Chapter Nine: The Ghostly Matchmaker

Chu Youcai walked through several alleys. Looking up into the distance, he saw the Golden Thunder Pagoda of Yan Prefecture rising in the east by the shores of Cold Sand Lake—a place of great renown in Yan Prefecture, where even the magistrate would often go to offer incense. Even in the dead of night, the solemn chime of the temple bell would occasionally resound, filling people with awe. Yet to the north of Yan Prefecture, decay and neglect had set in. The City God Temple, with its red walls and earthen tiles, stood three meters tall—higher than the surrounding low houses—but incense had not graced its halls for many years.

Before long, as he drew near the City God Temple, Chu Youcai suddenly noticed a cloud of sinister energy lingering above it, unmoved by the wind, swirling restlessly within. He grew wary and took a few more steps when, all at once, a blood-curdling scream pierced the night from the temple's direction. The sound was chilling, terrifying in its intensity. Not far from Chu Youcai, a night watchman, pale with fright, cast a trembling glance at him—armored and cloaked as he was—before fleeing eastward in panic.

“It seems the City God Temple truly harbors a ghost, and such a bold one at that,” Chu Youcai thought, steadying his mind and heightening his vigilance as he approached the temple. Yet he did not enter immediately. Gripping his silver spear in his right hand and a dagger in his left, he crouched under the eaves of a nearby house, silently observing his surroundings.

For more than half an hour, he watched, but nothing else seemed amiss. Only then did he allow himself a measure of calm, reckoning it was near midnight, and began to make his way slowly toward the City God Temple.

As he pushed open the great doors, a chorus of creaks echoed, as if the entire hall shuddered in fear. By the moonlight, he read the couplet on either side of the central columns: “Here the lines of fortune and misfortune are clearly drawn; good and evil are judged with impartial regard to Heaven’s law.” The statue of the City God sat ramrod straight in the center, but its head was missing, casting a grim and eerie air over the hall.

Looking toward the rear, Chu Youcai saw the back door wide open, through which the stele of the Parental Hall was visible, bearing the inscription: “Serene, asking for nothing, seek to advance.” The latter characters had been worn away by wind and sand, yet the Parental Hall itself seemed to radiate a gentle warmth, a stark contrast to the gloom enveloping the rest of the City God Temple.

Just as Chu Youcai was about to step toward the Parental Hall, a sudden violent wind sprang up. The temple’s main doors behind him slammed shut with a thunderous bang. When he tried to push them open, he found them sealed by a powerful force; even with his prodigious strength, he could not budge them an inch.

Knowing something was amiss, Chu Youcai made to dash toward the Parental Hall, but suddenly a mass of black mist dropped from the eaves, resolving into seven or eight serpentine shadows, each nearly two meters long. Their gaping maws and exposed fangs lunged for him.

Prepared for danger, Chu Youcai swung his silver spear with all his force, channeling his energy into the Crocodile Dragon Spear Technique. At once, wind roared like tigers, clouds followed dragons, and his movements echoed with the sound of a dragon’s roar. The spear, infused with his spirit, struck at the serpent shadows.

He had gathered all his strength for this blow—perhaps even greater than what he could muster within the world of the Crocodile Dragon Mountain and River Pearl. The spear’s shadow pierced through the front column, sinking six inches deep, nearly punching through it entirely. But the serpent shadows remained unharmed, emitting strange hissing sounds. In a flash, one coiled around his spear, and the shaft instantly crumbled to mud, leaving only half a wooden stick remaining in Chu Youcai’s grasp.

Just the sound of that hissing made Chu Youcai’s head swim with dizziness. He recalled how his maidservant, Chrysanthemum Snow, had nearly lost her soul upon hearing something similar. With effort, he tried to rally himself, but the sense of stupor grew ever stronger, so much so that he could barely lift his hand.

As the seven or eight serpent shadows drew ever closer and despair gripped him, Chu Youcai suddenly felt a burning heat from the sachet at his waist, clearing his mind in a flash. He swiftly pulled it out, and in that instant, a beam of light shot from the bag—the lock of hair inside sprang forth, binding the serpent shadows. The drop of blood within flared as well, searing the apparitions as if burning them. The serpents writhed as if wounded and retreated wildly.

Seizing the chance, Chu Youcai dashed through the rear door into the Parental Hall. The serpent shadows came howling after, but as they neared the Parental Hall, some invisible force repelled them. They lingered at the threshold, coiling and writhing, black mist billowing and threatening to engulf the entire hall.

At that moment, Chu Youcai’s heart trembled with awe—the power of these monsters was far beyond what he could withstand. Had it not been for the sachet, he would surely have fallen under their spell, unable even to summon the Crocodile Dragon Mountain and River Pearl. His vaunted spear techniques, palm strikes, and healing salves were all but a joke. No wonder this world revered spirits and monsters above all.

He cast away the broken stick, took the jade pendant from his chest and gripped it in his left hand, holding the dagger in his right, ready to unleash the Crocodile Dragon Mountain and River Pearl at a moment’s notice.

