Chapter 4: Kneel to a Hundred Ghosts

Seeing the smoke couldn’t calm him, I sighed. I pulled out three cigarettes—one burned to ash, and I drew a sigil on the ground; one burned for mist, shielding Chris; the last I lit for him, sending the smoke inside to suppress the ghost within.

"Earth, fire, air, water, spirit—in order, shield!"

I held my left hand under my right elbow, formed a seal, and shouted. The smoke turned into two mist dragons, circling Chris. Sweat dripped down my forehead as the places touched by the dragons healed visibly.

I don’t know how long I held out before I fainted.

When I woke up, Chris and Ethan were lying face down beside me. I was about to kick them awake, but they jumped up themselves, crying like kids:

"Jackson, you’re finally awake! We didn’t dare move, with corpses all around—we just buried our heads."

"Enough! Wipe your faces. You two act so tough, but cry like babies!"

I left.

"What now, Jackson—no, Master Grant."

Ethan stuck close to me. I hesitated, then asked Chris:

"Did you smoke my cigarettes too?"

Chris, probably still scared, had been silent. But hearing me, he confessed:

"That day Ethan took your cigarettes, we each smoked one. I liked them, so when Ethan wasn’t looking, I swapped out the rest."

"That explains it. I knew a bit of resentment couldn’t cause such a storm."

I relaxed and said to Chris:

"You kept stirring things up because you didn’t want to pay for the cigarettes, right?"

I didn’t sugarcoat it. Chris blushed and lowered his head, silent. The 6’3” guy looked like a shy girl.

As Chris squirmed, Ethan broke the awkward silence:

"Master Grant, what do we do now? I feel something crawling up my throat again. Save us!"

I tried not to lose my temper.

"Why didn’t you think of that earlier? Now you’re scared of ghost resentment and want me to help—how should I know!"

Ethan sensed my anger and quickly tried to flatter me:

"Jackson, you’ve always been generous—it’s our fault. We’re classmates and roommates, don’t abandon us! Please!"

Watching Ethan’s desperate flattery, I cut to the chase:

"Find a scapegoat, sleep in a dead man’s coffin, kneel to a hundred ghosts—then you’ll live. Otherwise, your bodies won’t last, and you’ll be eaten by ghost resentment. So you’re only temporarily safe; being taken away is your fate."

"M-m-master, Master Grant, I don’t like my odds! Please, don’t let us die!"

Ethan knelt and begged, pulling Chris down with him. Chris, seeing the situation, hugged my leg and cried:

"I’m still a virgin! My family needs an heir, Jackson—we really know we were wrong!"

They were actually scared. For once, their apologies sounded real. I decided to try saving them.

"Enough, get up. Let’s go find a scapegoat!"

I turned and left. Seeing me leave, they hurried after me.

Ethan and Chris each carried a paper figure, following me to a wooded hill behind campus. The night was thick and heavy, air buzzing with something unnatural. As midnight approached, I instructed:

"In a minute, the paper figures go first. You follow, red string between you. I’ll protect you. Listen for my command—when I say kneel, you kneel. Also, remember—"

Before I could finish, Chris interrupted:

"Will this work? How can paper figures kneel? What are we kneeling to? What if we get taken away?"

He muttered, still acting cocky. I rolled my eyes, annoyed.

I rolled my eyes and continued:

"When the time comes, I’ll have the paper figures take your place—that’s your scapegoat. Ghost resentment is strong, the red string marks the boundary of the living and the dead. If you sincerely send them off, the resentment will dissipate. My family has guided souls for generations—just follow my lead and most of your resentment will be gone tonight."

I checked my watch—time was near. I conjured a ceremonial whisk, waved it, and chanted:

"The four winds as witness, ninth-generation soul guide Jackson Grant sets the altar—all are invited."

As I finished, tall shadows appeared at the hill’s crest. They looked human, but with bulging bellies and drooping, sharp fingers—definitely not living people, but ghosts! A chill ran down my spine.

Seeing the guests arrive, I looked back at Ethan and Chris. Ethan pinched his nose, face red. Chris’s forehead was soaked, both of their pants wet with urine. No hiding that.

I whispered:

"If you’re scared, don’t look up—just close your eyes."

They stubbornly kept their eyes wide open. I shook my head. Some people never learn.

"Kneel!"

When the shadows were seated, I shouted. They obediently knelt and bowed, and the paper figures before the red string also knelt. After three bows, the paper figures began to burn from the feet up. I relaxed—burning meant some resentment was resolved, and the ghosts would follow my guidance back to the afterlife.

Chris, after bowing, saw the burning paper and relaxed a bit. Suddenly, he reached past the red string and grabbed something. My blood ran cold—a chill shot down my spine.

Chris opened his hand and grinned at me:

"Jackson, there’s a gold coin in the paper figure." He pinched a small gold nugget and waved it.

Ethan leaned in: "Looks like real gold."

Suddenly, a demonic wind rose. The half-burned paper figures were snuffed out, ashes scattering. The red string on the ground marked the boundary—the paper figures were their scapegoats. Burning them dispelled resentment, but Chris’s action ruined everything. I scolded:

"I told you—never take things from the other side. That gold coin is a ghost’s trap, meant to stir up your greed."

As soon as I finished, Ethan and Chris started vomiting black gunk, reeking like rotting garbage. I tried to pull them away, but they were stuck like bugs in a web, unable to move. The shadows pressed closer. Gritting my teeth, I thought, "Desperate times—just do it!"

I pulled out a yellow cloth, threw it at the shadows, grabbed Ethan and Chris, drew a thread of soul energy from their spines, sent it into the cloth, then set it ablaze. The thing under the cloth struggled, then stilled. I dragged Ethan and Chris away.

"Last night I drew some soul from you—hurting the enemy a thousand, hurting myself eight hundred. Rest and recover."

I told the newly awakened Chris and Ethan. Though weakened, their ghost resentment was gone—they looked much better. The color was back in their faces.

Ethan, realizing they’d nearly caused a disaster, spoke first:

"I feel much better, Jackson. You’re amazing. I was scared to death yesterday."