Wang Chunsheng trembled when he heard this, quickly blurting out, "Mr. Liu, you’re absolutely right! Something’s really wrong with my son. He’s been sick, bedridden for almost a month now, and he’s been in a fog all day long!"

　　He never imagined my Master would spot the issue at a glance. Shocked, he immediately changed how he addressed my Master, calling him "Sir."

　　“How old is your son?” my Master asked calmly.

　　“Five years old!”

　　My Master paused in thought. By now, Wang Chunsheng was sure my Master wasn’t an ordinary person. Seeing him stay silent, he assumed my Master was hesitating, so he quickly added, “Sir, please, you have to save my son!”

　　“I understand. You go on ahead. Gouwa and I will be there soon.”

　　“Alright, alright, I’ll be waiting for you!” Wang Chunsheng said, and with that, he dashed out the door.

　　I watched him run until he disappeared from sight.

　　“Master, is the village chief’s son really sick?” I asked.

　　My Master nodded, then sat down and said, “But it’s not just an illness.”

　　I didn’t quite understand what he meant, but seeing how calm he was, I said, “Then let’s hurry and go. It’ll be dark soon.”

　　My Master looked at me, smiled, and said, “No rush. We’ve got time.”

　　“Oh…”

　　Seeing the confusion on my face, my Master chuckled and said, “It’s bad enough that his Children’s Palace is sunken, but there’s also a faint black aura hanging around him. If I’m right, there’s something unclean in his house.”

　　I could hardly believe what my Master had just said, and honestly, a chill ran down my spine.

　　“Talk about timing—your first day as an apprentice, and you’re already knee-deep in something like this.”

　　I gave a nervous laugh. Who would’ve thought? Not in my wildest dreams did I imagine I’d be dealing with something like this, especially on the day I became his apprentice!

　　“Alright, Gouwa, don’t worry too much. Just stay by my side and watch—I’ve got this.”

　　“Okay.”

　　As the sun dipped closer to the horizon, my Master and I stepped outside.

　　“Master, when you said something unclean, did you mean a ghost?” I whispered, trying not to sound as scared as I felt.

　　“Not necessarily—it could be a mountain spirit or some other kind of demon.”

　　“Huh?”

　　I mulled it over. Mountain spirits, according to the elders, were creatures that had cultivated in the mountains—some good, some not so good. Especially those house spirits that people worshipped without fully understanding—they weren’t all benign. If you didn’t worship them just right, they could wreak havoc on your family, and once they latched on, good luck getting rid of them. That’s why they say, “It’s easy to invite a god, but hard to send one away.” But in this case, “gods” referred to evil spirits, not the real deal.

　　As for demons and ghosts, they covered all sorts of malicious entities—definitely not something you’d want to tangle with.

　　Wang Chunsheng mentioned his son had been sick for over a month. That got me thinking—how could that be? Aren’t spirits supposed to leave the mortal world after they die? How could one stick around for so long?

　　“Master, isn’t the dead supposed to go to the underworld? Why would a spirit stay behind to hurt people?”

　　“It’s complicated. There are a lot of reasons. Take wandering souls, for example—they’re often those who had no family in life and didn’t get a proper burial, so they’re stuck drifting around. Then there are those who took their own lives—the underworld won’t accept them right away. They can only enter when the time marked in the underworld’s register arrives. And then there’s the most terrifying kind—a vengeful spirit with a deep, festering grudge.”

　　“A v-vengeful spirit?” I knew my Master was trying to rattle me, and it was working—I was so scared my voice was shaking.

　　“They’re usually souls with unfinished business or those who’ve been wronged and can’t let go even after death. That’s why they linger in the mortal world for so long. With so much resentment, these spirits are the hardest to deal with—they’re real trouble.”

　　“Let’s just hope the village chief’s family hasn’t crossed paths with one of those…”

　　My Master chuckled and said, “Don’t worry. Whatever they’re dealing with, it’s definitely not a vengeful spirit. If it were, there’s no way his son would still be alive!”

　　“Thank goodness…”

　　As we talked, my Master and I reached the village chief’s house. Suddenly, my Master stopped in his tracks, his eyes locking onto the locust tree at the entrance. His gaze was deep and pensive.

　　But after a moment, he continued walking. I knew there had to be something off about that tree, but now wasn’t the time to ask, so I just followed him into the house.

　　“Mr. Liu, Gouwa, you’re finally here! It’s getting dark!” Wang Chunsheng had been waiting in the courtyard for a while. When he saw us, he quickly rushed over to greet us.

