Volume One: The Five Ghosts Life-Extending Incantation Chapter Five: Reconstructing the Case

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Chapter Five: The Case Reconstructed

“Where are we headed?” Chu Tianyou asked.

“To the home of the deceased who hanged himself,” Yaoguang replied. “We’re going to re-examine the scene.”

“We’ve already checked thoroughly and didn’t find any solid evidence. The doors and windows are intact, with no signs of tampering, so we can rule out someone familiar with the victim. The ligature marks on the body formed a V-shape, with no repeated injuries, and the fracture on the tibia’s front is a characteristic of hanging. The fibers on the victim’s skin were from his own bedsheet. The victim’s stomach contained only undigested food and nothing else. Xuancheng should have shown you the case file. Are you still suspicious, perhaps about something that chemical tests can’t detect?” Chu Tianyou mused.

“We’ll see when we get there.” As Yaoguang spoke, the car pulled into a dilapidated residential complex and stopped in front of a building. They got out and went upstairs; it was an old four-story building with four units. The deceased lived in Unit 4, top floor, number two. Yaoguang approached the door, knocked three times with both sides of her palm, then pushed it open—the door was so decayed it couldn’t be locked, and a push sufficed to open it. According to the investigation, the deceased was a forty-five-year-old unmarried man with no relatives. The apartment was government-subsidized housing. He was a migrant worker at a construction site, and the furnishings were simple yet tidy, showing he lived with discipline.

“He hanged himself from that drainage pipe up there,” Chu Tianyou pointed to a pipe above the living room. In these old buildings, the drainage system runs inside.

Yaoguang looked up at the pipe and released a thread of spiritual sense, filling the small room. In her mind, a scene unfolded: the deceased returned home, cooked a bowl of cumin stir-fried noodles, sat at the table to eat while watching short videos on his phone. Midway through his meal, he suddenly put down his phone and chopsticks, stood up stiffly, walked to the bed, pulled out the bedsheet, tore it apart, climbed onto the cabinet, tied the sheet to the pipe, slipped the noose around his neck, and slid down. The sheet tightened around his neck; he barely struggled before dying.

Yaoguang withdrew her spiritual sense. “He hanged himself suddenly while eating. Halfway through his meal, something went wrong—he stiffly left the table, climbed the cabinet, tied the sheet, and committed suicide.”

“That’s very odd. If his death happened this way, then him abruptly doing all this mid-meal, with his body stiff… it suggests a sudden loss of consciousness, perhaps as if his mind was manipulated, like a puppet on strings,” Chu Tianyou analyzed.

“Precisely. To be exact, someone put a curse on him and used sorcery to control him,” Yaoguang explained.

“A curse? Where would it be placed?” Chu Tianyou was puzzled. “His noodles and stomach contents showed nothing. Wait, there was an unusual cumin seed in his gastric residue. At the time I didn’t think much of it, but now that you mention it, I remember…”

His eyes lit up.

“Master, Senior, is this it?” Huo Mingkun, wearing gloves, brought over a small bag of cumin. The bag was open, with some cumin left inside. Yaoguang smelled it gently, a cold smile curling at her lips. “Grass Gu of the Western Regions. Not a heavy dose, but enough to control a person’s mind.” Yaoguang dialed Xuancheng. “Hello, I’m at the home of the hanged victim. Go check the seasonings used by the other four deceased, especially cumin, Sichuan pepper, black pepper—bring samples, and if possible, get their packaging. We’ll regroup at the station.”

She hung up and headed back to the bureau.

“You suspect the Grass Gu was hidden in the spices,” Chu Tianyou grasped her meaning.

“Grass Gu from the Western Regions is the fruit of a special Gu plant, resembling flower seeds, with a faint grassy aroma. If mixed into spices, it’s imperceptible. We’ll know for sure when we get back.” Yaoguang sped down the highway, reaching the police station in just over ten minutes. Xuancheng wasn’t far behind, waiting in the lab with all sorts of spices.

