Chapter One: Premonition of Spiritual Perception

Humans are remarkable beings—often ignorant and confused in ordinary times, yet extraordinarily perceptive when placed in certain situations.

Some events can be sensed even across thousands of mountains, unseen by the naked eye, yet somehow felt. It’s like walking down the street as usual, when suddenly a feeling of danger washes over you, prompting you to dodge just in time to avoid a falling vase. Or stepping out of your house only to be seized by a restless unease, rushing back to find the firewood still burning, flames slowly spreading, and realizing that without intervention, disaster is inevitable. Sometimes, too, a loved one passes away unexpectedly; even from far away, you are struck by a wave of sorrow in a moment of confusion.

Such instances are warnings from the spirit. Some dangers can be avoided; others, you can only watch helplessly as they unfold.

At that very moment, Chen Yushu experienced just such a warning.

In his sleep, he sensed someone beside him.

It was a bone-chilling sensation: someone standing silently by his side, neither speaking nor moving, simply watching him...

Too terrifying for words, sending chills deep into his heart.

“Who is it? Or... is it that person from a few days ago?”

Chen Yushu was horrified.

This feeling was not new—it had haunted him for more than a day. In fact, three days ago, on his first day in this unfamiliar world, he had felt the same presence. At that time, he had just crossed over, or perhaps awakened to his memories, dazedly accepting the reality that he had transmigrated into a small mountain village reminiscent of ancient China and become a child of about ten.

He was struck by a sudden palpitation, startled awake, and sensed someone standing at his bedside. Turning to look, he found no one there; the clear moonlight revealed no shadows, yet the feeling of another’s presence lingered for a long while before finally fading.

The next day was the same. Though there was no one around, a biting chill persisted, warning him—there truly was someone.

The terror was overwhelming.

He had named every immortal, demon, or Buddha he could recall, desperately calling out for help.

Now it was the third day.

Even in his confusion, he understood by now: something had attached itself to him.

He was entangled!

The thought made his scalp tingle.

This world was nothing like his previous, materialistic one, where everything was explained by science and evidence... As a member of the new generation of slackers, he had never believed in such things, but even so, tales of ghosts and monsters were never far from anyone’s lips; people delighted in debating the mysterious and arcane whenever such events occurred.

“What should I do? What am I supposed to do?”

Chen Yushu was utterly lost, his heart pounding fiercely.

Almost instinctively, a line of text appeared before his eyes.

Name: Chen Yushu

Age: Twelve

Skills:

Reading: Literacy (21/100), Calligraphy: Self-recognition (27/100)

...

He had discovered this after regaining his senses.

At first, it brought him great joy.

Though there were only two skills listed, it filled him with boundless confidence.

Then, he encountered a ghost.

It was obvious.

This ability offered no help at all in his current predicament.

He felt even more lost.

And whether it was a trick of the mind or not, he sensed that the chilling aura emanating from that “thing” was stronger than the day before.

As if...

It was growing stronger?

“I can’t just sit here and wait for death.”

Chen Yushu’s eyes quivered as he cracked them open ever so slightly, yet his fear kept him from facing that direction directly; he only dared a sidelong glance.

No one?

The room was not dark.

White moonlight filtered through the window, illuminating the furnishings enough for him to make out their shapes.

A cabinet and a window. The cabinet, made of bamboo, was short—serving as both bookshelf and table. The window was a large square, crisscrossed by wooden bars, pasted with white paper long since battered by wind and rain, torn in several places. Through the holes, he could see a small tree outside in the yard.

The floor was hard-packed earth, uneven but solid. Beside it sat a small stool with a piece of clothing draped over it—a coarse, short jacket, gray-black, patched in two places with different colored fabric, neatly sewn, not unsightly.

Everything was clear.

But there was no sign of the “person” he imagined.

The room was empty.

As if nothing existed.

Yet “it” was still there.

That prickling sensation on his back was unmistakably real.

“It” was right beside him.

It hadn’t moved at all.

And it was staring at him, as if studying some beauty—or perhaps “delicacy.”

Chen Yushu’s heart sank.

A wave of terror surged through him.

Just then, he felt the presence beside him stir.

It seemed to be feeding on something from afar, perhaps his own “essence,” slowly growing more substantial.

Gradually, he could “see” it—a vague, humanoid shadow taking shape.

“It” had revealed itself.

Though hazy and indistinct, the image caught by the corner of his eye was undeniably real.

