Chapter 156 Four Directions 3: The Beginning Ceremony

He knows something.

You calmly went along with his words and admitted your mistake: "I didn't know it would turn out like this."

You observe him, and he just sighs.

His ugliness made his eyes look particularly sinister, but look at the reactions of the other three girls, especially Jinglian.

It seems that after your father appeared, her aversion to Ajarn disappeared, replaced by the same "expectation" as Meiling and the others.

You can't help but become more vigilant.

But apart from his terrifying appearance, the man in front of them did nothing inappropriate.

Like an ordinary father, he asked the girls if they had informed their families. After confirming that it was safe for them, he comforted them while speaking in some religious terms mixed with Portuguese that you could hardly understand. Then he hailed a taxi and took them upstairs.

The streets were narrow, the asphalt surface was potholed and uneven, and the streetlights were dim and flickering. Taxis drove slowly, while motorcycles whizzed past in twos and threes, their taillights leaving long red trails in the damp air.

The process of street stalls going from bustling to sparsely populated is also the process of you "going home".

When the aroma of pork neck fat grilling over charcoal, along with the scents of chili and fish sauce, fades and your nose starts to sting slightly, you've arrived at a residential area.

Completely different from the urban areas seen in tourist advertisements, the residential areas here are somewhat dilapidated. Compared to the situation in real China, it feels more like an urban village in a county town.

The low tin shed and the crooked wooden house were closely packed together. The power lines were tangled overhead like black vines, and the occasional flickering light bulb swayed slightly, illuminating the mottled water stains on the ground.

The sizzling sound of fried food came from the alley entrance, and the puddles on the street were getting moldy, creating a lively atmosphere.

You get off the bus here. People strolling around in twos and threes greet your father. You can't understand a word they say, which allows you to observe everyone from an outsider's perspective.

You feel cold and out of place, which refers to your "father." Compared to him, you yourself feel more like a "local."

If he was simply shockingly ugly from the front, his back view was truly bizarre.

It has only the shape of a human, but no matter how you look at it, the slightly protruding shoulder blades and the light steps make it look like a crippled eagle with its wings folded.

Yet he walks with his feet straight, and when passersby look up and call out "Ajarn—", he simply puts his hands together in a gesture of reverence.

A pressing question arises: Can you trust him?

You've experienced your family members "exploding" in dungeons before, but based on past experience—when you're particularly unlucky and facing an extremely difficult and seemingly unsolvable problem, you can often find a solution relatively easily, it just takes a sudden flash of inspiration.

Then you have no choice but to trust him.

Because you have to go home with him and let him solve Jinglian's problem; if these are things that must be done, then there is no way you could set up a deadly trap in the middle of it.

finally.

The spacing between the streetlights lengthened, and the faint barking of dogs could be heard. You noticed that there were a large number of dogs that appeared to be without owners.

They had no owner, yet they didn't seem like stray dogs; they were just thin, dirty dogs wandering around in small groups, seemingly unsuspecting of passersby. You suspected they had atavistic tendencies.

Their eyes glowed with a yellowish light under the lamp, and if you made a fierce expression, they would wag their tails at you.

Even in this residential area, small temples stand one after another. The gilded patterns on the eaves reflect a faint light under the streetlights, the statues of gods at the entrance are draped in marigold wreaths, the incense burns persistently, and the air is filled with the mixed smell of incense ash and damp mud.

You've only been in the instance for a few hours, and you feel like your mind is on edge.

A strange sense of disorientation arose: something was being "worshipped" everywhere here. In a country where everyone has a belief, if there is belief, then it must be real.

That means you could say there are eyes watching you on every street corner.

The man in front stopped.

You look up and see an old, two-story wooden house in front of you. The exterior walls are painted with peeling light blue paint, and there are two spirit houses standing at the door, filled with fresh flower wreaths and some offerings that you don't know what they are.

This surprises you a bit. You'd think that an Ajarn who could afford to bring his non-Singaporean child here for high school would be struggling financially. But it seems the place is thriving, and the people around him treat him with respect.

"Children, please come in."

As the door opened, a whiff of sandalwood, herbs, and incense ash filled the air.

The room was dimly lit, and many talismans hung on the walls, with incantations and Buddha images written on them, resembling dancing noodles.

In the corner were piles of pottery jars and wooden boxes, some of which were stuffed with black cloth. Just by looking at them for a moment, you felt as if you could hear faint whispers.

You notice the offerings on the altar on the wall: besides the usual Buddha statues and flowers, there is an old copper lamp, its flickering light casting swaying shadows on the wall behind the altar.

