Chapter Fifty-One: The Corpse Without a Soul

Wei Qi looked at me, I looked at Wei Qi, and Shang Xiaoyun looked at the two of us—none of the three could hide their surprise.

“Uncle Qi, what should we do?” For reasons I couldn’t quite explain, I felt a deep pity for this little ghost. Yet, as things stood, I already had three ghosts under my care—my wife Wang Ying, my sworn sister Shangguan Wan’er, and Qingting, who was raised for Li Danian. There wasn’t much blood left in me to sustain any more.

Wei Qi squatted down, gazing at the little ghost crouched on the ground. “What is your name?”

The little ghost lifted its face, eyes full of despair. “Xuan Li.”

“Do you truly wish to follow him?” Wei Qi pointed at me.

The little ghost named Xuan Li nodded.

I pulled Wei Qi aside. “Uncle Qi, I already have enough ghosts with me. I can’t afford to take in another one.”

Wei Qi shot me a glare. “What do you know, boy? You think anyone can just raise a ghost as they please? If you take him in, he’ll be grateful, you know? Since you have this talent, why not take advantage of it while you can? If I had your gift, I’d have accepted him long ago.”

Wei Qi’s words made sense, and for a moment, I was at a loss.

“Stop hesitating. Trust me, your soul jar can hold at least eight or ten ghosts easily. Wang Ying and Shangguan Wan’er both have corpses, so they don’t need your soul jar and won’t drain much of your blood. Besides, you must properly train Xuan Li and make him reveal who’s behind him and why he tried to harm Shang Xiaoyun.”

I almost fainted. So it wasn’t entirely for my own benefit but, as always, for Shang Xiaoyun’s sake. Still, I never doubted Wei Qi’s advice—if he said raising ghosts was advantageous, it surely was.

“Xuan Li, you may follow me, but let’s be clear: from this day forward, I will protect your soul, but you must never do anything to harm humans. If you stay by my side, I’ll treat you as a brother, and I hope you’ll heed my words.” Whether human or ghost, as long as there’s still some goodness left in the heart, I believe in giving a chance.

Hearing my words, Xuan Li looked up once more, his face awash in sorrow, eyes rimmed red. “Master, thank you. I no longer have to live in constant fear. From today onward, I am willing to do anything for you.”

His words made me feel rather embarrassed; I’d agreed to let him follow me, but never intended for him to become my servant.

With things settled, Xuan Li, like Qingting, entered my soul jar. Since Wei Qi and I still had business to attend to, we took Shang Xiaoyun to her best friend’s place, then headed straight for the county hospital’s back courtyard.

In the night, the place was shrouded in silence. The faint moonlight lent an air of desolation. Although the county hospital stood in the heart of the city, the back courtyard was actually a graveyard, so no one ever came here—passersby would always take a detour.

Wei Qi and I parked the car to the side and slipped quietly into the graveyard. It was a little after ten—not exactly the dead of night—so if anyone saw us, it would be hard to explain. We squatted among the graves, chatting.

“Da Chuan, haven’t you found all these recent events rather strange?”

I nodded. Indeed, things were odd. Who kept targeting Shang Xiaoyun again and again? Who had driven all the spirit guides in our area to the brink? Who was pulling the strings, and why?

Though much had happened, my greatest concern wasn’t these mysteries. Apart from my mother and second uncle—both missing, though I believed they’d return—my focus was on Wang Ying. I needed to find seven corpses for her, which weighed heavily on me. Trying to lighten the mood, I changed the subject. “Uncle Qi, why not bring Shang Xiaoyun back to Weijia Village? You two suit each other.”

Wei Qi shook his head. “Do you really think there’s any chance for me and Shang Xiaoyun?”

“Uncle Qi, if there wasn’t, would we have gone this far? I even dressed as a woman for this.”

Wei Qi lowered his head, absently brushing soil from a grave mound. “I love her, truly. But the closer I get, the more distant she feels. It’s not a matter of the heart, but of circumstance. She’s a woman of wealth and power; I’m nothing but a spirit guide everyone shuns. She’s beautiful and privileged, and I’m anything but impressive—except, perhaps, for my stomach.”

His words were pragmatic, but I didn’t share his view. Women often seek a sense of security rather than superficial charm. Wei Qi might be scruffy and plain, but he was kind—especially to women. He was the very model of warmth and reliability. Such men might not appeal to young girls, but to a woman like Shang Xiaoyun, who’d weathered life’s storms, he could be exactly what she needed.

“Let’s not dwell on this now. When everything is sorted, we’ll see,” Wei Qi sighed, glancing at his phone. It was already eleven. “Time to go in.”

When it comes to matters of the heart, only those involved can truly understand. Outsiders should avoid meddling, so I said nothing more.

Just as I was about to climb over the wall, my soul jar in my pocket trembled. I hurriedly took it out and opened it. Xuan Li was crouched at the rim. “Xuan Li, is something wrong?”

