Chapter 37: The Black Widow

I stepped outside and dialed Wang Meiyu’s number.

Last time, she still answered, but this time it went straight to an automated message saying she was out of the service area.

My heart sank sharply. Considering Wang Meiyu’s odd behavior after reuniting with Fu Yiman, I started to suspect she might be in trouble.

I returned inside and said to Zhao Zheng, “Find out where Fu Yiman is right now.”

“Qin, I just checked—Fu Yiman left for France two days ago. Her agent, Wang Meiyu, went with her.” Zhao Zheng glanced at me as he spoke. With their channels, it was easy to discover how closely Wang Meiyu and I had been connected.

“All right, let’s assign tasks. Dali, you’re with me—we’ll investigate in the capital. Ghost, you and Qin Feng will find out what kind of evil is possessing Wang Qing. Ye Luo and Zhao Zheng, continue gathering and analyzing data. Report to me immediately if anything comes up. That’s it, meeting dismissed!” Chen Ying’en spoke crisply, turned around, and left, never once meeting my eyes.

Niu Dali clapped my shoulder and quickly followed after her.

“Don’t mind her, Qin. The captain’s like that—cold outside, warm inside,” Ghost explained Chen Ying’en’s chilly attitude toward me.

I waved my hand indifferently. “Forget about her. Where’s Wang Qing now? Let’s go see.”

Ghost led me to the back of the small building, where there was a hidden door. Inside, a lifelike painting of a qilin hung on the wall. With my Yin-Yang eyes, I could see a faint spiritual glow circulating upon it.

“What a fine Qilin Exorcism Talisman—looks powerful,” I said, admiring the painting for a moment.

“Of course. That’s a piece personally painted and consecrated by Director Zhou. Even fierce spirits steer clear,” Ghost replied with pride.

We stepped farther in. Inside were a series of narrow cells—according to Ghost, each was built with materials to ward off evil and had cost a fortune.

“Where’s Wang Qing?” I asked.

“At the very end. She’s the only one we’re holding right now. You can tell these are all newly built. Our group will be stationed in Linjiang from now on,” Ghost explained.

I was taken aback—why would the Ninth Bureau permanently station a group in Linjiang? The water tank corpse case ultimately pointed to Zhangjia Village in Wushan; why not stay in Wushan, but in Linjiang instead?

I asked Ghost, but he didn’t know either—he said it was Director Li’s arrangement.

Ghost opened the holding cell. Wang Qing was lying on an iron bed, eyes closed, long needles protruding from her head, wrists and ankles bound to the bed with enchanted ropes.

“What happened to her?” I asked.

Ghost gave a wry smile. “No choice. Last night, after Zhong Guofeng was drained to a husk, she went mad—completely broke down. The evil force seeped out from within. We had to use soul-pacifying needles and binding ropes, or she might end up like Xu Jiao—worked up into a frenzy and kill herself.”

I clicked my tongue and shook my head, standing before Wang Qing. Just yesterday she was arrogant, and now she’d fallen so far.

I reached out and pulled out the main soul-pacifying needle from her head. She instantly opened her eyes, bloodshot and wild.

She looked at me like a starving wolf eyeing prey, her face twisted in excitement. A guttural moan came from her throat, drool spilling from her lips, her whole body writhing uncontrollably.

At the same time, a foul stench wafted from her.

“By the way, Qin,” Ghost asked, “since you knew Zhong Guofeng would be in danger sleeping with her, you must know what’s possessing her?”

“I don’t. When I suppressed the evil inside her, I sensed one of its traits, but I didn’t expect it would actually drain men dry.” I shrugged.

“Can you figure it out somehow?” Ghost asked.

“You haven’t found anything?” I questioned, reinserting the main soul-pacifying needle. Wang Qing’s eyes rolled back as she fell asleep.

Ghost shook his head. None of the usual methods worked, and Wang Qing wasn’t like someone possessed by a ghost—you couldn’t just expel the spirit.

Evil energy is too broad a term—it’s not a tangible thing.

I asked to see Wang Qing’s medical reports and examined them closely. Indeed, nothing unusual appeared.

