Chapter Eight: The Art of Exorcising Spirits

The black-robed elder, having finished speaking, drew a half-foot length of red thread from his breast and wound it tightly around the remaining middle finger of the monstrous Fifth’s sole hand. With his tobacco pipe inserted into the loop, he twisted it counterclockwise, causing the red thread to bite deep into the finger. Instantly, the flesh turned purple and swollen.

“Wretched creature, give your name!” the black-robed elder demanded in fury.

Strangely, once the red thread was wound around his fingertip, the monstrous Fifth became much quieter, his savagery diminishing and his body trembling uncontrollably as though he’d been stricken with chills.

This particular red thread was no ordinary thing. Known as the Soul Thread, it was as fine as silk, as tough as iron. The human palm, with the palm side considered yin and the back yang, has fingers where yin and yang alternate; the middle finger is pure yin. When a ghost seizes a host, it does not fully occupy the body. The middle finger acts as a secret gate—a vulnerability. Binding it tightly with the Soul Thread, the ghost cannot escape and suffers a torment that sears the very soul, a pain so great one longs for death. This method was commonly employed among folk exorcists to deal with possession, and its efficacy was well known.

Still, Fifth made no clear sound, only muttered incoherently, his eyes empty and hollow like a walking corpse.

The black-robed elder barked coldly, reversing his pipe and increasing the pressure. Fifth let out a blood-curdling scream, pleading in agony.

“Master, help... help me...” Fifth suddenly managed to speak.

“Focus your spirit, keep your mind clear—Fifth, you must—”

“Ah, ah, ah—roar!”

Fifth’s clarity lasted but a moment before he lost consciousness again, the savagery returning to his eyes as he thrashed violently, straining against the corpse-binding chains and the Soul Thread.

The others, seasoned as they were, felt a chill of dread. They had traveled far and wide, braved many tombs and dangers, and seen countless strange and deadly things. Possession was not so rare, and once the host’s vital point was seized, the spirit usually begged for mercy or made demands. There was always something wanted, never this utter lack of awareness and such savage resistance.

“Heaven’s azure wards all evil, Lord Hu of the Third protects us—grant your disciple a first-grade talisman, suppress evil and slay demons—now!”

The black-robed elder chanted, producing a yellow talisman paper from his robe. He held it between two fingers, eyes closing slightly.

A flash of sharp light passed through his gaze, and he slapped the talisman onto Fifth’s forehead.

A wisp of black smoke rose from Fifth’s crown, followed by a piercing wail that faded from strength to weakness, until he moved no more.

The black-robed elder exhaled gently.

“Fifth...”

“Master... it hurts... it hurts so much...” Fifth raised his eyes weakly, his voice feeble as though most of his life had ebbed away.

“Fifth, what happened? You were fine before—how did you become possessed?” the elder asked, his anger barely contained. “Did you touch that bottle? Speak!”

“No... Master, I... I did covet it, I admit, but before I could act, I saw a flash of green light. Then I remember nothing. Master, the pain—it hurts...”

“And the bottle?”

“I... I don’t know...”

“I warned you all—never touch it, never. There must be powerful wards still active around it.”

Though these men were rough sorts, seeing Fifth in this state pained them. They had all eaten from the same pot; just last time, Fourth had died to a trap in a tomb, and now Fifth was like this. Grief welled up unbidden in their hearts, leaving them at a loss for words.

The talisman had only temporarily suppressed the spirit within Fifth; nothing else was learned. Their only recourse was to expel the ghost as quickly as possible. If they delayed, Fifth would soon become an empty shell, beyond salvation. Even the elder was unsure how long the talisman’s power would last; at any moment, the ghost could rebound and seize Fifth again.

“Fifth, listen to me. Our only chance is to drive out the ghost inside you immediately. You’ve lost too much blood, your energy is in chaos. This is your weakest moment—the time you’re most liable to be overtaken. If we wait, you’ll become a walking corpse. You must hold on to your consciousness, keep your mind clear!” The elder, keenly aware of the urgency, made his decision without hesitation.

“Master, help me... I don’t want to die...” Fifth nearly broke down in tears, pleading weakly.

“Fifth, you have to hang in there! Don’t forget, your beloved Sister Red Willow is still waiting for you under the warm quilt. You can’t die out here in this godforsaken wilderness and let some other scoundrel steal her away.” Second, flustered in the face of crisis, tried to rally Fifth, reminding him of past desires—hoping that might spark the will to survive.

“Red... Sister Red Willow...” At the mention of her name, a glimmer of light returned to Fifth’s dull gaze, tinged with a certain roguishness.

Scarface and Third exchanged glances and spat quietly, thinking Fifth was every bit the scoundrel they’d always known. Still, they admired Second’s quick thinking in finding just the right words.

Even the black-robed elder frowned inwardly. How had he ended up with such a rascal as a disciple? His heart chilled. Perhaps it would be better to let him die, rather than bring shame to the sect.

“Listen, all of you—hold him down, no matter how he screams or begs. Do not let go. Once the spirit is driven out, his life will be saved.” The black-robed elder gave his instructions.

“Yes!” came the response from the group.

The elder tossed a Heaven’s Treasure coin onto the Water position, blocking the Gate of Life. He drew talismanic patterns in the air, arranging Fifth at the Thunder and Fire positions. His steps shifted between light and swift, showing hints of the Nine Palaces formation.

“Lord Hu of the Third above, grant me the divine method—banish demons, slay evil, let nothing stand in my way! Malignant spirits cower at my feet, my Dao’s true form—”

As the elder’s incantations rose and fell, quickening in pace, the surrounding air seemed to change.

“Ah! Ah!” Fifth shrieked under the power of the spell, as though in tremendous pain. A faint yellow light rose from beneath his feet, driving the deathly energy into the talisman.

Black smoke billowed from the talisman, swirling together before sinking into its surface, which glowed with a dazzling yellow light. Fifth’s bones and body gradually returned to normal; his massive, serpentine arms shrank back to human size, and the deathly pallor on his face faded somewhat.

“There’s hope—looks like the brat has slipped back from the gates of hell,” the others thought in relief, unwittingly letting out a long breath.