Most vengeful spirits are earthbound ghosts, meaning they cannot leave the place where they died. After death, their intelligence gradually fades; they forget most things and remember only revenge. Even after killing their enemy, they remain in place and attack more innocent people.

As the vengeful spirit kills more people, the resentment it accumulates grows heavier, so it must be eliminated as soon as possible.

“However, there are still some doubts.” David Parker stroked his chin and pondered, “Vengeful spirits aren’t that easy to form. In my decades as a constable, I’ve only encountered two or three cases, all involving earth-shattering injustice. By rights, this Madam Xue was just a jealous woman. Even if she was neglected, it shouldn’t have driven her to prove her resolve by dying. And if she took her own life, not murdered by someone else, how could she so easily become a vengeful spirit?”

His suspicion made sense—if vengeful spirits were that easy to create, then any petty person who died could go on to harm others.

“You mean it’s possible that Xue Dayong killed his own wife?” Henry Thompson asked.

“I don’t know, but it doesn’t matter anymore.” David Parker spread his hands. “Anyway, Xue Dayong has already gone to the underworld. Let the two of them confront each other there.”

With that, the two walked out of the Xue family’s bedroom.

In the courtyard, as the midday sun shone down, the gloom in the house seemed to be dispelled, and Mrs. Brooks’s spirits stabilized a little.

Seeing the two approach, her tear-swollen almond eyes looked at Henry Thompson with watery pleading: “Little Daoist, you must help me conduct a proper ritual. Whatever you need—altar, incense, talismans—just say the word, and I’ll prepare the very best for you.”

“Uh.” Henry Thompson hesitated, then said honestly, “I don’t know how to perform rituals.”

Mrs. Brooks was stunned. “A Daoist who can’t perform rituals? Didn’t Mr. Parker invite you to help the madam’s soul find peace?”

“Setting up an altar… chanting scriptures… performing rites, I’m really not good at those,” Henry Thompson replied calmly. “But don’t worry, I have other ways to help her move on.”

Chapter Six: All Men Deserve to Die (Except the Little Daoist)

Originally, it was agreed that Henry Thompson and a group of constables would stay at the Xue residence, waiting for the vengeful spirit to appear.

But the constables at the yamen were all quite chivalrous. In front of the remaining women of the Xue family, they pounded their chests and boasted, swearing to drive out the evil and restore their beautiful home.

Yet after settling the Xue family’s women at a nearby inn and as night fell, all the constables suddenly found themselves “busy.”

Some had sick mothers at home, some had wives cheating on them, some had mothers cheating… In short, they scattered like birds and beasts.

In the end, David Parker was furious: “Damn it! I just went to the latrine for a moment, and those bastards all slipped away! Little Daoist Li, don’t worry, I’ll go round them up one by one!”

With that, Mr. Parker strode out the door full of bluster—and never returned.

But Henry Thompson had long known this was their true nature.

He was actually glad to have no one getting in the way while exorcising the ghost.

…

Inside the side bedroom of the Xue residence.

Henry Thompson sat on a grand armchair behind a folding screen, sword across his knees, quietly waiting for the vengeful spirit to appear.

This bedroom was cold and bare, its furnishings extremely simple—a stark contrast to the lavishly decorated master bedroom in the back. No wonder the madam, suddenly banished here, would harbor such deep resentment.

On the bare beam was a worn white mark—the spot where the madam hanged herself. The vengeful spirit she became would also appear from here.

The night in Yuhang Town was silent.

The evening breeze gently swayed the willow branches.

Because it was summer, the doors and windows at both ends of the bedroom were open, letting a cross-breeze in, bringing a bit of coolness.

That coolness soon turned into a slight chill.

It quickly grew colder and colder.

Another gust of wind rose, suddenly blowing out the already dim lamp in the room.

Henry Thompson, who had been sitting with eyes closed in meditation, suddenly opened his eyes—something had appeared!

Silently, in front of the screen, a hanging figure had appeared on the beam at some unknown moment.

Its neck was stretched unnaturally long, tongue dangling, and even through the screen, one could see it was dressed in heavy ceremonial robes, looking like burial clothes.

When Henry Thompson opened his eyes and looked at her, he felt that the figure hanging above was also sizing him up.

After a long moment, a cold, ghostly voice echoed in the room: “All men must die—”

Henry Thompson frowned, pondered for a moment, and said, “Madam, you really don’t have to do this. If Xue Dayong wronged you, you’ve already seen his true nature. But why throw away your own life for revenge?”

A vengeful spirit’s remaining intelligence is limited; he didn’t know if this exchange would have any effect, but he felt he should still try to reason.

Every vengeful spirit dies with a grudge. He hoped they wouldn’t dissipate with that resentment still in their souls.

But the voice sounded again: “All men must die—”

This time, the tone was even more shrill. The sinister wind outside howled louder, rattling the doors and windows.

Henry Thompson spoke again: “I know you harbor resentment, but one cannot resolve hatred by hurting oneself. Even if you killed Xue Dayong this time, you yourself will not meet a good end. Why go this far?”