Chapter 181
Chapter 181
Fatty Wu looked around, then ran outside with blood all over his face. Under everyone’s watchful eyes, he grabbed a vase from the Altar Table.
The vases had originally been a pair. Qin Ying had smashed one over his head, and he had filled the other with the small stones from the floor.
He took the vase outside to make a call.
Meanwhile, after handing Xiaoyu back to her grandmother, Qin Ying asked about the amulet.
Third Aunt Xu’s expression changed. “Old Xu got it from Qingzhai. He said tying a child’s hair around it would keep them safe.”
“It was blasted out of the heart of the mountain when they were excavating Qingzhai Tunnel. Xiaoyu often cries at night, so Old Xu pulled some strings to get this from Qingzhai Village.”
Third Aunt Xu’s imagination immediately ran wild, and her face paled. “Is someone casting a spell to harm my family?”
“Don’t read too much into it,” Qin Ying hurriedly stopped her.
Whatever the truth might be, they couldn’t allow rumors of ghosts and sorcery to spread.
“This stone may emit trace amounts of radiation. We’ll take it away for testing first.”
Wu Qian returned with his phone. “There’s interference in the mountains. None of my calls went through. I’m heading back now.”
As he spoke, the belated wail of an ambulance finally sounded outside.
Xiaoyu was loaded into the ambulance, but Wu Qian only asked the doctor for a first-aid kit and quickly bandaged himself before hurrying toward the funeral home’s parking lot.
From the look of it, he intended to head straight for Qingzhai Tunnel.
The blood on his head was still from Qin Ying smashing the vase over him. She wasn’t heartless enough to let him go alone in that condition.
She quickly followed him. Before leaving, she turned back and asked the Xu Family to pay for the first-aid supplies for now, promising to reimburse them later.
With night approaching, the funeral home’s parking lot was quiet and deserted. Fatty Wu strode toward the Cultural Preservation Institute’s battered van.
He had just shut the driver’s-side door when Qin Ying climbed into the passenger seat. He stared at her in surprise. “What are you doing here?”
“Look at your complexion. You should go home and rest instead of coming with me.”
But now that Qin Ying was already in the van, he didn’t make her get out. Instead, he handed her the vase full of stones.
As the battered van’s engine roared to life, Fatty Wu said, “Since you’re here, help me get my medicine.”
Following his directions, Qin Ying found a pillbox with four compartments near the passenger seat.
A single white capsule lay in each compartment.
Keeping one hand on the wheel, Fatty Wu took a capsule and popped it into his mouth.
Remembering that Qin Ying had only recently become a permanent employee and had never taken part in a field assignment, he explained, “It’s standard-issue medicine for injuries.”
“A little wound on the head is nothing.”
Hearing that, Qin Ying relaxed.
The Cultural Preservation Bureau might seem as leaky as a sieve, but she still remembered how effective the No. 3 Agent had been. It had made her damaged skin peel away without leaving even the slightest scar.
Qin Ying didn’t know whether everyone at the Cultural Preservation Institute drove like this, but Fatty Wu sent the battered van hurtling down the road.
He even found time to tell her, “Get out when we reach the Old City District and make your own way home. If you still feel unwell, go to the hospital. You look even worse than I do.”
“Keep your phone on when you get back. We’ll contact you if anything comes up.”
Funeral homes were usually built far from urban areas, and this particular stretch of road was under construction. The van happened to run over a rock, sending the entire vehicle lurching violently.
If Qin Ying hadn’t been wearing her seat belt, she might have been thrown out of her seat.
She held the vase steady with one hand and pressed her palm over the mouth, forcing the stones that had nearly bounced out back inside.
But the instant her palm touched the pebble, her head began to buzz.
It was like touching a block of ice. The chill traveled up her hand and froze her entire head.
At the same time, an incessant ringing filled her ears.
She heard it: a voice.
She whipped her head around and saw a Shadowy Figure in the back seat of the van, facing the rear and sobbing into its hands.
The Shadowy Figure was hunched over and soaking wet. Slowly, it turned its head toward her.
Just then, the van passed beneath a streetlight. In its yellowish glow, Qin Ying saw the figure’s face.
She had seen a photograph of that face on the Altar Table in the mourning hall just fifteen minutes earlier. It was the deceased Third Uncle of the Xu Family.
Qin Ying’s heart skipped a beat as the Shadowy Figure slowly turned toward her. One hand, its fingernails still caked with mud, reached out to grab her.
As the hand drew closer and closer, Qin Ying sucked in a sharp breath and slapped herself across the face.
The crisp smack rang out. Her vision instantly cleared, and the figure in the back seat vanished without a trace.
Fatty Wu, who was driving, hissed. “You’re pretty ruthless, even with yourself.”
“That was a Tunnel Wraith,” Fatty Wu explained. “What exactly have you been doing to drain your mental energy so badly? One touch was enough for you to see it.”
“Your mental state is worse than a child’s.”
Fatty Wu had seen Qin Ying’s file, and he asked with some concern, “Were you traumatized by those last two cases? Post-traumatic stress? Insomnia?”
Qin Ying rubbed her face without answering, tacitly accepting his explanation.
It wasn’t as if she could tell him she had worn herself out on a trip to another world.
She changed the subject. “What exactly is a Tunnel Wraith?”
Fatty Wu stepped on the gas and picked up speed again. “Do you know what a Foundation Sacrifice is?”
Qin Ying nodded. “I do.”
Foundation Sacrifice was a form of human sacrifice commonly practiced in Asia.
When building bridges, roads, or houses, people believed the construction disturbed the local feng shui, so an offering had to be made to appease it.
In ancient times, the truly wicked used living people. Those with more scruples used something else.
According to Qin Ying’s grandmother, a turtle had once been buried beneath the foundation of their family’s old house to protect it.
Such practices had become much rarer in modern times.
Fatty Wu said, “Rarer doesn’t mean nonexistent.”
“The Qingzhai Tunnel was built over a century ago for Yunlan City’s first railway. During construction, they disturbed the Eye of the Yellow Springs, causing a major accident.”
“They only managed to complete the route after performing a Foundation Sacrifice.”
“According to legend, those who died in the accident and those killed in the Foundation Sacrifice inside the tunnel deep in the mountains each became a Tunnel Wraith, born from their resentment.”
Qin Ying’s eyes grew thoughtful. “But the route has been open for so long. Why did they only start causing trouble these past few days?”
The moment she finished speaking, the van screeched to a halt in front of the old city gate of the Ancient Town.
The bleeding on Fatty Wu’s face had stopped. He took the vase from Qin Ying and motioned with his chin. “That’s what we’re here to investigate. You need to go home now.”
Being sent away halfway through the explanation left Qin Ying burning with curiosity, but she knew she was in poor condition and did not want to hold them back.
She reluctantly got out of the van.
Fatty Wu probably knew that everyone at the Cultural Preservation Institute was hopelessly curious, so he added, “Go home and burn some Fumigant Powder as incense. Get a good night’s sleep, then come find us in Qingzhai tomorrow once you’re feeling better.”
With that, he sped away, leaving Qin Ying with nothing but a cloud of exhaust.