After a few readings, I was about to hand the papers back when something caught my eye. I quickly flipped through and pulled out an X-ray and an ultrasound of her lower abdomen, holding them up to the light.

Narrowing my gaze, I focused on a bony protrusion on the pelvic X-ray, then looked at the ultrasound image showing what was labeled as a benign uterine fibroid.

I overlapped the X-ray with the ultrasound, aligning them carefully. To my surprise, the bony protrusion and the fibroid fit together perfectly.

“What does it look like?” I asked Ghost.

“A bird’s nest?” Ghost stared for a while and guessed.

I gave him a playful slap on the head, laughing. “Bird’s nest, my foot—what kind of eyes do you have?”

Ghost scratched his head and chuckled sheepishly.

“It looks like a spider sac,” I said.

“No way,” Ghost gasped.

“We’ll know for sure once we open her up,” I said calmly.

“This… Qin, without orders from above, we can’t just end her life,” Ghost said uneasily.

“You blockhead, did I say we should kill her? Just open her up and take a look—it’s like surgery.” I gave him another slap on the head. Maybe because, like me, he lost his parents young, I felt a certain kinship with him.

Ghost finally realized I was a doctor.

“Where’s Zhong Guofeng’s body?” I asked.

“In the morgue at Linjiang People’s Hospital—his corpse is fine,” Ghost replied.

“I’ll see for myself, and pick up a set of surgical tools while I’m at it. No need for you to go.” With that, I turned and left.

…

Linjiang People’s Hospital, morgue.

I circled Zhong Guofeng’s corpse—it was shriveled to a desiccated husk, completely drained, and looked terrifying.

I sprinkled some specially prepared warding water on the body. No reaction at all—it was just an ordinary dried-up corpse.

“Doctor Qin.” Suddenly, in the silent morgue, an old voice sounded behind me.

The hair on my neck stood up. I spun around, drawing my Bloodbane Blade with a ringing sound, pointing it behind me.

On another gurney, Old Li sat there, smiling at me. That smile sent chills down my spine.

“Old Li, what are you doing here?” I fixed my eyes on him, voice low.

“When you’re old, you never know when you’ll close your eyes for good. I wanted to see what it’s like to lie here.” Old Li stepped down from the gurney and came over, flicking my blade with his finger.

Before I could react, my wrist went numb, and the blade spun in my hand—ending up sheathed at my waist.

I stared dumbfounded at Old Li. If he’d wanted me dead, I’d already be gone. In front of him, I was like a baby before an adult—utterly powerless.

“Doctor Qin, isn’t wielding a scalpel better than this weapon?” Old Li sighed.

I gathered myself. “Any blade can kill; what matters isn’t the knife, but the hand that wields it.”

Old Li gave a raspy chuckle, looking at me with appreciation.

“Who are you, really?” I couldn’t help but ask.

“Me? Just a useless old man,” Old Li replied.

A useless man? Hell, if you’re useless, what does that make me? I cursed inwardly.

Old Li seemed to read my thoughts and sighed, “Don’t belittle yourself. My time is nearly up, but you’re just at sunrise. I’ve watched you since you first joined the hospital.”

“So, you’ve always known everything I did in the morgue?” I smiled bitterly. No wonder he always gave me those strange looks after I left.

“What do you think?” Old Li chuckled.

“All right, you’re the expert. So, do you know what happened to this corpse?” I pointed at Zhong Guofeng.

“Drained of essence and blood, soul dispersed before it could gather. A pitiful end,” Old Li said.

“Or else…” I hesitated, hoping he’d give me some guidance.

But before I could finish, Old Li waved me off. “I’m old and useless. I don’t meddle in cases anymore. By the way, did that rascal Zhou threaten or bribe you into joining the Ninth Bureau?”

“You’re sharp as ever. I’m hesitating, to be honest—tempted, but also apprehensive,” I replied.

Old Li glanced at me, then hobbled toward the exit, calling back, “Come have a drink with an old man.”

He didn’t stop in the duty room, but led me to an old, shabby bungalow behind the hospital.

Shaded by trees, it was inconspicuous.

Inside, it was a cluttered bachelor’s quarters—poverty written everywhere.

Old Li swept everything off a battered table, pulled out two bottles of low-quality grain liquor, and tossed a bag of peanuts on top.

