"Little monk, do you really think that just saying your piece tomorrow will settle everything? Heh, among the seven of us, I'm the most even-tempered. If it were Sister Yuna Ji who had to deal with this, she might just wipe out everyone in this place, you know? Hehehe."
"Amitabha, this humble monk is only doing what must be done. Everything has its destined course. Commit evil in this life, and in the next you may be reborn as a pig, a dog, or even an ant. Karma cycles endlessly, life after life."
I looked at Master Richard Ming. After he finished speaking, he began to meditate. By now, night had fallen. Yuna Ji looked extremely bored and kept trying to talk to Master Richard Ming, but he completely ignored her.
"Ah, so boring, so dull. Little sister, what will you do? Do you hate those people?"
As Yuna Ji spoke, a wailing sound came from the bone ash urn. Grace Hu started crying again, her sobs sounding utterly miserable.
"What good is crying? Take revenge."
"Sister, I don't want revenge anymore. Those people are scarier than ghosts. I don't want to think about it..."
Yuna Ji giggled again, but in the next instant, the smile vanished from her face.
"Do you really think this is enough? Your two unborn children, and everything that was yours—are you really going to let them live so freely? It's up to you."
Yuna Ji didn't say anything more.
The next morning, government soldiers came and arrested Master Richard Ming. The family had reported him to the authorities during the night, accusing him of stealing their ancestral heirloom.
When Master Richard Ming was captured, Yuna Ji watched coldly from the side, doing nothing. Master Richard Ming was thrown into jail, and the bone ash urn holding Grace Hu was also taken back.
That night, Yuna Ji appeared in the jail cell, smiling sweetly at Master Richard Ming.
"What's wrong, little monk? You did what you thought was right, and what happened? You still ended up locked up."
"Amitabha, karma follows its own course. When I was arrested, I explained everything to them. Whether they believe it or not is their fate. Benefactor Ji, why do you linger here?"
"Little monk, what I do here has nothing to do with you. I'm just curious—after all, once your master finishes handling things, he'll probably come right over. When the fighting starts, who knows who will live and who will die? As for me, I'm just taking a last look at everything in this world. If I die, how dull would that be?"
Yuna Ji leaned against the side of the cell. At that moment, I saw Master Richard Ming open his eyes, staring blankly at Yuna Ji.
"Benefactor Ji, why continue fighting? You seven Ghost Sovereigns aren't meant to exist in the mortal world. All the harm you've caused is now the result. You should seriously consider joining my master and me, embrace Buddhism, and cleanse yourself of everything. That's the only way to truly resolve things."
"Enough, little monk. That's all for this conversation. Since I saw what happened with that family, I might as well lend a finger."
"Benefactor Ji, you..."
Before Master Richard Ming could finish speaking, Yuna Ji vanished. The scene shifted once more—back to the courtyard of that family, where the formation had already been destroyed. The six wives had made up their minds: Grace Hu must be eliminated.
At this moment, a distinct swastika symbol marked the mouth of the bone ash urn. Grace Hu had been sealed by Master Richard Ming, and the Taoist who had previously imprisoned her had once said: if the formation ever failed, the ghost’s resentment would one day break free; to destroy her, simply place the urn under the blazing sun for seven days and nights, and Grace Hu’s soul would be utterly annihilated.
In the large courtyard, the servants and the six wives had already prepared to place the urn in the center. They waited for sunrise to begin the process—to annihilate Grace Hu once and for all.
Wave after wave of heartbreaking cries echoed from inside the urn. Yuna Ji sat atop a tree, watching everything unfold below. There were still several hours before dawn. I knew that once daylight came, the sunlight would bring immense harm to any ghost.
"Sister, save me, save me..."
Grace Hu seemed to sense Yuna Ji’s presence, pleading for help again and again. Yuna Ji, perched on the tree beside the courtyard, watched with a cheerful smile.
"It’s best not to drive someone to utter destruction. Don’t you think you’ve gone a bit too far?"
At that moment, Yuna Ji revealed herself. Instantly, everyone noticed her and crowded around, but found they couldn’t touch her at all.
"Ah, how strange people are in this world—always drawn to such things. Little sister, what do you want? Will you keep enduring until sunrise, or do you want revenge?"
