Chapter 94

Chapter 94

The man couldn’t find anything on the table, so he bent down to feel around on the ground and finally found a scroll. He unfolded it and angled it towards the phone, saying, "Hello, Dr. Wu, this is a painting I made based on my family’s description of your scene at the village exorcism festival. I want to give it to you, hoping you won’t mind."

The painting, in traditional Chinese ink style, captured the scene of Wu Heng standing atop a human pyramid with just a few strokes. The artist deliberately left out the faces, making the entire scene grand and majestic. The only ray of sunlight fell precisely on Wu Heng’s earring, imbuing it with a divine aura.

Wu Su, who had come over to watch, exclaimed in admiration, "It’s really well done, huh?"

You Jin immediately chimed in, "Yes, yes, yes!"

But Wu Su didn’t hear Shi Xuan’s response. Turning around, she found Shi Xuan staring intently at the person in the painting without looking away.

The young artist’s ears twitched sensitively, noticing the sound was off to the side. He adjusted his posture to face the phone camera directly.

"Wow, this must be a painter, right? He painted Heng so handsomely. I’d be willing to pay fifty thousand for this painting."

"Are you kidding, netizen? This should be Zheng Feiran, a rising star in the Chinese painting world. His paintings aren’t available for fifty thousand."

"His eyes seem to have problems, right? A blind painter paints better than me with both eyes intact. He really has a talent for painting."

"Life is pretty unfair. He took the eyes of a painter, so now he paints only from his imagination of the past."

Dr. Wu, full of appreciation, repeatedly said, "It’s really well painted, thank you, Mr. Zheng."

Zheng Feiran smiled unconfidently. Since going blind, no matter how much the audience praised his paintings, he couldn’t help but wonder if they were just giving him sympathetic praise because he was disabled.

Feeling the brush on the table, Zheng Feiran hesitated for a long time before finally speaking, "Dr. Wu, you can probably tell that I’m blind. Do you think... there’s still a chance for me to regain my sight?"

Five years ago, a car accident took the eyes of Zheng Feiran, the most promising young painter in the Chinese painting world, cutting him off from the beautiful, colorful world and plunging him into endless darkness.

Just twenty years old, Zheng Feiran couldn’t accept this and fell into extreme despair.

He struggled to adapt to life as a blind person and had even attempted suicide, only to be saved by friends and family.

Because of his blindness, he didn’t touch a paintbrush for the first two years. How could a blind man paint? What good could he produce?

But life had to go on. In the third year of his blindness, Zheng Feiran began to try picking up the brush again. As soon as the brush touched the rice paper, he felt alive again, knowing that only painting could express the bitterness in his heart.

His love for painting never wavered.

In these three years, he became a blind painter, producing many widely acclaimed works.

He had dreamed over and over that his eyes suddenly healed, allowing him to touch the colors of the world once more. Such dreams almost became his nightmare, gripping his throat in the depths of night.

Dr. Wu from Chengde Medical Hall had recently exploded in popularity online, curing all sorts of illnesses that seemed almost impossible to treat. Although it was said he specialized in treating supernatural diseases, Zheng Feiran couldn’t help but hold onto a last glimmer of hope and sought out Dr. Wu.

He just wanted to hear Dr. Wu say if there was still a chance for him to see again.

If he said no, Zheng Feiran would stop harboring any illusions.

Dr. Wu shook his head and didn’t hide the truth, "Your eyes are completely damaged."

Zheng Feiran slumped in his chair, a bitter smile on his face.

He knew it was foolish to hold onto hope.

Dr. Wu, as powerful a shaman doctor as he was, wasn’t a deity and couldn’t cure everything.

"Well, a shaman doctor is just a doctor, not all-powerful. I hope this patient doesn’t blame Heng and moves forward positively. I will visit Mr. Zheng’s painting exhibition to support you!"

"Why not apply for a guide dog? It could be your eyes."

"It might sound harsh, but I’m relieved. These days, those who connect with Wu Heng either accidentally get tainted with evil energy needing exorcism, or are inexplicably followed by little ghosts. This artist seems to have a regular illness?"

"I can manage without hearing or speech, but I can’t live without my eyes..."

Zheng Feiran gave a bitter smile, calming himself, and said, "I get it, Dr. Wu. I’ll disconnect so you can take your next patient."

"Wait," Wu Heng suddenly called out to him, "Aren’t you curious about how you lost your eyes?"

