Chapter Seventy-Eight: Awakening Memories

Chapter Seventy-Eight

Everyone’s perception had already been twisted, and even Zhang Chuanshi nodded in agreement when he heard this:

“Yes, that’s the number Wu Dajing mentioned last night.”

The others echoed him.

Zhao Fusheng was not flustered; she was gambling. “No,” she replied firmly, shaking her head. “That’s not what Wu Dajing said.”

“Not what he said?” Wu Shaochun and the others were baffled.

At the dinner table last night, Wu Liyou, Wu Shaochun, Zhang Chuanshi, and the others were all present. They distinctly heard Wu Dajing say the village had “nineteen households, seventy-nine people.”

Zhang Chuanshi was quick-witted. Seeing everyone’s hesitation, he immediately raised his voice:

“That’s right! The Madam is correct!”

He supported Zhao Fusheng unconditionally. Even though what she said contradicted his memory, he declared loudly, “Last night, Wu Dajing didn’t mention that number. Our Madam is an important figure in the Demon Suppression Bureau; how could she lie to you country folk?”

He then looked at Zhao Fusheng with a flattering smile. “Madam, did I say it right?”

“Very good!” Zhao Fusheng gave him a satisfied glance and nodded. “Last night, Wu Dajing said nothing of the sort. He stated that Doghead Village had twenty-one households, totaling one hundred and twenty-six people. Today, only nineteen households and seventy-nine villagers have appeared. Who else is hiding at home, not showing themselves?”

Although she had suffered repeated memory loss and could no longer recall some past events, Zhao Fusheng had already realized this must be the rule by which the vengeful ghost killed. It attacked people’s perception, confusing their memories. But she wanted to test: If the ghost could muddle memories, could she exploit the ghost’s rule and reverse perceptions herself?

She didn’t know why the ghost manipulated memories, but if she forcibly twisted the villagers’ perception, would the ghost’s rule be forced to adapt—compensating for the change, allowing other events to fill the gaps in perception?

With these thoughts, she looked at Zhang Chuanshi again.

“I checked the household records when I arrived. Doghead Village does have twenty-one households, one hundred and twenty-six people, as Wu Dajing said.”

She added, “Yesterday, when searching Wu Liren’s home, I found the village’s household registry; the numbers matched.”

Her memory told her that besides finding a quilt made of human skin hidden among Wu Liren’s bedding, she had found nothing else. Yet as she spoke these words with certainty, her memory shifted again, especially after Zhang Chuanshi promptly echoed her: “Yes, Madam is right.”

Immediately, all bizarre memories surfaced in her mind. Scenes of her reviewing the household registry in the Demon Suppression Bureau, discovering the population record at Wu Liren’s home—all flashed through her mind like a lantern show.

Just as expected! The ghost’s rule interfered with perception and memory, but a ghost was a dead thing, without thought; its rule could also be manipulated by the living. When one’s will was resolute and guarded against the ghost, the interference could be changed as well. Once everyone was affected, the ghost’s rule would automatically “fix” such “errors,” allowing Zhao Fusheng to uncover more loopholes and exploit them.

“Seems so—”

The villagers, simple-minded and manipulated by the ghost’s rule, accepted Zhao Fusheng’s authority without question once they believed.

“There really are people who haven’t come,” Wu Shaochun nodded.

Just then, footsteps sounded outside. Most frightening, even in the previously silent side chambers of Wu Liren’s mansion, there was movement.

A cough echoed from one of the inner rooms, stunning everyone.

But in the next moment, the villagers’ perception was twisted again, their memories changed. As Zhao Fusheng heard the cough, her body tensed.

Why had she come to Doghead Village? The disappearance of Wu Liren’s family—an entire household vanishing mysteriously.

Zhang Chuanshi had a brief moment of terror, instinctively turning to meet Zhao Fusheng’s gaze. His expression began to change: first fear, then confusion, then irritation and impatience.