"Revenge, sister, I want revenge. They’ll never let me go. I have to kill them—all of them..."
Suddenly, the bone ash urn began to tremble violently. Fear gripped everyone. Several servants grabbed talismans left by the Taoist and rushed at Yuna Ji, but as soon as they approached, the talismans turned to ashes.
"That’s right. Even as a ghost, if one can’t vent their hatred, they can’t be called human. Such deep resentment—how could it be resolved with a few words or a little time? Heh, the only way to dispel hatred is revenge."
As Yuna Ji spoke, I saw the cloth sealing the urn begin to bulge. Suddenly, a fierce wind swept the courtyard, thunder rumbled overhead.
Everyone in the courtyard panicked, fleeing in all directions. At the command of the six wives, several brave servants grabbed yellow talismans and tried to stick them onto the urn.
"You might seal it for a while, but not forever. This hatred... Well then, little sister, it’s almost time."
With a loud bang, the cloth covering the urn tore apart, releasing a stream of greenish vapor. Instantly, several servants died around the urn—Grace Hu, bleeding from every orifice, her body glowing with a green light, black nails piercing straight through their bodies.
In a flash, everyone in the courtyard tried to escape, but Grace Hu used ghostly power to seal all doors and windows. Laughing madly, she slaughtered everyone in the courtyard in a single night. She only stopped at dawn, leaving the place awash in blood.
"How does it feel? Satisfying, isn’t it?"
Yuna Ji smiled. Grace Hu’s eyes regained their clarity, the murderous aura around her diminished greatly. Then Master Richard Ming arrived.
"Amitabha... mercy..."
"Little monk, what now? Do you think you can save her? As for me, I only helped her get revenge. Now, see for yourself..."
Master Richard Ming sat down and began chanting scriptures. Meanwhile, Yuna Ji slowly walked over to Grace Hu’s side.
"Little sister, you have the potential to become a Soul-Gathering Ghost. If you have nowhere else to go, look for a place called the Soul Guest Inn."
"Sister, are you leaving? Thank you..."
Yuna Ji glanced back with a radiant smile, clearly in high spirits. Then she left. Grace Hu, now able to carry her own urn, decided to follow Yuna Ji’s advice and search for the Soul Guest Inn. She traveled at night, carrying her urn, and buried it again before dawn.
Grace Hu eventually arrived at the town where Walter Cao lived. At that moment, her memory abruptly ended.
The scene returned to the photo studio. Grace Hu had exited Walter Cao’s body; Walter’s face was drenched in tears as he clung tightly to Grace Hu. Having witnessed her memories, he was overwhelmed with empathy—he too had suffered.
"Walter, take it slow. I’ll help you find that Fake Taoist. Once things settle down here, I’ll go out at night and ask the local ghosts. That Taoist left your family and went to the provincial capital—I’ve already checked."
"Why are you only telling me now?" Walter Cao shouted, his long-suppressed anger erupting uncontrollably. He trembled, and Grace Hu gripped his hand.
"Just as that sister said—hatred never fades, no matter how much time passes. Only revenge can wash it away."
Grace Hu spoke, her eyes burning with fury.
The next morning, Walter Cao busied himself opening the shop, but for days, there were no customers. Eventually, people started coming.
Though the studio had been abandoned for nearly ten years, Walter Cao’s photography skills hadn’t faded much. His photos were different—his subjects looked more spirited than in others’ pictures.
Every night, Grace Hu went out to help Walter Cao search for news about the Fake Taoist, but found nothing.
Walter Cao’s studio grew more and more popular. Many wealthy people from the city came to have their pictures taken. Yet inside, Walter could never let go of his obsession with the Fake Taoist.
"Walter, I heard from a little ghost that the Fake Taoist really did come to this city. He used to be seen near Flower Lane, but hasn’t been spotted since."
"I’ll help look during the day, too."
Walter Cao’s voice was icy. Every night, he trembled with rage, his eyes constantly burning with hatred. He longed to tear the Fake Taoist to pieces.
"Walter, don’t be angry. If we keep searching, we’ll find the Fake Taoist eventually."
"Hmph, I will find him. I’ll tear him to pieces."
Walter Cao once again lost control, roaring in fury. Seeing his own crippled feet, the anger on his face intensified. Grace Hu walked over and grabbed his hand.
"Get away..."