Chương 44: The Matron

Rowan Lying in piles around the room… was about forty corpses of young girls. The very girls who Rowan had chased away from the orphanage. Rowan stood as still as a statue. His heart froze in his chest for a beat before hammering like a rabbit's. All dead. They were all dead. Rowan was no hero. He had saved none of them. A sick feeling lurched in his gut. His gaze panned around the room, searching for a twitching foot or a breathing chest, something to indicate that one of them was alive.

A flicker of movement suddenly drew his eyes like a hawk sighting prey. A headless woman hid in the shadows under the bed, her form ghostly. She was hunched over, protecting something.

"That's the matron who sold the girls," whispered Rowan in a pale voice.

"I beheaded–" Uxia clamped a hand over his mouth immediately. The corpse peeked her neck out. A dark brown gash slashed across her windpipe - where Rowan had separated the matron's head from her neck. She emitted only a slight bit of Fading Yin qi. The matron of the orphanage had formed into a ghost. A weak one. What the matron was holding shifted on its own. It was her head. Eyes, yellow and veiny, stared out at him, and long matted gray hair dragged against the floor.

She didn't seem to emanate killing intent - she looked at him the way a fox might look at a wolf outside of its den, cautious but hoping the threat would simply move on. This didn't make sense. How could such a weak ghost lure so many girls back to the orphanage within only a few days? His gaze moved to the piles of bodies. Every inch of their skin was covered in bloody cuts - cuts made by rose thorns. Rowan's mind ran though the tiers of ghosts. Hungry ghosts. Mainly just Fading Yin qi with a bit of personality.

Fierce ghosts. Vengeful. Refused to rest until their resentment was resolved. Malicious ghosts. Terrifying entities, usually created by the resentment of hundreds coalescing into a single ghost. Most often seen after clan or sect massacres. Took incredible power to defeat. After that were the types of ghosts that could only form from the spirits of cultivators, so he disregarded them.

"Malicious ghost," whispered Uxia. Rowan's blood went cold. Malicious ghost? The worst kind? But she was giving off so little Yin qi… The yellow eyes flicked to Uxia, the head's face warping in annoyance." Girl." The ghost crawled out from under the bed like an insect, and as she did, the Fading Yin qi in the room dramatically increased. Only halfway out and Rowan gasped, feeling he was being choked by it. Dark, dense qi, full of pain and misery. Even as shocked as he was, Rowan began trembling with rage.

How could the Dao Court have missed this? His sect elders? Didn't they do a thorough investigation? They held a whole parade, involving the entire city, praising themselves nonstop for heroism.

How could they have missed this? Did no one wonder where the rest of the orphans had gone? Did no one track down even one? Was he the only one in this whole city that cared? His nails bit into the meat of his palms. Why hadn't he properly taken care of the matron's corpse? He had known that ghosts could form here. It had been one of his primary concerns. And yet, after killing Daoist Apex, he had washed his hands of the matter. He'd figured someone else had probably taken care of the bodies.

Rowan let himself be paraded around the city, all while the Matron was hunting her charges down. It was his fault. He had been irresponsible. He knew better.

"Fellow daoist," said Rowan quietly.

"Please show me the best way to kill a ghost."

"We can't." Uxia shook her head slowly.

"We have to run." Rowan kept his eyes on the matron who was slowly creeping forward.

"What do you think is going to happen when we turn our backs to it?" They were in its den. How could they escape easily? Uxia Nevernight's grip shifted on her scythe, as though she were unused to holding it. Rowan wondered if she had ever used it in battle. From how nervous she seemed, he didn't think so.

"I'll attack it. You run and get help," Rowan said.

"How can I leave a mere layer two—""Either fight or run. You only have two choices. Quit stalling and pick one." Uxia shuffled, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Then she settled, leaning forward slightly.

"I have never exorcised a malicious ghost before, but I've seen two exorcisms." She paused.

"I will speak to Master." Rowan stared.

"What?"

"We have ways," whispered Uxia, who pulled out a beauty mirror from her spatial pouch.

"Stay quiet," she pleaded.

"And don't say anything that might give it a cause for action." Rowan kept his eyes on the matron for any sudden movements as Uxia channeled a strand of qi into the mirror.

"Archbishop? Third Disciple requests a Viewing." Nothing happened for a few seconds as she adjusted the bow in her hair nervously. There was a sudden influx of qi as the mirror glowed.

"Girl, I said that if you went to the tournament, to never speak to me again," thundered a scratchy voice.

"Master, it's an emergency."

"An emergency? It can't be that bad if you're playing with a mirror."

"I'm at the site where a demonic cultivator was recently killed and there's a malicious ghost here."

"And this ghost is somehow in the Moon Carriage and has dispatched all the elders?"

