[A gentle reminder: If you feel someone behind you while reading this book, don't turn around.]
My name is Qingfeng. My sect's teachings are clear: When walking between yin and yang, our duty is to keep the living safe. For that reason, I have recorded everything here.
Spring, 2018. A village somewhere in Lingnan. A drowning victim dreams night after night of something dragging them beneath the river. The stench of water stains lingers by their pillow. What I drove away with a blood talisman was no ordinary water ghost, but the lingering grievance of someone who had been sacrificed alive.
That same year, deep in the mountains of western Hunan. After an expensive ghost wedding, a constant scratching comes from inside the brand-new coffin. When I open it to investigate, the “bride” has unnaturally long nails and flushed cheeks, though she was supposed to have been buried seven days earlier.
2019, a bustling city. The office building elevator is always one passenger over its limit late at night, but the surveillance footage shows no one. Then bluish-black fingerprints appear on the neck of Lao Wang, the security guard... I realize that the “residents” of that world have long been rubbing shoulders with us.
From the corpse-coupling rituals of heretical cultivators in desolate villages to soul-devouring spirits in thousand-year-old mirrors, my enemies are far more than just wandering ghosts. An organization called “Nether Spring” is weaving a vast conspiracy to turn yin and yang upside down.
I wrote this journal after escaping death countless times. Perhaps it will help you hear whispers from another world at the next stroke of midnight. Remember: when you close this book, my story will be over. Yours... may only just be beginning.
