Chapter Fifty-Seven: The Bowl of Blood

Emptiness, weakness, and a sensation as though my consciousness was about to be torn apart. The fullness I’d felt after consuming that ghost had vanished completely. Aside from these feelings, I sensed another instinct—an urge to seize a ghost and take a deep, satisfying breath.

Whispers drifted around me—voices of Granny Li, Old Master Wang, and Wang Erjun. I couldn’t make out what they were saying; the hunger in my awareness had reached its peak, pushing me to suddenly open my eyes and raise my head.

I was lying in the main hall, but beneath me were soft grass mats, covered by sheets. Wang Erjun crouched nearby, clutching a bowl and eating continuously. After a few bites, he would ask, “Grandpa, is Xie Yuan really okay? Why is he still trembling?”

The moment I sat up, Wang Erjun nearly choked, pounding his chest until he managed to swallow. “Xie Yuan—he’s awake!”

Old Master Wang, pacing at the doorway, turned sharply at Erjun’s cry, his face alight with excitement as he hurried to my side—reverent, thrilled, and exhilarated. Even without words, I could sense these emotions radiating from him.

“Master…” Old Master Wang took a deep breath.

When he and Granny Li had knelt before me earlier, I knew he had made up his mind. He had already decided that I was his master reborn, without a shred of doubt. Previously, he had refrained from saying anything for fear of affecting me. But after I used the talisman and spoke that phrase, he became resolute.

Yet, I still found it hard to accept. First, Old Master Wang didn’t know the truth; second, there was a vast age gap between us. Most importantly, he had waited faithfully all those years—I was not the person he’d been waiting for.

I clenched the sheet, my voice raspy as I asked, “Grandpa, why do you call me that?”

His face stiffened, but his tone remained respectful. “Master, you haven’t remembered everything yet. Right now, your memories of the Dao are returning. I’ve preserved all your belongings from back then. Once you see them, you’ll recall me.”

“I have waited for so many years; please don’t ask me to change how I address you. The titles I used before have left me restless and uneasy.”

His words struck me deeply. Old Master Wang spoke with such earnestness, leaving no room for negotiation. What’s more, I felt an instinct within myself—his form of address felt familiar, and I didn’t want to reject it outright.

These clashing impulses left me speechless for a long time. My silence made Old Master Wang visibly anxious. Wang Erjun, meanwhile, seemed dumbfounded, staring at me, then at Old Master Wang, before running to Granny Li’s side and asking, trembling, “Granny, what’s happening? Why does Grandpa treat Xie Yuan like this, calling him master?”

Granny Li’s expression remained complex as she looked at me. Unlike Old Master Wang, her eyes showed neither reverence nor awe; instead, I detected a hint of resistance, and beneath it, fear.

Was it me that frightened her, or was it the soul that had entered my mother and been consumed by me that she feared?

I frowned, wrestling with my conflicting thoughts for several minutes before finally suppressing the stronger impulse.

“Grandpa, you don’t need to insist. I’ve seen some things, but right now, I am still Xie Yuan. All I know is that you are Old Master Wang of Wang Family Slope, Erjun’s elder, Granny Li’s uncle, and my mother’s dearest friend. My mother is still waiting for me at home—I cannot let you call me this, and if she sees it, how am I to face her?”

“Granny and Erjun are here as well. How should I face them?”

My voice was hoarse. I looked at Old Master Wang with the gaze of a junior to an elder, concealing what my mother had told me and telling him I knew nothing.

Old Master Wang was visibly stunned, a struggle flickering in his eyes. He glanced at my mother’s body on the floor and hesitated.

Granny Li, meanwhile, visibly relaxed. Erjun’s anxiety eased as well.

“Uncle Wang, don’t force Xie Yuan. He’s still a child—even if he remembers something, it’s bound to be fragmented. You said yourself, one talisman pen isn’t enough; if there’s any decision to be made, it should wait until we leave Hundred Household Village.”

Old Master Wang’s inner struggle intensified, but after a moment, he spoke in a low voice. “I was too impatient… Your mother does not wish to see me—I should have realized…”

He sighed.

I smiled, my tone lightening. “Grandpa, the pen my mother gave me taught me that talisman. Now we’re more confident in dealing with Liu the Funeral Keeper and the Yinborn child.”

After all, Old Master Wang had lived nearly a century and controlled his emotions far better than I could. Still, he neither addressed me as a child or by my name, nor called me master again. That reverence in his eyes remained, though subdued.

“Yes, our chances are much better now. The Shock Talisman is exceedingly powerful and domineering. The talisman must be drawn with blood, and its strength depends on the soul of the one who draws it. The talisman you used destroyed dozens of ghosts, proving your soul is already strong, far beyond ordinary people.”

He sounded genuinely pleased.

“Since Liu the Funeral Keeper has come for us and is acting in the shadows, we should confront him directly. That evil ghost became a young man because he absorbed all the dissipated Yin energy—this is when he is strongest. Both Xiaohua and I can restrain him.”

“I’ve never met Liu the Funeral Keeper, but Xiaohua has. Judging by his current behavior, he only knows a few underhanded tricks and forbidden arts.”

“Otherwise, he would have caught the Yinborn child long ago, not resorted to these methods.”

“So, let’s go find them.”

Old Master Wang narrowed his eyes. Earlier, he’d said without my mother, we couldn’t resolve the affairs of Hundred Household Village. Now, his attitude had changed dramatically. I knew clearly this was because I’d learned the Shock Talisman.

A surge of excitement and suppressed joy rose within me. After all the fear I’d felt toward Liu the Funeral Keeper…

He had done so much to my family behind the scenes, ruined us, destroyed our home. Now, at last, I could confront him, avenge my family face-to-face!

At that moment, Granny Li approached, her expression returning to its former gentleness, even more serene than before.

“Child, soon you’ll need to do something. To find Liu the Funeral Keeper, we need someone’s help—you must find that person.”

Her way of addressing me felt perfectly natural, and an intuition told me Granny Li didn’t want the one Old Master Wang awaited to awaken.

Old Master Wang frowned, but said nothing to her.

I took a deep breath and asked Granny Li who we needed.

As soon as I spoke, I felt a jolt within. Summoning souls requires a blood relative or someone with a deep connection—like how I summoned my mother’s soul. Previously, Mr. Wang had used Erjun’s slingshot for the same purpose.

Granny Li paused, then produced a garment stained with dark, brownish blood at the sleeves and abdomen. Her voice was solemn: “This is the bloodied clothing from Gray Aunt’s daughter’s birth, with fetal blood. She died right after giving birth. It will ensure the summoning succeeds.”

Thinking of Gray Aunt, my heart twisted. Her death was tragic—her own father had used her, she was pitiful beyond measure. Even after death, she helped me, loyal to my family.

I nodded, my voice hoarse. “Alright.”

I reached for the blood-soaked garment, feeling a chilling aura enter my body.

Old Master Wang stood and said the ritual would be prepared in the courtyard.

Suddenly, Erjun cried out in terror, “Grandpa! Granny Li! Look in the courtyard! What is that?”

My heart skipped a beat. I turned to look. Old Master Wang and Granny Li looked as well.

At some point, a bowl of blood had appeared in the courtyard. Floating above it was a stick of incense, unlit yet emitting smoke—and the smoke was blood-red.

Old Master Wang’s expression changed drastically, and he rushed toward the bowl, shouting, “Xiaohua, hurry and seal the corpse’s mouth and nose!”

My face changed; the only corpse in the courtyard was my mother’s.

Was this bowl of blood meant for her? Yet she was only a corpse—her soul was not here.