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Soul Revival
墨書 Inktalez
A girl named Xiao Man threw a puppet into the river and took her own life, while her father, consumed by obsession, refused to let her be buried.
That night, two coroners arrived to examine the body.
The initial examination went smoothly, but as the Old Coroner was recording the autopsy report, an incredibly eerie scene unfolded.
The puppet in Xiao Man's arms suddenly toppled over on its own. The Old Coroner initially thought it was just the wind, but the next moment, a ghostly figure appeared behind him. Hearing his master's scream, the Little Coroner, who was burning Joss Paper, turned pale as he dropped the paper all over the ground. His legs felt weak, yet he gritted his teeth and ran toward the source of the sound to investigate.
Suddenly, the Old Coroner was dragged into a pitch-black house by an invisible hand. The door slammed shut with a heavy thud as if controlled by some mysterious force, cutting off the faint light from outside and plunging the interior into absolute darkness.
The Little Coroner trembled as he reached out to push the door, only to find it had inexplicably locked itself. The cold and hard sensation sent chills through his fingertips, making his heart sink.
"If I don't leave now..."
This scene terrified the Little Coroner, prompting him to flee. Yet for some reason, the door remained locked.
Turning around, he was instantly struck with fear as his face turned pale. Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead while his legs trembled uncontrollably.
There stood Xiao Man's corpse not far away, her shadow slowly creeping toward him. The oppressive feeling was unbearable.
What followed was a horrifying death for the Little Coroner. From within the shadow emerged two hands—thin and bony with sharp nails that emitted wisps of black mist. They quickly tightened around his neck.
The Little Coroner's eyes widened in terror as he desperately tried to pry those hands away, but they remained unyielding, squeezing tighter. A choking sound escaped his throat like an old bellows struggling for air; his face turned red before gradually shifting to a bluish hue.
Under Xiao Man's hollow gaze not far away, he felt his life force ebbing away. His vision blurred until he was ultimately strangled to death, his body collapsing limply as his spirit wavered toward the realm of Yama.
Witnessing this from a distance, A Jiu, who understood rituals better than anyone in the village, furrowed his brow. Such an unnatural death would surely bring disaster; he immediately decided to cremate Xiao Man's body on the spot to prevent any further malevolence.
However, before he could finish speaking, he was abruptly interrupted by none other than Xiao Man's father, Old master Huang from the opera troupe.
Old master Huang's figure was already somewhat hunched, and at this moment, he appeared even more haggard. Yet, his eyes revealed a near-mad obsession.
He stood resolutely by his daughter's corpse, shouting hoarsely, "No! No matter what, you can't turn my daughter to ashes! She hasn't left; she's still here! You can't do this!"
Seeing Old master Huang's deep affection, A Jiu felt a wave of helplessness. After much hesitation, he thought perhaps there was another way to resolve the matter and decided to perform a ritual to allow Xiao Man's spirit to return through a puppet.
With a serious expression, he said, "To guide the soul back into the body, it must be done at the time of Yin. Use crow's blood to draw her spirit out. The puppet carries Yin blood; it is an item for your daughter's burial and will serve as the vessel. Once she appears, cover her heavenly spirit with your closest kin's blood to lock her soul in place. Then, you can cremate your daughter's physical body, and her spirit will remain within the puppet so she can be with you forever."
The ceremony soon began. Dark clouds gathered in the night sky, completely obscuring the already dim moonlight. An oppressive atmosphere enveloped the entire area.
A Jiu set up the altar in the center of the space, placing various ritual tools upon it. The Yellow Talisman fluttered in the wind while candle flames flickered uncertainly, illuminating A Jiu's serious and tense face.
"I have returned! Divine One," Old master Huang chanted, his voice trembling with both anticipation and fear.
"Quickly lock the soul!" A Jiu shouted as he swung his Peach Wood Sword, drawing mysterious patterns in the air.
Old master Huang gritted his teeth and bit his finger, crimson blood seeping out. He trembled as he raised his hand to let the blood fall, but it seemed as if an invisible force resisted him. The drops of blood hung suspended in mid-air before slowly falling to the ground, splattering into a small pool.
