Siheyuan: Hang Jia Dongxu, smash Banggeng to death!

"Because of Da Mao's matter."

Xu Fugui took a couple of breaths, his voice dry and urgent.

"Do you know something? I just came from the courtyard house. The old lady fell into the latrine and died."

"What?"

Yang Ruihua suddenly stood up, startling Yan Jiedi.

Liu Haizhong exclaimed in shock, "Dead?"

"He's dead."

Xu Fugui continued, "As soon as I got to the alley entrance, I saw the police carrying a stretcher out of the public toilet. It was covered with a white sheet and the whole alley smelled terrible."

I asked the police, and they said he drowned in a cesspool. I originally wanted to go find the old lady to ask about Da Mao, but he's gone now.

Yan Bugui remained silent for a while, then walked to the bedside and sat down, patting the edge of the bed next to him, gesturing for Xu Fugui to sit as well.

Xu Fugui did not sit down, but just looked at them.

Liu Haizhong said calmly, "What do you want to ask?"

Xu Fugui: "I know you must know something about how my son died."

Liu Haizhong glanced at him and said, "Would you believe me if I said it was done by evil spirits?"

"letter."

Xu Fugui was certain that his son was dead, but their sons were also dead, and more than him. There was no need for him to lie to himself.

Yan Bugui and Liu Haizhong suddenly looked at Xu Fugui with new respect.

"They were all killed by evil spirits."

Yan Bugui's voice wasn't loud, but every word was uttered through gritted teeth: "Bang Geng, Da Mao, Jie Cheng, Jie Fang, Jie Kuang, Liu Guangfu, Liu Guangtian, Jia Dongxu, these are not things humans can do, things no human could do."

Xu Fugui was stunned for a moment.

He doesn't believe in ghosts or gods, and he never will.

After all, he had done a lot of dirty work for the Lou family when he was young, and if there were really ghosts and monsters coming to claim his life, he would have died long ago.

Can……

"Old Yan, really?"

Xu Fugui wanted to ask again from the bottom of his heart, hoping to comfort himself.

"How could this be fake?"

Yan Bugui gave a wry smile, took off his glasses, wiped the lenses with his sleeve, and put them back on.

"If it were man-made, the task force of over thirty people would have found clues and arrested the culprit long ago after investigating for most of the day."

They're completely lost now; they can't find fingerprints, footprints, or the tools used in the crime—nothing at all.

Eight dead men, no killer.

They cannot admit that it was the work of evil spirits, otherwise the authorities would be promoting feudal superstition and knowingly breaking the law, which would be an even more serious crime.

They themselves were very frustrated.

Liu Haizhong lit a cigarette, took a puff, and said in a muffled voice, "We can't rely on the authorities."

Old Yan and I went to find the Third Master that the old lady had mentioned, but as soon as the old man heard the words "Courtyard No. 95," he grabbed a manure bucket and chased us out.

The old lady also said that mentioning her name would have no effect, but that was utterly useless; that "master" was just a fame-seeking charlatan.

"What should we do then...?"

Xu Fugui suddenly remembered what he had seen in the police station morgue that day—the state of his son Xu Damao's death.

The daughter-in-law threw herself on her son and cried her heart out, while the daughter, Xu Tianxian, knelt beside the stretcher and cried out, "Brother, get up."

These images swirled in his mind all day long, without stopping for a moment.

This matter cannot be left unresolved.

Even if he is an evil spirit, it won't work.

The hatred for killing one's son is irreconcilable.

"Old Liu, Old Yan, I know a Taoist priest named Uncle Jiu, a disciple of the Maoshan School."

"Uncle Nine?"

Yan Bugui pushed up his glasses, the lenses reflecting the light, obscuring his eyes. "Is that Uncle Jiu who does fortune-telling in the west of the city?"

"It's him."

"Wasn't he imprisoned for promoting feudal superstition?"

"That was an old story from three years ago. The neighborhood committee handled a dispute where Uncle Jiu's incense hall was reported for engaging in feudal superstition."

His family came to me, so I did them a favor and his sentence was reduced from ten years to three. He owes me a favor now.

Liu Haizhong asked urgently, "Can he do it?"

I can't guarantee whether he's capable or not, but he's the only person I can think of.

This Uncle Jiu is different from ordinary feng shui masters. I've heard that he's a disciple of the Maoshan lineage and has real skills.

In the past, in the west of the city, if a child lost their soul or someone was possessed by an evil spirit, they would all go to him for help.

Yan Bugui asked, "Uncle Jiu, where does he live now?"

"Outside the city, ten miles away."

Xu Fugui said, "After he got out, I helped him find a house. He took the bus to the last stop and then walked for twenty minutes to get there."

"Let's go now."

Liu Haizhong hurriedly stood up. "Let's leave before it gets completely dark. If we delay any longer, who knows if more people will die tonight?"

"I'll go too."

Yan Bugui picked up his coat.

"Master..."

Yang Ruihua tugged at his sleeve, looked up at him, and said, "Go early and come back early. Be careful on the road and stay safe."

Yan Jiedi peeked out from her mother's arms and said softly, "Dad, come back soon."

Yan Bugui bent down and touched his daughter's hair, his fingers trembling slightly, but he tried his best to remain calm:

"Be good, listen to your mother, don't run around."

The three of them hurriedly left the guesthouse.

Xu Fugui led the way, with Yan Bugui and Liu Haizhong following closely behind. When they arrived at the bus stop...

Just as the train was about to leave the platform, Xu Fugui ran a few steps to catch up and pounded on the train door.

The driver opened the car door while cursing, and the three people got in, panting heavily.

The carriage was empty except for an old man dozing off in the last row, holding a hen with its legs tied in his arms.

The bus swayed and rattled as it drove out of the city. The three people sat in the middle of the bus, and none of them spoke.

An hour later, we arrived at the final stop.

The three people got out of the car and stood at the intersection of a dirt road.

"Which way?"

Liu Haizhong wrapped his cotton-padded coat tighter and asked.

"Over here."

Xu Fugui determined the direction and walked towards a fork in the road.

Twenty minutes later, they stood in front of a small courtyard.

The courtyard was small, with mud walls and a thatched roof.

A yellow dog heard footsteps, barked twice, and was then scolded by the people inside the house.

Xu Fugui pushed open the courtyard gate and went inside, with Yan Bugui and Liu Haizhong following behind.

"Master Xu?"

Uncle Nine stepped aside to invite them inside. "What...what are you doing?"

The room was simply furnished with a square table, four wooden chairs, and a wooden statue of a deity in the corner, with an ever-burning lamp in front of it.

The three of them sat down on the wooden chairs, and Uncle Jiu poured each of them a cup of hot water.

Xu Fugui didn't pick up the cup; he went straight to explaining his purpose.

"Uncle Jiu, my son is dead."

"In the courtyard where we live, eight people have died since last night. No, if we include the deaf old lady this afternoon, that makes nine."

The police investigated all day but found nothing, and the death was so mysterious that we suspect it was caused by some evil spirit.

...