Chapter 23
Chapter 23
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 23
Chapter Title: Why Are You Worshipping the Ghost Gate Killer? (1)
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Night deepens, and it's darkest just before dawn.
The time when yin energy grows strong and yang energy weakens.
In other words, the perfect time to unleash a retaliatory curse.
"Huu...."
Right in front of me was a wraith that couldn't move a muscle.
Behind me stood the old men.
I could feel their eyes on the candles lit around us.
"Now, all preparations are complete..."
I had pasted talismans all across the floor in every direction.
These could be considered protective talismans.
Because unleashing a retaliatory curse meant I could take a hit too.
I took a deep breath.
"Haa...."
From here on, I needed to steel my mind.
I had to shoulder all these overflowing grudges...
Grabbing the rattle sent spiritual energy buzzing through me.
I hadn't even fully accepted it into my body yet, but my head was already noisy from the grudges.
"What a mess..."
Impure energies flowed out from the wraith.
It was an incredibly tightly packed energy.
That clumped energy was called sal.
Now, I would unravel that sal.
"Let's perform a salpul-i."
I lifted the rattle and shook it once.
Ding-a-lang—
Calming my mind, I followed the rattle's sound.
Ding-a-lang—
Spiritual energies began gathering in my head.
It was a natural flow following the rattle and the ritual.
Surrendering my body to the movement, various scenes took root in my mind.
"You died so unjustly..."
Ding-a-lang—
My breath choked off.
No—the sensation of choking.
Something was lodged in my throat, blocking my air.
Faint scenes flashed through my mind.
Ding-a-lang—
I saw a figure cloaked entirely in a pitch-black robe.
Unfortunately, Hans couldn't die right away.
When his breath was cut off and darkness closed in, the blockage in his throat would release, granting sweet air.
I felt the mounting terror of death.
Over and over, teetering between life and death, his will to survive grew fiercer.
The instant the doll before his eyes was trampled and thoughts of the child arose, his wrist was severed.
"It's not greed. I just wanted to live..."
They had twisted that into filthy avarice.
Words laced with pity spilled from my lips unbidden.
"Tsk tsk..."
My connection to the wraith's emotions deepened.
"I'll take it all, so cast it onto me."
The moment our eyes met, my breath choked again.
Even in death, it writhed in this agony.
For show, I drew in a deep breath and exhaled loudly.
"Haa... haa.."
The point wasn't my breathing—it was for the witnesses.
Right now, I was breathing in Hans's stead.
"Haa.... So refreshing! So clear!"
Ding-a-lang—
My inner perspective drifted infinitely far.
Our thoughts mingled so thoroughly I couldn't distinguish mine from the wraith's.
I felt like myself, observing everything, yet also like a venerable elder.
"Is the breathing easier now?"
I drew every last grudge into myself.
In an instant, the grudges overwhelmed my mind.
Everything in sight felt like it belonged to me.
Even the stone on the floor.
"Tsk tsk..."
Still a long way to go.
I'd only pulled in the greed so far—the curse nestled within was just beginning.
Something seeped into my body.
This must be the mana necromancers wielded.
My eyes burned bloodshot.
Heat flared around them.
"The wicked rampage unchecked."
Negative energies.
Madness so dense it deserved the name ghostly qi.
Ding-a-lang—
I levitated, shaking off the energies.
Ding-a-lang—
Ding-a-lang—
Body growing heavy, mind fogging, yet I kept shaking the rattle.
Hatred and rage filled me to bursting.
These had twisted Hans's soul into a malevolent spirit.
Ding-a-lang—
Hans's soul watched my every action.
In his place, I vented the fury.
Vented the hatred, wrenched free the curse choking his throat.
"No wonder you ended up like this, suffocating so."
Would this form please Hans's heart?
My chest eased.
The lodged, indigested grudges unraveled.
"It's not even your grudge. Don't cling—let it go."
Ding-a-lang—
Shaking the rattle, I guided the ghostly qi.
Mana meant for Hans flowed into me instead.
The curse anchor's target had switched.
Shoooo—
As Hans's form blurred, stabbing pain pierced my chest.
Words rose to my lips, but I swallowed them.
I turned from the evil emotions seizing my mind, forsaking divination.
"Haa... haa..."
I had to endure completely.
This struggle, this victory through endurance—that's what Hans's soul craved.
Ding-a-lang—
Ding-a-lang—
Relentlessly, I shook the rattle and levitated.
Shaking violently, as if repelling all.
My spiritual energies chased the mana into the curse anchor.
