With a buzzing sound, my head felt dizzy, as if something inside was about to break free. I was consumed by rage, but for some reason, clarity washed over me. Maurice Tong was already swinging his peachwood sword, sending a flurry of yellow Taoist talismans flying toward Cynthia Chung.
Cynthia Chung laughed wildly, tearing the yellow talismans to shreds. With one hand, she grabbed the millstone, and with a boom, both the millstone and the nearby water bucket went flying.
With a whoosh, the moment the millstone hit the ground, Cynthia Chung appeared beside Maurice Tong. She snapped his peachwood sword with one hand, bit into his shoulder, ripping out a chunk of flesh, and sent him flying with a palm strike.
I rushed over, floating through the air for a moment, arms outstretched to catch Maurice Tong. With a crash, he slammed into me, sending me flying as well. When we landed, I cushioned his fall; blood poured from his mouth.
"Daoist, are you alright?"
I asked quickly. On the other side, Cynthia Chung glared at us viciously, sliding toward us with a rush.
"Hmph, let’s see how you die tonight. I won’t let you off easy. I’ll eat you bit by bit, Maurice Tong. Who told you to meddle in my affairs?"
Suddenly, as Cynthia Chung was flying toward us, she crashed to the ground. She let out a shrill howl, clutching her chest as crackling sounds erupted. I saw a purple talisman emerge from her body; her flesh ignited, and she whimpered and screamed in agony as her skin charred black.
Cynthia Chung rolled on the ground for a while, then floated up, waving her arms. I felt yin energy from all directions converge on her. When the flames died, she whimpered and drifted away into the distance.
Maurice Tong struggled to his feet, coughing and gasping, clutching his chest. I saw his torn clothes and mangled flesh. Supporting him, I brought him to the base of the wall. He gazed at me quietly, seemingly on the verge of collapse. My heart was in turmoil.
Especially in that moment when Elder Quinn died, rage surged within me—I wanted to tear Cynthia Chung apart, but I couldn’t. The tremor that had just stirred in my heart was now gone, leaving me unable to describe this feeling.
It always feels like I’m powerless to choose in the face of all this. I don’t know exactly what happened to Cynthia Chung, but I do know the resentment she carries is real. Memories keep surfacing: Zachary Justice once led his two disciples and Elder Peach through the ordeal involving the scholar and the female ghost.
Maurice Tong looked at me quietly.
"Help me up."
Maurice Tong’s eyes were fixed on Cynthia Chung’s distant remains.
"Smash those bones and douse them with filth. That way, she won’t be able to cause trouble for a while, and peace will return to the city. You..."
Maurice Tong fell silent. My gaze grew mournful, a sadness I couldn’t put into words welling up inside me.
"If you had helped her back then, or done what you could, maybe Miss Cynthia Chung wouldn’t have become this way. Can you tell me what really happened at that time?"
Maurice Tong sat back down, his eyes tinged with sorrow. My own sadness faded away; whenever something happened, I’d take action—there was always a way. That’s what Zachary Justice taught me. I only recently learned of his existence, but everything he told me is exactly what I want to do, and I’ve always walked this path: coexistence.
Thinking it over, if Zachary Justice hadn’t helped that scholar and the female ghost, the ghost would have devoured the scholar and an even greater tragedy might have followed. I don’t know what became of the hundred-year promise, but I do know that neither Zhang Anle nor Master Zachary Wu will ever forget their master’s teachings, nor the ghost searching for her family. Zachary Justice, though just a passing acquaintance, spent years helping that ghost search for her kin, and in the end, he left with kindness.
In the case of Lenny Lee, even at the final moment, Zachary Justice still saw him as a person, not a monster. I might not be able to do that myself. That’s why Lenny Lee risked everything to save the three people threatened by the Immortality Society.
Maurice Tong’s face was filled with regret. I didn’t know exactly what happened, but I was sure that when Cynthia Chung’s tragedy occurred, Maurice Tong, that old ghost, and the townspeople all chose to stand by and watch.
"Maybe you’re right. The hatred Cynthia Chung carries is something we created."
Maurice Tong began to speak slowly.
Back then, there was a bully in town who was well-connected with the authorities. He always bullied the locals, swaggering around with his gang.
The officials knew about it, but because the bully’s family was powerful and often handed out favors, they turned a blind eye and let him prey on the townsfolk.
