Chapter Twenty-Eight: Room 901

Shen Chang’an did not expose Fang Yi’s words directly. For one thing, he truly did need to rent a place; for another, he was also interested in getting a look at the wraiths upstairs.

Originally, Shen Chang’an had planned to live quietly, staying away from such matters. But after what had happened before, that adventurous urge within him had been stirred up once more.

If I won’t venture into the worlds within books, can I really not handle these small problems in the real world?

It wasn’t that he was reckless—rather, the ghosts upstairs hadn’t shown the slightest trace of bloodlust, meaning they’d never harmed anyone. As for those who’d suffered misfortune after being tainted by the yin aura, that was simply the result of exposure, not the spirits’ intent.

“Wraiths forming in the living world—could there be something wrong with this building?”

Unfortunately, Shen Chang’an had no knowledge of geomancy. If he had acquired the divine ability of “Earth Sense,” he could have discerned something, but as it was, he even needed the Zhonglong Jade Talisman just to judge the presence of yin energy. Expecting him to read the feng shui was simply too much.

“Mr. Shen, would you like to go upstairs and see the apartment now?”

Shen Chang’an thought for a moment and then replied, “Could you wait for me a moment? I have a bit of a stomach ache and need to use the restroom.”

“Uh, well, the bathroom upstairs is available…”

“I really can’t hold it—my apologies.”

Shen Chang’an cut him off and slipped into a nearby shop in the residential complex. There was no public restroom in the compound, but the supermarkets inside always had one.

Although Fang Yi was somewhat displeased, he decided to wait for Shen Chang’an, thinking of what was to come.

Inside the restroom, Shen Chang’an casually chose a stall, then pulled from his coat a bottle of ink and a softcover notebook.

These were things he’d just bought, and fortunately Fang Yi hadn’t followed him—otherwise, he would have found it strange for sure.

Seated on the toilet, Shen Chang’an dipped his finger in ink and began drawing talismans right away.

Although the ghosts upstairs had never harmed anyone, they were still things of the underworld—who could say when they might suddenly act up? Shen Chang’an had no wish to repeat his encounter with the mountain fiend: something that should have been easily resolved, yet still resulted in him being injured.

Even now his arm ached dully. Without the aid of magic, he could forget about recovering within ten days, half a month.

But this was no time for brooding. Shen Chang’an quickly filled seven or eight pages of the notebook with demon-banishing talismans, and then drew two ghost-slaying charms as well.

The talismans of Qingping Temple seemed crafted for slaying evil and banishing monsters; their practicality and adaptability were extraordinary. No need for special talisman paper, custom brushes, or cinnabar—so long as one had spiritual power, the symbols could be drawn.

Granted, their effectiveness could not compare to those properly crafted. But in an emergency, who cared about such things?

It was said that the orthodox Daoist sects required one to bathe, burn incense, set up an altar, and pray in earnest to request power from the ancestors, then prepare cinnabar, special paper, and unique brushes before creating a talisman.

Such talismans were extremely effective; those made with rare materials could even become magical treasures. But in true combat, if you ran out of talismans, there was no way to replenish them.

But that was beside the point. Shen Chang’an swiftly completed his talismans, hid them on his person, and emerged from the restroom.

“Ah, sorry to have kept you waiting, Mr. Fang. I had some bad food the other day—my apologies.”

Fang Yi showed no sign of impatience; instead, he smiled and said, “No need to apologize, Mr. Shen. It’s only natural—everyone has such moments.”

Shen Chang’an raised his brows. It seemed Fang Yi truly had been troubled by this for some time, or he wouldn’t be so polite.

“Well, let’s go then, Mr. Fang. Let’s see your apartment.”

Wasting no more time, the two of them took the elevator to the ninth floor. The moment they stepped out, Shen Chang’an felt the temperature drop several degrees.

“Ha, Mr. Fang, it’s quite cool up here. Do you have air conditioning by the stairwell?”

Beads of sweat formed on Fang Yi’s brow again, but he forced a smile and replied, “N-no, of course not. It’s just that this side doesn’t get any sun.”

Shen Chang’an made no comment, glancing around. The design of this building had two apartments per floor. One was Fang Yi’s, 901, and the other was 902…

Shen Chang’an narrowed his eyes slightly. There was no yin energy in 902, but curiously, there was a trace of resentment lingering within.

The resentment was so faint that he hadn’t sensed it from downstairs, but it was present all the same.

He paused and turned to Fang Yi. “Mr. Fang, do you know who lives next door?”

Sweat broke out even more on Fang Yi’s forehead. “Heh… well, people here in this complex, you know, rarely interact. I’m not really sure.”

“Don’t you owners have any kind of chat group or something?”

“Haha, well, there is a group. But, uh, I work a lot, business is just getting started, you know how it is—there’s always so much to do. My wife handles all the community matters, so I don’t really know the neighbors.”

“Ah…” Shen Chang’an purposely drew out his reply in a teasing tone, looking at Fang Yi with a hint of mockery in his eyes. “Then why not have your wife handle this rental?”

“Heh… heh… I happened to be free today, just today.”

Fang Yi could barely resist the urge to punch Shen Chang’an, but he had to keep him happy in hopes he’d rent the place, so he clenched his jaw and held his temper.

If someone from 902 got close to 901—well, the wraiths all gathered in 901, but since no one could see them, if they wanted to visit next door, they’d just slip right through. Could the owner of 902 possibly stop them? Perhaps they didn’t live together day in and day out, but the yin aura inevitably spread. The residents of 902 probably suffered some ill effects too, and eventually just fled.

The source of the yin aura was not in 902. Once that household left, they were no longer affected. As for unlucky Fang Yi, his connection to the place meant the wraiths kept fixating on him, causing trouble now and then.

Shen Chang’an guessed these wraiths were earthbound spirits, trapped in this location and unable to leave at will. The only person they could truly torment was the owner of this apartment—Fang Yi.

Apart from Fang Yi, the only people they could influence were those who actively entered the apartment. So as long as the place remained unoccupied, no matter where Fang Yi ran, these ghosts would keep tracking him down.

Click!

Just then, Fang Yi opened the door to 901. Instantly, a sinister, chilling wind surged out; even the carpet was thrown into the air by its force.