NOVEL NEXT Ch. 1
Chapter 1: Descent
Inside a cramped and dim wooden house typical of the South Seas.
An old woman, her head wrapped in a red cloth and her face hidden behind a yellow wooden mask, sat cross-legged before a narrow window, chanting obscure incantations in a hoarse, aged voice.
The smoke and the light streaming behind her back gave her an aura of mystery.
Beside her stood a bronze bowl filled with clear liquid, a few brightly colored flowers floating on its surface.
Before her lay a skull.
Three candles—one atop the skull, and one on each side—were burning steadily.
Offerings commonly used for deities were arranged before the skull.
In a box in front of the offerings sat a woven bamboo basket, lined with bright yellow cloth.
The old woman held a small forked whip made from palm leaves. While muttering her spell, she flicked the whip to sprinkle water from the bronze bowl onto the skull.
Two young women with red cloths tied around their heads knelt on either side of the ritual altar.
Their eyes were closed, heads bowed slightly, hands pressed devoutly together at their chests—faces full of reverence.
Behind one of the kneeling women stood Huang Jinshen, feeling that the sight before him was both eerie and absurd.
He had been a police officer for nearly twenty years, heard plenty of strange and supernatural tales—but never thought the day would come when he himself would resort to calling upon spirits to answer his doubts.
A man had brutally murdered his own daughter, and in court claimed he’d been cursed—his mind ensnared by a dark spell, causing him to commit the atrocity.
At first, like everyone else, Huang thought this was a pathetic, ridiculous excuse made up to evade justice.
But after coming into contact with a necklace the man said was the medium of the curse, Huang began witnessing bizarre, inexplicable events that very night…
That was why he had personally come to the South Seas to investigate.
Extraordinary matters required extraordinary solutions.
And it was said this spirit medium performing the ritual was especially effective.
Earlier, Huang had already provided the medium with the birth date and time of the murderer, Lin Wei. The answer to his doubts should come soon.
Moments later, the old woman stopped chanting. From somewhere, she produced a horn and began to blow.
The middle-aged man sitting beside Huang leaned over and whispered, “She’s summoning the Basket Spirit.”
This man was Songchai, Huang’s wife’s cousin—a local ruffian fluent in both languages, currently serving as Huang’s translator.
Huang nodded, keeping his eyes fixed on the skull.
The Basket Spirit faith was a folk belief in parts of the South Seas and the southeastern coastal regions—a manifestation of animistic shamanism.
It was said the medium could invite a deity into a basket. The basket’s handle rested on branches which moved over paper, leaving marks that revealed divine answers to the petitioner’s questions.
Huang had heard of the Basket Spirit, but combining it with a skull in such a grim atmosphere—this was a first.
It must be the influence of local South Sea culture.
Suddenly, a chill wind swept through the room. The candles flickered violently, and ripples shivered across the water in the bronze bowl.
A tightness seized Huang’s chest.
It’s coming…
In Huang’s eyes, the skull began to float on its own—revealing a small, bald Buddha statue underneath.
The two young women opened their eyes.
With great reverence, they lifted the Buddha and placed it onto the yellow cloth inside the basket, covering it with a red cloth. Then, extending their hands from either side, they slowly raised the basket.
Several small bells hung from the four corners of the red cloth.
A short wooden stick was tied beneath the basket—just long enough to touch the floor.
When the two women released their grip, the basket—guided by some unseen force—floated forward until it hovered over a pile of paper.
The basket swayed lightly, and the wooden stick beneath began to move.
When it finally came to rest, Songchai picked up the paper underneath, held it near the fire, and slowly a word written in a South Sea script began to appear.
“Your friend is cursed with a Corpse Oil Curse,” Songchai told Huang.
Knowing Huang wouldn’t understand, he went on to explain briefly that the Corpse Oil Curse was made using certain materials and methods—
—the most revolting part being the melting of fat from a corpse’s chin by heating it with candles to extract the corpse oil.