“What’s wrong with Wu Liren? We’re here to investigate for Doghead Village, yet as village head, he knows full well everyone’s to gather, but always arrives last.”

The old man didn’t realize he’d been influenced by the ghost’s rule; his memory had been twisted in an instant. He hadn’t forgotten coming to Doghead Village for the ghost case, but he’d forgotten the details, even the fact that Wu Liren’s family had already disappeared.

The villagers seemed to forget the disappearance entirely, complaining in annoyance:

“I think Wu Liren’s family is too arrogant, not even respecting the Demon Suppression Bureau’s orders.”

Zhao Fusheng blinked.

At the instant her memory was twisted, she realized something was amiss. The ghost’s rule was at work again; she sensed a change in perception but could not recall what.

The doors to the side chambers swung open, and members of the Wu family filed out.

From the central hall, a plump, middle-aged man hurried out, buttoning his clothes and calling as he ran:

“I’m late, I’m late, forgive me, Madam.”

Then he shouted back inside, “Wife, hurry up!”

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” a woman replied impatiently.

Soon, doors to other chambers opened in succession, and countless unfamiliar faces emerged.

“Shaoguang!” Wu Shaochun waved at a young man. “Come sit next to me.”

The man forced a smile, shook his head blankly, and walked to Wu Liren instead.

All villagers moved aside in perfect harmony.

Wu Liren, just out from the chamber, took center stage, with the rest of the Wu family crowding around him.

The cough grew louder. Before long, another chamber door was pulled open, and an old man with a grim expression and bluish complexion, wearing an outer coat, appeared before everyone.

Wu Liren called, “Father, take it slow.”

Zhao Fusheng’s back tingled, and she instinctively turned her head.

As she turned, the ghost’s rule struck again, twisting her memory of “Wu Datong’s death,” erasing all recollection related to it.

Wu Liren’s children helped the old man to a seat.

Meanwhile, a faint mist had appeared outside the main gate, quickly spreading throughout the Wu mansion. Shadows began arriving one after another.

First came a barefoot, hunched man with pale cheeks and uneven shoulders, a simple face. Wu Liyou exclaimed:

“Ligong, where have you been? Why are you only just here?”

It was Wu Ligong. Though he hadn’t been present earlier, everyone’s memory of him had vanished, and none found this the least bit odd when he arrived.

Next came an elderly woman, thin, with graying hair tied at the back, but two strands fell alongside her cheeks.

“Mother!” Wu Shaochun cried out in surprise, “Why are you only arriving now?”

He seemed to only now recall he had a mother, rushing to help her.

Zhao Fusheng watched the absurd and terrifying scene, feeling deeply unsettled. She vaguely sensed the villagers were being manipulated by some force, yet her own memory and perception were again disturbed; all previous anomalies erased.

The late “villagers” sat down, warmly welcomed by all.

Wu Dajing’s elderly mother was last to arrive, coughing, covering her nose with a handkerchief, and supported by her children and grandchildren as she took her seat.

“Old Zhang, count again,” Zhao Fusheng ordered.

Zhang Chuanshi nodded. “Households first, report your numbers to me.”

Everyone complied, counting one by one.

After about a quarter of an hour, the noisy scene calmed. The numbers were confirmed, and Zhang Chuanshi reported:

“Madam, Doghead Village should have twenty-one households, and now twenty-one are present. The registry records one hundred and twenty-six people, and one hundred and twenty-six are here.”

He scratched his head. “You really are right; Doghead Village does have this many people—”

He paused, bewildered: “Wait, why did I say that—?”

Zhao Fusheng ignored him, her gaze sweeping over the densely packed courtyard.

“I came here to investigate—”

She froze, unable to finish. “Why am I in Doghead Village? What am I here for?”

All memory was jumbled, her mind in chaos.

Dizzy, her blood vessels throbbed in her head.

