IBGSW Chapter 112
Opening the Investiture
The pressure on everyone shot up at once.
Fan Bisi had been bold until now, but he was young, and facing a malignant ghost head-on, his terror hardly needed describing. His hands, clenched too long, had begun to cramp. He was on the verge of giving way when Zhao Fusheng stepped up beside him, reached out, and gripped his arm.
Zhao Fusheng was a ghost-controller, and the ghost's influence made her body temperature far lower than an ordinary person's. But now Fan Bisi, overwhelmed by terror, was drenched in cold sweat that drained the heat from his body. The moment they touched, he was even colder than she was.
Feeling her warmth, he turned belatedly.
"Fusheng—"
He called her name instinctively.
"Mm."
Zhao Fusheng answered but didn't look back at him. She stared fixedly at the distant gate. Her profile was sharply defined, her nose straight, her lips pressed tight, showing that her tension might be no less than his.
"Hold the planks steady," she said.
For some reason she didn't try to comfort him. Yet that one casual steadying hand, that offhand call, drove three-tenths of the fear out of Fan Bisi's heart.
The ghosts had not yet appeared, but their baleful aura had already blanketed Ding'an Tower, stirring the deepest terror in everyone. Zhao Fusheng's forcefulness and her composure now were like a shot in the arm for the Fan brothers.
"Right."
He answered, then clumsily and with effort adjusted his stance and hugged the plank firmly in his arms.
Thud-thud! Thud-thud!
The footsteps had sounded somewhat distant at first, but in a flash they seemed to be much closer.
Invisible pressure turned into a mountain and crashed down on every head.
The first to go mad was Zheng He, who had looked calm. He suddenly spun around and thrust out his chest:
"Come on! I'll fight you to the death!"
"Don't go crazy," Zhao Fusheng scolded without turning her head.
In the moment they spoke, the ghosts' footsteps seemed to vanish all at once. The thuds were gone. Zheng He, who had been acting ready to fight to the death, shivered and came to himself. Fear regained the upper hand. Silently he pulled his clothes closed and shrank back into the crowd.
"I'll guard the rear for you, my lord!" he said.
Zhao Fusheng had no time for him. Her gaze was fixed on the pair of doors at the entrance to the Ding'an Tower garden.
The footsteps had stopped, but the ghosts hadn't left. The ghost fog around them grew thicker. Under the oppression of the ghost domain, the torches held by all the runners shrank to small flames, and the light dimmed quickly.
After a long while—
Creak... creak...
The garden gate suddenly shook violently twice, though nothing had touched it.
In the silent garden the noise was strange and chilling, and everyone shuddered. Then the shaking gate went still again. The people who had been paralyzed with fear saw everything go quiet and felt their hearts ease.
Even Fan Wujiu let out a long breath.
Fan Bisi was just feeling relieved when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Zhao Fusheng's grim face. The breath caught in his throat. As if he understood something, his gaze snapped toward the gate—
Two sharp creaks. Where the gate was nailed to its frame by the hinges, it seemed to be wrenched apart by two uncanny forces.
The planks tore loose from the frame. But something strange happened. Without the frame to support them, the gates didn't crash down. They hung at an eerie slant, standing in midair.
"..."
Fan Bisi swallowed. Fan Wujiu burst straight into tears:
"Brother, I'm scared—"
"Don't be scared."
Fan Bisi didn't know how he got the words out. He answered his brother almost mechanically.
Then everyone saw the two leaves of the gate begin to turn stiffly. As if someone were carrying them on their back, they spun around on the spot. At the motion, the bolt across the inside of the gate snapped, and the planks swung from inside to out. Through the opening was pitch-black ghost fog, so thick you couldn't see your own fingers.
At the gate stood a man and a woman in blue burial clothes.
The two ghosts were thin, their faces bluish, their features hard to make out. Through the gray-black fog, one could see them wearing loose blue shrouds, their hands tucked strangely into their sleeves, folded against their bellies.
Behind them, two vermilion gate leaves were strapped to their backs.
The planks were heavy. The ghosts carrying them paused for a moment, then took a step forward.
Kongyun Temple, the Sun mansion, every scene of ghost slaughter from the past half month rose in the minds of the envoys and runners who had worked the case. Those people broke first.