Yet within his heart, a flicker of curiosity arose: Who truly was Red Jade, that her hair and blood could wield such power?

Just then, a gentle woman’s voice drifted out from the darkness of the hall, quietly asking, “That sachet you used just now, young hero—who gave it to you?”

“Who are you?” Chu Youcai was startled—by his senses, the Parental Hall was empty. Was the speaker a demon?

He pressed the Crocodile Dragon Mountain and River Pearl tight, ready to strike at any sign of threat.

“My name is Red Aunt,” the voice continued softly, “I have lingered in this City God Temple for five years now. You cannot see me—I am a fox spirit, but I have lost my power and cannot manifest my true form.”

At the mention of Red Aunt, Chu Youcai’s heart skipped a beat. “What is your relation to Red Jade?”

“So it is her. Is she still alive?” Red Aunt’s voice grew tense.

“She is, indeed. This sachet was her gift, and she is safe in my residence now.” Sensing no malice in the woman's tone, Chu Youcai pressed further, “Who exactly are you?”

“I am her foster mother…” Red Aunt sighed softly. “How did you come to know Red Jade?”

Upon learning that this was Red Jade’s foster mother, Chu Youcai’s worries eased. He recounted his visit to the gambling house and how he had rescued Red Jade.

After hearing his tale, Red Aunt was silent for a moment, then her voice grew solemn, “Do you know who Red Jade really is?”

Chu Youcai had long wondered why Lei Yinyang valued her so highly, why she knew his secrets, and why her blood and hair could repel monsters. “I would be grateful to know the truth,” he said earnestly.

Red Aunt seemed lost in memory for a moment before she spoke, “She is a Ghost Medium.”

“A Ghost Medium?” Chu Youcai asked in astonishment—he had never heard the term before.

“It begins with her origins. Forty years ago, I had mastered the ways of demon-craft and just transformed from fox to human. I met a poor but honest scholar named Feng Xiangru—a kind soul who saved my life by chance. So I slipped into his chamber every night, claiming to be a neighbor’s daughter. We spent many blissful days together,” Red Aunt’s voice was full of reminiscence.

“One day, his father discovered us by accident. He scolded Feng Xiangru, saying that with poverty at home, he should devote himself to his studies, and accused me of breaking the rules of womanly virtue, disgracing both myself and others. If word got out, their whole family would be shamed. Only then did I realize I was holding him back. I had no family, no matchmaker, no parental blessing—how could I grow old with him? So I found a beautiful girl nearby, one who resembled me a little. Her bride price was high, so she remained unbetrothed. I cast a spell to gather some silver, and told Feng Xiangru to seek her hand.”

“Feng Xiangru, following my advice, kept secret the origin of the silver and told his father the girl wanted no bride price. With his family’s reputation, his own fine appearance, and the generous gift, the match was soon agreed. The couple loved each other deeply, and before long, they had a daughter.”

Chu Youcai was struck. “And this daughter was Red Jade?”

“Yes,” Red Aunt sighed. “But their happiness was short-lived. A man named Song, once a censor, had been demoted for corruption but still abused his power. He happened to see Feng’s wife, and sent men with heavy bribes to take her by force. Feng and his father were furious and drove them away. Song, enraged, sent thugs who beat Feng and his father so severely that the old man died a few days later.”

“Feng went to seek justice, but no matter how many times he petitioned, he could not clear his name. His wife was taken, but refused to yield and took her own life. Grief consumed Feng, but for the sake of his child, he stopped short of assassinating his foe.”

Chu Youcai could hear the pain and repression in Red Aunt’s voice.

“A few days later, a bearded Daoist came to him, calling himself Yan Yunfei, and asked if Feng desired revenge. Feng asked the Daoist to care for his child so he could exact vengeance. The Daoist replied: ‘If you wish to entrust your child, do it yourself; what you truly desire, I will do for you.’ With that, the Daoist vanished. Not long after, Song was dead.”

“The authorities suspected Feng and arrested him. I helped him escape from prison. When Feng learned that Yan Yunfei was wanted by the authorities, he asked me to care for Red Jade, then surrendered himself. He soon fell gravely ill in jail and passed away…”

Hearing this, Chu Youcai felt both admiration for Yan Yunfei and deep sorrow for Feng Xiangru.

Red Aunt continued, “Because Feng bore my aura, Red Jade was born different. As I raised her, I discovered she could sense demons and spirits, speak with them, and that her blood and flesh could harm such beings. Such a person is called a Ghost Medium—a bridge between the dead and the living.”

“Such a body is one in a million—extremely rare.”

“But for this reason, no other children would go near her. She never had an innocent childhood; her nature grew withdrawn, and smiles were rare…”

Only now did Chu Youcai truly understand the tragic depth of Red Jade’s background. No wonder she spoke so little and kept her guard so high—her story moved him deeply. “If that is so, may I take you to see her now?” he asked.

Red Aunt only let out a sorrowful sigh. “I long to see her smile, to hear her voice, to spend every day by her side. But that is something I can never do…”