Chapter 90: The Exorcism

Little Jingjing flailed on the floor, limbs thrashing and voice shrieking, her expression one of utter melodrama.

As it turned out, even the most basic use of high-quality materials could still deliver results.

Their own Xiaohei—lazy as it was—had always taken excellent care of itself. The black dog’s blood it produced was undoubtedly top-grade.

“Uncle, help me! Uncle, help me! Brother Liangliang, save me! Brother Liangliang, save me!”

Jingjing cried out for help. She hadn’t sensed any threat from the young man, but his decisive, unhesitating actions filled her with fear.

When Li Zhuiyuan kicked Jingjing to the ground, Xue Liangliang froze, while Luo Gong shot up from the couch.

When Li Zhuiyuan splashed her with black dog’s blood, both men instinctively took a step back.

Then, when Li Zhuiyuan declared that Jingjing had been possessed—and she simultaneously screamed for help—Xue Liangliang and Luo Gong each grabbed one of her arms and legs to hold her down.

One from Central China, the other from the South—two engineering types who immediately understood what needed to be done.

The deep bond between Xue Liangliang and Li Zhuiyuan needed no explanation. As for Luo Gong, he’d seen his fair share of strange incidents on engineering sites and had once witnessed Uncle Qin’s techniques firsthand at a hospital ward.

Jingjing’s eyes blazed with fury and confusion when she saw that instead of helping her, the two men were restraining her.

Smash!

Aunt Zhao Hui had just emerged from the kitchen carrying a freshly cooked dish. The moment she saw the scene in the living room, the plate slipped from her hands and shattered on the floor.

“Auntie, save me! Auntie, save me! Auntie, save me!”

Jingjing finally spotted someone she believed could help her.

Zhao Hui rushed over in a panic, asking as she ran, “What’s going on? What’s happening?”

Li Zhuiyuan said plainly, “She’s possessed.”

Zhao Hui stopped mid-lunge, turning her head to look at him.

“What should we do, then?”

“Tie her up first. Get me a rope.”

“Okay!”

Zhao Hui ran off to fetch one.

Jingjing was speechless.

From Zhao Hui’s reaction, it was easy to understand her logic as an ordinary person:

Who would you believe—a hysterical teenage girl or the province’s top-scoring student?

But Zhao Hui’s decisiveness also told Li Zhuiyuan something else: over the past days of caring for her niece, she had likely sensed something off.

They found a rope. Working together, Xue Liangliang and Luo Gong bound Jingjing tightly.

Then they carried her to the side room and tossed her onto the bed.

Zhao Hui closed the windows and drew the curtains, sealing off the room from the outside world.

Then, all three of them turned to look at Li Zhuiyuan.

Before they could speak, Li Zhuiyuan said:

“An altar, candles, offerings, yellow paper, yellow wine… If there’s no yellow paper, get white paper and a brush or pen. If no yellow wine, beer or baijiu will do.”

“Got it!”

All three answered in unison and left to gather the items.

Only Li Zhuiyuan remained in the side room with Jingjing, who was still bound and squirming like mad.

Watching the confusion in the girl’s eyes, Li Zhuiyuan asked calmly:

“Did you really think I’d pretend not to know, just to act along with you?”

He had once told Tan Wenbin: if you feel powerless in the face of something foul, the safest option is to pretend you didn’t see it.

When he had first returned to his hometown in Nantong, that was exactly what he did.

Back then, he’d stumbled through shade-walking rituals without a clue. Faced with Dead Sinkers, he’d been helpless—his only choice was to avoid them and protect himself.

Which was why, over the past year, he’d been constantly studying.

Knowledge changes fate.

Now, when facing such filth again, he was no longer the bewildered boy who could only fake calm and go along.

Xue Liangliang and Luo Gong carried in a table. On it, they arranged candles, yellow paper, gold and silver ingots, and spirit money.

Aunt Zhao Hui’s younger sister and brother-in-law had recently died in a car crash, so it made sense she had these things at home.

Once everything was in place, Zhao Hui’s legs gave out and she collapsed to the floor—fortunately, Luo Gong caught her in time.