"It's not."

"It can't be that my Third Disciple, who begged me for months to go to the alliance's little gathering," Archbishop Vilhalo began softly, "who swore that she would obey every order from her elders, has snuck away from the safety of the Moon Carriage." There was a slam of a fist hitting a table.

"And is now facing down the ghost of a demonic–""She was a mortal," Rowan corrected, before the lecture could continue." Cavorting with the disciples of other sects and using the mirror in public?" the man roared, apoplectic.

"I'm not cavorting," Uxia protested, horrified.

"It's an emergency, Master, I–""I'll show you a real emergency when you get back," he thundered.

"Please–""Get on with it," Archbishop Vilhalo shouted.

"You said it was an emergency. Isn't this urgent?" Rowan had enough. The matron was eyeing them, like she was waiting for the perfect moment to attack.

"We're in an area of high Fading Yin. A Seven-Toned Folding Yin Formation was keeping the qi at bay, but was removed. However, Uxia says that the directions of the formation's orbital components were not the standard ones. A ghost formed. Uxia is sure it's a malicious ghost."

"How do you even know what the orbitals for that thing are supposed to be, girl?" the man asked Uxia. Rowan interrupted.

"The formation, going outwards - clockwise, counterclockwise, counterclockwise, clockwise, clockwise, counterclockwise, clockwise," he repeated. The Archbishop fell silent.

"The Seven-Toned Lock is meant to contain Yin energy. That sequence… will draw it into itself." He paused.

"Where did you say the formation went?"

"The Dao Court retrieved it," explained Rowan.

"They set down formation plates in the demonic cultivator's den and contacted the Astrology Bureau–""Greed," said Archbishop Vilhalo. He spat again.

"They wanted to keep the formation, and they knew whoever the Astrology Bureau sent would have taken it back to the Bone Cradle. Hmph. They deserve what they get." Rowan wasn't sure what was going to happen, but it sounded like nothing good.

"We examined the formation plate," continued Rowan.

"It's fractured, but not fully split."

"Lucky," said the man.

"Without the plate, the Fading Yin qi might have coalesced into a Wraith. You have a difficult decision, young man. This malicious ghost is more interested in draining the Yin qi in the area than attacking you two. If you flee, it won't pursue. However, if you leave the ghost to grow, it will only continue to gain strength, and the crack in the formation plate will grow. Then stronger entities will be able to spawn." Rowan shuddered. If Apex became a ghost, it would be a disaster.

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. He already knew what his choice was. He glanced at Uxia, who gave him a small nod.

"Lord Archbishop," started Rowan.

"This ghost–""Very well. Uxia. Undo the binding. You shall be directing a funeral this afternoon." Uxia planted the scythe in the ground with a metallic clang. The long ribbon that had been wound tightly around the staff of the scythe loosened, spooling on the ground. She held the mirror in both hands and sat down before the weapon, closing her eyes.

"Rowan, I'm going to bring the ghost into the physical realm. You'll be able to attack it then." He nodded. She let out a breath. A yellow paper talisman appeared between her index finger and middle finger. She closed her eyes and began chanting, the red character on the paper lighting so brightly it seemed to sear the darkness of the room away. The matron's head screeched. The ghost's arms tossed the head onto the bed, and leaped forward on all fours at Uxia.

Metal flashed as Rowan unsheathed his sword and intercepted the ghost's charge. He grunted as the being's body clashed against him. Her skin was impenetrable, and she was as strong as a bull. Rowan couldn't shake the ghost off his sword. Behind him, Uxia continued to chant, eyes closed. With a snarl, he kicked the corpse in the stomach, giving him a short stretch of space for movement. He didn't think. He didn't try to execute the move with absolute perfection.

He unleashed the third sword form of the Cutting Wind Sword Technique's basic art, Wind From Eight Directions. A whirlwind of sword strikes, movement generating wind, each strike building on the next. The blow struck the matron across the chest. She flew back, hitting the wall with a loud thud. Before she could get back to her feet, a green glow appeared on Rowan's fingertips. He shot a Germination with four-tenths of his Qi Sea at the ghost. The result was disappointing.

The matron trembled, and her Yin energy exploded in intensity, fighting the foreign qi in her body. It only seemed to distract her - not harm her. Waves of powerful Yin qi rippled from the ghost. One particularly powerful wave hit Rowan. He was unable to keep his footing and flew backward. Rowan was thrown into Uxia, who stopped speaking mid-chant, and they both folded into a pile of limbs. The matron loomed over their crumpled forms threateningly.