Zheng Feiran was startled and instinctively replied, "I was heading to the art academy when I got into a car accident. When I woke up, I had lost my eyes. My family investigated later, and it was just an ordinary accident."

Wu Heng said, "Then let me teach you a spell to help you sleep."

Hearing this, Zheng Feiran’s heart raced. Could there be... something more to this? At this moment, Zheng Feiran desperately hoped there was another reason. If his condition was caused by an evil illness rather than an ordinary accident, could there still be a chance for a turnaround?

Wu Heng sent him a private sleep-inducing spell, and soon everyone saw Zheng Feiran leaning back in his chair, fast asleep, but his brows furrowed deeper, as if in a nightmare.

"What’s happening? Didn’t Dr. Wu say his eyes were completely necrotic? Why is he guiding the artist into a dream now?"

"After watching Chengde Medical Hall’s stream for so long, I think the necrosis is probably real, but the evil illness might also be real..."

The viewers were all watching the artist sleep when suddenly a cheerful voice came from outside Chengde Medical Hall: "Little Wu!"

A middle-aged man walked in, holding a gleaming knife—it was Luo the butcher.

Shi Xuan turned and stared at the knife, which radiated yin energy, his lips slightly pursed.

Wu Su, seeing the knife in Luo the butcher's hand, also became excited and walked over, saying, "Brother Luo, is that your old knife? How’d you find it?"

Uncle Luo was overjoyed, "Exactly! It was the talisman your little Wu wrote for me. I didn’t think much of it and just went with my gut, and guess what? It was just lying in the mud! I finally found it, or else who knows what could’ve happened."

Wu Heng stood up and looked at it, saying, "Uncle Luo, you’re too late. Give me the knife."

Luo the butcher's first thought was that the Wu family wanted him to slaughter a pig for the New Year. He was about to say he would do it for free, but then he realized it was Wu Heng who said it, and instantly felt something was off.

"This... this knife isn’t tainted, is it?"

Wu Heng took the knife, wrapped it in a red cloth, and said, "Uncle Luo, you found this knife in a graveyard, right? There must be a new grave nearby. You should call the police."

Luo the butcher turned pale, and Wu Su quickly supported him to prevent him from falling to the ground.

At that point, Luo the butcher didn’t dare keep the knife and immediately wanted to call the police. Seeing this, Wu Su took out two cigarettes from his pocket and handed them over. The two men stepped outside, trembling as they smoked and called the police.

-

Zheng Feiran dreamed of the accident again, but this time it was clearer.

As usual, he took a ride-hailing car to the art academy. Shortly after he got in, a man wearing sunglasses got in and sat right next to him.

Zheng Feiran was confused and couldn't help but say to the driver, "Driver, I booked a private car, not a carpool. Why’d you pick someone else up? That’s not right."

The driver was even more puzzled, "Young man, are you still half-asleep? When did I pick up someone else? There's no one else in the car besides you and me."

Zheng Feiran: "?"

Zheng Feiran turned to look at the passenger next to him. He was completely covered, wearing black sunglasses that made it impossible to see his eyes. The little skin that was visible was very pale, a deathly pale.

Regardless of what the person was wearing, there was indeed an extra person in the car.

"Driver, are you related to him? If you wanted to pick up someone else, you could have discussed it with me beforehand."

The driver was getting annoyed. He suddenly turned his head to get a clear look, "Nonsense, there’s no one else here but you!"

As soon as the driver finished speaking, everyone felt the sky darken, and a large truck tilted and fell toward them. Zheng Feiran instinctively dodged to the other side, falling toward the passengers.

Being so close, Zheng Feiran finally saw the empty eye sockets beneath the sunglasses, his heart nearly stopped from fear. At that moment, the passenger raised a hand with long, sharp nails and reached for his eyes.

Then came endless darkness, and he blacked out completely.

"No... no!" Zheng Feiran let out a blood-curdling scream, suddenly sitting up from the studio recliner, soaked in sweat, like he’d just stepped out of a steam room.

After opening his eyes, it was still completely dark, but he faintly heard the wail of police sirens coming from his phone.

"Awake? It's only been ten minutes. You woke up so quickly. Did you have a nightmare? Were you that scared?"

"What’s the story with that butcher? How did the knife end up near a new grave? Could it have been taken by something unclean?"

Zheng Feiran didn't care about hygiene anymore, wiping the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve, muttering, "No, that’s not how it happened in the dream."

He didn't argue with the driver about "an extra passenger" in the car. The subsequent investigation showed it was simply a case of the truck driver being fatigued and accidentally getting too close to their ride-share car, causing the accident.

