Chapter 289

Chapter 289

◎Snakestring Sore◎

Medically, Snakestring Sore refers to herpes zoster, where clusters of small blisters appear on the body, sometimes forming a ring around the affected area—as if coiled by a snake. In some regions, it’s called "snake-wrapped waist," with the belief that once the ring closes, the person is doomed.

Non-pathological Snakestring Sores, however, are manifestations of Grudge—formed when victims, unable to seek vengeance for various reasons, linger with unresolved hatred. Their resentment clings to the wrongdoer, transforming into festering sores. Once the sores encircle the body, the evildoer’s vitality is drained.

Without vitality, lingering ghosts can finally approach to exact revenge.

Yet, modern cases of Grudge-induced Snakestring Sores are rare. One reason is internet surveillance's widespread coverage, leaving few cases of prolonged oppression without recourse, ending in tragic deaths. Of course, such cases still exist—wherever power, desire, and selfish interests thrive, they cannot be entirely eradicated.

But it’s no longer like ancient times, where a single corrupt official could oppress the people into misery and resentment.

Moreover, with the enlightenment of public awareness and the dismantling of superstition in recent years, people hold reverence for the afterlife without blind belief.

Extreme emotions can birth spirits capable of love and hatred—belief gives them form, disbelief renders them void. When people no longer believe in deities or the intangible, some things naturally fade away.

For these reasons, Snakestring Sores had nearly vanished. So when a case emerged, Ji Nanxing naturally followed his senior brother to investigate.

His senior brother handled cases with far more grandeur. Hired for exorbitant fees, his appearance fee started at millions, regardless of outcome.

On the way, Ji Yuanting briefed his junior brother on their employer: "Old Master Cheng of the Cheng family hired me. Our families have some ties—he even held you as a baby. Later, they expanded overseas and gradually emigrated, losing contact over the years."

Ji Nanxing: "Emigrated? Then came back with a Snakestring Sore seeking a Taoist’s help?"

Ji Yuanting: "Old Master Cheng returned two years ago. He couldn’t bear to leave his homeland—he said he’d rather die where he was born. But with our parents gone and our eldest brother now heading the family, the generational gap is too wide. Our connection is purely social, no business ties, so after their return, we didn’t interact. Now, his grandson has the Snakestring Sore. At first, they thought it was an ordinary illness, untreatable. Then someone offhandedly suggested it might be something unclean. Suspicious, Old Master Cheng sought a master’s diagnosis, and that’s when the truth came out."

Ji Nanxing: "They identified the problem but couldn’t solve it, so they turned to you?"

Ji Yuanting chuckled: "Exactly. I happened to be back in the country. The Chengs hired several Taoists, but none could resolve it. Somehow, they heard of Taoist Yan Da—but he’s still guarding the border city. No way he’d return. So they sought his disciple—me."

Ji Nanxing snorted lightly: "I’m also Master Yan’s disciple."

Ji Yuanting lightly pinched his cheek: "No helping it. Your senior brother’s just more famous."

Old Master Cheng had paid heavily for the disciple of Taoist Yan Da, unaware that it was the Ji family’s son. When Ji Yuanting arrived with his younger brother, Old Master Cheng was surprised.

He didn’t recognize Ji Nanxing—they’d met when he was just a diaper-clad baby. But Ji Yuanting was unmistakable, his face an enlarged version of his childhood self.

Suppressing his doubts, Old Master Cheng smiled at the two brought in by the steward: "The Ji boys? Over a decade since we last met—you’ve grown so much! This must be little Nanxing. Even as a child, you were a looker. A few more years, and you’ll have girls swooning."

Ji Nanxing gave a small smile, greeting him as "Old Master Cheng," thinking to himself—he wasn’t sure about girls, but one boy was certainly smitten.

Ji Yuanting got straight to the point: "Old Master Cheng, we’re here about Cheng Junan’s condition. My master is Taoist Yan Da."

