With a single palm strike, the air howled like a typhoon tearing through the night. The vengeful spirit — Yamashita — nearly shattered outright beneath the force.
Dòu Táng withdrew his hand, trying to exhale … but from somewhere deep inside his transformed body came a muffled, echoing:
"Wuhuu …"
After enduring that wrath, Yamashita's will to fight was gone. His ghostly body flickered like mist, fading in and out of the moonlight. Slowly, he sank to his knees, slid his ancient blade back into its sheath, and laid it horizontally across his lap.
" … Hah."
The sound was half sigh, half release. With each breath, his form grew thinner.
"Please, my lord," the soldier said quietly, "remember — my men and I never took a single step back. Right or wrong, we did our duty."
Dòu Táng didn't fully grasp the weight of those words, but the pride — the dignity — needed no translation.
And something about that tone hinted at deeper secrets buried beneath this school.
The physician's spirit bound here since the Shōwa era; this soldier trapped for just as long — whatever haunted this campus ran far deeper than a simple curse.
"No matter right or wrong … duty's duty, huh," Dòu Táng murmured. "Arguing about that war now's meaningless anyway."
He let the transformation fade, returning to human form, and crouched before the kneeling ghost.
"I've prepared a place for you," he said softly. "You can rest there. Let everything go."
Yamashita smiled faintly.
"The underworld … the yellow springs … that's the home I've awaited nearly a century. Please — send me there."
He'd misunderstood, of course. But that was fine.
Once he arrived in the Tang Dou Ren world, he'd figure it out soon enough.
Dòu Táng reached forward — but Yamashita spoke again before he could touch him.
"Before I go … may I ask your name? When I meet my comrades again, I'd like to tell them the name of the one who succeeded me."
"Dòu Táng," he said. "Remember it well."
Then, after a pause, something stirred in him. He leaned closer, voice dropping to a whisper only the two could hear:
"任翼展飞倾寰宇,望乡翻斗压海棠. My name is Rèn Dòu Táng.
I'm from Huaxia."
The soldier's body trembled. His head bowed, voice unsteady. " … Forgive me, my lord."
"Don't apologize to me," Dòu Táng said gently. "Go on. Our story isn't over yet." He rested a hand on the sheathed blade and slowly lifted it.
Yamashita's form dissolved into glowing threads, rising into the night air before gathering — stream by stream — into the ancient scabbard. Dust flaked away, drifting across the crimson track below.
One hand on the sword, Dòu Táng felt a surge — a deep, solemn power merging with his soul.
[Congratulations! High-level vengeful spirit purified!]
[High-level spirits purified: 1]
[High-level spirits remaining: 1]
Yamashita had been formidable — perhaps the only wraith who could face the Tang Dou Ren head-on.
But maybe … he'd never meant to fight at all.
Maybe he'd just been waiting for someone to relieve him of his post.
Still, what exactly had he been guarding?
What secret of this school required a soldier's watch for almost a century? Dòu Táng sheathed the blade and turned.
In the moonlight, his eyes were calm and clear — yet in Lu Zizhen's vision, his whole body was cloaked in writhing black resentment, like a living ghost pretending to be human.
She smiled faintly, shut off the GoPro, and glanced at the trembling security guard beside her.
"What do we do with this ordinary guy?"
The man flinched, every nerve screaming run! — but Lu Zizhen caught him by the collar.
Dòu Táng stooped to pick up her telescopic sword, tossing it back before walking over, the new blade still in hand.
Without the mask or hood, the guard could finally see his face.
"He's seen us," Lu Zizhen said, amused. "And he saw the whole exorcism. You know what that means, right? The best option is … to silence him!"
The guard went white as chalk.
"Why do you make it sound like we're the villains?" Dòu Táng asked flatly.
"Wait, we're not?" she said, then coughed twice. "Kidding! Just setting the mood! Doesn't that line sound cooler?"
Dòu Táng sighed, ignoring her antics. He looked back at the guard with a calm, almost apologetic expression.
"Sorry for the trouble."
His tone was gentle, polite — completely at odds with the ruthless powerhouse he'd been moments before.
The guard stared up at him, stunned, lips trembling.
"As you saw," Dòu Táng explained, "we're exorcists. We came here to cleanse this place. Please forgive the disturbance."
It was a line he'd used many times before.
"B-but … y-you're a student here! I've seen you!" the guard stammered.
That could've been an issue, but Dòu Táng didn't blink.
"Yes. I'm a second-year, Class B. But that doesn't conflict with my work as an exorcist.
In fact, it's because I sensed something wrong here that I came tonight to handle it. I hope you understand."
Then he bowed, utterly sincere.
Lu Zizhen snorted behind her hand, hiding a grin.
She loved it when he lied with that straight face — half truth, half performance.
The guard's eyes darted to the sword, and he nodded rapidly.
"R-right … I understand, Master … er, Student … uh, Master Student! Thank you for your hard work!"
Dòu Táng smiled, pleased.
Lu Zizhen sheathed her blades and patted the man's shoulder. "Good man. You're sharp, uncle. What's your name?"
He opened his mouth, but she plucked the ID badge off his chest before he could answer.
"No need," she said sweetly. "I'll hang on to this for now.
After all, in our line of work, it's best to be cautious. You know what they say —
'The only thing scarier than ghosts is the human heart.'"
She tucked the badge into her pocket. The implication was clear enough:
We know who you are. Keep quiet.
One good cop, one bad cop — their teamwork was disturbingly perfect. The guard nodded so hard his cap nearly fell off.
The two exorcists exchanged a glance. Another night's work — finished.
As for how the guard would explain the broken doors, shattered glass, and wrecked cafeteria … that was his problem.
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