The old man looked William Carter up and down several times. He saw that this young Daoist wore a blue robe, though travel-worn, covered in bloodstains, and tattered beyond repair. He looked rather disheveled. Yet his face still bore a youthful innocence, and his smiling expression did not resemble that of a bad person, so the old man finally dared to speak: “Young Daoist, you are quite bold, but you may not know that something strange has happened recently in our Qingshan Village. No one dares to leave the village gate at midnight anymore. If it weren’t for this old man having a bit of courage, who would dare open the door for you?”

William Carter was greatly surprised by the old man’s words and asked in a low voice, “May I ask, elder, what strange event has occurred here? Why is the village so deserted?”

Being questioned by William Carter in this way, the old man let out a long sigh and did not answer immediately. He warmly invited William Carter to sit down, then served some coarse tea. After seating William Carter in the main hall, he finally explained in detail: “Young Daoist, you may not know, but our village is haunted by a fierce ghost. It has thrown everyone into panic, and the villagers are all living in fear.”

William Carter, after days of arduous travel, was exhausted and could not help but take a sip of tea to moisten his throat before asking further. Looking around, he noticed there was no one else in the house, so he casually asked, “Elder, why do you live alone? I don’t see any children or grandchildren around.”

The old man sighed again at William Carter’s question and said, “Young Daoist, you may not know, this old man’s surname is Zhang, and everyone in the village calls me Mr. Bolton. I am already sixty-two this year. I used to have several unruly sons, and seven or eight grandchildren. But not long ago, two armies appeared from who knows where and started fighting in the northwest of the village.”

At this point, Mr. Bolton’s eyes reddened, and he spoke with sorrow: “Our village was caught in the crossfire, and many people died. My sons, to escape disaster, fled elsewhere long ago and are no longer in the village. Only I was unwilling to leave, still attached to this place.”

Hearing the old man’s words, William Carter felt a deep sadness and could only offer comfort: “At least that ordeal is over now, elder. You need not be too sorrowful.”

But upon hearing William Carter’s consolation, Mr. Bolton became even more grief-stricken and sobbed, “If that were all, it would be bearable. In times of war, death is inevitable; it’s just our village’s misfortune. But who knew we would provoke some kind of plague god…”

“When those two warring armies left, a general appeared nearby with his troops, extremely fierce. It’s said he claims to be the Hegemon-King of Western Chu, standing over nine feet tall, broad and stout. With a single shout, he could shake birds from the sky.”

Hearing Mr. Bolton’s words, William Carter felt his mood lighten a bit and couldn’t help but find it both funny and exasperating. The Hegemon-King of Western Chu was a man of the Western Han era, who contended for the empire with Liu Bang, the founding emperor, and died by his own hand at the banks of the Wu River. More than a thousand years have passed since then—how could he appear in this world now?

If such a vicious ghost truly existed, able to endure for a thousand years without dissipating, even William Carter, who made a living catching ghosts and exorcising evil, would not dare provoke it. In William Carter’s mind, this “Hegemon-King of Western Chu” must be some military leader, exceptionally robust and skilled in martial arts, who earned such a nickname. The old man probably never read history books and didn’t realize this person had been dead for so many years.

After so many days of travel, repeatedly passing through war-torn lands, William Carter rarely had a chance to rest so peacefully. He drank the tea in big gulps, feeling much more comfortable in his stomach, and did not forget to ask, “Does this general often harass the village? He must be conscripting soldiers or demanding grain, acting ruthlessly. Can your village not withstand it?”

Mr. Bolton gave a slight, bitter smile: “If that were the case, it would be normal. But this general does not appear during the day; at midnight, however, chaos erupts, and it’s unclear which army he’s fighting. The shouts and sounds of killing are so loud that even the tiles on my roof have been shaken loose. It happens every night, and no one in the village can get any sleep.”

Mr. Bolton shivered, his cloudy eyes turning fearful, and said to William Carter: “And these troops—no one knows if they are human or ghost. They vanish without a trace during the day, but at night they come out to battle in the wilds. What’s even stranger is, you only hear the fighting but never see any dead bodies. The sounds of slaughter shake the heavens at night, but come daylight, not a single corpse can be found.”

Hearing what Mr. Bolton said, William Carter was instantly shocked.

His Wuji Palace was a true Daoist sect, and William Carter had practiced its arts for over ten years, yet he had never heard of such a thing.

Most Daoists cultivate in the deep mountains, practicing their arts mainly to subdue monsters and evil spirits, and to protect themselves from the demons and ghosts of the wild. But there are also those who, unable to resist temptation, practice sinister arts to harm others.

Such evil occurrences sounded very much like what the elders of his Wuji Palace had spoken of in idle conversation—the “Evil Ghost Yin Soldiers,” one of the seven great forbidden arts rumored to circulate in the martial world.

It is said that those with great magical power can gather wandering souls that have not yet dispersed. After performing rituals, they can store them in a gourd, releasing them when needed to devour the living. The stronger the practitioner, the more ghosts they can gather, and the more formidable the Evil Ghost Yin Soldiers they can create.

Thinking of the rumored power of this forbidden art, William Carter shivered several times. He hurriedly continued to ask, “Elder Mr. Bolton, have you ever seen this general? Or those mysterious troops?”