That night, in a small grove on the outskirts of town, it was me, Brother Xiang, Han Sifan, and Uncle Cong hauling a small table and a bunch of ghost-catching tools.  

“I’ve already calculated the birthdate and eight characters of this vengeful ghost. In a moment, I’ll open the altar and summon her over. Then, just follow the plan I explained earlier. If there’s any illusion, Xiang, you figure out the way out. Xiao Fan, you subdue her. And then, Xiao Hui, you’ll chant the Wang Sheng Zhou to guide her to peace. I won’t help. Not because of some lame ‘trial’ excuse, but because this is a mess you caused yourselves—it’s up to you to clean it up. Now, let’s begin!”  

In the center of the grove was a clearing. We placed the small wooden table there, and Uncle Cong changed into a yellow Taoist robe. He draped a yellow cloth over the table, placed an incense burner in the middle, and set two peach-wood swords on either side of it.  

Uncle Cong held three sticks of incense, bowed toward Chongqing, and recited, “Yao Hong, born in the year of Yi Hai, Ding Mao month, Jia Wu day, Shen hour.” After he finished, he respectfully inserted the incense into the burner. Then, he picked up a peach-wood sword and started moving in a peculiar dance—the Seven-Star Astral Step.  

“One stroke moves heaven and earth, connecting the three pure realms above, responding to the heart below.  

Two strokes summon the ancestral masters, commanding great deities and dispatching their armies.  

Three strokes banish calamities and evils—no ghost dares appear, no fiend dares oppose. Yao Hong, where are you?”  

After finishing the chant, Uncle Cong took out a yellow talisman, lit it with a lighter, and tossed it into the air. The talisman ignited and floated upward, burning steadily without falling. When it had completely burned away and vanished into the night sky, a sudden chilly wind swept through the grove.  

I turned around and saw a woman in a red dress with disheveled hair standing amidst the trees, watching us from a distance.  

“She’s here. Now it’s all up to you.” Uncle Cong, seeing the ghost, pressed a talisman to his chest and sat down cross-legged, ignoring us completely.  

Brother Xiang grabbed one of the peach-wood swords from the altar and yelled, “What are you standing around for? Let’s take her down!”  

He charged straight at the vengeful ghost. Just as Han Sifan and I were about to move, the surroundings suddenly shifted. In the blink of an eye, we found ourselves in a room about fifty square meters in size, bathed in an orange-red hue.  

What was utterly disgusting was that the walls, ceiling, and even the floor were covered in densely packed eyeballs, staring blankly at us. The ground beneath our feet had a sickening elasticity, making my skin crawl.  

“Brother Xiang! Quickly, figure it out!” I shouted.  

Brother Xiang nodded hastily and started calculating using a compass that Uncle Cong had given him. Meanwhile, gaps began appearing between the eyeballs on the walls. From those gaps, countless mouths emerged, their tongues long and sinuous, resembling those of hanged ghosts.  

Suddenly, my feet were entangled by several of these tongues, rendering me immobile. Han Sifan, on the other hand, wielded her peach-wood sword with precision, hacking at anything that moved. As for me, my hands and feet were quickly bound, the slimy tongues even licking my face. I could distinctly feel the disgusting saliva dripping down.  

“Damn it! This is too much!” I yelled. But the moment I opened my mouth, a tongue darted toward it. I shut my mouth tightly, my heart racing. At that moment, the only thought that crossed my mind was, If this were a girl ghost, it’d be somewhat bearable. But if it’s a guy ghost—damn, losing my first kiss to that? No way!

Han Sifan shouted at me, “Chen Hui, stop overthinking! This is all an illusion!”  

“An illusion, my foot! My legs can’t move at all!” I shouted back, struggling to lift my feet, but they wouldn’t budge.  

“These are all illusions. Those tongues make you feel restrained. Once your mind believes you can’t move, your motor nerves stop responding. Imagine instead that you’re surrounded by countless beauties who want to streak with you—that’ll fix it!”  

Having no better options, I decided to give her bizarre suggestion a try. Closing my eyes, I conjured up an army of “rescuers”: Aoi Sora, Maria Ozawa, and Takizawa Laura. In my mind, they were licking my face, embracing me, and leaning in for a kiss.  

Lo and behold, the oppressive sensations gradually faded away. When I opened my eyes, I was back in the grove! Han Sifan and Brother Xiang, however, were still trapped in their respective illusions.  

Uncle Cong, noticing my return to reality, exclaimed, “Wow, kid, your willpower’s something else. You broke free from the ghost’s illusion on your own. Remarkable!”  

I rubbed my face, which felt numb from all the licking, silently thanking my vivid imagination. From now on, anyone who says adult content entertainment harms the soul, I’ll be the first to argue otherwise—this stuff just saved my life!  

“I’m a natural talent. Don’t act so surprised,” I replied with a smug grin. Then I noticed the ghost’s long hair had enveloped Han Sifan and Brother Xiang, covering their eyes—clearly the source of her mesmerizing technique.  

Seeing Uncle Cong still sitting idly, I knew I couldn’t just stand by. I strode forward, ready to deal with the ghost myself.  

Since I hadn’t learned the Wang Sheng Zhou in just one day, Uncle Cong had given me an alternative—a song from his so-called “Three Hundred Benevolent Children’s Songs” collection, supposedly capable of purifying human souls.  

I began singing, “Child, child, why so naughty? Hurting, deceiving—why did you choose to be mean? Learn to be kind, caring, and loving. Let compassion paint your heart in bright colors…”  

Midway through my serenade, the ghost stopped tormenting Han Sifan and Brother Xiang, turning her piercing gaze toward me instead. She abandoned them and charged straight at me.  

“Oh, crap!” I rolled out of the way, narrowly dodging her attack. Unfortunately, I rolled right to her feet, giving her the perfect opportunity to grab my throat and lift me off the ground.  

Why do ghosts always choke people? And why does it always take forever for them to actually kill someone? Wouldn’t a quick strike be more efficient? Still, her delay bought precious time for my “teammates.”  

As I teetered between life and death, gasping for air, Brother Xiang leapt forward and tackled the ghost from behind. Han Sifan followed up with a sweeping kick that not only freed me but sent me sprawling onto the ground.  

Dazed and barely on my feet, I watched as Han Sifan pierced the ghost’s ghost gate—the spot between her brows—with a silver needle. She turned to me and shouted, “Hurry up and guide her fucking spirit! NOW!”