From the bed, the head's yellow eyes stared at them with cold, animal intelligence. Just as the matron was about to strike, a small arm made of spiritual energy wrapped around her waist. More hands appeared - out of the ground, down from the ceiling, from everywhere. The matron clawed at them as they wrestled her to the ground, pinning her in place, drowning her in a swamp of spirit limbs. Uxia began chanting again.

Her tongue formed syllables so quickly they blended into one another, seemingly without any breath between them. Rowan launched himself forward, his body parallel to the ground, and coated the sword with his qi. He stabbed her down the throat with it, the blade coming out halfway from her spine. This attack had been very effective against Daoist Apex, but the matron was a ghost, not a cultivator. He didn't know how potent this move would be either. The matron's throat gurgled around the steel intrusion.

But her hands scrambled at the sword. The steel began to decay, brown holes blooming across the blade and expanding, spreading. Mortal steel was truly pathetic. If he lived, he resolved to acquire a proper temporary weapon instead of pinching pennies.

"This Yin qi has properties of decay! It counters Wood qi!" said Archbishop Vilhalo.

"That's an incomplete way to think about things…" murmured Ostra. Rowan startled. He asked mentally, "Senior, can you give me some advice here?"

"I just did." Silence. Fine. He had one last card he could play - one that he hadn't tried out in a fight yet. It was the next step of the Ensouled in Wood scripture, Spring Spout. Rowan cycled his qi through his meridians in the patterns he had memorized, dancing around the matron's clawing strikes as he did so. He almost lost the rhythm several times. Finally, after ten seconds, he packaged another four-tenths of his Qi Sea into a seed. Rowan, however, didn't shoot it outward.

He ran at the ghost and stuffed his fist into the cavity he had created from the Cutting Wind Sword Technique. Spring Spout took hold instantly. The black veins stark beneath her skin began to glow a brilliant green. Wood is weak to decay - but new sprouts also grow from decay. Yin qi bellowed violently from the matron as green shoots sprouted from her skin. Roots grew from her legs, curling into the ground, holding her in place. It wasn't enough.

"Rowan!" called Uxia. He turned - the girl tossed him her scythe, which gleamed with a faint purple tinge. Rowan caught the weapon and slashed the ghost with it, putting his full strength into the attack. The matron's head screamed from atop the bed.

"Now!" cried Uxia. The yellow paper talisman between her fingers burst into pale flames. The matron's head and body no longer looked desiccated and ephemeral. She was thin and deathly pale, like a corpse that had only been lying around for less than a week.

"Destroy the head, boy! That's her anchor!" shouted Archbishop Vilhalo. Rowan ran for the bed. Suddenly panicked, the ghost's body reared forward with new strength, leaving parts of her legs behind as she tried to run at him. Little white spiritual arms wrapped around her, trapping her once more. Rowan lifted the scythe and arced it down through the head. The head of the ghost screamed soundlessly, dissipating into ash. Several feet away, the body collapsed like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

Rowan's chest heaved as he panted for breath, steadying himself on the bed. The scythe clattered to the ground. When the final winds tapered off, Uxia fell to her knees.

"It's done."

"Good work, young man," said the Archbishop from the mirror.

"Thank you for the help, Archbishop," said Rowan politely.

"How'd I do, Master?" Uxia asked, unable to contain herself.

"You're alive."

"I am, Master," she said.

"And–""And as clumsy as usual. You dropped your scythe trying to exorcise a malicious ghost. Haven't you embarrassed me enough?" Uxia placed her hands on her hips.

"Wasn't my incantation for–""Yes, why don't you talk about our techniques in front of this talented young man who is not part of our sect." Rowan's arms felt like jelly from wrestling with the matron. But other than that, and a few bruises that would heal within the next few minutes, he was fine. His eyes were drawn back to the heaps of bodies littering the floor. He wouldn't make the same mistake as last time - trusting others to handle the aftermath. He hadn't done right by the girls in life.

That was why he owed it to them to make sure, at least in death, that they were respected.

"We need to perform funeral rites for the orphans," said Rowan, snapping both Uxia's and Archbishop Vilhalo's attention to him.

"They need to be put to rest."

"I barely have any qi left for the burning," muttered Uxia.

"I should call the sect…"

"I'll help you. Just tell me what to do."

"That's not necessary. Our sect is famous for our expertise in this area."

"I'd like to learn," said Rowan, a thread of pleading in his voice.

"I doubt this will be the last time I'll have to do something like this." Uxia opened her mouth, perhaps to protest again, but Archbishop Vilhalo put his hand up to silence her.

"The ritual doesn't belong to us, but all who walk the earth. There's no harm in teaching this young fellow."

"Fine," she mumbled.

"You have Wood qi, right?" Rowan nodded in confirmation.

"Good. It's a Fire technique, so your qi will feed the flames. Just make sure not to lose control." Uxia took his arm and drew on his skin, showing him the proper meridian pattern for the funerary technique. As she was speaking, a crease formed between her brows. She suddenly stopped.