Suddenly, the cold around him intensified, every hair on his body standing upright, his limbs frozen, unable to move as if pinned by some unseen force.

He watched helplessly as the shadow leaned forward, reaching out a hand and stepping onto the edge of the bed, then shifting its body...

It pressed down upon him.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

His heart thundered in his chest, as if he were drowning, suffocated and unable to breathe.

He struggled desperately, trying to command his limbs.

It was useless. It was as if a wall had collapsed upon him, no matter how he fought, he could not budge it.

“Impudent!”

Just then, a low voice rang out.

Following a loud bang, the door was flung open with force. A figure rushed in, holding a bell in one hand, shaking it vigorously, and in the other, brandishing a whip, lashing it fiercely!

“Ah...”

Chen Yushu heard a terrified scream, a gust of icy wind swept across his face, jolting him awake.

He felt control of his body return, the sinister aura vanished.

“Uncle Zhong?”

Only then did Chen Yushu recognize his rescuer, surprised.

Uncle Zhong was a villager said to possess great skills. Sometimes, he would sit beneath the big tree at the village entrance, telling ghost stories and tales from his youth to the children, making him quite popular among them.

Yesterday, Chen Yushu had heard he’d returned and wanted to join the crowd, hoping to mention his own predicament, but only managed a brief greeting before Uncle Zhong was called away.

Now, seeing him here—had he already sensed something amiss?

“Yushu, Yushu, are you all right?”

A graceful woman hurried in from the doorway, rushing to embrace him.

Behind her, a tall, thin man stood anxiously, though he said nothing.

These were Chen Yushu’s parents—Chen Baihe and Zhao Hehua.

“Father, Mother, I’m fine.”

Chen Yushu shook his head, then fixed his gaze on Uncle Zhong, curiosity burning inside.

What had just happened?

A bell rung, a whip lashed, and the “ghost” was gone?

Was it martial arts? Or something else?

“Don’t worry, it was just a little ghost, not enough to be dangerous. If you had a bit more courage, it wouldn’t have dared trouble you.”

Uncle Zhong mistook his lingering fear, laughed heartily, and offered reassurance.

“Hurry and thank Uncle Zhong! Honestly, how could you keep such a big thing from us, child? If Uncle Zhong hadn’t noticed something wrong and told us, who knows what might have happened.”

Zhao Hehua scolded, patting him lightly despite her exaggerated gestures.

“Thank you, Uncle Zhong. Just now, what did you do? Can it kill ghosts?”

He asked, full of curiosity.

“This is an old bell. Over time, it’s gained a bit of spiritual power and works well against such things. When I ring it, they’re frightened. This one was weak, and after being scared, its soul scattered. Then I struck it with a willow whip—how could it not dissipate?”

Uncle Zhong explained, smiling. “Actually, people are the same: people fear ghosts three parts, ghosts fear people seven. This ghost had attached itself to you for days. Because you were afraid, it dared cling to you. Once it had drained you enough, your life would have ended.”

“What should we do, then?”

Zhao Hehua was startled at his words.

“Don’t worry, it’s gone now, and can’t harm anyone. Such little ghosts need at least seven days of feeding to become truly dangerous. By then, someone would notice and seek help.”

Uncle Zhong smiled to reassure them.

“Can I learn this from you, Uncle Zhong?”

Chen Yushu now understood—the little ghost haunting him was not powerful.

But the feeling of helplessness in the face of such an attack was too distressing.

He did not want to endure it again.

Clearly, Uncle Zhong possessed real skill—at least enough to deal with ghosts. So he gathered his courage and asked.

If he could learn the art of banishing ghosts, he might not be invincible, but he could at least protect himself.

“Learn from me? I wouldn’t call it a skill, only basic understanding. I can’t really teach anyone.”

Uncle Zhong shook his head.

If he had real ability, he wouldn’t still be living in Beijiao Village. He’d learned some tricks in his youth, gained some knowledge, and accumulated experience over the years, so he held a certain status in the village, able to preside over weddings and funerals.

Actual encounters with evil spirits were rare.

Of course, if such things did appear and weren’t too strong, he could handle them with “experience.”

Especially in burial matters—if one didn’t understand, mishaps were easy, so they had their own theories: who should be buried, who must be cremated, the position of the grave, the timing of the interment, ways to avoid evil and seek good fortune—all were important.

Otherwise, mistakes could bring disaster and affect future generations.