Chapter Eight: The Expanding Realm of Ghosts

The head came whistling through the air, so close that Fang Mu could see every wrinkle on its face and the chilling smile that twisted its lips.

“I warned you to leave, not to ruin my grand plan—yet still, you seek death!”

The village chief’s head was wreathed in a sinister wind, drawing ever nearer to Fang Mu. He tightened his grip on the Ghostbane Thorn; an unimaginable chill seeped into his bones, as if he’d fallen into an icy abyss.

“So this… is what you call the uncanny?”

Just as the head was about to reach him, the Ghostbane Thorn in Fang Mu’s hand flickered into motion. A thread of true energy coursed down his arm and into the weapon, making it glow with a crimson hue.

With a swift, fluid motion, the thorn pierced through the chief’s head. The severed head dangled from the weapon, shriveling as true energy burned it, yet no fear showed in its eyes.

With a heavy thrust, Fang Mu drove the Ghostbane Thorn downward, pinning the chief’s head to the ground, his own expression calm and unruffled.

The sight left Qing Ruowu, weakened as she was, utterly stunned. In the blink of an eye, everything had changed.

“So this is… the strength of a newly-awakened Mystic?” she thought, watching Fang Mu’s decisive movements—no hesitation, not even a wasted gesture, more resolute than many seasoned veterans.

Unbeknownst to her, Fang Mu had forced himself to adapt ever since he took up the role of coroner. From retching at the start and losing his appetite, to finally becoming accustomed—he’d needed only two sleepless nights to adapt. If he couldn’t, he’d never survive in this line of work; hunger would have claimed him long ago.

“You are hiding more than this,” Fang Mu said, gazing at the head on the ground. “If this was all you had, you wouldn’t be lying in wait here.”

A sliver of true energy replenished itself within him, but it was so faint that after feeding the Ghostbane Thorn, there was none left for anything else.

“So you’ve had a stroke of fortune after all,” the chief’s head sneered. “Hand over the Bloodstained Undershirt, and I’ll spare your life.”

“So it’s important to you.” Fang Mu drew out the undershirt, glancing at the hodgepodge body in the corner. “Then why don’t you come get it yourself?”

The whole village fell silent at once, an awkward air hanging between them.

“If you refuse, I’ll kill the woman!”

A gust of eerie wind swept the haunted domain, leaving Qing Ruowu even weaker.

“Don’t mind me…” she began, turning her head to speak.

Fang Mu interrupted her. “Go ahead—if you won’t, shall I do it for you?”

Qing Ruowu fell silent. She’d meant to say, “Don’t worry about me,” but out of Fang Mu’s mouth, the words felt jarringly wrong.

The chief lapsed into silence too; his headless, patchwork body writhed uneasily. The scene settled into a strange, tense stalemate.

“Is it that you can’t cross… because of this haunted domain?” Fang Mu lowered his gaze, staring at the head. “The head comes, but the body stays back—is that it?”

The chief said nothing.

Raising the Ghostbane Thorn, Fang Mu hoisted the head and approached Qing Ruowu, careful not to cross into the haunted domain.

“You can’t get out, so you’ll starve to death eventually,” the chief’s head spat. “Step inside, and you’ll die—but I can wait you out.”

Fang Mu shook his head. “Maybe I should test the truth of your words.”

With that, he settled in to wait, unhurried.

Within the haunted domain, shadows whirled; outside, the night stretched endlessly. Qing Ruowu’s face grew ever paler—her true energy nearly spent. If this went on, she truly wouldn’t last.

Watching Fang Mu’s composed posture, Qing Ruowu sighed.

The chief’s limbs twisted into grotesque shapes; he, too, was in dire straits. He could leave, just as he’d spoken to Fang Mu during the day without issue—but out there, he would stand no chance against Fang Mu. This house was the place of his death; the haunted domain had formed here. Without it, he could only prey on ordinary folk—just as he’d done before. Outside, he would have no power to resist.

If this dragged on until dawn, the domain would dissipate, and he’d have nowhere left to hide.

The wind howled, ever more fiercely, swirling even beyond the haunted boundary.

Fang Mu stepped back, a sense of foreboding rising within him.

Footsteps echoed—thud, thud, thud—from the direction of the chief’s wooden house. Fang Mu looked over and saw figures emerging.

But these were no longer people—their eyes were all whites, their skin deathly pale, like paper.

They were none other than the villagers of the Wildlands Village.

“My greatest mistake was not luring you into the house from the start and killing you then,” the chief’s voice was cold as the grave. “Now, I’ll let you taste the true terror of death.”

No sooner had he spoken than the villagers collapsed as one, dissolving into billowing ghostly vapor that spread outward.

“Be careful…” Qing Ruowu managed, her voice strained. “He’s willing to pay a heavy price to… expand the haunted domain…”

Fang Mu retreated swiftly, but it was no use. The once-invisible domain now took on a tangible form, spreading with lightning speed.

In the blink of an eye, it blanketed the entire village.

A bone-deep chill invaded Fang Mu’s limbs; even the slightest movement became a struggle.

Creaking and clicking sounds came as the chief, dragging his twisted body, one hand behind his back, the other and both legs propelling him forward, crawled rapidly toward Fang Mu.

His target—the Bloodstained Undershirt clutched in Fang Mu’s hand.

“It’s over,” Qing Ruowu thought, closing her eyes.

Both trapped within the haunted domain and suppressed by its power, they were utterly outmatched.

She’d hoped Fang Mu might break the deadlock, but in the end, she’d been too optimistic. He was, after all, just a newcomer to the mystical arts—how could he possibly turn the tide?

If only she’d reported up the chain before coming, instead of acting so carelessly.

The thought left her in utter despair.

“Will you let me move?”

In the direst moment, a voice reached her; Qing Ruowu opened her eyes to see Fang Mu. Even under the oppressive terror of the haunted domain, his gaze remained impossibly calm.

A phrase sprang to her mind: the greater the danger, the more one must remain composed.

She realized she was less steady than this newly awakened Mystic.

But there was no time to answer. Summoning the last of her true energy, Qing Ruowu’s body flared with dark red runes, which transformed into a streak of light and shot into Fang Mu.

Spent, she collapsed to the ground, coughing up blood as the ghostly aura pressed in.

Wiping the blood from her lips, she looked up at Fang Mu, harboring a faint hope.

Could he… truly change their fate?