After greeting Officer Wang Jun and others outside Chengde Medical Hall, Wu Heng returned to the camera, "This is just a simulation of what might’ve happened if you could see at the time."

Zheng Feiran was stunned. He stood up instantly, in disbelief, "You mean the accident was just an ordinary one, but my blindness is connected to that ghost in the car?"

Wu Heng nodded, "It gouged out your eyes."

And then, coincidentally, the accident occurred, so the Zheng family thought Zheng Feiran lost his eyes due to the accident, never even considering the supernatural angle.

"Damn, I just called it a regular accident, and now it's caused by ghosts. Indeed, not many who connect with Wu Heng have ordinary illnesses."

"Are these evil spirits getting out of hand? Don't we living people have any countermeasures? It's so frustrating! I’d love to take these things down."

"Wait, why does it want Xiao Zheng's eyes? Can it return them?"

"Do we need to form a ghost extermination team? I'm willing to sign up, take one out every time I see one, better to kill by mistake than to let them go! I’m sick of this damn frustration."

"Bro, calm down. My parents are definitely good souls in the underworld. Don't wipe them out."

Hearing this, Zheng Feiran was both angry and delighted. His breathing quickened, and he repeatedly said, "Dr. Wu, what should I do? Can it give them back to me? As long as it's willing to return my eyes, I can let bygones be bygones. I can even burn paper money and offerings for it every year."

Wu Heng sighed regretfully, "I already told you, your eyes are completely necrotic because—"

'I burned them as soon as I got them.'

A chilling, eerie wind suddenly brushed past his ears, and a bloody smell rushed into his nostrils. Zheng Feiran's entire back stiffened in shock.

He, he just heard something, didn't he?

"Holy crap, there's another ghost here?" Lai Yin Chai ran back and forth in Chengde Medical Hall, caught in a whirlwind of extreme indecision.

Meanwhile, Wang Jun and others were led by Luo the butcher to check out the graveyard. Intuition told Lai Yin Chai there was merit there, but turning around, he saw a ghost floating next to Wu Heng's patient!

Wu Heng nodded, "After it gouged out your eyes, it immediately cremated them."

As soon as these words were spoken, Zheng Feiran's entire body went limp, as if a basin of cold water had been poured over his head.

Giving him hope only to cruelly extinguish it, how ruthless this fierce ghost was.

Zheng Feiran knew his limits. He knew he wasn't Zhou Fenghua, who could be blessed by heaven and have Dr. Wu make him a pair of eyes from mud or lotus roots to see the light again.

"Huh? So what Wu Heng said earlier means there’s no hope?"

"It makes sense. A fierce ghost took a living person’s eyeballs and must’ve burned them. In that case, we must ensure this fierce ghost goes to hell."

"I don’t get it. Why does the ghost want eyes? Why not just get them in the underworld? Why go after the living? Isn’t that a hassle?"

Wu Heng looked at the barrage area and explained, "The netherworld works differently from our mortal world. In our world, organ donation after death is seen as a noble act. But in the underworld, that’s not an option. Ghosts who lose organs might be reborn as babies with disabilities, so organ donation doesn’t exist there."

You Jin, listening anxiously, couldn’t help but ask, "Xiao Heng, my uncle broke his leg a few years ago. After death, wouldn’t he be legless?"

Who’d want to die then? Everyone thought death was freedom, but it seems it’s not.

Wu Heng shook his head, "For disabilities acquired later in life, their spirits remain intact, so it doesn’t affect their next life."

"Babies with disabilities can, as long as they’re good ghosts and have insurance, use the underworld’s mud to make prosthetics for their next life, ensuring they’re born healthy."

Wu Heng sneered, "But isn’t that way too slow?"

The fierce ghost let out a sinister laugh, exactly!

After all, crossing realms isn’t easily detected, and with the mortal world in chaos, it’s easier to just grab organs from the living and burn them.

Zheng Feiran had great eyes—double eyelids, large eyeballs, a beautiful shape, and naturally long, curly lashes.

Plus, he’s a talented painter, likely using those eyes to capture nature’s beauty.

It spent a long time in the mortal world before deciding to gouge out Zheng Feiran’s eyeballs.

Zheng Feiran realized he was dealing with a fierce ghost. Terrified, his hands fumbled across the table.

"Looking for the ginger slices?" the fierce ghost hissed, its face inches from Zheng Feiran’s.

Zheng Feiran froze, clutching a round plastic box—the ginger slices his mom had prepared for him that morning.

