Chapter 5: Redemption on the Spirit Road

He scratched his head, full of guilt. Though stingy, he had a better sense of right and wrong than Chris.

Chris, waking on the bed, sat up:

"Where’s my gold coin? I had it in my hand yesterday."

He sounded accusing, searching for the coin.

"Chris, you really brought this on yourself! You dared take gold burned for the dead. With ghost resentment, even a little greed will be used against you. You almost got me killed last night."

Seeing his lack of remorse, I cursed him out.

"Master Grant, with you here, nothing can go wrong!"

Seeing my anger, Chris immediately tried to flatter me. Watching Chris and Ethan, I wondered how much more trouble they’d cause. Honestly, I was exhausted.

"Enough talk. Can you get up? If so, I’ll take you to sleep in a coffin."

After last night’s scare, they were obedient, jumping up to follow me. I could probably feed them dirt now and they’d swallow it as medicine.

In the funeral home, I patted two old coffins:

"Pick one each."

"We’re really sleeping in coffins? We’re alive—isn’t that bad luck?"

Chris started complaining.

"You can always choose not to."

I didn’t even look at him, ready to leave.

"We’ll sleep! We’ll sleep!"

They shouted in unison, scrambling into the coffins, still muttering:

"So many new coffins—why only these two so old? Can’t we get a cleaner one?"

Impatient, I said:

"Only these two have held dead bodies, been buried, so they look old."

Hearing this, they nearly jumped out:

"Why do we have to use coffins that held dead people? That’s so unlucky!"

Seeing them try to get up, I pressed their heads down.

"Coffins used by the dead attract ghosts. Ones for the living don’t. Without that energy, your ghost resentment won’t come out. Lie in the coffin for a night, soak in the heavy energy, and the resentment will calm down. I’ll burn soul-guiding cigarettes nearby to drive it out."

As I spoke, I pressed their heads down. This time, they were more obedient. But Chris was still suspicious, muttering in the coffin:

"You keep saying we’re haunted, bowing to paper figures, now sleeping in coffins—is this for real? Are you just messing with us?"

Ethan was silent—maybe because he’d seen Chris shed his skin, so he trusted I was helping.

I hammered nails to seal Ethan’s coffin, then turned to seal Chris’s, but his was empty.

"Ran away?"

I was puzzled, then understood, sighing:

"It’s fate. Grandpa, I did my best."

Sealed in the coffin, Ethan began banging and shouting:

"Jackson, what did you mean by ‘did my best’? Am I going to die? Open the coffin—I don’t want to stay in here!"

Hearing his cries, I sighed. They really were partners in crime. I patted his coffin:

"Just one night—you’ll be fine tomorrow."

I lit a soul-guiding cigarette and left the home.

"Ah!! Someone’s dead! Call the police!"

Entering the dorm building, I heard someone shouting. I rushed to the dorm and saw Chris dead on his bed. His face was wrinkled like tree bark, eyes black and hollow, mouth grinning eerily, dried blood making him look like a hellish demon. Seeing his corpse, I knew he’d been devoured by a fierce ghost.

"Why does Chris look so scary? What’s with his face?"

Some bold students discussed:

"Serves him right—he always took my shampoo in the shower."

"That’s nothing—he waved Lucky Strikes in my face but wouldn’t share. Always took my cigarettes without asking."

Hearing their chatter, I thought, "Good thing you didn’t smoke the soul-guiding cigarettes, or you’d be in trouble too."

Later, the police said Chris died of sudden cardiac arrest. Only I knew he was killed by a ghost.

Remembering Ethan still sealed in the coffin, I rushed to the funeral home. Opening the door, I saw Ethan’s coffin had turned dark brown, giving off a strange aura, pus pooling beside it like the liquid from Chris’s skin. From the cracks, thick centipedes crawled out. I quickly pried open the lid. The inside was covered in claw marks.

That night must have been hell for Ethan. Seeing the scratches, I could feel his pain inside.

Turning to look at Ethan, he was curled tightly in a corner.

"It’s over—get up."

I called to him. Seeing me, he hugged me and cried:

"Jackson, you’re finally here. I was terrified. Locked in the coffin, it felt like thousands of ants eating me. I tried kicking the lid—it wouldn’t budge. When I was exhausted, I just scratched at the boards, thinking I’d die inside."