Old Master Cheng had assumed the boys were visiting out of familial concern. Realizing they were Taoist Yan Da’s disciples, he felt a pang of doubt.

So young—though not exactly watched growing up, he’d seen them play as children. It was hard to suddenly regard them as formidable experts.

But the other masters he’d consulted insisted: either bring in a top expert like the bureau’s deputy director or Taoist Yan Da—or someone connected to them. If the disciple couldn’t handle it, surely they could call for backup. Hiring the disciple was already halfway to securing a master.

Though startled and anxious—fearing they might fail—Old Master Cheng quickly steadied himself, betraying no skepticism.

Setting aside their personal ties, he treated Ji Yuanting as an equal: "I had no idea you were Master Yan’s disciple. Had I known, we’d have saved months of suffering and spared Junan this prolonged ordeal."

Ji Yuanting didn’t mince words despite their history: "Given the many Taoists you’ve consulted, you likely understand how Snakestring Sores form. If Cheng Junan’s actions caused this, and if reconciliation is possible, I’ll negotiate a resolution. But if the Grudge is unrelenting, even Master Yan couldn’t resolve it."

Old Master Cheng replied firmly: "I’ve learned much about Snakestring Sores and what they represent. But I know my grandson—he’s no evildoer."

At first, he was also shocked. If he hadn’t done anything evil, how could something like a snakestring sore appear on his body? He had never heard of snakestring sores before but knew of ghost-face sores. Though the two differ somewhat, they share a similar origin.

But Jun’an was his grandson, raised by his own hands. He had watched him grow up, teaching him right from wrong, bit by bit. How could he not know what kind of person his grandson was? Precisely because he firmly believed his grandson couldn’t have done anything harmful, he kept searching for Taoist masters who could cure him.

Unfortunately, every Taoist he consulted said there was no solution—the Grudge was too deep-rooted to disperse. When questioning Cheng Jun’an himself, it was unclear whether he was deliberately hiding something out of hope or if this was truly sheer misfortune. No matter how hard they pushed, he couldn’t provide a clear explanation.

Ji Yuanting didn’t take Old Master Cheng’s word at face value. Family always sees things through rose-colored glasses. Of course, he didn’t outright assume Cheng Jun’an was a bad person who had brought this snakestring sore upon himself either. He preferred to verify the truth through his own investigation.

Cheng Jun’an was upstairs, his body covered in oozing sores that had spread across his legs and waist, making it difficult for him even to sit up. The slightest movement sent excruciating pain through his body. Since contracting this affliction, he had grown thinner by the day. Standing nearly six feet tall, he now weighed less than a hundred pounds—hardly even human anymore.

Medical staff had been arranged upstairs. Unable to eat and having lost weight rapidly, he was hooked up to IV nutrients and high-end supplements. But these could only sustain his basic vital signs, not restore his health.

Watching the flurry of medical staff, Ji Nanxing asked, "Why not just send him to a hospital?"

Even though the Cheng family was wealthy, they couldn’t exactly turn their home into a full-fledged hospital. At a hospital, if an emergency arose, there would at least be a chance for timely intervention.

Old Master Cheng replied, "I was afraid the hospital staff might call the police if they saw a Taoist performing rituals. Besides, we’ve already tried hospitals—nothing worked. We had no choice but to bring him back."

Ji Nanxing suggested a hospital name: "You could send him here. This one is invested in by the Bureau. They have special wards for unique cases—no one bats an eye at exorcisms."

Having only returned to the country two years ago and never encountered such a situation before, Old Master Cheng had only ever consulted feng shui masters to arrange wealth-attracting layouts at home. He had no idea there were hospitals collaborating with the Mystic Affairs Bureau.

He noted down the hospital’s address, deciding that if today’s efforts yielded no progress, he would arrange to transfer his grandson there. Then, turning to Ji Nanxing, he remarked, "You seem to know quite a bit, tagging along with your brother."

