Ghosts are the remnants of people after death—twisted echoes of what once was. The reason people collide with ghosts is because their own aura lures them, a fatal attraction in the darkness. But you, Leo Liu, your fate is ironclad. That’s why you didn’t die, even as you brushed up against the spectral, and made contact with a ghost.
As Leo Liu’s consciousness slipped into a fog, Old Eccentric’s voice cut through the gloom. His eyes widened, staring at the heavens, where a Bagua flickered with sickly yellow light. Then, a scorched figure, flesh charred and blackened, oozed blue smoke—its presence suffocating. Around it, men dressed in black watched in silence. Old Eccentric stood before Leo Liu, wordlessly dragging on his cigarette, the haze swirling between them.
Gradually, the burned figure crumbled into drifting ash, dissolving into nothingness—a silent erasure by the ghostly forces.
Old Eccentric began to speak, his words heavy with memory. Long ago, where The Old Tower now looms, a fire raged—a blaze set not by accident, but by the hands of vengeance. Someone was burned alive, a victim claimed by hatred and flame, their death anything but natural.
Years passed. A wealthy family, blind to the curse, built their mansion atop the ashes. The three of them lived in fleeting happiness, unaware that the charred soul from the fire could never leave. He lingered as a ghost, bound by vengeance, waiting for the one who doomed him.
Day after day, year upon year, the ghost grew more vicious. In the end, he seized the daughter of the family, burning her alive in agony. He twisted her soul, forcing her to lure strangers into the cursed house—a puppet of his malice, doomed to perpetuate the suffering.
Yet the dead girl defied him. Instead of obeying, she drove away anyone who approached The Old Tower, her spirit tormented under the vengeful ghost's cruel grip. Her existence was one of endless suffering—caught between duty and pain, her soul withered in the shadow of his wrath.
One day, a wandering Taoist passed by. In daylight, he performed rituals, sealing the vengeful ghost inside The Old Tower. He ordered wooden bars placed on the library windows to block the flow of yin energy. The ghost road runs west, and the library—choked with heavy yin—became a passage no spirit could ignore.
The Taoist spared the girl ghost, leaving her to wander, searching desperately for escape. By a twist of fate, Leo Liu’s destiny aligned with hers, allowing her to reach him in dreams—her longing a spectral cry for help, echoing through the darkness.
On the night the library was consumed by fire, the girl ghost intervened—her spectral hand pulling Leo Liu back from the brink, saving him from the flames. The rescue was desperate, the horror palpable, as she defied the darkness to grant him life.
After hearing the full weight of Old Eccentric’s revelations, Leo Liu let out a long, ragged breath. His eyes locked onto Old Eccentric, voice trembling as he asked, “What should we do about the girl ghost?”
Old Eccentric’s reply was grim: “For now, she can only be sealed away. The resentment clinging to her is deep and dangerous. Only once it fades can we help her move on.”
“Why did this happen to me?” Leo Liu asked, voice barely above a whisper. “I shouldn’t be able to see ghosts, shouldn’t sense their presence.”
Old Eccentric just smiled faintly, extending a gnarled hand. Leo Liu placed his own hand atop it, their grip cold and uncertain—two survivors clinging to each other in the shadow of the supernatural.
This chance encounter left Leo Liu forever changed—now able to see ghosts, drawn into the ranks of the Ghost Burial Squad as a novice, his life forever entwined with the dead.
Everything in the Ghost Burial Squad felt new to Leo Liu—yet chillingly alien. Following veteran members on countless missions, it took him ages to truly adapt to the world of ghosts.
In class, he met monks, Taoists, and others clad in strange, ritualistic garb. Each explained the art of confronting and capturing ghosts in their own cryptic way, their words thick with mystery and dread.
Leo Liu felt compelled to personally help the ghost who had saved his life. Driven by gratitude and haunted by obligation, he studied relentlessly. Old Eccentric entrusted him with the sealed urn containing the girl ghost, and so the days blurred into years, each one shadowed by her silent suffering.
During this time, the work of catching ghosts—once thrilling to Leo Liu—became a source of exhaustion and dread. He watched colleagues die, one after another, and suffered wounds that nearly claimed his own life. His heart grew numb, his spirit worn thin by endless horror.
Doubt gnawed at him, and the job’s meaning blurred. Then, during a disaster that claimed more than ten lives, Leo Liu alone survived. He broke down in agony, weeping as he watched his comrades die before his eyes. No matter how many times it happened, each loss brought him closer to collapse.