“My Jingjing… my poor Jingjing…”

Earlier, she’d been too busy finding rope and setting up the altar to think. Now that there was nothing left to do, her emotions surged forth.

Luo Gong looked at Li Zhuiyuan and asked, “Xiaoyuan, are you ready? What should I do next?”

“Teacher, after that river project incident back in our hometown, my great-grandfather taught me a few methods. I should be able to handle it. You…”

He glanced at the side room door.

Luo Gong understood and said to his wife, “Ah Hui, didn’t you say on the phone that Jingjing had been acting strange? Now that we’ve found the problem, it’s a good thing. Let’s not get in the way. For her sake, let’s step out and trust Xiaoyuan.”

“Okay.” Zhao Hui nodded firmly, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. She gave Li Zhuiyuan an apologetic smile. “Xiaoyuan, I’m counting on you.”

The couple left the room.

Xue Liangliang stayed. As he lit the candles, he said, “Our aunt is a clear-headed woman. Teacher’s lucky.”

“Mm. You’re lucky too.”

“Come on, bro, are you ever gonna stop with that?”

“I’m serious,” Li Zhuiyuan replied, pointing at Jingjing, still writhing like a maggot on the bed. “She reacted negatively to the Bai family aura on you.”

“Huh? That actually works?”

“Like keeping mothballs in your pocket.”

“Couldn’t you use a more elegant metaphor?”

Li Zhuiyuan shook his head.

He could tolerate the Bai family, but he’d never like them—let alone say anything nice.

The day after tomorrow, Liu Yumei would move house. It would also be his formal initiation.

The Dragon King of the River would never respect rats dreaming of ascending to the heavens from the riverbed.

“What now?” asked Xue Liangliang. “Should we call Runsheng and the others?”

“No need,” Li Zhuiyuan said, shaking his head. “Her body’s younger than mine.”

“Heh.”

Xue Liangliang couldn’t help but laugh. “Go on, keep talking.”

Li Zhuiyuan picked up a piece of yellow paper, lit it with a candle, waved it twice, then extinguished it in a bowl of yellow wine.

“If you understand me, I won’t walk the shade just yet. Courtesy first, then force. This is your last chance.

Leave the girl’s body. Enjoy these offerings.

Then go wherever you must. Do not possess others again.”

Letting the entity leave of its own volition was the simplest method—and the least harmful to the host.

Li Zhuiyuan wasn’t like Lin Shuyou. He didn’t carry an obsession with eradicating all malevolent spirits. That path was too exhausting.

Xue Liangliang nodded quietly. He remembered when Xiaoyuan had first invited him to a ritual in his room—back then, he’d spoken gently, almost pleading.

Now, the tone had changed. With skill came authority.

Jingjing stopped struggling. She raised her head and stared at him.

“Who are you really?” she demanded.

Li Zhuiyuan answered flatly, “One more word, and I’ll start the suppression.”

“I can show you respect,” she said. “But you must find me another girl—born on a yin day and at a yin hour—for me to possess next.”

Li Zhuiyuan nodded.

“You agree?” she asked excitedly.

“Go to hell,” he said.

Her face twisted into a snarl. Her eyes turned blood-red, swirling with malevolence.

Xue Liangliang felt a wave of dizziness and stumbled back, collapsing against the wardrobe.

Li Zhuiyuan, unaffected, stepped away from the altar and walked to the bed. Dipping his fingers in the black dog’s blood still smeared across her body, he began drawing a sigil.

With crane-shaped fingers, he traced a line from her brow to her throat, then to her abdomen.

Then he clenched his fist and punched her hard in the stomach.

Thud!

A crimson mark flared from her abdomen, streaking up to her forehead.

“Aaaargh!”

Jingjing screamed, more shrill than ever. Her eyes flickered between fury and confusion.

Li Zhuiyuan had plenty of other methods he could have used—but for the host’s sake, he’d chosen the crude approach.

No matter. Thanks to the black dog’s blood earlier, her power had already been weakened.

This crude method was more than enough.

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