Chapter Sixty-Nine: Burning the Bone Altar

Gu Yangyu crouched on the ground, his eyes fixed on the crack in the earthen jar. Without lifting his head, he spoke solemnly, “Ma Lao, this may be more troublesome than we thought.”

Ma Lao’s expression changed, as if he had guessed something. “What do you mean? Did you foresee something else last night?”

“Dreams are always ambiguous,” Gu Yangyu replied. “At the end of last night’s dream, the ground suddenly split apart, and a child crawled out from within.” He paused. “I had an uneasy feeling before, but seeing this crack today has confirmed my suspicions.”

Ma Lao’s face darkened completely, understanding what Gu Yangyu was implying. “Something came out from inside and escaped.”

Gu Yangyu nodded.

“But that shouldn’t be possible! The ghost in the jar wasn’t mature enough to go far, and the ritual sacrifice was only performed the night before. The altar hadn’t even been opened yet. How could anything have escaped? When did it happen?” As Ma Lao spoke, a thought struck him and he looked at me.

Gu Yangyu also turned to look at me.

Since there was no chance for escape before, the only possible time was last night.

Last night! Could it be...

“Last night I asked you to keep watch. Did anything happen?” Ma Lao inquired.

“I’m afraid it escaped last night!” I replied.

I recounted everything that happened the previous night in detail.

Previously, I was confused by the woman’s words. But now, it’s clear she was after this ghost-refining jar! It’s hard to say whether she was the one performing the ritual.

After listening to my account, Ma Lao and Gu Yangyu were both shocked.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner!” Ma Lao shouted angrily, his eyes wide.

“I tried to wake you last night, but you didn’t respond. This morning when I got up, you were already gone.” I wanted to tell him earlier, but by the time I arrived, the jar had already been dug up. Everyone’s attention was on the jar, leaving no chance to speak.

“No wonder there were faint traces of cinnabar on the ground this morning,” Gu Yangyu commented.

Cinnabar? I glanced outside. The powder the woman scattered last night had already been washed away by the rain.

Ma Lao’s anger did not subside. “You fool! You were blinded by lust! That girl was probably the ritualist. Not only did you let the ghost escape, you let a murderer get away!”

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“I didn’t know she was a killer, and even if I did, I couldn’t have stopped her,” I retorted. That woman obviously had some skill, and she already had a life on her hands—she wouldn’t care about one more.

“Bah! You were blinded by lust!” Ma Lao was projecting his own mindset, utterly unreasonable.

I didn’t bother arguing any further. “Things are as they are. What do we do next?”

“What else can we do? Tonight we’ll be busy! Call that young police officer and tell him about the woman in detail! Tonight we’ll search in the direction the ghost left. It couldn’t have gotten far in one night. If this thing matures, it’ll be a disaster. We must find it, or there will be endless trouble!” Ma Lao declared.

He turned to Gu Yangyu. “Gu, contact Mr. Meng and have him prepare firewood and gasoline. Find a spot far from people and burn this thing!”

Gu Yangyu nodded and went to carry out the instructions.

With everything arranged, Ma Lao cast a furious glance at me, as if all this was my fault.

I was puzzled—how could this be blamed on me? Did he really think I could have prevented all this single-handedly?

After a while, Meng Chengde had everything ready, and the chosen site was not far from the elementary school. Just follow the path along the school’s wall and you’d arrive. They moved the supplies over straight away.

Ma Lao, intent on making things difficult for me, tried to have me carry the jar. Gu Yangyu, seeing this, picked it up himself. And he really just “picked” it up! He looked refined, but he was surprisingly strong, lifting it easily with strength to spare.

Ma Lao gave me a disdainful look and snorted.

I shot him a sidelong glance, wondering if he was annoyed because last night I played the hero and won favor with the beauty, leaving him out of the limelight.

Once the jar was placed on the clearing, Meng Chengde and the others had everything else ready. The rain had lessened and wouldn’t hinder the burning.

Ma Lao had me help stack the firewood. Each piece was solid and sturdy, burning long and hot. I wondered where they had sourced it.

Once the firewood was stacked, it was doused with gasoline. The jar was placed on top, and Gu Yangyu brought over a large stone.

Ma Lao handed me a lighter, holding the gasoline himself. “In a moment, Gu will smash the jar. After I pour the gasoline, Luozi, you light it immediately. Don’t hesitate. Understood?”

I nodded in response.

All was prepared. Gu Yangyu raised the stone and smashed it down onto the jar, which, aged by years, broke open with a loud crack. A pungent stench instantly filled the air. Inside, the contents were a dark mass, mixed with fragments of bone.

Ma Lao quickly poured gasoline over it, and as soon as he was done, I pressed the lighter and tossed it onto the pile without hesitation.

The fire erupted, engulfing the jar. Amid the roaring flames, it seemed as though anguished cries echoed, but upon careful listening, there was no sound. The foul stench grew more complex in the heat, spreading with the smoke.

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Covering my nose, I turned away and walked to the side, no longer watching the flames.

Suddenly, I noticed snack wrappers on the ground and glanced around. There were quite a few wrappers, likely because elementary students often played here. There were not only the path we came from, but two other small paths leading in different directions.

A thought struck me, and I asked Lao Ding, “Which path did you take to get here?”

Lao Ding pointed to the middle path. “We came through that one—it’s a shortcut, straight from the roadside.”

A shortcut? I pondered this and walked along the middle path, scanning my surroundings.

Something caught my eye—something had fallen in the grass.

Crouching down, I picked it up. It was a school ID card, made of PVC, so the rain hadn’t damaged it. The photo on it was of the son from the family where Ma Lao and I had stayed!

Below the photo, the name read: Duan Tianqi, fourth grade.

A grand name. But why was his ID card here? It was in good condition, so it must have been dropped recently. The boy’s house was next door to Lao Ding’s. Since Lao Ding said this was a shortcut, it was likely a shortcut for the boy as well, and he probably came here often.

“What did you find?” Lao Ding asked.

“Nothing, just looking around.” I replied, wiping the water from the card and slipping it into my jacket pocket.

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