　　My Master smiled and said, “We’re right on time! Where’s the child?”

　　“He’s in the inner room!”

　　My Master and I headed straight for the inner room. As we entered, he took a quick glance around the room without saying a word, then walked over to the boy’s bed.

　　Wang Chunsheng’s wife, Miao Cuifen, was sitting by the bed, wiping away tears as she looked at her son lying there.

　　“Please, take a look, sir. We’ve already had several doctors come by, and they all say the child isn’t sick, but he’s been in a daze every day.” Wang Chunsheng said urgently.

　　“Yes, Mr. Liu. Chunsheng told me you’re very skilled. Please, you have to help us!” Miao Cuifen pleaded, her eyes still wet with tears.

　　My Master stepped closer to the bed and looked at Wang Fusheng lying there. He furrowed his brow as he noticed a faint black aura surrounding the boy’s body. It had clearly been there for some time—how had this boy survived? His luck must be extraordinary!

　　“No doubt about it, it’s just as I thought,” my Master murmured to himself.

　　“Sir, do you know what’s wrong with Fusheng?” Miao Cuifen, seeing a glimmer of hope, wiped her tears and asked eagerly.

　　Instead of answering her directly, my Master asked, “Since your son fell ill, has anything about him seemed different from before?”

　　“Different?” Miao Cuifen looked at Wang Fusheng, and a sudden realization crossed her face. “Yes, now that you mention it, in the first couple of days, Fusheng would get up in the middle of the night and start sleepwalking, trying to leave the house. Thankfully, we managed to stop him. And in the nights that followed, he’s been talking nonsense in his sleep!”

　　My Master noticed a red string around Wang Fusheng’s neck and carefully examined it, discovering a Guanyin pendant. He nodded and said, “I understand now.”

　　“Mr. Liu, what’s wrong with Fusheng?” Wang Chunsheng asked, clearly anxious.

　　“It seems something unclean has attached itself to your son.” My Master pointed to the Guanyin pendant and added, “If it weren’t for this pendant, your son might already be gone.”

　　“Something unclean?” Wang Chunsheng was taken aback, and Miao Cuifen started to sob uncontrollably.

　　“Mr. Liu, please help our Fusheng. We’ve never done anything to deserve this. How could something like this happen to us?”

　　“Master, the village chief and his family are known for their kindness. Whenever someone in the village is in trouble, they always come to him for help. How could such good people end up dealing with something unclean?” I quickly added, trying to reinforce Wang Chunsheng’s worry.

　　“We’ll find out tonight.”

　　Turning to Wang Chunsheng and Miao Cuifen, my Master instructed, “I need yellow paper, a brush, and cinnabar ink.”

　　Miao Cuifen quickly nodded and said, “I’ll get those right away!”

　　Once she left, my Master addressed Wang Chunsheng, “Go to the paper shop and buy a paper effigy that closely resembles your son in height and build.”

　　“Got it, I’ll go now!”

　　“Hold on!” My Master called after Wang Chunsheng, adding, “Make sure the effigy’s eyes haven’t been marked. And be quick about it!”

　　“Understood!”

　　After they had left, I asked my Master to explain what was happening.

　　He explained that Wang Fusheng’s sleep-talking was actually him interacting with a ghost. The sleepwalking was a sign that a spirit was trying to take him away. However, the spirit didn’t seem to mean him any real harm; otherwise, he would have been dead already, and no amount of Guanyin’s protection would have helped.

　　The paper effigy was intended to act as a substitute for Wang Fusheng, allowing it to follow the spirit in his place.

　　“Gouwa, remember this: the attachment of a ghost, especially a vengeful one, is incredibly strong. It’s far more intense than anything a living person could experience.”

　　“I understand, Master!”

　　“Good.”

　　“Mr. Liu, I have everything!” Miao Cuifen returned with the brush, cinnabar ink, and yellow paper.

　　My Master immediately asked, “Name, date of birth, and time.”

　　“Wang Fusheng, July 27, 1982, around 1 p.m.!” Miao Cuifen replied quickly.

　　My Master dipped the brush in cinnabar ink and wrote on the yellow paper, “Wang Fusheng, Renxu Year, Jiyou Month, Gengzi Day, Wei Hour.”

　　Then he went to the bed, took a few strands of Wang Fusheng’s hair, and placed them on the paper where his name was written. He then made a peculiar gesture with his right hand in front of his chest.

　　A soft glow appeared between his fingers, which he then pressed to the paper effigy’s forehead.

　　“All set. Now we wait for the spirit to show up.”