Chapter Seventy-Eight: Haunting at the White Residence

“Where are the people?” the leader asked.

“Gentlemen, both of them—one older, one younger—are locked inside the room!” the man replied immediately.

Then, several members of the Ma family walked toward the house, asked the man for the key, and unlocked the door. Each wore a Bagua badge at their waist, all itinerant Taoists. There were many people from the Ma family at the old grave slope that day, but most weren’t memorable, and these men were particularly unfamiliar.

The leader, a man with a bristling moustache, signaled to the others and said, “Go, tie up those two.”

The itinerant Taoists approached. I exchanged a glance with Niu Dahuang; I struck one down with a slap, while Niu Dahuang smashed his tobacco pipe onto the leader’s head, leaving him writhing on the ground, clutching his head and wailing in pain. These were mere henchmen, it seemed, lacking any real Taoist skills.

We dealt with them quickly, bound them with their own ropes. They had been arrogant, but Niu Dahuang produced a small porcelain bottle, let them inhale its contents, and all promptly collapsed.

Afterward, the family outside stared in shock. The woman, pale with fear, said, “This is terrible—we’ve offended the Ma family. There’s no way we can survive now!”

The man sighed as well, saying, “Even if we hadn’t offended the Ma family, what hope would we have? These two gentlemen are clearly capable—they will surely help us! You don’t know, the trouble with Tong’er isn’t just from the beating; he’s been poisoned by corpse toxin. This master just gave us a medicinal pill—it can save our child!”

“Really?” the woman asked, her voice filled with hope, though the very next moment her mood dropped again. She said, “But what use is it? In Baqiao Town, the Ma family rules everything—there’s no way out for us!”

At that moment, Niu Dahuang stepped forward, saying, “This place really isn’t safe. Why not, your family should flee Baqiao Town tonight. Once outside, you can seek a new life—better than waiting here for death.”

But the woman shook her head. “We can’t escape. The Ma family’s Taoist arts are deep; everyone in town except their close followers has had a shadow charm drawn on them. With that charm, wherever we run, we’ll be found and brought back by the Ma family.”

“If someone from Baqiao Town tries to escape and is caught, they’ll be drowned in the Bai River.”

“What is a shadow charm?” I asked.

“That’s a Taoist art from the Lower Three Maos sect of Maoshan, called the Maoshan Shadow Charm. Essentially, it leaves part of a person’s soul behind, binding them,” Niu Dahuang explained. Unless that soul fragment is recovered, one is forever under the Ma family’s control.

“We’ve tied up the Ma family’s men—if we’re discovered, we’ll be drowned in the Bai River, too,” the man said, looking at Niu Dahuang, as if awaiting a solution.

Niu Dahuang thought for a moment, then said, “No matter what, you can’t stay here. Do you have anywhere else you could go?”

“We’re poor folk, with only this shabby home, nowhere else…” the man began, but was interrupted by the woman.

“Why not go to the old Bai family mansion west of the river? The Ma family probably won’t think of that place right away,” she suggested, though her face betrayed doubt and worry.

“No, that place is haunted. Have you forgotten?” the man whispered, lowering his voice as if the topic itself brought bad luck.

“But we have nowhere else to go!” the woman replied, frowning.

Niu Dahuang asked, “What is this Bai family mansion?”

The man explained that it had been abandoned for years—it was the old mansion of the Bai clan, and their family’s surname was Bai. He was called Bai Akun, the child was Bai Tong, and the woman was Bai Akun’s wife, also surnamed Bai—her name was Bai Cui. The mansion had belonged to their clan.

However, the place was fiercely haunted, and people had died there; as a result, the Bai family had all moved out, and no one dared live there.

Hearing this, Niu Dahuang smiled, saying, “That’s no problem. We’re itinerant Taoists ourselves and know some ghost-busting techniques. I’ll place a few household protection talismans for you; you should be able to stay there for a while. Besides, since it’s haunted and no one goes near, the Ma family won’t find you there anytime soon.”

Bai Akun sighed, “If Taoists could solve the haunting, we wouldn’t have moved to the east side of the river.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“We invited Taoists before, but after entering the old mansion, they either went mad or became fools. The Ma family also sent their Taoists, but they died inside. And, to be honest, our Bai clan was once a secular Taoist family. We had our own Taoists, but none could suppress whatever haunts the old mansion,” Bai Akun said, lowering his voice, as if afraid someone might overhear.

