"Today, I will prove everyone wrong… they are afraid of nothing," a young man muttered.
The temple of Yún Xi was silent and forgotten. Darkness pressed into its corners, the lantern barely holding it at bay.
Suddenly, the wind shifted. Dust settled, heavy with the metallic scent of iron. Something wet touched his cheek. He brought his fingers to it.
Blood.
When he blinked, it was only water.
He swallowed hard and gripped the lantern tightly.
Then came the feeling—someone was behind him. Or around him. A cold shiver ran down his spine. A faint red glow flickered behind him.
A man's figure. Long hair unbound, flowing deliberately in the air.
He blinked, and the figure vanished, leaving only silence. "Probably a misunderstanding…" he whispered nervously, a chuckle betraying his fear. "Guǐ never exist."
He stepped deeper into the temple.
A faint murmuring filled the hall, fast and unclear, like a dark incantation. The words seemed to whisper:
"I cannot have him! But I want him! Why can I not have him?! What was my sin?!"
Then, faintly, a guqin played. But how? The temple was empty.
Even more deadly than the sound was the silence that followed—sharp as a knife cutting through fabric.
"Is… anybody here? Show yourself!" he called, eyes scanning the shadows.
Silence.
Then a voice:
"What if you have heard it right… but understood it wrong?"
The young man froze.
The voice was too close, too real. He turned—and saw nothing at first.
Then he saw him. The one hunting the air itself.
A man in red, black blood dripping from his chest. Old and terrible. A walking corpse, eyes as dark as night. His head tilted slightly, hair concealing half his face.
"Are you going to marry me… or stab me in the heart?"
The young man forgot to breathe. His throat tightened. His heartbeat seemed to leave his body, stolen by the spirit's single glare.
Outside, a scream tore through the night, shaking the town.
"NO!! LET ME GO!!"
An old woman covered her grandchildren's ears, eyes fixed on the empty sky. "Another blood rain…" she whispered.
A heavy bell tolled, announcing tragedy.
"Alas! We are saddened to report that Chóng Yǐn Kùmsūn, son of Chóng Féng, has perished at the hands of the red-robed guǐ! May he rest in peace!" the announcement echoed.
Half the remaining townsfolk gathered outside the temple.
Chóng Yǐn, who had mocked the citizens' beliefs, now lay pale, bloody, and broken. His head rested on a white cloth, chest hollow where his heart once beat. The flesh was dried as a riverbed; bones were visible like mummies of Egypt.
"Th-That… spirit… no… THAT CRUEL… FUCKING CURSED GHOST… killed my son! What did he do wrong?!" Chóng Féng cried, clutching the corpse, face red with grief and rage.
"Féng Gōngzǐ! Control yourself! You cannot touch a corpse killed by the spirit—"
"Its next victim may be you!" others called, holding him back.
"We need not only an experienced exorcist… someone whose kindness feels safe but stabs deep… an unbreakable soul… who will not flee," one man said, eyes wide with desperate determination.
The father froze, staring at the young man as if he had spoken something forbidden.
He grabbed him by the collar. "It might be the tenth… or hundredth time we have hoped for this!" His tone was more threat than reminder. "So many exorcists have died hopelessly… each attempt only makes the spirit crueler! I have only one son left alive! Will he be sacrificed like my other sons too? You think I am enjoying it?! I do not summon everyone just because of this blood rain."
Others listened in silence, knowing nobody had been able to seal the red-robed spirit.
Who would dare now? Who had the courage, the kindness, the unbreakable soul?
"Lìngxiāo Gōngzǐ…" someone breathed.
Everyone froze, staring at the young man, skeptical if he was offering false hope.
"What did you say?" Chóng Féng asked, stepping closer, eyes unreadable.
"Yes. You heard me right," the man replied. "I believe he can help us."
Before Chóng Féng could speak, someone said:
"Then he may be our last hope! Invite Lìngxiāo Gōngzǐ to our city! We may greet him with everything we have!"
Others echoed the hope, chanting.
"Lìngxiāo Gōngzǐ's kindness may kill the curse and bring back the lanterns to dark Yún Xi!"
Chóng Féng tightened his jaw, sighing, eyes twisted. "As if I do not know him…" He mumbled before turning away. "Do as you wish. Boys, bring my son's corpse back to the clan."
A man suggested, "The body can help for investigation."
Chóng Féng glanced at him, red-eyed but dry of tears. They agreed.
There was no other choice.
**
Far away from Yún Xi, in a quiet town called Yuè Shì…
The air here was peaceful—unlike the chaos that haunted Yún Xi. Yet inside one humble household, a small family waited in terror, clinging to their last hope.
"Lìngxiāo Gōngzǐ… please save my daughter. She has gone mad—possessed… I will pay you anything, just bring her back." The father bowed deeply, forehead nearly touching his hands.
His wife stood beside him, trembling, their young son clutching her legs with wide, terrified eyes.
Lìngxiāo smiled.
A smile that felt kind… yet strangely unsettling.
He caught the father's hands and lifted him upright. "No need to bow. She will be fine. As long as I am here, nothing will go wrong."
The man nodded, relieved yet still unsure.
Lìngxiāo then focused on the boy. His smile brightened as he knelt down, his hand reaching to pat his head.
"You are worried for your shījiě, are you not, little lantern? Do not be. Just trust me—I will protect her."
The child stared… then suddenly cried out into terrified sobs.
Because coiled around Lìngxiāo's shoulder was a curse—its crimson eyes staring straight at him, twisted lips curled into a chilling laugh only the boy could see.
The boy hid behind his mother, shaking.
"M-mō… behind… behind him…"
The father paled. He saw nothing there.
"Oh, that?" Lìngxiāo chuckled lightly. "He is my friend. He does not hurt… anyone."
His smile remained.
But then—
In one swift motion, he seized the curse by the neck, squeezing until it gasped and writhed.
Expression unchanged, as if violence was his second nature.
He flung the curse into the room where the daughter was confined.
"Do not scare people for fun," he hissed, voice dipping just a little. "Check on the girl."
The curse scrambled inside and vanished into shadow.
Lìngxiāo stood, brushing dust from his robe. He moved to enter the room but before closing the door, he peeked back with the same pleasant expression. The curse crawled once again over his shoulder.
"Trust me," he repeated softly. "I will make everything right."
The door shut.
The parents exchanged uneasy glances. Before doubt could settle—a scream exploded from inside the room.
A voice no longer human shrieked:
"NO! I DO NOT BELIEVE IN YOUR KINDNESS!"