Hanging beside the offering table were several strings of dried herbs and—were those bones? You belatedly realized that they were bracelets made from the bones of an entire animal, probably a snake.

The floor was covered with straw mats, the edges of which were worn and curled up.

In the center was a circular magic circle, and at the center of the circle was a huge ceramic basin filled with a dark liquid that smelled rather unpleasant.

But if there's a real evil spirit at school, then this thing at home smells much more normal.

You tried to keep your breathing steady. The other girls, perhaps because they were young, or perhaps because they had blind reverence for "Ajarn," or perhaps... didn't notice anything amiss.

Huimin even exclaimed in a low voice, "So this is what your home is like... It looks amazing."

Meiling pursed her lips, but couldn't hide the nervousness in her heart. She pretended to be relaxed and said, "No wonder you scared us half to death. It turns out you have some skills."

Their thinking is normal, and their personalities have not been distorted.

Jinglian remained silent. She lowered her head and walked into the room, cold sweat seeping from her forehead and dripping down her cheeks.

You can see clearly that the sweat is completely muddy water.

Jinglian is a complete fake, a clay figure.

!

Your father closed the door, and a metallic clang came from the wooden door, making you shudder.

The whole world seemed to be isolated.

And you suddenly seemed to wake up as well.

You know what's wrong.

You noticed the layout of your neighbors' houses, so you must have entered through the back door with the garden. Although the house is filled with various ritual objects and feels cold and quiet, it is still your living room, not a proper ritual hall.

The house was her own, yet there was no trace of any woman. The walls were covered with talismans, copper bells, and rubbings of Buddha images; the altar was filled with incense, wine, and fruit... It was one thing that "you" were still a high school student, but the absence of any trace of a mother or any other woman was simply too strange.

Even if it's just a vase, a piece of embroidered cloth, or some feminine personal items—you can reasonably guess that the women in such families are traditional women. If that's the case, then they would have lifestyles and hobbies that conform to traditional impressions.

You suddenly realize that in this identity's "home," there has never been only "father."

So what about "you"? You can't even speak Thai, so you must have grown up in the Flower Kingdom, yet you were brought here. Could this be related to the absence of your "mother"?

The father walked straight into the inner room without saying a word.

You originally wanted to say something to him, even if it was just to test him or to chat, but he didn't turn around. He came out carrying a bunch of things, and then he took off his outer robe and sat down cross-legged with his upper body bare.

What a body this is! You've already seen the strangeness of the bones, but I never imagined that even the skin inside would have such an unusual luster, as if it had been coated with some kind of herbal medicine or ash for years.

There were several faint, knife-like marks on his chest, but the scars had strange, curved lines.

sutures?

He placed the copper basin in front of him, sprinkled in lime leaves and sea salt, poured in water, and added a few drops of dark red liquid.

Tiny bubbles immediately appeared on the surface of the water, as if it had been "awakened" by something.

He chanted a spell in a low voice, the sound intermittent, a mixture of what was probably Thai and another language.

Then, three thick sticks of sandalwood were lit, the aroma so strong it was pungent. You tried to hold back, but tears still welled up in your eyes.

He placed the incense sticks in the copper jar in front of the offering table, then took out several earthenware jars and opened them one by one. The air was immediately filled with the faint earthy scent of herbs, the bitter aroma of sandalwood, and a... bloody smell.

Finally, he took a stack of yellow paper, and here it seemed to be a folk practice in the Flower Kingdom, with talismans drawn on it with cinnabar. He put the paper in the brazier and lit it, the smoke from the burning paper swirling in the air and not dissipating.

"Oh my, so grand?" Meiling teased, but her eyes couldn't help but dart towards the door, clearly feeling apprehensive.

Huimin was completely stunned, clutching her schoolbag tightly with both hands, her eyes wet with tears. Her shoulders trembled slightly, and her breathing was rapid.

Jinglian... the sweat seeping from her face made her look almost like a mud doll.

"Do we really have to do all this now?" you said. "Could you please explain it to us first?"

He simply gestured for the four of you to come closer: "Sit down."

His tone left no room for refusal.

He arranged four prayer cushions at the four corners of the ground, with the copper basin filled with water in the center. At this moment, the white lines on the ground finally revealed their full form: it was a four-corner formation.

No matter how winding and twisting the lines are, or how densely packed the symbols are, it still looks like a net waiting to be closed.

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Author's Note: I originally planned to end this chapter with this one, but I'm a little unsure if the content meets the censorship requirements... so I'll postpone it to the next chapter.