Chapter 118: Luring Demons with Ghosts

Uncle Yan bowed slightly toward the earthen pit before him, then stood up and took out the small bag of Juan vegetable seedlings. He began crushing them directly with his hands, grinding them as finely as possible to extract as much sap and pulp as he could.

"Hurry, we don't have much time. Go find a long, thick wooden stick, sharpen one end to make a weapon, and then coat it with the sap of the Juan seedlings..."

Qi Yan muttered under his breath, "Is this exorcism? It feels more like we're preparing for a primitive battle."

Finding a sturdy stick was easy, but sharpening it with only a small knife proved difficult. Once it was ready, Uncle Yan personally smeared the crushed Juan seedling pulp onto the sharpened tip and handed it to Qi Yan. "Take this, and when the time comes, just stand to the side and make sure to protect yourself..."

As he spoke, he scooped up two handfuls of the green paste and smeared it directly onto Qi Yan’s face. He didn't stop there; he covered Qi Yan’s clothes and trousers until he looked like a mud-caked creature.

Despite the small amount of vegetables, once crushed into a paste, the volume of sap was significant, and the smell was atrocious—not exactly rotten, but pungent and even more acrid than houttuynia.

Qi Yan gave up on trying to maintain his dignity. He knew Uncle Yan was trying to "bless" him with a layer of protection, something akin to insect repellent. If this substance could truly suppress the demon's power, then by covering himself in the sap, the creature might not target him.

That wasn't enough, however. Uncle Yan pinched a large clump of the vegetable paste and brought it to Qi Yan’s mouth. "Come on, take a big mouthful. You inhaled the dust earlier, didn't you? Is your body still burning? There’s a chance you might develop symptoms like Little Ding’s. Swallow a bit as an internal remedy..."

The Juan seedlings were indeed an antidote, but this strange wild vegetable was barely palatable even when seasoned and tossed as a salad; eating it now as a raw, pulpy mash was nauseating.

Qi Yan pinched his nose and forced it down, gagging so hard he nearly spat it back into Uncle Yan’s face. His complexion turned a sickly shade of green.

Still, since the plant was used as a food source, it certainly wouldn't kill him.

"Oh, god... the taste is horrific. It can only be used as medicine... anyway, what exactly is your plan?"

Uncle Yan pointed at the earthen pit covered by the blue talisman cloth. "In a moment, I will have that Luk-Krok ghost go and lure the demon to this spot, and then... well, you know what happens next, don't you?"

Qi Yan looked puzzled. "Luring a demon with a ghost? Will it fall for that? Isn't it specifically hunting living people—outsiders who haven't consumed Juan seedlings for long periods?"

Uncle Yan smiled confidently. "Heh, heh, heh. It’s simple. If you were a fierce demon and were attacked by some ghostly entity, wouldn't you be furious? It will likely give chase. This is its territory, after all! Having a Thai ghost come onto its turf to cause trouble is like pulling teeth from a tiger. As long as it has a shred of temper, it won't be able to tolerate such an insult."

"Oh! I see. You’re sending a ghost to provoke it—an 'aggro' skill to lure the prey into the trap."

Uncle Yan nodded. "A regular ghost wouldn't cut it; they lack the ability to truly anger a demon. But this Luk-Krok is different... I’ve dealt with it before, and believe me, it’s quite formidable."

Qi Yan could imagine that. Wasn't his own spirit plaque similar? Aside from the "Mother" ghost, there were several other infant evil spirits, each of which could be considered a savage "beast" in its own right.

The plan was urgent and perhaps not entirely rigorous, but it at least seized the initiative. If they didn't deal with this troublesome demon first, they couldn't possibly head up the mountain to search for the others. It was about nipping the danger in the bud.

Uncle Yan had given almost all the Juan seedlings to Qi Yan as a protective measure, leaving himself with no such armor. He told Qi Yan to move further away, adding that if he couldn't stomach the sight of what was to come, he could turn his back.

Qi Yan had gained some experience with these matters; he couldn't claim total immunity to the supernatural, but he had grown accustomed to it. Uncle Yan urged him to be careful, telling him that if things went south, he should run immediately and not worry about him.

Uncle Yan then sat cross-legged on the open ground three meters from the pit. He placed seven beige candles in a circle around him, leaving them unlit but perfectly spaced. He wrapped a string of black prayer beads around his palms, closed his eyes, and began to chant a long, drawn-out incantation. He continued for nearly ten minutes.

Every time Qi Yan heard a spirit medium chanting, he felt a sense of immense pressure. Dealing with a sudden appearance of a spirit was one thing, but the "peaceful" silence before a crisis was always the most chilling.

Clutching the sap-smeared wooden stake, Qi Yan retreated to the side and wound the Bodhi beads Xuanxuan had given him around his hand, hoping for any extra edge.

As Uncle Yan’s chanting grew faster, the earthen pit covered by the blue talisman cloth seemed to begin to stir.

A foul odor, even more pungent than the Juan seedlings, began to permeate the air. A thin wisp of blue smoke rose from beneath the talisman, as if something were burning inside.

Suddenly, Uncle Yan flipped his hands and opened his eyes. Just like Xuanxuan’s, his pupils had turned completely gray-white. His voice became high-pitched and sharp as he shouted a single word: "Go!"

At his command, the blue talisman cloth bulged high, as if something underneath was pushing it up. The outline was small, barely half a meter tall—even smaller than Xuanxuan’s Kuman Thong.

A shrill, eerie cry followed. The volume wasn't deafening, but it vibrated deep within the lungs.

The seven beige candles around Uncle Yan ignited on their own. They didn't light simultaneously; rather, they flared up one by one in a counter-clockwise sequence within two seconds. The flames were not ordinary; they burned a strange, greenish-blue.

The blue cloth tightened, revealing the shape of the spirit underneath. It was tiny—smaller than an average infant, roughly the size of two adult fists pressed together. Wrapped in the cloth, it struggled for a moment before darting across the ground toward the old village, moving with a speed that could rival the demon. In the darkness, it was barely visible to the naked eye.

Uncle Yan didn't stop his ritual. He remained seated, his thumbs pressed against his index fingers, his gray eyes wide and unblinking, his neck rigid. He stared straight ahead, his lips still trembling as the incantation continued without pause.