The bully owned a casino, brothel, tavern, and rice shop in town, making him a major figure. But secretly, many people hated him to death.
At that time, Cynthia Chung and her husband were refugees from afar, unaware of the town’s situation. They managed to survive in town by selling pancakes.
Every day, the couple rose early and worked late selling pancakes, caring for two children, living in a rundown neighborhood on the west side of town.
Cynthia Chung was always beautiful—even after years in the sun and wind, in her thirties she still had her charm. Many nearby called her the Pancake Xi Shi.
One day, the bully passed by and, lusting after Cynthia Chung’s beauty, publicly harassed her. Cynthia Chung’s husband tried to stop him, then grew furious and grabbed a pole, striking the bully and injuring him.
There were many people on the street at the time, and the bully only had two weak lackeys with him, so he didn’t dare cause trouble and slunk away.
That day, the neighbors urged Cynthia Chung and her husband to flee, even gathering some money for them, but the couple didn’t leave. They planned to go to the authorities the next day to explain.
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Maurice Tong also lived nearby at the time, having just returned from training. He made a living by helping with weddings and funerals. Regarding this matter, he too felt Cynthia Chung’s family should have left.
But that night, tragedy struck. The bully led a group of men, dragged Cynthia Chung’s family out, and beat her husband to death in front of her, throwing his body into a dry well before taking Cynthia Chung away.
Many suggested reporting the crime, but in the end, no one did. The onlookers didn’t lift a finger to help—they just watched the family suffer.
Maurice Tong knew Cynthia Chung had been taken. He was powerless; though he considered using his skills to help, he gave up. All he could do was perform rites for Cynthia Chung’s husband and look after their two children.
The next morning, Cynthia Chung returned, her eyes vacant, hair disheveled, clothes torn. Everyone knew what had happened, but no one spoke of it. Some brought her clothes and tried to comfort her, but the result was tragic—Cynthia Chung jumped into the well. By the time the neighbors pulled her out, she had been dead for some time.
Maurice Tong was in agony. He hadn’t done anything.
The two children left behind were struck mute overnight. Though they were young, they understood their parents were dead. Maurice Tong had planned to take them in.
But what happened next was beyond Maurice Tong’s imagination. The bully returned with his men and took the children away. Because the incident was getting out of hand, the bully decided to eliminate all witnesses—the two children were buried alive. The matter quickly faded from public attention.
But the well mysteriously dried up, and every night, wails echoed from within. Maurice Tong sensed something was wrong. Eventually, he saw Cynthia Chung, now a ghost. He tried to comfort her, but nothing changed—she cried and resented day after day.
There was another ghost—Elder Quinn would visit from time to time, telling Cynthia Chung things and occasionally bringing her something, but neither of them could help.
Then, one day while Maurice Tong was away on business, disaster struck near the dry well—over thirty people died overnight, all eviscerated.
Rumors spread throughout the town; many tried to flee, but no matter how far they went, they couldn’t escape. It was as if the town was cursed—Cynthia Chung had manipulated the ghosts and trapped everyone.
Not just the officials, but even the bully was terrified. They all turned to Maurice Tong, hoping he could subdue Cynthia Chung. But Maurice Tong knew he was no match, so he tried to negotiate. Cynthia Chung ignored him; people kept dying, one after another.
Within just two or three months, the town was almost completely cut off from the outside world. Cynthia Chung kept killing, devouring people, completely insane. Even after killing her enemies and their families, she didn’t stop.
With no other choice, Maurice Tong called for his much stronger senior brother. Together, they subdued Cynthia Chung and sealed her at the bottom of the well. Killing her was nearly impossible; the brothers could only seal her and hope she would gradually fade away.
"Maybe the reason she didn’t kill me then was because I’d looked after her children."
Dawn was approaching. Maurice Tong looked at me silently, his eyes growing dim. Slowly, he closed them. Before sunrise, Maurice Tong died. I gathered Cynthia Chung’s remains and returned them to the dry well, then sat inside, quietly reflecting on everything that had happened.
Ghosts truly are unpredictable and terrifying. And ghosts are born from people. I looked up, unsure what to say. But what comes next might be even more troublesome—there’s no way to explain it all. Maybe there’s still hope. I clenched my fists, stood up. Dawn had come.