“Master, let me go in for you,” he replied earnestly.

I was a bit moved—this little ghost might really be useful. Perhaps Wei Qi was right. Still, I didn’t want him to go tonight; he’d only just joined me and wasn’t in the best condition. More importantly, Old Zhao wanted seven beautiful corpses—Xuan Li might not have found them. It was better for Wei Qi and me to handle this.

Xuan Li didn’t insist, reminding me to be careful before slipping back into the soul jar. Wei Qi and I helped each other over the wall into the hospital’s back courtyard.

The yard was spacious, with some scrapped vehicles to one side and tall poplar trees on the other. We tiptoed toward the mortuary, feeling a nervous excitement—this was my first time stealing anything.

Fortunately, with Wei Qi by my side, I felt some confidence. When we reached the door, I pulled out the lock-picking tools I’d prepared, but Wei Qi waved me off, whispering, “Da Chuan, the door isn’t locked!” Indeed, the door was ajar, a chilly draft seeping out.

“What’s going on?” I instinctively stepped back. Had someone beaten us to it?

Wei Qi gestured for silence. We watched from the doorway for a while—no sounds, no signs of anyone. He beckoned, and we slipped inside.

A cold wave hit us, making me shiver. The white walls and large windows kept the room from being too dark. Rows of small beds filled the space, each holding a corpse covered with a white sheet.

Lifting a sheet, I was startled by the sight: a female corpse, clothes disheveled, her chest slit open, bloodstains dried and dark.

“Da Chuan, come here!” Wei Qi called from the other side.

I hurried over and saw the same scene—a male corpse, chest hollowed out, the sight gruesome.

“Uncle Qi, what’s going on?” I lifted another sheet nearby—again, the same, the chest cut open.

“Their hearts have been stolen.”

“Stolen? For what purpose?”

“It’s not clear yet. There are two possibilities: either their hearts were taken and cooked for someone to eat, or a spirit guide used them to make corpse oil.”

The rumor of eating human hearts wasn’t unfounded—my grandmother used to say that during the late Qing, when the Eight-Nation Alliance invaded China, the foreign devils ate human hearts. Though I’d never heard of such things in modern times, corpse oil was a different matter—my second uncle had told me about it.

Corpse oil, refined from human hearts, is dozens of times more potent than talisman water. But it’s dark and evil; only spirit guides who’ve lost their way dare secretly make it to boost their power.

Wei Qi and I checked nearly every corpse. They all shared one thing: their hearts had been removed.

After some discussion, we decided to carry out a young, pretty, heartless corpse. We had planned to take several, but Wei Qi reminded me that without a heart, a corpse can’t gather a soul—Old Zhao probably wouldn’t want it. Without a heart, it couldn’t be used for training spectral soldiers.

Regardless, we decided to try. We loaded the corpse into the car and headed to Old Zhao’s house.

When we knocked on his door, Old Zhao’s face was cold. “Did you get the seven corpses?”

I hurried to unload the corpse and showed it to him. He took one look at the heartless woman and shook his head. “This kind of corpse? You’ll need at least fourteen. Otherwise, don’t even think about the blood ganoderma.” With that, he pushed us out the door.

Now we were in trouble. Fourteen corpses—enough to form a company. Since they couldn’t be used to train spectral soldiers, what did he want so many for?

Wei Qi and I sat in the car, out of ideas. Old Zhao actually kept the heartless corpse. What was he up to?

As I pondered, Wei Qi started the car and drove toward the village entrance. I was about to give up—no way would I trade fourteen corpses for a blood ganoderma. That would be a grave disrespect to the dead.

At the village entrance, Wei Qi pulled into a secluded spot and got out. “Da Chuan, let’s go pay Old Zhao a visit.”

“What do you mean?”

“Let’s see what that scoundrel is really up to.”

I thought about it and agreed—he was no good, and it was our duty to find out. We crept to Old Zhao’s house and, just as we’d climbed the hospital wall, slipped over his courtyard wall.

Inside, a heavy scent of blood hung in the air. Wei Qi sniffed, signaling me to follow. The courtyard was old, with darkness shrouding the front rooms. But the back room glowed with an eerie blue light.

We tiptoed closer and peered through the window. What I saw made my skin crawl, my hair stand on end—the scene was horrifying.

Around a table sat seven or eight women. Their clothes varied: some were in underwear, some wore nothing at all, their chests exposed.

At the center of the table lay a person—a body, chopped to pieces. Red flesh, white bone, colorful intestines spilled everywhere. It was ghastly.

The women—they weren’t even human. They were greedily tearing into the corpse, ripping off chunks and devouring them hungrily. The sight made my whole body weak, my limbs powerless.

At last, I understood why that fiend wanted fourteen heartless corpses.

Those standing, feasting ravenously on human flesh, were his spectral soldiers. The corpse being devoured was one deemed useless. At least the heartless woman we’d brought still stood in a corner, untouched.