Volume One: The Field of Eight Coffins - Chapter 78: Revenge

Yang Huanzhi did not hesitate. Every day, behind the attic, he used a knife to cut a large piece of flesh from his own thigh and placed it on a plate.

Each time, the black cat would devour the bloody flesh and then leave.

For three consecutive days, Yang Huanzhi fed the cat with his own flesh.

At last, on the third day, after the black cat had eaten a piece of Yang Huanzhi's thigh, it came before him. Yang Huanzhi saw the cat with its head held high and tail raised, exuding an extraordinary air.

Dragging his maimed leg, Yang Huanzhi knelt before the black cat, confessed earnestly, and explained that he had a way to help Wanqing take revenge, but it required the sacrifice of the black cat.

The black cat seemed to understand and nodded repeatedly at Yang Huanzhi.

Yang Huanzhi admired the cat’s loyalty and righteousness, but for the sake of revenge, he steeled himself, tears streaming down his face, and, following Wanqing’s instructions, flayed the cat, opened its belly, placed the wooden figurine inside, then sealed the cat in a wooden box.

After arranging everything, Yang Huanzhi bribed a thief to sneak into the attic’s courtyard at night and bury the cat underground. Yang Huanzhi waited outside the wall; the cat was not yet dead and let out heartrending cries as it was buried alive. Hearing those sounds, Yang Huanzhi felt chills run all over his body, but for Wanqing’s sake, he forced himself to go through with it.

After all was done, Yang Huanzhi waited patiently.

One day, suddenly, a torrential storm broke out, accompanied by thunder and lightning. The next day, news spread that the garrison commander, Diao Wansheng, had died suddenly at home. Yang Huanzhi bribed someone in the military and learned the details of Diao the Tiger’s death.

It was said that Diao the Tiger died a terrible death, his eyes wide open, his body covered with claw marks, as if something had scratched him to death. When he died, he was still clutching his saber tightly. The dressing table was covered with knife marks, and it was surmised that Diao the Tiger must have seen something terrifying in the mirror before he died, so he swung his saber wildly at the dressing table.

Yang Huanzhi concluded that Wanqing had succeeded in her revenge, and her soul must be attached to the dressing table, for Wanqing’s blood had once splattered on it.

After Diao the Tiger’s death, a regimental commander named He Quan succeeded him as brigade commander and took ownership of the attic, becoming its new master.

With revenge fulfilled, Yang Huanzhi, overwhelmed with guilt toward Wanqing, sought out the down-and-out monk, hoping to renounce the world and become a monk.

The monk told Yang Huanzhi that all living things possess spirit; Wanqing’s soul was one, and the black cat was another—a spiritual cat who, for the sake of avenging its master, was willing to transform itself into a vengeful spirit at the cost of its own life. By using one living spirit to obtain another, Yang Huanzhi had accumulated even greater sin. The monk advised him to contemplate and sincerely repent, and when his worldly ties were severed, he could then renounce the world, take refuge in the Buddha, listen to scriptures daily, and atone for his sins in this life.

...

My third uncle recounted the story slowly, and by the time he finished, it was nearly noon.

I pressed him eagerly, “And then?”

My third uncle shook his head. “After that, I couldn’t hold on any longer; the story ends here. All of this was seen in Fei Yao’s dream. I suppose this is the origin of the hauntings in the attic—a karmic entanglement a hundred years old…”

I pondered for a moment and said, “Wait, that doesn’t add up, Uncle.”

My third uncle paused, “What is it?”

I asked, “So, does that mean Fei Yao’s previous life was Wanqing?”

My third uncle nodded. “It must be. Otherwise, Fei Yao wouldn’t have dreamt all this.”

I continued, “Then after Wanqing took revenge, she must have reincarnated. In that case, the dressing table shouldn’t have Wanqing’s spirit anymore. But when we arrived, Xu Ruoxi’s actions at the dressing table clearly showed Wanqing’s ghost at work.”

My third uncle said, “I’ve thought about that too. What’s certain is: the dressing table contains a remnant of Wanqing’s soul, as well as some lingering resentment from the black cat. Although it’s only a fragment, after a hundred years, it can still stir up trouble. To resolve the evil in this house, the root lies with Wanqing’s remnant soul. It seems we must meet this Wanqing.”

I was stunned. “You can see Wanqing? But she died a century ago.”

My third uncle smiled, “Nephew, your uncle’s skills—”

I quickly waved my hands, “Enough, I believe you…”

At that moment, daylight was streaming in, and Fei Yao finally awoke on the bed.

When she woke, she looked around in confusion, clearly exhausted.

My third uncle smiled and asked, “This time, do you remember the dream?”

Fei Yao was dazed for a while before hesitantly asking, “Master, that dream…”

My third uncle nodded. “It’s real. Wanqing is your previous incarnation. And she still has a remnant soul here; from my analysis, she’s still waiting for the wooden man, Yang.”

From their conversation, it was clear Fei Yao understood the story.

Fei Yao murmured, “What a harrowing love story—such longing spanning a hundred years. I want to write it all down…”

My third uncle then asked, “Ms. Fei Yao, is your real surname Fei?”

Fei Yao shook her head. “Fei Yao is just my pen name. My real name is He Xinyao.”

“Do you have any ancestors who were in the military?”

Fei Yao nodded. “I think my great-grandfather was some sort of regimental commander during the warlord era. When my grandfather handed me this house, he said everything inside was passed down from my great-grandfather and I wasn’t to sell or dispose of it.”

My third uncle, hearing this, suddenly understood. “It seems your great-grandfather was the regimental commander surnamed He, Diao the Tiger’s subordinate who succeeded him as brigade commander.”

So that was it—Fei Yao’s great-grandfather was once under Diao the Tiger, and after Wanqing’s rebirth, she became Fei Yao. Truly, fate turns in endless cycles; those bound by destiny are never truly parted.

With the matter settled for now, we left the attic with Fei Yao, taking her back to her lodging to await further news.

My third uncle and I then made our preparations and returned to the attic before nightfall.

According to my third uncle, tonight we would meet Wanqing.

He seemed so confident, but my heart was in turmoil. Wanqing was a vengeful ghost a century old—meeting her would surely be perilous. We had already witnessed the might of both her and the black cat. Still, my uncle said we were here to help her, and if handled properly, there shouldn’t be any danger.

I wanted to ask what would happen if things went wrong, but I held my tongue—for if I knew the consequences, I might not have dared to come at all.

Back at the attic, I prepared a peachwood sword, a black tiger charm, and a Daoist net, just in case.

To my surprise, my uncle glanced at them and told me to leave every magical item outside; none could be brought in.

I was stunned—last time, we’d barely escaped with the help of these talismans. This time, we were intruding uninvited; if we offended Wanqing and had no protection, death would be certain.

But my uncle was adamant, so I complied.

Leaving everything behind, my uncle carried only his backpack. He did not rush inside, but stood in the courtyard, gazing at the sky.

(End of chapter)