness. Though visibility remained barely adequate, Song Nianqiang’s sight was severely restricted, forcing him to switch on the lights.

A streak of green light shot toward him the moment he turned on the lamp. He ducked instinctively—the light grazed his scalp. Footsteps echoed behind him; when he turned, he saw a woman in red step out of the darkness.

It was Song Nianqiang’s first time seeing the Skinning Ghost. Being of the second ghost category, she could restore her appearance to what it was in life, but her nails—her tools—remained unchanged. If not for those nails, Song Nianqiang might have mistaken her for a neighbor’s daughter.

“Die…” Her voice was melodious, but her actions betrayed its sweetness. She raised her long nails, her face twisted into a hideous snarl, and suddenly, more than ten ghosts surged from all directions. These were ordinary ghosts, not a single malevolent spirit among them. The Skinning Ghost’s current power couldn’t control the latter.

“By the order of heaven and earth, return at once to the Netherworld! Disobey, and you shall be cast into the Eighteen Levels of Hell, never to be reborn!” Song Nianqiang shouted, raising his palm to reveal a pale yellow token. It was the perfect moment to test its effectiveness.

To his astonishment, the ordinary ghosts vanished instantly, leaving only the Skinning Ghost. Clearly, the old man was indeed a hidden master. If time allowed, Song Nianqiang would revisit the market—who knows what other treasures awaited?

“How do you have a Ghost King Token?” The Skinning Ghost was dumbfounded. Such a token wasn’t something an ordinary person could possess; at minimum, one had to be an expert ghost hunter. Had Song Nianqiang been such a master, the Skinning Ghost would have been purified on the spot.

The Ghost King Token not only commands lesser spirits summoned by higher-level ghosts, but it has an even greater power—purification. Fortunately, Song Nianqiang didn’t know the incantation. Had he known it, the Skinning Ghost would have been utterly eradicated.