HLnovel Chapter 991 Mouth 1
Chapter 991 Mouth 1
The man who came was Wang Fugui. He walked in with a few servants and holding torches. Wang Fugui was overjoyed when he saw the scene in the cave. He thought Lin Feng had solved all the troubles and couldn't wait to find out the family secrets. Lin Feng warned Wang Fugui that there were many dangers here and advised him not to try it rashly. But Wang Fugui was blinded by the benefits and didn't listen to Lin Feng's advice at all. Wang Fugui searched everywhere in the cave and finally found a stone door in a corner. There were some strange patterns engraved on the stone door. Wang Fugui asked someone to push the stone door open. Behind the door was a secret room. There was a huge box in the secret room. Wang Fugui ran over excitedly and opened the box. The box did not contain the gold and silver treasures he imagined, but an ancient book emitting light. Wang Fugui had just picked up the ancient book when suddenly, a sinister laugh rang out in the secret room. A black shadow floated out of the darkness. It turned out to be an evil ghost who had been practicing for many years. The evil spirit, upon seeing the ancient book in Wang Fugui's hand, glowered with greed. It opened its bloody maw and lunged at Wang Fugui. Wang Fugui collapsed to the ground in terror, and the servants fled in all directions. Seeing this, Lin Feng struggled to his feet. Ignoring the pain of his wounds, he once again unleashed his Maoshan magic. He engaged the evil spirit in a fierce battle. The demon was incredibly powerful, and Lin Feng gradually began to lose his resistance. Just as Lin Feng was facing difficulties, he suddenly remembered that ancient books might contain information on how to deal with the demon. While he fought the demon, he asked Wang Fugui to consult the book. Wang Fugui frantically flipped through the book and finally found a passage on how to deal with the demon. Following the instructions in the book, he chanted an incantation, and a beam of light shot out from the book in his hand, piercing the demon. The demon, struck by the light, let out a shrill cry, and its body began to dissipate. Finally, the demon was completely destroyed, and the danger in the cave was temporarily averted. Lin Feng told Wang Fugui that this ancient book contained great power and must not fall into the hands of evil people. After this shock, Wang Fugui also realized his mistake.
On the Ghost Festival of the 13th year of the Republic of China, a drizzling autumn rain fell across the city of Peking. The Juxian Opera House in the south of the city had just closed, and the troupe's owner, Zhao Changgeng, was squatting on the threshold, counting the costumes, when he suddenly heard a humming voice from backstage. The voice was shrill and melodious, like the Cheng school's "The Peony Pavilion," but Xiao Taohong, the female role in the troupe, had already returned to the countryside to visit her relatives. "Who's in there?" Zhao Changgeng stood up, clutching his pipe. The wind blew against the lantern at the entrance of the stage, stretching his shadow far out. A dim light filtered through the wooden lattice windows backstage, and a figure in a crimson costume could be vaguely seen gesturing before a mirror. He was about to take a step when the night watchman, Old Wang, grabbed his arm and said, "Boss Zhao, this theater is full of evil. Last year on this day, Zhang, the martial artist from the Qing Dynasty, died backstage." Zhao Changgeng spat out his pipe and said, "I've lived for forty-five years. What kind of monsters and demons haven't I seen?" He pushed Old Wang's hand away and just as he lifted the cotton curtain backstage, a gust of cold air hit him. The rouge and powder were neatly arranged on the dressing table, but the brass mirror reflected a pale-faced woman, waving her sleeves at the air. "Which troupe are you from?" Zhao Changgeng asked bravely. The figure in the mirror slowly turned around. Her light red costume was stained with dark brown stains, and a half-broken silver hairpin was stuck in her bun. She grinned, her mouth stretched to her ears, revealing two rows of black and yellow teeth. "Boss Zhao, don't you recognize me? Last year on this day, you pushed me into the river with your own hands." Zhao Changgeng's pipe fell to the ground with a clang. That face was unmistakably Su Lianfang, the opera singer who had drowned in the river six months prior—the famous Peking opera singer and his future wife. Three days later, news of the Juxian Opera House's closure spread throughout Peking. Some said troupe leader Zhao had been possessed and driven mad, while others claimed something unclean was buried beneath the theater. On the morning of the seventh day, a young man in a blue Taoist robe knocked on the theater's wooden door. He carried a wicker box with yellow talismans on his back, and a three-inch-long peach wood sword at his waist. "I'm Lingyun, a disciple of Taoist Master Qingxuan of Maoshan," the young man said, his eyes etched with youthful energy. "I heard there's an evil spirit haunting this place, so I've come to help." Zhao Changgeng, huddled in a corner, his hair and beard a tangle, suddenly fell to his knees upon seeing Lingyun's Taoist robe. "Master, save me! That female ghost haunts me every day, demanding my life!" Lingyun crouched down and pulled a compass from his arms. The hands spun frantically on the dial, finally pointing backstage. "She harbors immense resentment, and I'm afraid she died inexplicably." He took out a yellow talisman and drew a soul-calming charm on it with a cinnabar pen. "Tonight, at midnight, watch how I take her away." The theater was exceptionally quiet after dark, with only the sound of rain hitting the tiles. Ling Yun set up an altar in the center of the stage. On it lay three sticks of incense, a bowl of sticky rice, and a pair of scissors stained with black dog blood. Zhao Changgeng hid behind the side curtain, his hands clutching the corners of his clothes dripping with sweat. Just as midnight struck, there was a sudden sound of clashing pearls and jade from backstage, and then the female ghost in the bright red costume floated to the stage entrance. "Another Taoist priest seeking death." The ghost's voice was like scraping glass, and the lanterns on both sides of the stage suddenly went out simultaneously. Ling Yun took out the peach wood sword calmly, pointing the tip of the sword directly at the female ghost: "Su Lianfang, your life span is over, why do you stay in the human world?" The female ghost laughed shrilly, and her water-red costume became tattered in an instant, revealing a bloody hole in her chest: "I died unjustly! If Zhao Changgeng hadn't been greedy for my money, how could he have pushed me into the river?" Zhao Changgeng trembled behind the side curtain: "I didn't! You wanted to run away with the martial artist in the troupe, so I argued with you!" The female ghost turned her head abruptly, and her eyes covered by her long hair shot out red Guang: "You still dare to quibble? That box of gold bars was clearly hidden beneath the theater, yet you claim I took it!" Ling Yun suddenly swung his sword, severing the red silk beside him. The moment it fell to the ground, he pulled a talisman from his pocket and taped it to the pillar: "Yin and Yang are different, and grudges must be resolved. Boss Zhao, tell the truth now, or she'll be vindictive and take your life sooner or later." Zhao Changgeng's lips trembled as he finally revealed the truth: last year during the Ghost Festival, he discovered Su Lianfang's hidden stash of gold bars and, during an argument, accidentally pushed her into the river. To conceal his tracks, he buried the gold bars beneath the stage overnight, claiming only that Su Lianfang had absconded with the money. "I see," Ling Yun nodded, pulling a clay pot from a rattan box. "Su Lianfang, if you're willing to let go of your obsession, I'll offer you salvation. If you persist, don't blame me for using the soul-calming pot to capture you." The female ghost stared at the central floor tiles of the stage and suddenly smiled sadly.