Chapter 44: The Dark Token, the Blind Spirit!

During dinner, Old Yan’s mouth wouldn’t stop moving; he was the only one at the table who enjoyed drinking, boasting about his wild adventures in Southeast Asia during his youth. The stories were quite entertaining at first, but soon he seemed to get drunk... his words slurred, and eventually he even started spouting English. After everyone helped him into his room, the old man was snoring away before nine o’clock.

As for the blind girl named Lingzi Ding, her quietness was unsettling—icy, almost. Unable to see, her movements were awkward; when everyone started clearing the dishes, she nearly tripped over the crowded chairs and tables. Lan Li, who was closest to her, instinctively reached out to steady her, but the girl jerked away in alarm, snapping, “Don’t touch me!”

Her reaction was so intense that everyone paused in surprise, Lan Li especially startled. Lingzi Ding gave no explanation, her face dark and brooding, as if someone had wronged her. The others let it go, but Ruoke Li wouldn’t have it; fiercely protective of her brother and quick-tempered, she challenged, “Hey! Aren’t you a bit strange, little sister? What’s wrong with helping you when you’re struggling?”

Seeing the tension, Xuanxuan, as the host, hurried over to smooth things out, whispering something in Ruoke Li’s ear. Ruoke Li’s eyes widened slightly, though she still seemed dissatisfied.

Qi Yan, too, was puzzled by Lingzi Ding—not because she was blind, but because there was something deeply unusual about her. After she made her way into her room with her cane, Xuanxuan finally smiled apologetically, “Ah… sorry, everyone. My cousin’s vision is impaired, so she’s been very withdrawn since childhood… She’s only eighteen, please forgive her for my sake.”

No one pressed the matter further; once the cleanup was done, everyone scattered through the living room, chatting, playing games, or scrolling on their phones.

That night, Qi Yan found it even harder to sleep than the previous one. The mosquitoes were relentless and fierce, and those ancient dolls began their whispering and giggling again, as if they only came alive at night when everyone slept. Add to that Old Yan’s thunderous snoring… Good heavens! The old house’s poor soundproofing turned the cacophony into a symphony—life felt utterly joyless.

Yet while most people finally drifted off, Lingzi Ding sat alone in her small room, with no light on. A small drawing board rested on her lap, an A4 sheet atop it, and with a pencil she began to sketch in the pitch blackness.

She had already removed her oversized sunglasses, revealing a sweet, pretty face—a cute girl by any measure, but always expressionless, her eyes shut tight, pencil sweeping swiftly across the paper.

If someone opened the door and saw her at that moment, they might well shudder at the sight.

Her movements were odd, too; it looked less like she was drawing, and more like some invisible force was guiding her hand.

Her sketching was mediocre, about junior high level, but considering she couldn’t see, and made almost no corrections, it was remarkable. Within half an hour, her first small sketch was nearly finished.

The drawing’s mood was oppressive—a black ring shaded around the edge, a hospital bed at the center, and a boy leaning over the bedside.

That was the first sketch. She set it aside, pulled out a new sheet, and began again.

The second took longer—more complex composition: a lonely Thai temple, a swirl of darkness at the entrance, and a man walking toward the shrine.

The third was even stranger: just a woman, her face obscured, holding an infant in her arms.

She drew all three in one go, none of them exquisite, but clear enough to make out their meaning.

When she finished, half the pencil was gone; she was visibly exhausted, a sheen of sweat dampening her bangs.

After a few quiet breaths, she reached into her bag, feeling around until she pulled out a black talisman—a black obsidian bead necklace, pink pendant on a dark base, the figure on it indistinct. It was similar to Qi Yan’s, though hers was triangular.

Gently caressing the talisman, Lingzi Ding slowly opened her eyes.

They were entirely black, with no white or iris—just two empty voids.

The moment she opened them, her lovely face was ruined.

A chilling breeze swept through the room, rustling the papers.

She sat quietly at her drawing board; behind her appeared a figure, all skin and bone, like a dried twig—no clothes, no hair, barely better than a skeleton.

Most strikingly, this “person” had no features, only a fist-sized eyeball rolling left and right, making a soft gurgling sound.

Lingzi Ding seemed to feel a headache, murmured, and pressed her forehead as she sat on the bed, finally ready to rest.

The next morning, everyone woke gradually around ten.

Ruoke Li and Qi Yan were out early again; Xuanxuan went straight to Old Yan’s room, where Lingzi Ding was too. Old Yan was examining three sheets of paper.

“So? Did you make it out?” Xuanxuan asked as she shut the door.

Old Yan shook his head, sighing, “Ah… Qi Yan is such a pitiful child~~~”

Xuanxuan pointed at the first sketch. “Is this… his past?”

This time Old Yan didn’t answer; Lingzi Ding spoke in her cool, clear voice, “He lost his mother as a child…”

“Amazing… Lingzi, you really can… see someone’s past so clearly?” Xuanxuan flipped through the sketches, stunned.

Old Yan smiled faintly. “Well? Now you’ve seen it for yourself, haven’t you? This is the power of the fifth ‘Underworld Palace’ talisman—the ‘Blind Spirit’. But… ah, every time Zi uses the talisman’s power, she suffers great mental exhaustion. The strain is far worse than any physical fatigue. Unless it’s absolutely necessary, I don’t let her use it lightly.”

“Well, after breakfast, we’ll head out. I’d hoped we could stay longer in Thailand, but now we have to return early,” Old Yan said, winking at Xuanxuan conspiratorially. “You’d better take leave as well; return home in a week, and we’ll meet up in New City.”

Xuanxuan raised her brow. “What? You want me back too… are you planning something real this time?”

Old Yan, searching for his cigarette pack, shrugged. “Mm, well, plans never keep pace with change. Best to prepare early.”

He moved to the window, gazing at the bright sun outside, his usual carefree expression shadowed by deep worry.

“Ah… fate and cause and effect~ It’s already the seventh talisman. When will this end…”

End of Volume One