Yaoguang sniffed each seasoning. “Grass Gu is mixed into all of them.” She inspected the packaging—the spices all came from the same manufacturer, unknown and likely small-scale. “Xuancheng, split into three teams: one investigates the manufacturer, another checks the supply points, the third traces where the victims bought their spices. Our answers lie in these clues.”

“Understood,” Xuancheng replied, already organizing people. Yaoguang moved to a corner, raised her hand, and conjured several fireflies, tossing them out the window. The fireflies vanished. Having Grass Gu isn’t enough—there must be an altar, likely at the manufacturer’s address. She sent the immortals ahead to scout out the location.

Around two in the afternoon, Xuancheng rushed back. “The seasoning factory is small, located in the West Mountain food processing base. Few supply points, but coincidentally, the nearest spice shops to the victims’ homes all use this brand. Confirmed with relatives: the spices were purchased at these shops. For the hanging victim, I found out he often bought spices there. Here are the addresses for the factory and the shops.” Xuancheng handed over a paper.

Yaoguang took a photo and sent it to Yitian, then typed a few words before sitting down. “How about hotpot tonight, everyone?”

Her suggestion stunned the room—having a feast before the case is solved might invite scolding.

Yet seeing Yaoguang’s confident face, no one could figure her out.

Xuancheng looked at her mysterious expression, baffled. She didn’t even lift her head, instead inspecting her nails and muttering, “They’ve grown out—what color should I do next?”

“Senior…” Yaoguang was lost in thought when Huo Mingkun nervously pointed outside, his face pale. “Look!”

“Don’t worry, they’re on our side,” Yaoguang sat up calmly, smiled, and glanced out the window. Ah, they’ve arrived.

In Huo Mingkun’s eyes, several beams of colored light soared from afar, instantly arriving, manifesting as several men and women behind Yaoguang. One stunning woman had a snowy, bushy tail. They whispered in Yaoguang’s ear; their words were incomprehensible, and Yaoguang replied in kind before the group transformed into streaks of light and vanished beneath the blue sky. The beautiful woman flipped her tail and threw Huo Mingkun a flirtatious glance, leaving him dumbfounded.

Yaoguang patted him, “Time to move—don’t space out.” She smiled and shook her head as she walked out, saying, “Tianyou, bring me the shopkeeper from the spice shop visited by the victim who fell to his death. Xuancheng, you and your team come with me to the factory. It’s time to close the net.”

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At Yaoguang’s words, everyone sprang into action, surprised.

Half an hour later, five police cars stopped outside the West Mountain spice factory. By the time they arrived, Yitian had already surrounded the place with his team. Huo Mingkun was speechless; the previously modest factory was now shrouded in golden light, like an impenetrable shield. The beautiful woman with the tail stood next to it, flanked by the same group—including a sharp-faced, tiny-footed old lady, and a refined man in white. When Yaoguang stepped out of the car, the man in white floated over to greet her.

“Hey, kid, what did you see?” A middle-aged officer tapped Huo Mingkun.

“Uh, maybe you should ask Senior Phoenix yourself—I’m afraid to say.” Huo Mingkun swallowed, remaining silent as the man in white spoke quietly to Yaoguang. She replied with disdain, “Such meager skill. Break the door.”

The man in white turned to his companions. “Break the door.” Before their eyes, the iron gates suddenly collapsed with a thunderous crash.

“Xuancheng, Tianyou, bring Akun and follow me inside. The rest stay put—don’t move without my orders.” With a wave of Yaoguang’s hand, a flash of white light blinded them, and Yaoguang’s group of four entered. All factory machinery had stopped; several workers stood inside, and on a high platform, a black-robed elder grinned maliciously at Yaoguang. “Phoenix Goddess, I didn’t expect you’d come in person. Forgive me for not welcoming you properly.”

