Volume One: The Graveyard of Eight Coffins Chapter 77: Fragrance Fades, Jade Shatters

Yang Huanzhi had never touched a gun before, let alone taken a life. How could he dare to pull the trigger? While Yang Huanzhi hesitated, Tiger Diao drew his saber with a swift motion, roaring in fury as he slashed toward Yang Huanzhi.

Startled, Yang Huanzhi dodged aside, and the blade struck the dressing table behind him with such force that it became stuck and couldn't be pulled out. Terrified out of his wits, Yang Huanzhi squeezed the trigger, and with a crack, a bullet struck Tiger Diao in the shoulder.

Wounded, Tiger Diao became even more like a crazed beast, howling as he swung his blade at Yang Huanzhi again and again. Unaccustomed to such violence, Yang Huanzhi’s hands trembled even though he held a gun; frightened, he fired several more shots, but none hit Tiger Diao’s vital points. Instead, Tiger Diao managed to wound Yang Huanzhi in several places.

It seemed Yang Huanzhi was about to be hacked to death. Suddenly, Wanqing rushed forward with a desperate cry, clutching Tiger Diao’s legs and shouting for Yang Huanzhi to run. At the same time, she threw him the wooden figurine she carried.

With a voice sharp and commanding, Wanqing held on with all her might as Tiger Diao’s eyes blazed with fury, struggling to break free and chase Yang Huanzhi. Seeing Tiger Diao covered in blood, Yang Huanzhi’s nerves gave out; his hand loosened, and the pistol dropped to the floor in fright.

Enraged and humiliated, Tiger Diao brought his blade down upon Wanqing. Blood spattered across the dressing table, quickly staining it crimson. Yet even then, Wanqing would not let go.

Yang Huanzhi was petrified by the horror before him. In a daze, he grabbed the wooden figurine and fled the room, running out of the attic and into the street without stopping.

Once on the street, he heard a gunshot from the direction of the attic. Yang Huanzhi’s heart tightened; he had no idea what had happened inside. He wanted to go back and check, but the thought of the murderous Tiger Diao robbed him of all courage. All he could do was hope that Tiger Diao would not have the heart to kill Wanqing.

After some time, taking advantage of the night, Yang Huanzhi crept back to the attic to see what had become of things. As he reached the door, he noticed Wanqing’s black cat perched silently on the wall, its green eyes fixed on him, occasionally letting out a mournful yowl at the moon.

The cries were unbearably wretched, chilling him to the bone.

Goosebumps prickled Yang Huanzhi’s skin. He listened carefully, but all was silent within the attic.

Suddenly, a squad of fully armed soldiers came running down the street, heading straight for the building.

Yang Huanzhi realized that only Tiger Diao and Wanqing remained inside; Wanqing’s fate was almost certainly sealed. Tiger Diao would not let him go either, and would surely search for him with even greater determination.

Terrified, Yang Huanzhi hurried home that night, packed his things, and fled the city, hiding in a monastery on the outskirts.

Only the next day did Yang Huanzhi learn that Tiger Diao had hacked Wanqing to death with wild blows that same night, and, still unsatisfied, had fired several shots at her. Even as she died, Wanqing had been calling his name.

Overcome by grief and remorse, Yang Huanzhi hated Tiger Diao’s cruelty for killing the woman he loved. Yet he also hated himself for his cowardice, for leaving a woman to face the blade alone. Wanqing had died saving him, while he had fled like a coward.

That night, Yang Huanzhi dreamed of Wanqing. She wore a qipao and stood on the street. Overjoyed, Yang Huanzhi ran to her, only to find her drenched in blood, wounds too many to count. Her clear eyes, once as limpid as water, were now filled with blood and bitter resentment.

Wanqing told him of her tragic death and demanded vengeance.

Yang Huanzhi nodded, saying that if Wanqing was dead, he too had no wish to live, and would seek out Tiger Diao to exact revenge.

But Wanqing shook her head. “You are no match for him. That would not bring vengeance.”

Yang Huanzhi asked what he should do.

Wanqing then laid out her plan for revenge in detail. She explained that Tiger Diao’s murderous aura suffused the entire attic, making it impossible for her restless spirit to approach. Yang Huanzhi must paste her photograph behind the dressing table, so her soul could dwell there. Then, he must find her black cat, capture it, cut it open, and place the wooden figurine inside. Wrapping the cat in iron wire soaked in lamp oil, then in red cloth, he was to seal it in a wooden box and bury it in the attic’s courtyard.

After explaining, Wanqing vanished.

Yang Huanzhi woke, the memory of the dream so vivid it seemed more real than his waking life.

In the monastery where Yang Huanzhi hid, there lived a destitute monk. Yang Huanzhi had once done the monastery a kindness, carving a Buddha statue for it without charge, and the two had become close friends.

Seeing Yang Huanzhi awakened by a nightmare, the monk inquired about the cause. Yang Huanzhi told him everything.

The monk first recited a sutra, lamenting the karmic consequences, then explained that Wanqing’s plan was indeed a potent method of revenge. Wanqing’s death at Tiger Diao’s hands, full of grievance, had made her a vengeful ghost. She could not reincarnate because she sought to claim Tiger Diao’s life. But Tiger Diao, hardened by countless killings, was shrouded in a murderous aura so strong that even a century-old ghost could not harm him.

The monk surmised that Wanqing’s spirit must still linger in the attic, her resentment not yet strong enough to overcome Tiger Diao’s aura. Only when her own grievances had grown sufficiently powerful could she take her revenge.

Wanqing’s plan was to concentrate the black cat’s resentment—its hatred was fierce enough to attract wandering spirits from all around, their malice merging into the wooden figurine, which represented Wanqing herself. When her resentment reached its peak, she could finally strike at Tiger Diao. This method, the monk explained, was a classic Five-Star Yin-Forcing Formation.

However, the monk warned, such a method would ruin Yang Huanzhi’s own fate, bringing him no good end. Out of gratitude for past kindness, he explained the method, though it was a karmic sin. Yet, not telling the truth would bring no peace to Wanqing’s spirit, and Yang Huanzhi would be haunted by her daily. The choice was his to make.

The monk, who had studied Taoist arts before taking monastic vows, then used a soul-binding spell on Wanqing’s photograph before returning it to Yang Huanzhi to carry out the plan.

Following the monk’s advice, Yang Huanzhi learned that Tiger Diao still lived in the attic after killing Wanqing. He found an opportunity to sneak into the building and paste Wanqing’s photograph behind the dressing table.

Then, as Wanqing had instructed, he searched daily for the black cat. After three days of staking out the attic, he finally spotted it. But at the sight of Yang Huanzhi, the cat yowled and would not let him approach.

The monk later explained that the black cat, highly intelligent, must have witnessed Wanqing’s murder and blamed Yang Huanzhi for fleeing alone. To catch it would not be easy; only sincerity could move it. Yang Huanzhi would have to use his own flesh and blood as bait, to dissolve the cat’s resentment toward him.

(End of chapter)