Chapter Thirty-Six: The Soul Returns to the Body

The white-whiskered rat demon’s fangs gleamed like blades under the moonlight, their cold shine flashing suddenly. Yet Grandfather remained calm and unhurried; he raised his hand and delivered a solid slap. That slap landed squarely on the aged face of the rat demon, distorting its features in an instant. The creature flew backward, spat a mouthful of blood, and crashed onto the ground not far away.

When it hit the earth, the rat demon didn’t even struggle. Its enormous grey robe collapsed, and from within rolled out a rat the size of a large wild cat. Its fur was white and yellowed, aged to the point that its tail and ears had dried halfway. Grandfather’s slap, with a force far beyond my imagination, had shattered the rat’s head, leaving it a bloody mess.

I remembered being astonished when I’d once seen the peddler kill an ordinary rat demon with a single slap, thinking his skill unmatched. But now, seeing Grandfather’s prowess, I realized he must surpass even the peddler—he had reduced the old rat demon to a pulp with a single blow, something the peddler could likely never accomplish.

If Grandfather hadn’t been unconscious all this time, he surely wouldn’t have feared the peddler. When I was young, I’d seen Grandfather shout, and the peddler had no choice but to leave our home.

With the white-whiskered rat demon slain, the remaining rat demons lost their leader. Some tried to flee, others simply huddled in terror, trembling on the ground.

At this moment, Grandfather went to my uncle’s house and seemed to retrieve something from inside. He tossed it onto the ground and said, “Eat it, so my hands remain clean.”

What he scattered was a handful of corn kernels. But these kernels were tinged red, clearly laced with poison. In the countryside, rat poison often came in this form. Grandfather’s gesture was their death sentence.

Such pests deserved to die.

Under Grandfather’s intimidation, the rat demons dared not refuse. After eating, each one collapsed, writhing in pain. Soon, they foamed at the mouth, convulsed, and fell silent.

The great grey robes gradually deflated, and the rat demons were wiped out with a handful of poisoned corn. Still, these demons had always appeared as elderly men and hadn’t cultivated the ability to take other forms. Therefore, the rat demon that drained my uncle’s vitality and killed him had not yet appeared.

To deceive my uncle, that rat demon wouldn’t have taken the form of an old man.

Once the rat demons were eliminated, Grandfather came over, looked at my battered state, and knelt beside me, asking, “Lin Yi, are your injuries serious?”

I shook my head and said I was fine, feeling somewhat comforted.

Then I told Grandfather about the rat demon that drained my uncle’s essence and killed him. Grandfather listened, nodded slightly, and said, “I understand.”

He only said he understood, without elaborating.

“Grandfather, I feel it’s still in Uncle’s house!” I blurted, an instinctive feeling. Besides, there were often people coming to offer incense to the two memorial tablets in Uncle’s home, which also struck me as odd. If Grandfather investigated, perhaps he could uncover the truth.

“Child, let’s first find a way to save the villagers. We’ll discuss this matter later,” Grandfather replied, then went to help up Witch Wang.

Witch Wang was still unconscious, so Grandfather asked me to assist. He carried her on his back, and I took up her peachwood ritual sword and led the group of children home.

When we arrived, Niu Dahuang was overjoyed to see us return. He asked Grandfather if everything was settled, and Grandfather replied, “Almost.” Niu Dahuang had been working tirelessly day and night, barely resting; hearing Grandfather’s words, he seemed unable to hold on, grew dizzy, and nearly collapsed. I hurried over to support him and urged him to rest.

Grandfather carried Witch Wang inside and laid her on the bed, closed the door, and stayed inside for more than ten minutes before coming out.

Worried about Witch Wang’s injuries, I asked Grandfather. He assured me she was fine, nothing serious.

His words eased my concerns.

Afterward, Grandfather brought out a table from inside and set up a ritual altar. Candlesticks stood on either side, a bowl of rice in the center, incense lit. He took out a stack of yellow contract papers given by the white-whiskered rat demon—the very contracts the villagers had signed.

These were the keys to saving the villagers.

Grandfather asked if any villagers who drank the Virtue Soup were still in the village. I recalled they were all at the old grave hill, but then remembered Er Pang, who’d led Witch Wang and me earlier, was still in the village, and I told Grandfather. He found Er Pang’s contract, dipped his finger in cinnabar ink, and began to write upon it.

I watched as the children gathered around, curious. Some asked what Grandfather was doing.

I explained he was helping them find their parents.

They were delighted.

What Grandfather wrote on the contract appeared to me as twisting lines, random scribbles I couldn’t decipher. Nor did I know what he intended.

After finishing, Grandfather said, “Lin Yi, go open the front door and hang this lantern outside.”

He had prepared a lantern when setting up the altar, calling it a guiding light. In the past, if a child lost their soul and cried at night, the lantern would be hung at the door to call it back. I did as instructed, hung the guiding lantern outside, and lit it.

Strangely, about ten minutes later, footsteps sounded outside.

In the distance, I saw Er Pang staggering toward us.

When I called out, he didn’t seem to recognize me, ignoring my shout and entering our yard, kneeling before Grandfather’s altar.

“Who kneels here?” Grandfather asked.

Er Pang shook his head, his face vacant; at that moment, he didn’t even know who he was.

“Since you do not know yourself, let me grant you humanity. Your surname shall be Lin, and your given name Wu—do you accept?” Grandfather said. As his words ended, a spark flashed in Er Pang’s eyes. Seeing this, Grandfather immediately burned the contract. When the paper was consumed, Er Pang collapsed to the ground.

Grandfather breathed a long sigh of relief. I helped Er Pang up, and Grandfather said, “He’s fine now. His soul has just returned and needs rest to adjust. Let him sleep well—by morning, he’ll be right as rain.”

Hearing this, the worry in my heart finally eased.

Grandfather used the same method to bring back Er Pang’s mother. After rescuing her, I saw sweat on Grandfather’s brow—saving them was not as simple as asking a few questions.

With so many villagers in Old Jieling Village, if Grandfather had to save them one by one, it would take ages, and given his just-awakened state, it was uncertain he could endure the task.

I voiced my concern, but Grandfather explained that the rest of the villagers would be much easier. Er Pang and his mother had only part of their souls taken by the rat demons; their strong consciousness meant the demons couldn’t fully control them, even with the contracts.

Thus, when returning their souls, extra care was needed to avoid harming what remained and turning them into simpletons.

The other villagers didn’t have this problem. Grandfather had reviewed all their contracts. One blaze consumed them all, and their souls would seek their bodies on their own, without our intervention. At the quickest, they’d return soon; at the slowest, surely no later than a single night.

As Grandfather burned the contracts, the yellow papers danced and sparked in place. He said it signaled the souls breaking free from their bindings and gaining liberty.

It was rather wondrous to witness.

By the next morning, Er Pang was the first to wake, followed by his mother. Neither knew why they were in my home. The story was long, so I only gave them a brief explanation. After all, they had some memories from when they drank the Virtue Soup.

Upon waking, mother and son rushed outside and vomited violently. When they returned, Er Pang asked me, “Boss, is there any food at home?”

Hearing this, my worries vanished.

He was truly well, for when the Virtue Soup was at work, they weren’t just not hungry—they could barely stand to look at food, surviving only on the soup.

Er Pang’s mother was much the same, though she wasn’t as carefree as her son. Unable to eat, she asked me if the other children were really gone.

I nodded; it was the truth.

Just then, a great crowd surged in from all directions, every road in the village packed with villagers.

Seeing this, Niu Dahuang rushed to shut our front gate and locked it from inside.

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