She desperately tried to recall the reason for her visit, but some mysterious force blocked her, two wills clashing. Zhao Fusheng felt a sting in her nose, a surge of blood scent.

Warm nosebleeds trickled down, the shadow of death looming behind her.

Unnoticed, ghostly mist began to spread throughout the village, the vengeful ghost’s shadow flickering in and out of view.

As Zhao Fusheng drifted into confusion, her chest suddenly chilled.

The pouch carrying her Soul Life Register opened, and the silent ghost incantation erupted. Dense, terrifying ghostly whispers spread from the register, enveloping her.

Beneath her, the vengeful ghost she’d suppressed twice with the merit value seemed to sense something, showing signs of revival.

The shadow in the ghostly mist grew, the fog deepening. Zhao Fusheng’s face turned pale, and her nosebleed stopped abruptly.

Her muddled mind became sharply clear.

All emotion drained away, her eyes devoid of feeling, her body corpse-like.

Her scattered memories froze.

She briefly borrowed the vengeful ghost’s aura, breaking free from its rule.

But she knew this clarity would be fleeting.

The ghost familiar was far away in the capital, and the ghost incantation could protect her for a moment, not forever.

The vengeful ghost she controlled was about to revive; using it again would mean her demise.

Taking advantage of her brief lucidity, Zhao Fusheng reviewed her few remaining cards.

She possessed a ghost arm, a human skin quilt, and a scroll from the Demon Suppression Bureau.

She drew out the quilt from her bosom, unfolded it, and draped it over herself.

She had forgotten how she’d acquired the quilt and didn’t know why she did this, but remembered sleeping under it last night—it must have made her feel safe.

After wrapping herself in the quilt, she took out the scroll from the Bureau.

It was a case file, documenting a strange incident of a living person catching fire; she didn’t know what connection it had to Doghead Village.

She could no longer recall the Doghead Village case, but believed she wouldn’t bring anything useless.

If she chose to carry this scroll, she must have had her reasons.

The mark she’d left on it had vanished; her naked eye could not discern anything odd.

Time was running out.

The vengeful ghost she controlled was sensing something, about to revive.

Zhao Fusheng steeled herself, shook out her sleeve, and pulled forth the ghost arm hidden within.

The ghost arm, affected by the current atmosphere, seemed restless. She grabbed it and pressed it against the scroll.

The scroll was empty, the ghost arm uninterested in ordinary objects.

But the moment it touched the scroll, the shriveled ghost arm began to stretch, its withered claws extending, and the human skin paper in its grasp dropped soundlessly.

The rule of the Beggar Ghost activated: as long as it reached out, neither man nor ghost could refuse its request.

The ghost hand pierced the void.

A vengeful ghost could deal with another vengeful ghost.

It ignored the ghost’s rule, having no memory or perception, unaffected by interference, and broke through barriers to seize a blood-red paper cutout.

Once the paper figure was gripped, it began to tremble violently.

In Zhao Fusheng’s mind, the Divine Register prompted: “Detected the aura of a ferocious vengeful ghost. Capture?”

She ignored the prompt.

Because, upon seeing the trembling paper figure, all chaotic perceptions and memories were violently jolted, lost memories returned, confusion forcibly corrected.

County Magistrate Pang brought Wu Dajing to report the incident—mentioning the disappearance of Wu Liren’s family—during the recounting she realized Wu Datong once had an invisible, unmentionable eldest son—journeyed to Doghead Village—

Wu Dajing nearly died in the carriage due to the ghost’s rule, saved only by her temporary suppression with the ghost arm.

Arrived in Doghead Village, during discussion Wu Dajing spoke of Wu Datong’s eldest son’s birth and tragic death by the vengeful ghost—“Wu Dajing” returned—she lost her memory—

All these memories crashed into Zhao Fusheng’s mind.

As if an endless nightmare of reincarnation had finally awakened.

Zhao Fusheng let out a long sigh.

“How perilous this is.”

Heavens, apologies, uploaded at the wrong time...