Even for Huang, who’d handled countless murder cases, the description was too vile to bear.
Lin Wei’s growing corpse hair and mental confusion… all caused by this ‘Corpse Oil Curse’?
While Huang pondered grimly, a flicker caught the edge of his vision.
He turned—and in the corner of the room, a strange mark had appeared.
It looked like a child’s messy doodle on the ground—or perhaps a bizarre talisman. Just looking at it made his head spin and ache.
He rubbed his eyes—but the strange lines were gone.
Songchai’s voice snapped him back. “If you have more questions, ask quickly. The Basket Spirit can’t stay long.”
Huang decided he must have imagined it, and asked, “The cursed man said that after the curse took effect, he became impotent. Would a Corpse Oil Curse cause that?”
“No. That’s another kind of Curse,” croaked the old medium.
The basket began to move again.
When it stopped, Songchai picked up the paper beneath, held it to the fire, and once again words appeared.
“This one is called… the Coffin Curse.”
Songchai explained how the Coffin Curse was made—and Huang felt his stomach twist in disgust.
He wanted to ask more, yet also felt there was no longer any need.
What he saw was real enough.
If this wasn’t mere trickery, then the mystery in his heart was already solved.
After the ritual, the medium sent off the Basket Spirit, and together with Songchai and the contemplative Huang Jinshen, stepped out of the hut.
When the two young women finished tidying up and left as well, the house fell into silence.
Then, in the same corner where Huang had seen the strange mark, a faint red glow appeared.
The lines twisted and slithered like living snakes, forming a warped sigil.
A shadow slowly solidified upon the talisman.
As the red light faded, a pale, thin young man appeared out of nothing—standing right above the glowing sigil.
He was dressed in casual clothes. Looking around in a daze, his confusion quickly turned to elation.
He looked down at his right arm.
A twisted rune covered it from shoulder to wrist, like a tattoo.
“This thing actually brought me to another world!”
The young man’s name was Li Zhen, manager of a small family-owned business.
He had only graduated a few years ago but was talented and ambitious—everyone who knew him believed he had a bright future.
But reality had dealt him a cruel blow.
A month ago, he’d felt unwell and gone to the hospital—only to be diagnosed, without any warning, with pancreatic cancer.
Pancreatic cancer, known as the King of Cancers, meant that once confirmed, a person’s life was already on countdown.
It was despair itself.
And misfortune never comes alone.
After the diagnosis, Li Zhen’s vision began to deteriorate—his sight growing blurrier day by day. The doctors could find no cause.
One night, when he could barely see more than a few meters ahead, a few twisted words appeared before his eyes out of nowhere—
“Heaven, Earth, Man, God, Ghost.”
Before he could react, the words flashed and vanished—merging into his right arm as a glowing sigil.
This sigil could sense the desires and consciousness of people across different times and worlds.
When the time was right, it would respond to a summoning—bringing Li Zhen into the corresponding world.
If he completed the task issued by the sigil, he would be rewarded.
When Li Zhen had first touched the rune, his consciousness blurred—and then he found himself here.
And his eyesight… was restored.
Now then, what was the mission?
As the thought crossed his mind, lines of golden text shimmered across the rune on his arm:
【The murderer is afflicted by the Corpse Oil Curse, Coffin Curse, and Worm Curse. He nailed his innocent daughter to death with iron spikes.】
【The Hong Kong police officer Huang Jinshen, having witnessed the South Seas’ mysteries, now questions: Do gods truly exist?】
【Because of his investigation, Huang Jinshen will soon draw the ire of a dark sorcerer. Protect him from harm—and within 24 hours, eliminate the evil Curse master.】
So his summoner was this Huang Jinshen?
…Why did this plot feel so familiar?
South Seas, Coffin Curse, Worm Curse, iron nails…
Li Zhen’s eyes widened in realization.
Of course!
Wasn’t this the old cult-classic horror movie—one of the “Three Great Forbidden Films”—“Gu”?!