The Young Girl's Chronicles of Demon-Slaying

Chapter 46: The Spirit Ghost

It was a fine robe; the moment she draped it over her shoulders, its name came to Song Jianqiu’s mind. Jinxia—that was the robe’s name, and she now understood its origin along with the name itself: it had come into being when the ghost infant was transformed into a spirit ghost, and merit descended upon her. She stood by the window, tilting her head slightly upward as if gazing at the moon, though in reality she had her eyes closed, carefully sensing this newly acquired power. A moment later, she opened her eyes and glanced outside. Seeing that there were no obstacles below the window, she climbed directly onto the windowsill. Since it was a villa, none of the second-floor windows had security bars installed. Once Song Jianqiu was on the windowsill, without a second thought, she leaped out. Her Jinxia robe fluttered as she descended at a speed that defied Earth’s gravity, landing on the ground as lightly as a withered leaf. Although she hadn’t actually taken flight, this strange sensation still filled her with uncontrollable excitement. She spun around in place, her only regret being that this had to be a monk’s robe—presumably because it was connected to the Buddhist prayer beads, which is why it was a robe and not something else. Still, she wasn’t greedy—it was better to have it than not. Although she didn’t yet know if this Brocade Cloud Robe had any other uses, the ability to make her body light enough to float was enough to satisfy her; she had always been an easily pleased person. After holding the robe and examining it for a while, she finally composed herself and turned her gaze toward the spirit ghost still hiding behind the osmanthus tree. In truth, though the spirit ghost was young, the osmanthus tree’s trunk—no thicker than an arm—couldn’t possibly conceal her figure. Yet the little creature, acting as if she were “hiding her ears to steal a bell,” concealed most of her face behind the trunk, revealing only one large eye that blinked repeatedly at Song Jianqiu, her gaze betraying a mix of curiosity and fear. When Song Jianqiu walked toward her, the spirit child shrank back a little further behind the trunk. But no matter how much she retreated, it was the same—she seemed unable to leave the osmanthus tree and could only cling tightly to the trunk, her face etched with tension. When she drew near, Song Jianqiu crouched down and, filled with curiosity, examined the spirit from head to toe. Judging by her clothes and appearance, the spirit must have been a little girl—with a high ponytail, big, bright eyes, and chubby cheeks that made her look incredibly cute. After watching for a moment, she reached out a hand. The female spirit, hiding behind the tree trunk, looked at her, then at the outstretched hand. After some hesitation and uncertainty, she finally extended her own chubby little hand. Perhaps the feeling of being subdued by Song Jianqiu back when she was still a ghost infant still lingered in her memory; she still harbored some wariness and fear toward Song Jianqiu. The little hand she extended first hesitantly brushed against Song Jianqiu’s hand before pulling back. Only after seeing that the other showed no reaction did she fully grasp the outstretched hand. Song Jianqiu, on the other hand, had no such reservations. Upon learning that she had transformed this ghost infant into a spirit ghost, her guard toward the child completely vanished. After grasping the little hand, she held it firmly and pulled the child out from behind the osmanthus tree. Caught off guard, the little girl was suddenly pulled right in front of her, then lifted up as if she were holding a baby. So light! Her first impression was of lightness—as light as air, with virtually no weight at all. But that was hardly surprising—after all, a spirit ghost was, at its core, a ghostly entity and naturally had no weight. Although Song Jianqiu often watched horror movies to learn about vengeful spirits and malevolent ghosts—and had even clashed directly with a malevolent ghost last time—this was still her first time coming into such close contact with one. She couldn’t help but feel curious, so she turned the spirit girl this way and that, feeling and examining her. After getting fully acquainted, the little girl didn’t resist Song Jianqiu’s actions at all. Instead—whether she’d been tickled or was simply having fun—she let out a crisp, giggling laugh, appearing utterly innocent and endearing, making it impossible to put her down. After playing with the little girl for a while and lifting her high in the air, Song Jianqiu held her up and, gazing at The Moon in the night sky, said, “From now on, shall we call you Xiao Hua?” More than twenty days of exposure to Buddhist scriptures had completely transformed the ghost infant from a vengeful spirit into a gentle one—free of resentment and hatred, possessing only the purity and innocence of a newborn baby. However, no matter how pure and innocent she might be, a spirit child was still a spirit child—far beyond what a real, ordinary infant could ever be. Upon hearing the name Song Jianqiu had given her, the little girl blinked her big eyes at her, then stretched out her chubby little hand to touch Song Jianqiu’s smooth, delicate cheek, uttering her very first words: “Mom, Mommy!” Hearing this, Song Jianqiu’s face fell, and she quickly corrected her: “You have to call me ‘sister’!” “Mom!” “Big sister!” “Mom!” “Big sister!” “Mom!” “……” Song Jianqiu was at a loss for words and felt a headache coming on. The back-and-forth between the two only made Xiao Hua shout with increasing glee; her two bare little feet dangled and kicked joyfully in the air, leaving Song Jianqiu at a loss for words. Fine! Kids will be kids—she couldn’t win this argument. Song Jianqiu had no choice but to accept the titles for now. After playing with her for a while, she set Xiao Hua down and said, “Big sister is going to bed now. Be a good girl and go to sleep too. Understand?” “Bye, Mom!” Xiao Hua blinked her big eyes; she had understood what Song Jianqiu said, but she still stuck to calling each other by their own names—she just couldn’t seem to change it. Song Jianqiu couldn’t do anything about it; she’d just have to try to correct her as best she could in the future. After saying goodbye to Xiao Hua, she once again took the unconventional route, walking to the window of her own room, taking a light leap, and landing on the windowsill. Xiao Hua watched from below, then suddenly scrambled up on her little legs to follow, standing where Song Jianqiu had been. She looked up but saw no movement; before she knew it, her tiny body had flown up on its own. When Song Jianqiu stood on the windowsill and looked back down, she saw a golden-yellow figure darting toward her. She instinctively reached out to catch her, and Xiao Hua landed in her arms. Held in Song Jianqiu’s arms, Xiao Hua seemed overjoyed, giggling nonstop, thinking it was some kind of fun game. So she could actually leave the osmanthus tree after all! She had thought Xiao Hua couldn’t leave the osmanthus tree, which was why she’d said goodbye to it. Now that it could leave, there was naturally no need for a farewell. “Do you want to sleep with me?” Song Jianqiu asked. She knew, of course, that ghosts didn’t need to sleep or rest; she asked simply out of habit. “I’ll sleep with Mommy!” Xiao Hua nodded happily, then hugged Song Jianqiu’s head. Hearing Xiao Hua’s term of endearment stung her heart, but she couldn’t bring herself to scold her harshly—after all, she was just a child, and a ghost infant at that, which made her all the more pitiful. She’d recently crammed a lot of knowledge about ghosts and spirits, and had learned that ghost infants are usually formed from babies who died shortly after birth or during a difficult delivery while still in the womb. However, since they are at the very beginning of life, these infants have only just developed a sense of self and have no concept of resentment or hatred whatsoever. Therefore, to transform a stillborn infant into a ghost infant, both the pregnant woman and the infant must undergo special rituals. Since such infants are like blank slates, once imbued with resentment, they become incredibly powerful—far beyond what ordinary vengeful ghosts can match. Yet the ghost infant currently being kept by Wang Yiting was nowhere near as formidable as she’d imagined, which left Song Jianqiu somewhat puzzled. But on second thought, perhaps it was all just exaggeration in movies and novels? (End of Chapter)