But amid the fear, Zhao Fusheng's warning surfaced in everyone's heart: no screaming, no crying, no moving!
Everyone present had been marked. Once the ghosts appeared, they would all die in Ding'an Tower.
Countless minds replayed the scenes of the past days' ghost cases, and terror passed silently through the garden.
Shuffle, shuffle.
The two ghosts began to walk slowly, bearing the planks.
Everyone here had been marked by their killing rule, but the ghosts were in no hurry to slaughter. The two great malevolent objects that had been born with them were right there, within reach. Retrieving them and piecing themselves whole took priority. They moved on stiff legs toward the Fan brothers.
Fan Wujiu was the more timid of the two. Seeing the ghosts approach, he instinctively began to back away.
Zhao Fusheng had foreseen it. She reached out and pressed her hands against the brothers' backs.
"Don't move."
She thought of herself as calm, but she was in fact extremely tense. Her throat felt glued shut by invisible fear. Her voice was so faint it was almost drowned out by the pounding of her own heart.
The brothers froze.
Then the ghosts, with the planks on their backs, walked forward step by step. Their strides were small and their pace was not fast, yet the psychological pressure they brought was immense.
Every person had only one thought: run!
But fear, like an arrow, nailed every would-be runner in place.
Shuffle! Shuffle!
The footsteps grew closer. Zhao Fusheng and the brothers could nearly make out the ghosts' faces.
In that extreme tension, Zhao Fusheng's mind slipped for a moment.
Memories of the original host surfaced, and with them the faces of Mr. and Mrs. Zhao.
The faces before her now were withered. After half a month underground they had a dreadful mummified look, the skin covered in a pale film, the blue veins beneath crisscrossing like a net. Corpse spots covered their faces and necks, giving off a gloomy, malevolent air.
They were no longer the faces in her memory. They were cold, stiff, and numb.
"..."
A faint sigh stirred in her. But in the time it took for that feeling to shift, the two ghosts with the planks were already upon her.
The earthy, rotting smell came to her, mixed with the chill of the dead and a heavy stench of blood.
The sentiment in Zhao Fusheng's eyes faded quickly, and her gaze sharpened.
The Fan brothers had lost the ability to react from terror. The crowd behind them was in despair, and Zheng He's face was ashen. Up in the tower, no one dared look anymore.
...
The ghosts came nearer and nearer. In Zhao Fusheng's sea of consciousness, the Investiture of the Gods warned:
Calamity-tier malignant ghosts approaching. About to retrieve the ghost door planks.
Note: Once the ghosts retrieve their ghost door planks, they will be pieced together whole and advance in tier immediately.
Zhao Fusheng's nerves were drawn to the extreme. She focused all her attention on the ghosts and used every ounce of willpower to keep herself from retreating. Fortunately it wasn't her first time facing a ghost up close. Although this pair of ghosts was special and hit her hard, she stayed where she stood.
When the ghosts came up to them, the planks that had been firmly stuck to their backs fell to the ground with a clang.
The sound of the gate hitting the earth rolled outward, and echoes came from all around.
The two ghosts stood woodenly. Their dim gray eyes did not look at the three people right in front of them. After discarding the original gate of Ding'an Tower, they didn't strike. They turned their backs.
Both ghosts turned their heads, backs arching like bows.
The ghost door planks the Fan brothers were gripping sensed what the ghosts were doing and began to shake violently. The pull between them was like magnets drawn together by nature. The instant Fan Bisi felt the suction, he let go.
One of the ghost door planks flew out of his hands and, with a bang, stuck to the back of the ghost that had been Zhao Fusheng's father.
The moment plank and ghost joined, a cold wind rose from level ground.
The father ghost's baleful aura skyrocketed. In Zhao Fusheng's sea of consciousness the Investiture warned:
Malignant ghost has obtained its ghost door planks and is pieced whole.
On the other side, Fan Wujiu, perhaps scared stupid, clung to the plank and would not let go.
The powerful suction between ghost and planks dragged him forward. The sight drove Fan Bisi, whose heart had barely settled, half mad.
"Wujiu!"
His love for his brother overcame his fear, and he was about to lunge forward when Zhao Fusheng, quick of eye and hand, grabbed him by the collar and hauled him back.
She stepped forward, and before plank and ghost could join, grabbed hold of Fan Wujiu and shouted:
"Let go!"