A Jiu focused intently, reciting spells faster and faster while changing hand gestures continuously. Finally, he successfully transferred Xiao Man's spirit into the puppet's body.
The puppet's previously vacant eyes suddenly sparkled with life as if it had come alive.
To prevent Xiao Man's physical body from being possessed by other vengeful spirits, A Jiu immediately prepared to cremate Xiao Man using the Yellow Talisman.
But just then, lightning flashed across the sky with a deafening roar of thunder that seemed ready to split heaven and earth apart.
The compass began spinning wildly; its needle whirled rapidly on the dial, emitting a buzzing sound as if issuing a warning of impending danger.
The previously empty water basin began to eerily seep water. It started with drops trickling out one by one before increasing in volume as if something beneath was pushing upward with force, creating a gurgling sound that echoed clearly in the stillness of the night.
When A Jiu turned around, he saw that the pool was filled to the brim, a layer of eerie mist hovering over the surface. As a chilling breeze swept through, a corpse slowly emerged from the water.
The body was grotesquely swollen, its skin a nauseating shade of grayish-white. Tattered clothes hung loosely on it, and hair floated in the water like seaweed.
Unexpectedly, the puppet had borrowed Xiao Man's soul and gained consciousness, transforming into a Vengeful Spirit. It radiated a thick aura of resentment, its form flickering between clarity and obscurity. A sharp cry escaped its mouth, piercing through the eardrums and striking deep into the most fearful corners of the heart. Gradually, it floated into the air, looking down upon everyone with an unsettling presence.
By the time the village chief and others arrived, A Jiu was already dead in the mourning hall. His body lay twisted on the ground, his face frozen in terror, eyes wide open as if he had witnessed something extraordinarily horrifying before his death.
Meanwhile, Old master Huang held the puppet without a care in the world. His gaze was vacant as he stared ahead, murmuring his daughter's name, completely oblivious to the strange occurrences around him.
The saying went: "When the puppet returns to its soul, living beings must not enter."
From that moment on, no one dared to step foot into the Huang family's old residence.
Five years later, on a sunny day, a group of young people arrived at Yaoyao Village with backpacks, chatting and laughing as they sought inspiration.
Most of them were from the city and treated these rural ghost stories as mere tales, not taking them seriously at all.
"There's no such thing as ghosts," scoffed a stylishly dressed boy.
"Have you ever seen one?" another girl chimed in, her face full of disbelief.
"I don't believe it; that's because you haven't seen it," uncle Sun earnestly tried to persuade them.
But despite uncle Sun's persistent efforts, the young people paid no heed and insisted on staying in the infamous haunted house. They thought it would simply add an unusual twist to their adventure.
As they walked along the road, they suddenly heard an unsettling sound of opera singing.
The melody was hauntingly beautiful yet carried an indescribable chill, echoing along the quiet country path as if it came from another world.
"Someone is singing, but no one is listening."
"Sometimes the performance isn't meant for people," uncle Sun said in a lowered voice.
"Is it for the ghosts then?" another young man joked, though he couldn't help but shiver.
"Stop talking."
A timid girl in the group tugged at the speaker, her face filled with fear.
Yet, inexplicably, Qianqian found herself drawn to the sound of the performance, as if some magical force was compelling her to approach the stage.
Behind the stage stood a beautifully crafted puppet, its features carved with astonishing realism. Dressed in a lavish costume, it exuded an unusual allure in the dim light.
As she turned to see the exquisite puppet, she instinctively reached out to touch it. The moment her fingers brushed against its surface, a chilling sensation shot through her fingertips, causing her to shudder.
In the next instant, the puppet transformed into Xiao Man's likeness. The once delicate features twisted into a grotesque mask, eyes gleaming with resentment, mouth wide open as if about to let out a piercing scream. Before Qianqian could react, the puppet suddenly fell to the ground with a dull thud, echoing sharply in the silence around them.
"She won't let you go either."
A sinister voice seemed to come from all directions, reverberating in Qianqian's ears and making her break out in a cold sweat. Her body froze in place as fear surged over her like a tidal wave.
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