Chapter 44: Tears of the Ghost
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Yucheng
Victoria Bay
Villa Building 6, District Three
Bang!
With a dull thud, the Dragon-Slaying Sword was hurled onto the living room sofa by Bai Xian, who had just returned from another world.
Spear in hand, she stood ready, the force of the “Emerging Dragon” technique coiling within her.
“Stop playing dead and come out to explain why you devoured the demonic power of the Gu King. What are you after?” A cold glint flashed in Bai Xian’s eyes. “If you dare hide anything, I’ll send you straight to the Special Investigation Division.”
After she spoke, silence engulfed the room.
It was only when Bai Xian’s patience wore thin and she drew out her phone to call the division that the magical sword on the sofa finally responded. The sword’s body trembled ever so slightly, emitting a crisp sound.
A sliver of snow-white blade appeared between the sheath and the sword guard.
In an instant—just like the day she first drew the sword—a red glow enveloped Bai Xian’s eyes. Everything around her vanished, replaced by a world awash in blood-red.
Not far off, the massive soul of a dragon lay hidden within clouds. The dragon’s head, pierced at the brow by the magical sword, slowly lifted, and a pair of vertical pupils gazed down upon the diminutive Bai Xian.
“Do you really think I’d fear those little creatures from the Special Investigation Division? Even if you handed me over, they’d only end up venerating me...”
The water dragon’s voice echoed through the space—a blend of male and female tones.
The male voice was deep and commanding; the female, light and elegant. For a moment, it was impossible to tell which belonged to the dragon’s true spirit.
Bai Xian simply pressed further.
“So, are you now a dragon soul or a sword spirit?”
“Does it matter?”
“One is the wicked soul of a malevolent dragon who brought harm to the people, the other a righteous sword spirit who protected the innocent. You tell me.”
The dragon soul glared at Bai Xian, but she did not flinch in the slightest.
At last, the dragon spoke slowly.
“For five centuries, I and it have become one—indistinguishable, inseparable. I can no longer tell whether I am the dragon or the sword.”
Only when Bai Xian was certain the sword spirit was still present did she slowly lower her spear. She heard a note of melancholy in the dragon’s words.
A dragon whose body was slain and soul sealed at the moment of transformation.
A magical sword “abandoned” by its master.
Bound together for centuries, the two had merged, each shaping the other—an entanglement both fated and lamentable.
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“Then why did you devour the demonic energy of the Thousand-Legged Gu?”
As the conversation turned serious, the immense dragon soul began to slowly circle Bai Xian.
“I wish to make a deal with you.”
“Oh? Let’s hear it.”
Bai Xian’s gaze tracked the movement of the dragon’s head.
“There’s something strange about you, little one. I don’t know what artifact you possess that lets you travel to another world,” the dragon mused. “That world is teeming with man-eating demons and ghosts. Are you not afraid?”
“You survived this time purely by luck...”
Her face remained expressionless, but in her heart, Bai Xian agreed with the dragon.
This mission was unlike the previous two—her own abilities stood no chance against the Thousand-Legged Gu. If not for the Fire Thunder Talisman, the help of the portly Daoist, Yue Wenying, Cai Wei, Yang Xian... even He Shan—any misstep would have spelled disaster.
Unnoticed, the dragon’s long body had encircled Bai Xian. Its head now hovered directly before her, crimson vertical pupils reflecting the slender figure of the girl, as if intent on drawing her in.
“What deal do you want to make with me?” Bai Xian finally couldn’t help but ask.
The dragon let out a strange laugh.
“Heh heh heh... The deal is this: I’ll lend you my power, and in return, you’ll help my soul—my sword spirit—escape this torment and restore me to my true form.”
After a long pause, the dragon soul withdrew its head and opened its huge mouth to utter two words:
“Well?”
...
Bang! Bang! Bang!
In the villa’s basement, the deafening roar of a jackhammer reverberated from morning till night.
In a corner unseen by the workers, a fat ghost looked on in worry.
‘Slow down, slow down... careful not to shatter my skull...’
The tiles and flooring of the media room had long been pried up, and the layers of reinforced concrete were being stripped away by machines. The once-elegant room was now covered in yellow earth and dust.
Finally, a shout arose from below.
“We found the head!”
Moments later, several workers climbed out of the deep pit one after another.
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After paying the workers and handing each a red envelope for good luck, Manager Chen Xu sent them on their way.
“Miss Bai, are you saying this severed head is the cause of the haunting in the villa district?”
Beside them, Fat Ghost Zhou Yang cursed repeatedly: ‘You’re the severed head! Your whole family are severed heads!’
Bai Xian laughed heartily, ignoring Zhou Yang’s outburst.
“That’s right. Once we reunite this head with its body, the hauntings at Victoria Bay will resolve themselves.”
Taking up the prepared wooden box, Bai Xian jumped into the pit. Soon, she had Zhou Yang’s head packed away and brought it out.
Chen Xu covered his mouth for a long time, finally unable to hold back—he rushed out of the basement and vomited by the wall.
“Miss... Miss Bai, you really are something. You can actually... hold it in... ugh...”
“Is it really that bad?” Bai Xian wrinkled her nose; admittedly, the smell was a bit much.
“Ugh...”
Zhou Yang gave an embarrassed laugh, then tenderly stroked the head in the box. Smelly as it was, it was still his own.
With the head finally recovered, and guided by the Fat Ghost, Bai Xian found Zhou Yang’s new burial site and quickly contacted his family.
They were a woman in her thirties and a half-grown boy.
When she learned why Bai Xian had come, the woman’s face first showed anger at being insulted, then shifted to shock and joy.
Her husband had died in an accident at work. The company and insurance had treated them fairly, paying enough to raise the child. But when their old home was demolished, Zhou Yang’s grave was accidentally disturbed. Farmland became housing, the burial hill became villas, but Zhou Yang’s head was never recovered.
Years passed, and the family had given up hope—until one day, a young woman returned the missing head.
There’s little need to describe the process of verification. Afterward came the opening of the coffin and the reburial.
Watching the woman and her son weeping at the new grave, Zhou Yang’s lips curved into a smile, though tears silently traced down his cheeks.
“Now you can rest easy and be reborn.”
“Yes. I never imagined my son would be so big. Thanks to you, I got to see them one last time before leaving... it’s wonderful.”
As he spoke, Zhou Yang’s body grew transparent, fading until nothing remained but a nail-sized, translucent crystal orb where he’d stood.
Sensing something, the woman looked in their direction.
Bai Xian bent to pick up the “Ghost Tear,” nodded gently to the woman, then turned and left the cemetery.