“That’s perfect. If we hide there, the Ma family won’t dare approach—it will ensure your safety,” Niu Dahuang said.

Bai Cui tugged at Bai Akun’s sleeve, urging him to accept our suggestion.

The Ma family henchmen we’d captured would soon be missed; if the Ma family sent more men, Bai Akun’s family might not be able to escape.

“All right, we have no other choice,” Bai Akun agreed.

His family quickly packed a few belongings, and together we headed for the Bai family mansion.

Truth be told, Bai Akun’s tales of haunting piqued my curiosity. I sensed there might be secrets behind the haunted mansion.

In Baqiao Town, many lived east of the Bai River, but west of the river, houses were sparse—mostly a few dwellings along the bank. As we crossed west in the evening, the lights on both sides of the river were dazzling, but beyond the Bai River, though there were ancient streets, there were no lights and not a soul in sight.

We passed through the old streets until, on the last street, we found a grand gate and a spacious courtyard—quite impressive. Bai Akun had the key but hesitated to open the door, handing it to me instead.

I wasn’t superstitious, so I opened the door myself.

As soon as the door swung open, a gust of chilly wind brushed over my face, sending goosebumps up my skin—the place was steeped in cold energy. Bai Akun’s claims about haunting seemed true.

Niu Dahuang and I stepped inside without fear, but Bai Akun’s family huddled behind us at once. Bai Akun whispered, “This really isn’t a place for living.”

Bai Cui said, “No matter what, better than dying at the hands of the Ma family! I’d rather be strangled by a ghost than die by their hands!”

“Don’t talk nonsense!” Bai Akun glared at her.

I comforted Tong’er, who was trembling and speechless. I assured him there was nothing to worry about.

Bai Akun’s family belonged to the outer branch of the Bai clan. Though they lived in the inner mansion, their main role was to help with chores—cleaning the ancestral hall, tending the flowerbeds—so their rooms were in the rear courtyard, close to the ancestral hall.

Despite the bitter wind in the courtyard, we encountered nothing unclean as we made our way to Bai Akun’s old quarters.

Bai Akun opened the door and lit a candle. The flickering light eased their anxiety somewhat.

Niu Dahuang and I questioned them about the Bai clan’s history—partly to gather clues, partly to soothe their nerves.

From Bai Akun, we learned that during the Qing dynasty, the Bai clan was the most powerful Taoist family in Baqiao Town. When the Ma family arrived later, disputes arose. After several Bai clan elders died in succession, the Bai family’s influence waned.

Most of the Bai clan’s internal Taoist arts were lost; after the haunting began over a decade ago and couldn’t be resolved, the Bai clan faded from Baqiao Town.

I asked where the inner clan had gone.

Bai Akun sighed, “Some died of illness, some left—no one wanted to stay in this haunted mansion. Only during the ancestral festival on the second day of the second month do a few Bai clansmen come to pay respects at the ancestral hall. But in recent years, even that has dwindled—no one wants to visit such an unlucky place.”

I asked about the legend of Baqiao Town’s nine bridges.

Bai Akun said those were stories invented by the Ma family—false tales. The nine bridges were actually built by the Bai ancestors as a formation to suppress evil. The old Bai elders called it the ‘Nine Dragons Suppression Formation,’ but what it was meant to suppress, he didn’t know.

After some time, it was late. Bai Akun arranged a room for Niu Dahuang and me. His family prepared another room and settled in for the night.

Niu Dahuang had yellow talismans from Master Li; he gave one to each member of Bai Akun’s family—both to reassure them and to protect them if any spirits disturbed the night.

When night fell, I lay down.

The day had been long—traveling, searching for clues in Baqiao Town—and by eleven o’clock, exhaustion weighed heavy, my eyelids drooping.

After a few words, I heard Niu Dahuang’s snoring start.

I rolled over, preparing for sleep.

But just then, I felt a presence watching me—the sensation was so strong that goosebumps prickled across my skin.

Looking back, I glimpsed a shadow flitting past the window.