"Wait a minute. Your Qi Sea—?"

"What?" asked Rowan.

"It's… A-Grade?" Uxia said, baffled. She closed her eyes, seeming to peer harder into his spiritual system, before her eyes flew open in total and complete shock.

"It's A-Grade! Do you have any idea how rare that is? Even in our sect, we only have one disciple with an A-Grade Qi Sea, and he took first place in the last conference…" Rowan pulled his arm back with a grimace. He still wasn't used to being fawned over.

"Do you believe me now, then? That I killed Daoist Apex."

"I was already sure," Uxia muttered. She twirled her scythe and it vanished back into her spatial pouch.

"Anyway - first step, let's gather all the bodies together in one spot." Rowan made sure not to drag the bodies across the floor, carrying them one by one in his arms as he placed them in the growing pile at the center of the room. Their skin was dry and cold and their bodies hung limply in his arms. A terrible anger burned inside of him, one that he barely kept contained. They shouldn't have had to die. Especially not like this. Their deaths were completely meaningless. When they were finished.

Uxia gave him a solemn nod.

"There's a prayer. I'll teach it to you. You have to say it while channeling your qi towards the bodies." She taught him the words. The living are but passers-by, The dead are those who have gone home. The white bones are silent, Do the green pines know the spring? Rowan mouthed the prayer a few times. It was simple, but every time his mouth filled with the words they seemed to carry more and more weight. They both recited the words.

Rowan felt the Fire qi of the technique course through him, eating through his Wood qi and combusting into an inferno. He quickly expelled the fire outward through his palms to ensure he didn't damage his meridians. Black, ghostly fire shot across the bodies. Rowan's eyes widened in surprise. The fire looked exactly like the flames his mother had used against Lieren Nostraga. He repeated the prayer and watched as the flames roared to the ceiling.

The air felt lighter as the Fading Yin qi burned away, the lingering touch of the matron's presence dissipating. All the bodies burned to ash, sweeping past Rowan and through the open door in a sudden breeze. As the ritual finished and the fire died away, something that wasn't quite smoke rose towards the ceiling. One by one, forty ghostly forms rose from the ground - little more than wisps of white spiritual energy in the rough shapes of girls. They bowed deeply to Rowan as one.

Tears stung his eyes as he watched the scene. How could they bow to him? He wasn't worthy.

"I'm so sorry," Rowan told them weakly.

"You shouldn't have died." The girls smiled at him, looking more at peace than they ever had in life, and began to vanish into strands of qi. It was silent.

"Give me a minute, I need to replenish my Qi Sea," whispered Uxia. She brought out a spirit stone and began to meditate, pure white qi washing over her and entering her apertures. Rowan was about to follow her example when something shiny caught his eye. Silver glints scattered on the ground. Rowan picked one up. Taels. Five pieces of silver. His vision blurred as he activated the Red Thread Fate Divining Technique. This time, the technique was different.

He was forcefully pulled along the red thread's path through streets and alleys faster than a finger running over a route on a map. A girl appeared at the end, jumping back, her expression a rictus of horror, and then the technique ended. Dalia. He hadn't seen her among the bodies. But why had the technique shown him such an image?

"I have to go. Thank you for your help, seniors," Rowan said, swiftly bowing at the two before unceremoniously jogging away.

"Thank you, young man, for helping with such an important task. Just so you're aware, the world is always in need of more exorcists. Perhaps one day, we will meet again," called Archbishop Vilhalo from the mirror. Rowan leaped out of the hole, and into the ruins of the orphanage once more. He activated Red Thread Fate Divining and followed the guiding line for twenty minutes to a nice inn near Lady Hema's wharf. A bronze placard swung in front of the building, inviting guests in.

The scent of bread and spicy stew wafted in the cool, twilight air. Rowan trudged inside. He was immediately greeted by a bubbly hostess, who offered him everything from supper, to a room for the night, to having dancers sent up to his quarters, at a rapid-fire pace. She had clearly identified him as a cultivator, and potentially a big spender.

"Please excuse me, but you're Rowan Helsing, aren't you?" she whispered. A finger with a prettily painted nail had found his chest. He grunted.

"You're the one who was honored during the parade. The girls and I saw you from the rooftop of the inn–you looked so dashing–" Rowan kept walking without pause, ignoring the chattering behind him. He followed the red thread, jogging up the steps until he was in front of a door. He banged his fist against it three times.

"Dalia? It's me, Rowan." A pause. He heard scraping on the other side. The hostess continued to shower him with compliments as she followed him down the hall. But before she could reach him, the door opened and Rowan swept inside. The door shut in her face.