She had already established a measure of authority in the brothers' minds. At her command, Fan Wujiu acted. He released his hold, and the plank stuck to the ghost that had been Zhao Fusheng's mother with a bang.
The Investiture of the Gods prompted:
Two Calamity-tier malignant ghosts are pieced whole. The ghosts advance in tier and become Disaster-tier ghost entities!
Once the two were pieced together, it was time for the slaughter to begin.
After death, a ghost loses consciousness and memory, and acts only on instinct. Zhao Fusheng was right in front of them, but the two ghosts were wholly different from what they had been in life.
Both ghosts tucked their hands in their sleeves. The ghost shadows layered thick on the planks, and they lunged at Zhao Fusheng first.
"It's over!"
Far off, hidden in the crowd, Zheng He saw this and sighed in despair.
Zhao Fusheng was as good as dead.
Once the ghosts were pieced together, their aura was utterly different. Not only could ghost-controllers feel that sky-piercing baleful aura, ordinary people must also have felt death was near.
Zhao Fusheng was still right beside them. With such overwhelming baleful aura, no matter how many great malevolent objects she had, she could not stand against ghosts of Disaster-tier or above, let alone two.
Dead, dead!
We're all dead today for sure!
The same thought flashed through everyone's mind.
Zhao Fusheng felt the gust of chilly wind, and the ghost shadows on the planks were about to touch her body. But the ghost she controlled had been suppressed outright and made no movement at all.
The two ghosts moved first.
The ghost that had been her mother stretched out both hands, as if to cradle an infant, and clasped Zhao Fusheng around the waist.
"!!!"
Zheng He, hiding in the crowd, saw it and nearly let out an ear-splitting scream.
He was a ghost-controller, but not brave, and in his terror he wanted to shout, only to find that his fear had stolen his voice. In his mind flashed the corpses that had died on the door planks at the Sun mansion. The scenes of the ghosts' slaughter spun by like a revolving lantern.
Fight back! Fight back! Escape! Escape!
Those two thoughts went back and forth in Zheng He's heart. More than anyone, he wished at that moment that Zhao Fusheng had a hidden hand left to play and could escape.
But the scene he'd imagined did not occur.
The female ghost gripped Zhao Fusheng's waist with strength that seemed meant to tear her in two.
The dead mother was no longer the woman she had been in life.
It was not the first time Zhao Fusheng had dealt with ghosts, but this time was uniquely chilling. The face the original host had known so well was now a mix of blue and gray, the skin slack after losing its moisture, the face narrower, giving off a menacing air. The ghost's eyeballs were covered by a dull gray film, and there were large corpse spots all over its face.
Its embrace was cold, carrying the smell of soil and thick blood.
Toward its former daughter, the ghost, stripped of emotion and memory and driven only by the instinct to kill, showed not a trace of mercy. Gripping her body, it swung her toward its back.
Ghost-controllers have great vitality.
With that grab and throw, Zhao Fusheng's bones broke in great numbers, splinters piercing her heart and lungs. She was not dead yet.
Blood flowed from her wounds and seeped into the planks, where it was quickly absorbed. The crimson ghost shadow on the planks, sated with blood, seemed to come alive and hugged her tight.
Severe injury brought violent pain, and the pain happened to keep a thread of clarity in her mind.
On the line between life and death, her consciousness sank into the Investiture of the Gods.
Since activating the Investiture, she had used its merit points and opened Hell, but she had never opened the divine position of the Investiture itself.
Her consciousness settled on the first divine position—
The Investiture of the Gods prompted at once:
Spend 100 points of merit to open the divine position?
Zhao Fusheng had originally wanted to keep this first chance at investiture to send away the ghost on her own body when it was about to revive.
But plans cannot keep pace with change.
After hearing of the terrible ghost case that the double revival in Baozhi had caused, she had planned to use this investiture on the case. The Investiture's first divine position was her secret, and her confidence in taking this case.
Still, it had only been a plan. She had never actually done it.
Success or failure hung on this one moment.
The Investiture of the Gods prompted again:
Confer great ghosts as gods. Send a hundred ghosts into reincarnation.
Spend 100 points of merit to open the divine position?
Zhao Fusheng drew a deep breath. She could feel the ghost shadow on the Ghost Mother's door plank hugging her tighter and tighter.