“I’m not here for small talk—I’m in a hurry for hotpot.” Yaoguang ignored him and strode toward the platform. The workers tried to block her, but she waved them aside, sending them flying. She soared onto the platform, where she found a Five Ghosts Longevity Formation, its five nodes each holding a wooden figurine, yellow paper attached with the birth dates of the five deceased. At the center sat a man in a wheelchair, barely alive. Seeing him, Yaoguang’s fury surged; she grabbed him and lifted him off the chair. “So after ten years, you’re still alive, you scoundrel. I should have killed you back then. Gui Lie, you let the Ghost Sect run rampant, nearly wiped out my Sky Sword team, and cost me the life of the one I loved—yet you survived. Now you dare stir up trouble again?”

She tossed the soul back into the wheelchair. Gui Lie, stunned by the sudden turn, recognized Yaoguang and cowered, trembling.

Yaoguang’s eyes glowed crystalline blue as she coldly swept the factory with her gaze. “Well, a parade of ghosts. Male Immortal, act—let none escape.”

No sooner had her words fallen than a fierce wind arose. Huo Mingkun was speechless as countless black phantoms surged from all sides, instantly entangling with the immortals behind Yaoguang. With a wave, Chu Tianyou and others rushed the platform, and Huo Mingkun, snapping to attention, executed a shoulder throw, pinning the black-robed elder to the ground.

Yaoguang formed a hand seal; the five wooden figurines moved to her hand. She looked at the elder, then crushed the figurines and yellow paper to dust, which vanished in the karmic fire rising from her palm.

“No…” the elder cried out, powerless. Yaoguang began to chant over the formation, and soon its light faded. Five souls floated in the air.

Yaoguang sighed. “Please wait, soon someone will guide you.” Then she turned, ignoring the elder’s curses from below, watching the fight beneath the platform. These ghosts, raised by the Ghost Sect, were no match for the immortals. Soon, they were subdued, each kneeling. The immortals stood behind them as Yaoguang recited a passage in an unfamiliar tongue, visible only to Huo Mingkun’s yin-yang eyes.

“My goodness, so many,” Xuancheng exclaimed, seeing the immortals behind the ghosts. Chu Tianyou and he exchanged a knowing look, bowing deeply. “Greetings, esteemed immortals.”

“Little Xie, it’s been a while,” the tiny-footed old lady smiled kindly at Xuancheng.

“Thank you for your concern, everything’s well,” Xuancheng replied respectfully.

“Grandmother Huang, you are indeed gracious,” Chu Tianyou bowed, then greeted each immortal in turn. “I am Chu Tianyou, greetings to Elder Mang, Sister Hu, Brother Chang. May your immortal paths shine far and wide.”

As he bowed to the man in white, he recognized his face and his eyes reddened. “You—you, I never thought I’d see you again. Have you entered the immortal path? How should I address you now?”

“Just call me Male Immortal, as she does. I am on the path, no longer afraid. It’s a joy to see you again,” he smiled.

“Seeing you again is blessing enough,” Xuancheng was moved. Former comrades, reunited under these circumstances—who can say if it’s joy or sorrow?

Yaoguang’s eyes hid a trace of sadness. “Enough chatter. If you want to drink, come to my place as before—but this time, don’t try to get him drunk.” Without waiting for a response, she looked at the kneeling ghosts below, coldly declaring, “I don’t care how you died or your reasons; those who join the Ghost Sect deserve death. Elder Mang, Grandmother Huang, send them on their way.”

“You’re still as ruthless as ever,” Grandmother Huang teased, but had already begun weaving the soul-sending formation with the other immortals. This formation didn’t send souls to reincarnation, but to oblivion—scattered to nothingness.

“We’re leaving, girl,” Grandmother Huang waved, and the immortals vanished, taking the ghosts with them.

Yaoguang approached the black-robed elder. “By affiliating with the Ghost Sect, what punishment do you deserve?”

“Mercy, Goddess, mercy!” he begged.

“You’re human—I have no right to judge you. I’ll strip your cultivation, send word to your sect, and leave your fate to the law.” She struck his crown with her palm; he collapsed, inert.

“And you, Gui Lie.” Yaoguang looked at him. “I won’t judge you. Your deeds will decide your fate.” She conjured a talisman, chanting, “Summon the Judge.” The talisman burned away, and the black-faced, red-robed Judge appeared, hovering. “Phoenix, what brings you?”