This ghost isn’t scared of ginger. Exorcism won’t work.

Lai Yin Chai yelled urgently, "Quick, give us the address!"

When no one responded, Lai Yin Chai shot a pleading glance at the little white snake.

The little white snake liked Lai Jun—after all, he was the only one in the house who respected it.

The little white snake, nestled in the doghouse and off-camera, spoke in a boy’s voice, "Zheng the painter, give us your address."

Zheng Feiran, not caring about privacy, quickly blurted out his studio’s address.

Lai Yin Chai hesitated. The address was far—cross-district work. Not as simple as heading to the cemetery with the cops.

"Hahaha... you think you can catch me? Think I’m some chatty TV villain waiting around?" the fierce ghost cackled.

The fierce ghost kicked Zheng Feiran’s butt, smirking, "See ya, I’m outta here."

"Stop!"

"Stop."

Two voices rang out simultaneously—Wu Heng and Shi Xuan.

The fierce ghost, mid-flight to the window, suddenly dropped, its legs rooted in place, frozen stiff.

It actually stopped.

It didn’t want to listen, but that voice bore down like a divine command, fear climbing up from its feet through its body, making its legs quiver, nearly forcing it to its knees.

Fear suddenly flashed in the fierce ghost’s bloodshot eyes, and it began to frantically slap its legs: 'Move, damn legs, float!'

Wu Heng looked at the fierce ghost in the camera, who was so terrified it started trembling uncontrollably, and then glanced at Shi Xuan in surprise.

Shi Xuan was also looking at the ghost in astonishment. Can a fierce ghost really be this compliant?

Wu Heng avoided the camera, tugged at Shi Xuan’s sleeve under the table, and gestured for him to speak.

"...Kneel and call him 'Father.'"

The fierce ghost’s legs instantly went weak, and it shouted towards the camera: 'Father!'

After shouting, the ghost’s pallid face flushed with embarrassment: '...'

Wait, what did I just say?

The little white snake and the little gray snake instantly rushed out, absolutely livid. The little white snake directly cursed: 'Who are you calling father? That’s my godfather, the mighty Dragon King of the Well. You shameless spirit, randomly claiming a father!'

Xi Xi nodded beside them and shouted: 'Exactly, exactly!'

Wu Heng was slightly perplexed. It seemed that the fierce ghost had stopped because of Shi Xuan’s "stop," not his own.

Wu Heng pondered for a moment. These blood-soaked fierce ghosts usually bolt at the first chance. Normally, catching one at this stage would be quite a hassle, but Shi Xuan seemed to have helped him, making it much easier...

Shi Xuan saw Wu Heng mouthing words to him, his lips red and glistening with traces of tea, rather alluring.

But what Wu Heng was telling him to say...

A flicker of helplessness crossed his eyes, but when he turned his face, it was stern and commanding, as he shouted angrily: "Who told you to call us? Call the person you harmed!"

His voice boomed like the King of Hell himself, commanding all spirits and demons to submit.

The fierce ghost immediately turned and knelt down in front of Zheng Feiran, shouting in horror: 'Father, I was wrong!'

Zheng Feiran sat frozen in his chair, nearly petrified with fear: "..."

He didn’t have such a rebellious son.

"Holy crap, can we switch to a black-and-white live stream? I really want to see what it looks like for a fierce ghost to kneel and call someone father. If I get used to seeing ghosts, I won’t be scared anymore. I need to train myself."

"Is this brother also a Taoist priest? He’s quite skilled. Isn’t this like his words becoming law? He says stop, and it stops; he says kneel, and it kneels. Can this really be a fierce ghost?"

"Zheng, even if your eyes can’t be healed, you should take this chance to get revenge. With Wu Heng here, don’t be afraid."

Shi Xuan said coldly: "Keep bowing, don’t stop."

The fierce ghost knelt on the ground, its mouth moving faster than its brain, 'Yes, sir.'

Although Zheng Feiran couldn’t see, he could feel a cold wind in front of him, each bow stirring a gust of wind. He bowed until he was dizzy and dared not stop, like an unstoppable bowing machine.

Zheng Feiran: "..."

What he wanted wasn’t apologies and bows from the fierce ghost. He just wanted his eyes back, to see the world again, even if only for one more glance.

At that moment, Wu Heng stood up and picked up the cleaver wrapped in red cloth beside him. The red cloth slipped off, revealing the sharp, cold blade, and he casually asked: "Mr. Zheng, are you afraid of seeing ghosts?"