“Not many bottles left—today you get lucky,” Old Li said, opening a bottle and handing it to me.

I took it; a rich aroma hit my nose—it smelled better than any expensive national liquor.

“This wine’s been aging seventy years. When it’s gone, that’s it.” Old Li took a swig, tossing a few peanuts into his mouth.

I sipped as well, praising the wine.

“Of course—it’s real Nu’er Hong. I sealed a hundred jars the year my daughter was born, buried them in the cellar. Pity…” Old Li’s eyes grew misty with sorrow and memory.

So that was it—the wine was for his daughter. I knew the custom: when a daughter is born, the wine is buried; when she marries, it’s unearthed and drunk.

Seventy years this wine had lain buried. Clearly, his daughter never married—or perhaps died before reaching marrying age. My heart ached with sympathy for Old Li.

He chewed peanuts in silence for a long time before looking up at me. “Let me give you some advice: since you’re on this path, joining the Ninth Bureau will help you avoid many pitfalls and provide resources. The only downside is—the mortality rate.”

“Dealing with demons and monsters, of course the mortality rate is high,” I said. Even as a rookie, I’d already brushed with death several times.

Old Li laughed hollowly, his gaze distant. “You don’t understand yet. One day, you will—and then you’ll know what ‘purgatory’ really means.”

That dire? I couldn’t even imagine how bad “purgatory” could get.

We drank into the night, Old Li never again mentioning the Ninth Bureau.

When I finally got up to leave, he drunkenly tossed me a piece of mutton-fat jade.

It was warm to the touch, carved with a complex magical array.

“I’m leaving it to you—treat it well,” Old Li muttered, staggering to bed. Soon, his snores filled the room.

I looked at the jade—was this a talisman? But I couldn’t activate it.

Glancing at the sleeping Old Li, I pocketed the jade and quietly closed the door behind me.

Not long after leaving, Ghost called, asking when I’d be back.

I said immediately, then brought the surgical instruments to the group’s base.

…

Under the bright lights, I donned mask and gloves, scalpel in hand, and made an incision in Wang Qing’s abdomen.

Blood oozed out, carrying a foul stench.

Pulling the incision open, I exposed the uterus and found the so-called fibroid—not on the uterine surface, but piercing through from below the pelvis like an oval cocoon embedded within.

With a swipe of the scalpel, the thing burst, releasing a gush of pus.

Suddenly, disaster struck.

Countless black threads shot out from inside. My pupils contracted as I sprang back, narrowly avoiding them.

True to his nickname, Ghost darted aside like a phantom.

The black filaments stuck to every surface of the cell, hissing and smoking. The walls and ceiling, lined with warding materials, were instantly pitted with holes.

Half-reclining on the floor, I snatched a talisman and channeled my power, sending it flying at Wang Qing.

Midair, several more black threads shot at it. The talisman burst into spiritual flame, reducing the threads to ash.

At the same time, I leaped up and plunged a Yang-Purging Needle into the sac.

Ghost rushed over, pouring a crystalline liquid onto the sac, instantly solidifying it into a rock-hard shell.

I clapped Ghost’s shoulder. “Nice work—what is that stuff?”

“Sealing crystal solution—can seal anything. Cost me a hundred contribution points,” Ghost replied, then looked at me with admiration. “You called it—a spider sac, and that’s what it is.”

But just then, the crystal seal shattered. The sac writhed violently, then burst into a plume of black smoke.

The smoke condensed in the air into the form of a black widow spider, baring its fangs at us before dissolving away.

I frowned. “A black widow—slightly different from what I expected. Have you ever seen evil energy manifest like this before?”

“I haven’t,” Ghost shook his head.

The black widow is notorious for its sexual voracity, often devouring the male after mating. Now it made sense why Wang Qing drained Zhong Guofeng dry and why Xu Jiao stabbed herself—she was a lily, with no man to consume.

Suddenly, I thought of the claw marks on the iron door atop the Linjiang Grand Theater, and of Li Mei’s haunted fetus possessed by a cat spirit.

A realization dawned. I turned to Ghost. “Come with me to the Linjiang Grand Theater.”