“Greetings, Judge. These five unjustly killed souls—please guide them to reincarnation and arrange good families for them. As for this man, let his crimes be reported to the King of Hell for strict punishment. My respects.” Yaoguang bowed, and a paper box appeared in her palm, which she burned with her fire. “Thank you, Judge.” The box transformed into a treasure chest in the Judge’s hand, filled with gold and silver.

“Still so courteous. Rest assured,” the Judge smiled. Yaoguang burned more small boxes, which appeared in the hands of the five souls. “Take these, and may your next life be blessed.”

“Thank you, Goddess.” The souls followed the Judge away, clutching their treasures.

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“Girl, Lord Yama awaits you for a drink—don’t forget your appointment. As for this scoundrel’s soul, I’ll collect it when the time comes,” the Judge said, disappearing with the five souls.

Yaoguang pressed a talisman to Gui Lie’s brow. “Soul fixation. You have nowhere to run. After your execution, the Judge will come for you. Whether it’s the Eighteen Hells or Iron Encircled Mountain, it’s up to Yama—but eternal damnation is certain.” She ignored his trembling in the wheelchair, leapt down from the platform, and with a wave, collected the spirit pills from the workers, conjuring a butterfly to carry them westward. The spirit pills would be returned to their sects, and without them, they’d forever be mere mortals. Against the Ghost Sect, Yaoguang’s confiscation was already lenient.

“Tianyou, bring the others in; take these scoundrels back to the station.” Yaoguang’s spirits soared. “Akun, let’s go—big sister’s treating you to hotpot.”

“How old are you? You’re more than qualified to be his grandmother,” Xuancheng teased as they walked.

“I like it—so what? Akun, are you happy with that?” Yaoguang strode ahead.

“Happy, absolutely happy—a million times happy!” Huo Mingkun, after handing over the black-robed elder to his colleagues, responded loudly and jogged to catch up. Who wouldn’t be? Phoenix obviously favored him—only a fool would refuse. “Senior, your spells are amazing.”

“Interested? I’ll teach you later. Don’t call me Senior—call me Sister,” Yaoguang replied.

“Yes, Phoenix Sister, thank you, Sister—slow down, watch the threshold!” Huo Mingkun’s sycophantic manner made Chu Tianyou roll his eyes; his disciple was being stolen.

The shrill sirens cut through the sky, and evening news rolled out: the city’s serial death case was solved. A local spice factory had added newly developed drugs to seasonings, releasing them for random human trials, causing five deaths by hallucination. The small factory was shut down, its few products recalled and destroyed, and all suspects arrested. Citizens were advised to rest easy.

In a VIP suite of a popular hotpot restaurant, the Sky Sword task force celebrated joyously. The manager served them attentively. “Yaoguang Sister, how’s the food tonight?”

“Wonderful—bring two more seafood platters,” Yaoguang smiled.

“Certainly, as many as you want…” The owner promptly instructed the staff.

“The immortals have returned, the offering is made.” Yaoguang glanced at her phone, smiled, then called out, “Come, eat, eat!”

The private room was filled with laughter and cheer.

In the provincial office, two people stood side by side.

“This Phoenix is truly remarkable. Told me she’d solve it in seven days—done in two.”

“That’s her style. Where is she?”

“Having a gathering with the Sky Sword team.”

“Knows how to enjoy life.”

“Doesn’t she?”

The two exchanged glances, gazing at the city’s bustling traffic, and burst out laughing.

Not long after, the verdict came: chief offender Soul Split and others were convicted of intentional homicide, drug manufacture and distribution, sentenced to immediate execution. The accomplices received sentences ranging from death with reprieve to twenty years. The case was concluded. Once the verdict was published, media crowded outside the Ye City police station for interviews, and victims’ families delivered banners in gratitude. Director Jia greeted them with a broad smile, while the Sky Sword heroes slipped in and out the back door, none willing to be grabbed by the press.