Ji Yuanting glanced at Ji Nanxing and chuckled. "He’s not just tagging along—he’s Master Yan’s prized disciple, with even greater talent than me."

Old Master Cheng had heard Master Yan had two disciples but didn’t expect both were from the Ji family. Regardless of how much they had learned, just having such a master meant the Ji family, as long as they don’t screw up badly, would live in prosperity and ease for life. He couldn’t help but wonder what virtues the Ji ancestors had cultivated to be so fortunate in this lifetime.

Though envious, he kept walking steadily toward Cheng Jun’an’s room.

The door was open. Though the air conditioning was on, the window wasn’t fully sealed, allowing occasional breezes to circulate the air. The room’s ventilation system also seemed to be running, so the atmosphere wasn’t too stifling.

Yet, the moment Ji Nanxing stepped inside, he caught a foul whiff of something like sewer sludge.

Ji Yuanting looked at the figure on the bed. He still had some memory of Cheng Jun’an—two years older than him. Unlike his own elder brother, who had always been stern and bossy, Cheng Jun’an had been playful and cheerful, neither overly lively nor dull—just cheerful and upbeat.

Based on his past interactions, Cheng Jun’an didn’t seem like the type to commit atrocities and end up with a snakestring sore.

But over a decade had passed—people change.

The once cheerful and upbeat young man now lay deathly pale and motionless on the bed, his face ashen, looking like he was on the verge of death.

Ji Yuanting turned to his junior brother. "What do you see?"

With his second sight, he didn’t need talismans to detect lingering ghosts in the room. But unlike Ji Nanxing’s innate spiritual vision, which could perceive things even second sight couldn’t.

Ji Nanxing replied, "Lots of black threads, cocooning him like a silkworm. The sores are also wrapped in dark mist. The Grudge is heavy and chaotic—not from one person, but many."

Ji Yuanting nodded, pulling out a talisman. He traced a circle in the air, then flicked his fingers—the paper ignited without fire.

The ashes drifted downward. Old Master Cheng instinctively reached out, afraid they might burn his grandson, but before he could intervene, the ashes dissipated into nothingness.

Ji Nanxing explained, "That’s a Grudge-dissolving talisman—it dissolves resentment."

The old man nodded, then couldn’t help asking, "Can talismans really dissolve Grudge? The Taoists I hired before applied rice to my grandson."

The rice drew out oozing blackened pus and blood, but with so many sores, as soon as one shrank, another swelled up again—a losing battle.

Ji Nanxing said, "Either way works. The rice extracts Grudge, like drawing out venom. It’s about as effective as talismans."

But it's definitely not as convenient as talismans, which can be burned casually to temporarily disperse some of the overwhelming resentment. As for the Resentment-dispelling rice, it requires special refinement, and the methods of use are different. The former is as easy as having hands, while the latter requires activating the spiritual power of the talismans, demanding certain abilities from the Taoist.

Just lighting the talisman fire is something not all Taoists can accomplish.

After Ji Yuanting dispersed some of the surface resentment on Cheng Junan, the unconscious Cheng Junan slowly woke up.

Old Master Cheng was visibly anxious and wanted to go over to ask about his grandson's condition, but Ji Nanxing reached out to stop him: "His waking time is limited. My brother still has questions to ask him."

Only then did Old Master Cheng refrain from approaching.

Once Cheng Junan was fully conscious, Ji Yuanting looked at him and said, "I've dispersed some of the resentment on you, so you can be briefly awake. Right now, your condition is very serious. If we don't find the root of the problem and solve it, you won't survive three more days. No matter what you've done before—even if you've killed someone—as long as we can reach an agreement, I can handle it with the other party. So if you continue to hide anything, you will surely die."

Cheng Junan heard Ji Yuanting's words clearly. Though he didn't know who Ji Yuanting was—his vision was blurry at the moment—he guessed this must be another Taoist his grandfather had hired. With great difficulty, he shook his head.

