Chapter 108: A Strange Wandering Soul

The sudden warning froze Qi Yan in his tracks; he didn't dare move a muscle, save for his eyes.

Xuanxuan was taken aback. No wonder she had felt something nearby earlier—it had already closed in on them.

Behind Qi Yan stood a faint, bluish human silhouette. In the gloom of the abandoned village, its features were indiscernible, but the cold, sinister aura radiating from it was truly extraordinary. It was a lingering spirit. Xuanxuan had only noticed it so late because she had been distracted; if Qi Yan hadn't felt an itch on his neck and startled her with his movement, she might not have sensed it at all.

Tilting her head slightly to peer past Qi Yan, she observed the figure. Its outline was strange, hunched and distorted.

"Get away from him," Xuanxuan said after a long silence, her brow furrowing and her tone dark and chilling.

Qi Yan remained frozen. He desperately wanted to bolt, but this was no time for rash actions. He could already feel that familiar, creeping chill down his spine—the sensation he always experienced whenever he encountered spirits or ghosts.

However, the bluish figure showed no intention of leaving. It was unclear whether it could truly hear Xuanxuan’s threat. Its thin, withered legs hung inches above the ground, revealing that it was hovering. Slowly, it raised its arms, reaching out toward Qi Yan.

Seeing this, Xuanxuan dared not hesitate. Regardless of the spirit's intentions, she barked, "I warned you!"

Qi Yan watched in astonishment as Xuanxuan squeezed her eyes shut, her brows locked in concentration. Then, she snapped them open. Her pupils were gone, replaced by a ghastly, solid white. While Qi Yan couldn't see what was behind him, the sight of Xuanxuan was terrifying enough.

"Ying, ying, ying..." A thin, piercing sound escaped her slightly parted lips, like the rapid chanting of some bizarre scripture. Her long, wavy hair, which had been tied up, seemed to stir as if caught in an unseen wind, and her entire demeanor shifted completely.

Immediately, a shrill, mournful wail echoed from behind Qi Yan. It was a trembling, heavy sound that compelled him to bolt forward several steps before turning back to look.

The blue ghostly shadow flickered a few times and vanished, leaving behind only a lingering scream that echoed in his ears.

Once the spirit retreated, Xuanxuan closed her eyes, exhaled, and swallowed hard, returning to her normal state.

"Was that... a dead soul?" Qi Yan asked, sensing from her expression that the danger had passed.

"Of course. If I’m not mistaken, it was likely the spirit of some villager who died an unjust death here. Sigh... it’s no surprise to encounter wandering ghosts or even vengeful spirits looking for substitutes in a desolate mountain village like this. I should have been better prepared. Still, this spirit didn't seem to hold much deep-seated resentment; I didn't sense much malevolence, otherwise, it wouldn't have been so easily chased off."

No matter the place, people had surely died there at some point. The world of wandering spirits overlapped with the realm of the living, though they remained isolated from each other. Unless a living person possessed an icy constitution, or a ghost was exceptionally fierce, they could rarely find a gap to cross that "wall." It was a matter of both constitution and spirit.

As the saying goes, "Believe, and it exists; doubt, and it does not." If someone has never encountered the supernatural, they find it hard to truly believe in ghosts, and this willpower acts as a barrier between the two worlds. Some people go their whole lives without a supernatural encounter, while others, due to their innate constitution, are frequently linked to the underworld.

One thing is universally acknowledged: the more living people there are in a place, the lower the chance of ghosts appearing. Conversely, the more desolate, the higher the chance. In a bustling metropolis, even vicious spirits might cross the boundary, but their supernatural abilities are suppressed by the "aura" of the crowd.

In the dead of night in these remote mountains, this was naturally the domain of spirits. Coupled with the fact that Qi Yan's constitution had been altered by the Yin amulet, his own aura was no longer what it once was, making such encounters inevitable. Furthermore, this was Hunan, a province famous for its legends and ghostly tales—a land dense with geomantic energy, renowned in the supernatural world.

Thinking of this, Qi Yan looked at the empty space behind him and unconsciously gripped the Yin amulet at his chest. "Should I... temporarily 'unlock' the amulet? I really don't feel safe. My constitution is starting to rival that kid Li Lan's; I'm attracting these things too easily..."

Xuanxuan stopped him. "No, don't act rashly. The talisman tube Old Yan gave you isn't something you can just take off and put on as you please. Once you break the seal, the tube will lose its effectiveness."

She scanned the gloomy old village. "Although we might run into some trouble, you have me by your side, don't you? Ordinary wandering spirits aren't enough to pose a real threat. Never grow dependent on the Yin amulet. If that psychological reliance grows, the amulet will end up destroying you. Have you forgotten? Our goal in gathering is to ensure the safety of you amulet-holders and find a way to break the causal chain without being consumed by the backlash. Don't use the amulet's power unless it's a last resort; you aren't yet capable of wielding it freely."

Qi Yan nodded silently. She was right. He had been getting lightheaded; why was he looking for the amulet's protection at the slightest sign of trouble? Whether it was the Yin Palace amulet or a common one, unrestrained dependence was the greatest taboo in spirit-worship. The price was too high.

Xuanxuan handed him a string of star-moon bodhi beads. "Take this. I've worn it for years and blessed it almost every day. It’s enough to handle ordinary spirits for now. Use it for the time being, and when we get back, I'll have Old Yan send you some high-quality protective charms."

Qi Yan accepted it gratefully. Even though it looked like a worn, ordinary string of beads, he knew that Xuanxuan and Old Yan were legitimate, low-profile spirit masters. He had seen their power with his own eyes.

He wanted to hang the patina-covered beads around his neck, but he looked down to see the "Mother" amulet and Li Ruoke's "Walking Buddha" already there. Adding another might be a bit crowded. Instead, he wrapped the beads several times around his wrist, which was their intended purpose anyway.

As they proceeded with even greater caution, Qi Yan asked, "That spirit behind me... could it be related to Hao Dalong's disappearance?"

"Probably not," Xuanxuan answered with certainty. "Dalong is carrying one of Old Yan's life-bound talisman tubes. To break through that so violently, a common ghost wouldn't be capable. There must be something much fiercer lurking in the shadows..."

Before she could finish her sentence, Qi Yan’s expression shifted drastically. That fragrance... had abruptly filled the air once more.