I waved him off:

"That’s normal. Ghost resentment enters quietly, but to leave, you have to endure the torment of ten thousand ghosts."

Ethan wiped his tears:

"Jackson, I really did too many bad things to you. Don’t hold it against me—I’ll pay you back for everything I took."

Hearing his sincere self-reflection, I felt a bit gratified. To recognize your faults and change is the greatest good.

I never thought, as a soul guide, I’d end up saving the living too. I pushed him away:

"As long as you understand, my efforts weren’t wasted. When I got back, Chris was dead."

Ethan looked at the coffin, shocked:

"Wasn’t Chris in the coffin with me? He didn’t make it? How did he end up in the dorm?"

I said seriously:

"After I nailed your coffin, he disappeared. I guess he didn’t trust me and ran. This morning I found him dead in the dorm."

Ethan stared blankly, overwhelmed.

I patted his shoulder:

"Come on, one last thing—kneel to a hundred ghosts, and you’ll be fine."

At midnight, Ethan and I went to the graveyard behind the school.

"Why is there such a creepy place near the school?" Ethan shivered.

"Schools are full of life. Old hospitals and execution grounds are often replaced by schools to suppress bad energy. So people like to build graves nearby for good luck."

I explained patiently. As I spoke, a ghostly palace appeared at the end of the graveyard, with a moat and towering gates, guarded by two centipede-like dragon statues.

"What’s that, a mirage?" Ethan was stunned.

"That’s the Gate of Spirits. Soon, ghost soldiers will come to take away wandering souls and resentments, keeping balance. Just kneel by the road and bow—don’t get curious, just keep your eyes closed."

I was stern, afraid he’d mess things up.

As I spoke, the palace doors slowly opened, a strange light shining through. Dots of light appeared around us, gathering into a dim road lined with blood-red lilies—the spirit road!

Gradually, there was movement on the road. A ghost baby was the first—fat, but with a fierce face—hopping toward the gate. I gestured to Ethan, who knelt and bowed.

I lit a soul-guiding cigarette, the smoke drifting into the palace. As the baby entered, soon the road was full of ghosts, crowding toward the gate.

"Why are there animals on the afterlife road?"

While bowing, Ethan suddenly asked me. My heart skipped a beat. I rushed to cover his mouth, but it was too late.

All the ghost soldiers and wandering souls turned to look at us. I dragged Ethan behind a rock, my face ashen:

"It’s over—we’re done for tonight."

Ethan was terrified, mouth open, frozen. Though I’m a soul guide, in charge of hell, hungry ghosts, and beasts, facing these ghosts and soldiers, I was powerless, my hands trembling. I could only close my eyes, waiting to be torn apart by ten thousand ghosts!

All my life, I’ve worked for lost souls, and now I’ll die by their hands—how ironic.

As I mentally said my last words, nothing happened. I only felt Ethan trembling beside me. I cautiously peeked over the rock, saw the spirit road restored, the lilies even redder.

I nudged Ethan:

"It’s fine—open your eyes."

"No way—are we dead already?" Ethan kept his eyes shut, waiting for judgment.

"Really, it’s fine."

I repeated, though I was puzzled why we were unharmed. Ethan joined me behind the rock, peeking at the palace.

On the road, the last ghost turned transparent, waved, smiled, and entered the palace. That was Chris—newly on the Spirit Road...

I stared at Chris. He must have used his ghost body to shield us, letting us escape the ghosts.

After peace returned, we went back to normal campus life. But Ethan became my shadow, always asking questions. He stopped freeloading, never called me by name, and respectfully called me Master Grant.

One day, I returned to the dorm to find a new pair of Air Jordans by my bed.

"Master Grant, I saved for months from part-time jobs to buy these for you."

Ethan poked his head in. I looked at him, gratified to see he was no longer the stingy guy he used to be.

I reached out:

"I have a gift for you, too."

Ethan looked at the Lucky Strikes in my hand, trembling:

"I can really smoke these this time?"

I couldn’t help but laugh out loud, my laughter drifting far out the window.

— End —