Chapter One: Planning the Journey to the Northwest

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At midnight, the sky is always terrifyingly black, and the silence is chilling. Yet, in this eerie hour, someone moves under the cover of darkness.

The wind wantonly stirs the bamboo in the courtyard, and the rare barks of dogs drift from deep alleys, while the wind whistling through the hall shows no mercy in its clamorous rush.

With a sudden bang, the main hall’s door is slammed shut by the wind, the incense burning before the ancestral tablets is snuffed out in an instant, and a flurry of ash scatters across the long altar table.

The person who had been dozing on a meditation mat snapped awake at once—sleep would not come again tonight.

“You are no stranger to this place, yet you still show such disrespect, barging in with such impatience and disorder!” The voice was hoarse and low, grating like shards of broken porcelain.

Though the man kneeling on the mat was just twenty-three, his composed bearing made it clear he was not to be underestimated.

In answer to his annoyance, only a silvery, bell-like laughter sounded from the doorway—playful and teasing, yet lacking any real sincerity. Of course, the two of them—well, one person and one ghost.

They had known each other so long that the man no longer cared about the occasional flirtatious banter—it meant nothing to him.

“Oh my, Ninth Master, you’ve spent too much time alone—why are you suddenly so formal and bookish?” She much preferred when he spoke to her in modern language rather than in archaic, flowery phrases.

And for a female ghost who had lingered in this world for countless years, local dialects were no issue—she understood them all.

“A mere hanged ghost, not enough to make me break tradition. Leave!” With a sudden change of face, he barked at her, catching the ghost by surprise.

The man’s name was Gu Zhiheng, a perpetually sickly and eccentric fellow. His ancestors had all studied Daoism, dabbling in all its branches without specializing in any.

But by Gu Zhiheng’s generation, he was a thorough materialist, holding nothing but disdain for superstitions and old beliefs.

That he still kept watch over the ancestral shrine was a matter of fate—he simply wasn’t strong enough to escape it. Since birth, ethereal things—ghosts and the like—had clung to him.

Especially the one at the door—she had followed him for ten years.

The one who had haunted him the longest seemed lately preoccupied with something important and hadn’t been around. Who knows where she had gone.

Having spent so long with that one, Gu Zhiheng had absorbed so much of the old ways that he seemed more like an ancient soul than a modern man, and was unfamiliar with many things of the world today.

A sudden creak cut through the silence, startling both Gu Zhiheng and the hanged ghost alike.

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“Little one, have you been good lately? Did you miss your big sister?” Pervert!

She could speak, but did she really need to get so close?

Gu Zhiheng turned his head away, refusing to look at the familiar figure now sitting in his lap—her attire was far too revealing, and even he, a modern man, couldn’t accept it.

“Get off me! If you want to talk, say it properly—there are boundaries between men and women!”

With a thud, the female ghost was hurled from Gu Zhiheng’s lap, crashing against the wall and landing awkwardly on the floor.

This was why, even after following him from birth, she had never managed to harm Gu Zhiheng—the ancestors of the Gu family would not allow it!

Every time she approached him, she was thrown out within seconds—again and again.

Of course, things were never that simple. Now came the ghost’s turn to curse and rant.

By the way, in life she had been called Chu Xingran, daughter of a prominent family, beautiful and delicate. But her conduct and morals were, to put it kindly, questionable.

Here came the performance: “A bunch of bearded charlatans, a pack of cripples, liars all! Bah! I just like Gu Zhiheng, so what?”

Gu Zhiheng felt a bit embarrassed—after all these years, he still couldn’t get used to it.

“If you’ve got the guts, kill me! If not, let me be! Even in death you busybodies can’t mind your own business!”

Hands on her hips, her language grew so foul it would be unfit for polite ears.

Gu Zhiheng, helpless, had to kneel before his ancestors, offering incense and apologies, then rose to drive Chu Xingran out.

He had been raised in the ancestral shrine since birth—twenty-three years now. The outside world had gone from a mystery to a hope, then to indifference.

Perhaps years of solitude had made him used to loneliness; the vibrant life beyond the walls no longer held the same allure.

He had never been outside, never been to school, had no friends, nor any childhood like others.

For twenty-three years, day after day, the ancestral shrine was both his sanctuary and his cage.

The only trace of warmth was Chu Xingran, who had set her eyes on him even before he was born.

She taught him to eat, to crawl, to walk, to speak.

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They studied together, played together, and peered at the outside world through phones and computers.

She was like a mother, a teacher, a friend—even more, like family.

“Sis, could you just behave for once? You know what happens if you get too close—the old men will punish you. Why haven’t you learned by now?” Was this what they called a sharp tongue and a soft heart?

Looking at the unscathed Chu Xingran, Gu Zhiheng’s heart ached for her, even though she always brought it on herself.

Who knew what she’d been up to these last two years—she’d grown bolder and wilder, enough that Gu Zhiheng even wondered if she’d taken up a life of crime!

Of course, as a ghost, the law held no sway over Chu Xingran.

She rolled her eyes at Gu Zhiheng’s words, then shot a look of disdain at the shrine—those restless old spirits.

If not for her urgent business tonight, she’d have picked a fight with the lot of them.

Why linger in the mortal world instead of moving on to the next life? Unlike her—turned into a fierce ghost at death, denied even the chance to reincarnate.

“You think I wanted to come back? I’m here to take you away—I’ve found a way to extend your life!” she shouted, then spat in the direction of the shrine, her face daring anyone to stop her.

If not for the hope of buying her little one a few more years, Chu Xingran would never have bothered running all over the place. But her efforts had finally paid off—she had truly found a way.

Crude though the method was, as long as it granted more life, nothing else mattered—life was precious above all.

And as luck would have it, the method was one she had stumbled upon by chance, after searching in vain for so long.

It was recorded in the secret annals of the Gu family: journey northwest, gather and consume the hearts of ghosts and monsters, and thereby extend life and break the curse of the family’s inherited fate.

The method was simple and brutal, but the key ingredients were hard to find, and who knew whether Gu Zhiheng’s frail body could withstand the ordeal.

But the journey northwest was imperative—the old men would surely approve, too. Gu Zhiheng’s feelings were a mystery, but that hardly mattered.

Spring was upon them, and according to the records, this was the very season when ghosts and monsters ran rampant—wait any longer, and another year would slip by.

Everyone else could afford to wait, but Gu Zhiheng’s life could not.