Chapter 37: "Kuman Thong" and "Luk Krok"

Qi Yan tossed aside the clothes in his hands and sat down on the bed, gasping for breath.
He wasn’t frightened by that little episode just now; rather, he was struck by how easily he could now see these things. Not only could he see and hear them—he could even touch them.
For someone who had once been an ordinary person, the contrast was staggering. Just as Li Lan had said, since he started venerating this dark amulet, his constitution was undergoing dramatic changes. He would likely encounter even more in the future.
The key was that, unlike Li Lan, he hadn't always been this way. Was it really possible to get used to such things? Moreover, precisely because of this amulet, he seemed to have attracted a fair bit of trouble lately—trouble he couldn't have avoided, no matter what.
Li Ruoke had said she would introduce him to some real Thai Ajarns this time, all professionals in their field. Determined, Qi Yan resolved that during this trip to Thailand, he would try his best to uncover the truth about his amulet. After all, until now, he knew very little about it.
Even if he couldn’t rid himself of it, he had to at least understand what he was carrying. He couldn’t go on blindly wearing and venerating it forever.
Another thing struck him as odd. Normally, whether it was a righteous or a dark amulet, there should only be one spirit housed within. But his was different—a single “old ghost” and several “little ghosts” coexisted inside.
Lost in thought, he was interrupted by Li Lan, who called to him from the doorway, carrying a few bowls. “Qi Yan, dinner’s ready.”
Qi Yan’s face was a bit off. Li Lan, noticing his troubled expression, approached and glanced at the scattered clothes on the bed, as if guessing what had happened. “Did you… see something just now?”
“Yeah, I saw it… It’s nothing, I’m fine,” Qi Yan replied, collecting himself and forcing a smile. “Let’s go eat. Where are we eating?”
Li Lan relaxed a little. “On the rooftop. We’re having spicy fish hotpot under the open sky! And there’s plenty of beer.”
When they reached the rooftop, the air was rich with an enticing aroma. Even though they weren’t especially hungry, the smell whetted their appetites.
Xuanxuan had filled the modest rooftop with potted plants, a small round table, and a sunshade. Night had already fallen, and a string of colorful lights illuminated the space. It was rustic, but warm and inviting.

Everyone sat down around the little stove and began to eat.
The weather was already hot, and eating spicy hotpot made them sweat even more. Thai beer, strong as it was—one bottle there was like three back home—had them all sweating profusely in no time, but at least they were outdoors.
Qi Yan mentioned what he’d just seen. Xuanxuan was surprised. “Oh? You can see them? Just like Lan?”
“Yes, I can see them…” Qi Yan didn’t elaborate, brushing it off.
Xuanxuan, unconcerned, went on, “I have three golden child spirits that I venerate. Honestly, these little ghosts are the most pitiful—they’re all children who died young, their souls left wandering the earth with nowhere to go. High monks gather their souls and find them a benefactor to venerate them; collectively, they’re called ‘Kuman Thong.’
By the way, Qi Yan, you’re new to this, right? You might not know much about it. The spirits I keep aren’t the same as those forced to follow someone. ‘Kuman Thong’ and raising little ghosts are two different things. If you see them, don’t be alarmed. They mean no harm and bear no resentment.”
She explained in such detail because Qi Yan was a new colleague brought by Li Ruoke—an insider now, so there was no need to be secretive. Besides, since he could see them with his own eyes, she felt she ought to clarify.
Li Ruoke hadn’t explained earlier, but Xuanxuan made clear: “Kuman Thong” and “raising little ghosts” are fundamentally different. One is an act of kindness—adopting wandering child spirits and giving them a home; the other is coercing resentful little spirits for some personal gain. The intentions are completely different.
Qi Yan listened intently. Xuanxuan seemed even more knowledgeable than Li Ruoke.
She suddenly realized her mistake and quickly apologized, “Oh dear, I shouldn’t bring this up during dinner, should I? Sorry, occupational habit—I just can’t help but explain things in detail.”
Li Ruoke and Li Lan didn’t mind at all, nor did Qi Yan. He even seized the chance to ask, “Xuanxuan, if someone with bad intentions were to raise little ghosts, what would that process be like?”
Li Ruoke paused, not having told Xuanxuan about Qi Yan’s situation—there was good reason for secrecy, after all.
But Xuanxuan, thinking Qi Yan was just curious, didn’t dwell on it. She put down her chopsticks, handed him a cigarette, lit one herself, and generously explained, “This might really ruin your appetite.”

True “raising of little ghosts” falls under the category of dark arts. In Thai belief—or really, in anyone’s view—a child who dies before being born evokes great pity. They never even made it into the world before meeting a tragic end. Whether it’s an abortion by the parents or a miscarriage by accident, these lost infants carry heavy resentment. It is a kind of karmic burden.
Xuanxuan flicked her ash, took a drag, and continued, “In such cases, Thais usually ask masters to perform rituals to guide the child’s soul to the afterlife and soothe their anger. But some unscrupulous black ajarns personally turn these unformed infants into amulets or little ghost figurines. That’s when it becomes malicious ghost-raising. The spirits made this way are called ‘Luk Krok’ (lu, ge).”
“Precisely because these malevolent spirits harbor deep resentment, they possess a certain power. If properly venerated, their effects are remarkable—far surpassing ordinary righteous or dark amulets.
Let me put it this way: The Buddha is immeasurably powerful, but with so many followers, even gods and Buddhas can’t look after every devotee. Yet, a little ghost, no matter how weak, serves only its benefactor, so their results are extraordinary. That’s why most dark amulets are more effective than righteous ones.”
Qi Yan was struck by the revelation—so there was a logical reason why dark amulets were said to be more potent than righteous ones.
By now, everyone had finished eating and set down their chopsticks. The topic had become something of a professional seminar for them.
Qi Yan exchanged a glance with Li Ruoke, hesitating briefly before asking, “Xuanxuan, is it possible to have several malevolent little ghosts and a powerful old ghost all housed together in a single dark amulet?”
He’d finally gotten to the main point. Li Ruoke and Li Lan looked nervously at Xuanxuan, obviously as perplexed by Qi Yan’s amulet as he was—this was far beyond the usual cases.
Xuanxuan was baffled that he would ask such a question—it seemed so out of left field.
“You mean… several malevolent spirits coexisting in a single amulet?” she asked, surprised.