"No... I haven't killed anyone, I haven't harmed anyone. I swear, I haven't... I haven't done anything to wrong others."

After saying this, it seemed to drain all his strength. Though he hadn't fainted again, he was exhausted, gasping weakly.

Ji Yuanting: "Have you ever made any promises to someone, or said things like 'If only I were you,' or anything similar about exchanging fates with others?"

Cheng Junan struggled to focus and went over his life once more before shaking his head again. Born into wealth, with a harmonious family, his father might not have had the ability to manage the family business, so he had been raised as the heir by his grandfather since childhood. There were many tiring times, but overall, his life had been mostly happy.

Why would he ever consider thoughts of exchanging fates with someone else?

Cheng Junan shook his head with effort: "No, I've never said anything like that. Never."

After these two sentences, Cheng Junan couldn't stay conscious any longer. His head tilted to the side as he fainted again.

Old Master Cheng rushed forward: "Junan!"

Ji Nanxing looked at his senior brother.

Ji Yunting frowned in thought. Someone facing death wouldn't hold back the truth now. Moreover, he had just said that even if it were murder, he could handle it. As long as Cheng Junan didn’t want to die, he wouldn’t hide anything. If he still wasn’t speaking up, it was possible he truly hadn’t done anything wrong.

But if he hadn’t done anything wrong, how could he have provoked such severe snake-string sores? These weren’t just one or two pustules—they covered his whole body.

Ji Yuanting asked Old Master Cheng, "When exactly did this start? Before the incident, did he encounter anything unusual, or did your family experience anything?"

Many Taoists had asked these questions before. To avoid mistakes, Old Master Cheng had had his assistant create a timeline.

Two months ago, Cheng Junan returned home. At that time, he already had some small, itchy blisters on his body.

Old Master Cheng: "At first, it was just a few on his legs and arms. I saw him scratching and asked about it. He said he’d seen a doctor and was applying medicine. Since I planned to return to the country to settle down, Junan was preparing to invest in a resort-style sanatorium, collaborating with the Qin family."

Ji Yuanting: "The Bluewater Bay project?"

Old Master Cheng wasn’t surprised he knew. Their social circle was small. He nodded: "Yes, the Bluewater Bay project. The Qin family had stalled the project due to funding issues. Later, Junan thought the location and environment were excellent, very suitable for a retirement resort, so he invested in the Qin family. Besides visiting me, this trip back was also to check on the project’s progress. During his time in the country, this was the only thing he worked on."

Ji Yuanting: "So the place he visited most during this time was Bluewater Bay?"

Old Master Cheng nodded: "The previous Taoists also suspected the problem might be there and went to check, but they found nothing."

Ji Nanxing pulled Ji Yuanting’s sleeve: "Brother, the resentment on him is a bit strange."

Ji Yuanting knew he could perceive certain auras and quickly asked, "How so?"

Ji Nanxing: "The resentment doesn’t seem to emanate from the black threads wrapped around him. Instead, it’s as if it’s emanating from within his body."

He had been observing the pustules on Cheng Junan. Earlier, the resentment on them had been dispersed, but it quickly gathered again.

But this gathering wasn't from external contamination—it was seeping out from within the pustules themselves, unlike any Grudge possession he'd seen before.

Ji Yuanting confirmed, "You're sure you saw correctly? It's emanating from inside his body?"

Ji Nanxing scrutinized again, his eyes glowing faintly with effort. After using up a lot of energy, he nodded firmly at his senior brother. "No mistake."

Ji Yuanting unwound the spirit-binding rope from his wrist, coiling it methodically around his palm.

Watching his movements, Ji Nanxing asked, "Brother, what are you planning?"

Ji Yuanting reached above Cheng Jun'an, fingers clawed the air and yanked hard. "Pulling his soul out to verify if he's really Cheng Jun'an."

Ji Nanxing: "..." Yanking out a living soul barehanded—classic senior brother move.