43: Soul-Eating Puppet

Waiting is the most agonizing thing of all.

As time passed, my mind grew more and more conflicted. I both hoped to summon my grandmother’s soul and yet dreaded it. If the spirit appeared, it would confirm that my grandmother had truly died, unrelated to the mysterious third party lurking in the shadows. If her soul did not come, it would mean she was still alive.

The incense slowly burned down to its end, and my mother, still in a deep sleep, remained motionless. I sat watching as the incense shrank to ashes.

The house was silent. The ritual had failed.

Xu Buhuo stepped forward and performed a mudra above my mother’s head. She gradually woke and immediately asked if Grandmother had come. I shook my head.

It seemed likely now—Grandmother had faked her death.

Now, to confirm whether she was truly pretending, there was only one way left: to open the coffin. It had only been a short while since we buried her, and now I had to consider digging up the grave. If not absolutely necessary, I would never want to do such a thing, but the facts left me no choice.

After clearing away the items used for the soul-summoning in the main hall, I arranged for several uncles and Cao Guangshan to rest. With the limited space, they would have to squeeze together.

Fearing more incidents might occur, I made sure they were vigilant. If anyone behaved abnormally, they were to tie him up immediately; I even prepared ropes and collected all the fruit knives in the house.

Everyone else went to rest. Only Xu Buhuo and I remained awake. Exhaustion weighed on us, but a vital task remained—retrieving my lost soul.

Xu Buhuo explained that since my soul had been intentionally taken, not left by its own accord, it could only be found, not summoned. There was no way to call it back.

Seven days would pass in the blink of an eye. The two children had left the corpse-sealing kiln and might stir up trouble in the village at any moment. The four remaining coffin-bearers could also fall victim to misfortune. Time was desperately short.

He also warned that if I didn’t reclaim at least one soul within seven days, the outcome would be dire. Though he phrased it gently, I knew the consequences would be grim.

Xu Buhuo’s method was simple: he took a drop of blood from my brow, placed it on a yellow talisman inscribed with my birth details, slid the talisman onto an incense stick, and set it in a small hole at the center of the soul-retrieving altar, chanting incantations and performing gestures.

After all this, he drew a charm on my brow and told me to carry the soul-retrieving altar outside. As for the seven lanterns branching from the altar, he assured me not to worry; as long as I didn’t fall, the wind could not extinguish them.

According to him, as long as my soul was within a kilometer, the altar could lead the way.

He lit the incense at the center of the altar. At first, the blue smoke drifted aimlessly, but soon, the altar in my arms began to warm, and the smoke began to flow steadily toward the graves behind the house.

I could feel the breeze blowing from the side, yet the incense smoke persisted toward the graveyard.

“Let’s go,” Xu Buhuo urged, moving quickly, since the ritual would fail if the incense burned out.

All the way, the incense smoke shifted slightly but never deviated from the direction of the graveyard.

When we arrived behind the house, the smoke led us to Jiang Yan’s grave.

After rescuing the village chief, the grave pit had not been filled in. The smoke slipped straight into Jiang Yan’s coffin, where it pooled and lingered. I looked at Xu Buhuo. He nodded. “It’s here.”

The smoke’s guidance meant my lost soul was within the grave.

After observing a moment, Xu Buhuo jumped into the coffin, cleared away the decayed contents, and soon found a round jade pendant at the bottom—a safety amulet.

He brought the amulet up, and the smoke from the incense curled tightly around it, refusing to disperse.

My soul was inside that amulet. Staring at the strange soul-retrieving altar, I was amazed by its uncanny power to locate my missing spirit.

We returned to the house. Xu Buhuo did not immediately restore my soul, but examined the amulet closely. When I asked what was wrong, he replied, “It’s hard to say. There’s only one soul inside, not all seven. If all seven souls were lost, why is just one here?”

Hearing there was only one, I was disappointed, but better one than none. I told him to restore it anyway; it was the middle of the night, and I was exhausted from the day’s ordeals.

The restoration was straightforward: Xu Buhuo pressed the amulet to my brow, burned three yellow papers, and circled me, chanting.

“Enter,” he commanded.

I felt the amulet chill, then as if someone blew on my brow, and it was done.

Yet Xu Buhuo remained troubled. When I asked, he shook his head, clearly withholding something.

The soul-retrieving altar was returned to its place in the ritual array, the only way to preserve my strength after losing part of my soul; otherwise, I would quickly lapse into sleep.

That night, I shared a room with Cao Guangshan. As soon as I lay down, sleep claimed me.

I didn’t know how long I slept before Cao Guangshan shook me awake. Still groggy, I ignored him until he persisted.

“There’s something outside the window.”

That snapped me awake. Strange things had happened outside that window before—Jiang Yan, Old Lady Wang, both had appeared there.

Dawn was breaking, enough light to see without a lamp. Outside, a shadowy form, vaguely human, hovered at the window.

Suppressing my fear, I turned on the light. The outline was indeed human. Cao Guangshan clung to my arm, terrified.

Steeling myself, I approached and looked closely—it wasn’t a person, but a paper effigy, eerily lifelike.

Strangely, this effigy was not made of the usual white paper, but black, making it all the more sinister.

Its uncanny appearance made me hesitate. I didn’t rush to fetch Xu Buhuo—I thought he deserved a bit more rest after these exhausting days. I would wait until morning.

A black paper effigy had appeared outside the window, and I didn’t know who was responsible. But since it was placed there, it must have a purpose. I leaned against the bed, dozing as I waited.

At first light, I heard Xu Buhuo getting up. I went out and told him about the black paper effigy at my window.

“A black paper effigy?” he repeated, frowning in disbelief.

“Yes, it’s black,” I confirmed.

Xu Buhuo’s expression turned grim. He hurried into my room to see for himself.

A wave of dread washed over me. From his reaction, it was clear this effigy was nothing good.

In my room, Xu Buhuo stared out the window at the black paper figure, his face so dark it seemed to chill the air.

“Go find two bamboo poles. We need to bring this thing into the courtyard, and whatever you do, don’t touch it with your hands.”

Outside, I saw the black paper effigy rested on something thick beneath it, concealed by the black paper. It was heavy, and a yellow talisman was stuck to its chest, inscribed with a birth date—my own.

Seeing my birth date, I knew I had been right: this thing was meant for me.

We carried the black paper effigy into the yard. My mother and four uncles, awakened by the commotion, gathered around, puzzled by the effigy’s color and uncanny realism.

“This isn’t just a paper figure. There’s a layer of skin underneath,” Xu Buhuo murmured, making us all shudder. Cao Guangshan asked instinctively, “Human skin?”

“What else?” he replied.

The courtyard fell instantly silent.

Terror etched itself on everyone’s faces. None of us had ever heard of a paper effigy made from human skin. I didn’t know its purpose, only that anything crafted from human skin could not bode well.

Once my mother and the others withdrew, I asked Xu Buhuo, “What is this thing for?”

“It’s called a Soul-Eater Puppet,” he answered, pausing before he continued. “With your birth date stuck on it, whoever took your soul wants this thing to devour your spirit. And that’s not even the worst part.”

Xu Buhuo fell silent, his tone heavy.

And in that moment, the air itself seemed to freeze.