I shoved every grudge there, standing in for Hans.
The instant all impure energies were expelled.
I swung my hand, severing the flow.
"Haa... haa... So vicious. Utterly vicious."
The stone before me now embodied the curse itself.
Brimming with wayward mana and sal.
Just like the wraith had been moments ago.
Thud—
I pulled seeds from my pocket and scattered them on the floor.
I laid the rattle atop them.
"Stand."
The moment the word ended, the rattle's rod shot straight up.
"I'll find your path, so rest inside a moment."
Hans's form had faded to mist.
Grudges and sal released, the wraith's flesh was dissolving.
But I couldn't erase it entirely.
Regrettably, until I found a method, it had to remain in wraith state.
Shoooo—
Hans's body flowed along the rattle into the seeds.
"Huu..."
I fetched a bottle, gathered the seeds, and poured them in.
Rolled a talisman tight and bound the bottle—it looked convincing enough.
These would stand in for Hans's body for the time being.
"You rotten scum."
Only now could I breathe freely.
My head, tangled with Hans, cleared cleanly.
"This damn fate of mine..."
Now for the finale.
Turning, I saw the two old men staring with inscrutable expressions.
Well, I'd shaken my white hair while doing all manner of bizarre acts...
And fully embracing a malevolent ghost's grudges wouldn't have been a pretty sight.
"Parmon old timer, lend me that hammer and chisel from carving."
Unlike his usual grin, the old man's face was rigid.
"...Fine."
"Not possessed or anything—smile a bit. You're embarrassing me..."
The old man, mouth opening for words, clamped it shut and offered his hand.
Hammer and a nail-like chisel.
"Perfect fit."
Time to repay what I'd received.
I pressed a talisman to the black stone.
"Sin demands punishment."
I drove the chisel through the talisman.
Then hoisted the hammer high and slammed it down.
Thwack—
An odd sound, ill-suited to metal on stone.
More like striking flesh.
"What a foul handfeel."
Thwack—
Infusing spiritual energy, I hammered relentlessly.
The talisman sank deep into the stone; one final blow shattered it.
Crack—
Sal within the fragments lost direction.
Destinationless sal would boomerang to its caster.
"This is karma."
Strength ebbed from my limbs.
Every ritual left me wrecked; the future boded ill.
Time to start exercising...
Yet with no lingering unease, the ritual had succeeded.
Sensing the end, the old men approached with Irene.
"Did you accomplish what you intended?"
"Seems like it."
Parmon old timer offered a handkerchief.
"Then wipe your face."
"Pardon?"
"Didn't notice again, huh... Your face is drenched in blood."
Blood?
Had I vomited blood?
Overwhelming energies often drew blood.
Dealing with malevolent ghosts made it routine.
I wiped my mouth—no blood.
"Not there."
Not mouth—perhaps a facial gash.
I'd thrashed so wildly...
"...."
Parmon old timer's face hardened utterly.
Just like our first meeting.
"Not the mouth—the eyes. You wept blood..."
"Ah... so that's the heat..."
Eyes had burned earlier; they'd bled.
A shaman's lot was never gentle.
"Damn it..."
Rubbing my cheek with the handkerchief soaked it crimson.
"Mr. Jake, report time approaches."
"I know."
Torches flickered in the dim underground chamber.
A dozen or so moved at the command of the man called Jake.
"Any snag in this plan means death for all."
The grim decree made them shudder.
They'd witnessed it several times.
Comrades reduced to undead, trapped betwixt life and death.
That instant.
Changes seized Jake.
"Gahk...!"
"...Mr. Jake?"
Jake's feral eyes fixed on the necromancers.
"Bl... blood from the eyes!"
Jake convulsed, gasping for air.
Gurgling, his mouth gaped.
"Gahk...! Sa... save...!"
The sudden torment froze them.
As if signaling, Jake's mouth yawned again.
"Cu... curse magic! Qu... quickly, on me...!"
Jake raised his arms, fingers twisting into seals.
But the mudra never formed.
His right hand dangled limp.
Not just that.
No matter the mana surge, the curse defied dispel.
Soon, eyes rolled white, Jake lunged at the necromancers.
"All...! All mine!"
"St... stop him!!"
Magicless charge subdued in a blink by necromancer spells.
Jake's body locked rigid.
"...Mr. Jake?"
One necromancer neared.
"....."
Blood streamed from Jake's mouth and eyes.
Unfocused gaze whirled madly, scouring every corner.
The very picture of a raving madman.