NOVEL NEXT Ch. 7
Chapter 7: Ahead of Schedule
With a loud “Bang!”, the doll inside the small coffin exploded into a heap of powder.
In the midst of casting his spell, Ma Gusu let out a scream, spitting a mouthful of blood before collapsing helplessly to the ground.
It felt as if countless ants were ferociously gnawing at his internal organs—an agony beyond the limits of language.
In an instant, he had gone from a vicious, wrathful figure to a dying man gasping for breath.
Forcing himself to stay conscious, Ma Gusu dragged his body inch by inch toward a jar by the wall—large enough to hold a human head.
With trembling hands, he pried open the lid, scooped up a handful of wriggling maggots from inside, and shoved them into his mouth with the last of his strength.
After swallowing them, some color returned to his face.
Ma Gusu took a deep breath, feeling as though he had been dragged back from the brink of death.
He scooped up another handful of maggots and stuffed them roughly into his mouth, gulping them down quickly.
Gradually, the light returned to Ma Gusu’s eyes, now filled with suspicion and alarm.
Someone had broken his ghost child?
Were they coming specifically for him?
As a head-descending sorcerer who had used curses to kill countless people, he knew full well that if not for his own extreme caution and paranoia, he would have long since perished without a trace.
……
Ignoring the pain coursing through his body, Wong Kam-Sun found another rope and quickly tied the woman tight once more.
Only after confirming that she remained unresponsive did the group finally relax.
Wong Kam-Sun rubbed his sore waist, glanced at the palm-leaf whip and the ritual implement stuck in the woman’s shoulder, and said with lingering fear, “That curse… the ghost child’s nurturing was broken?”
“That little ghost was way too fierce,” said Songchai, limping and pale with fright.
Li Zhen pulled out the ritual implement embedded in the woman’s shoulder. A few streams of blood oozed out—slow, but not much in volume.
The implement hadn’t gone in deep.
Wong Kam-Sun did a quick examination of her wounds and frowned. “We have to get her to a hospital right away, or she might die here. Then we’ll be in real trouble.”
Li Zhen, weary and drained, sat down on the floor. “We can’t take her to a big hospital. Let’s stop the bleeding at a small clinic first. If this blows up, we’re done for.”
“I know someone who runs a clinic,” Songchai said immediately. “We can take her there.”
“Then don’t delay,” Wong Kam-Sun said sharply. “Let’s move now.”
“I’ll get the car.” Songchai turned and hurried out the door.
They were doing something they couldn’t let others see, so they had chosen a secluded place to begin with. Their car was parked a kilometer away, in a small lot—it would take a few minutes to reach it.
Glancing at the disordered room, Wong Kam-Sun muttered, “That Ma Gusu must already know someone’s coming for him.”
Li Zhen said, “We’ll have to move up the plan. If we wait till tomorrow noon like before and let him finish setting up, we’ll be walking right into his trap…”
The thought of what a head-descending sorcerer was capable of made Wong Kam-Sun’s face darken.
“How soon are we talking?”
“As soon as possible.”
“It’s still before dawn—that puts us at a disadvantage.”
“His curse’s been broken. Ma Gusu’s suffering too. That evens the field. You really want to wait until he’s recovered, set up his defenses, maybe even found allies—then go after him?”
“Not sure how badly he’s hurt.”
“Find him fast. Strike when he’s unprepared—or before he can prepare. That’s our best chance.”
“If he’s injured, won’t he hide?”
“He won’t have time to set up another altar. The only place he’ll feel safe is his lair.”
“That technique just now killed without a trace—so eerie.”
“The terrifying thing about head-descending sorcerers is their ability to kill from the shadows. Once face-to-face, they’re just human. With Master Wan Madama taking point, and since we’ve kept our personal details hidden, his tricks will be limited.”
“Seems like you know quite a bit about head-descending curses.”
“To deal with a head-descending sorcerer, you have to understand their art.” Li Zhen tried to get up—but suddenly his body faltered, nearly collapsing.
Wong Kam-Sun caught him in alarm.
Seeing Li Zhen’s pale face and trembling lips, he asked in shock, “What’s wrong?”
“I… I’m sick,” Li Zhen said, pressing his abdomen with a strained smile.
“I can tell.”
“Not just any sickness—terminal.”
“Terminal?”
“Officer Wong, I don’t have long to live. If I die without killing even one head-descending sorcerer, I won’t have the face to meet my friends down below.”
In Li Zhen’s eyes, Wong Kam-Sun saw bitterness—and a deep, weary resignation. It was an expression he had only ever seen in those truly dying of incurable illness.
Li Zhen wasn’t lying.
From that perspective, Wong Kam-Sun finally understood why Li Zhen always acted with such urgency.
If they failed to kill a head-descending sorcerer this time, Li Zhen’s frail body might never allow him another chance.
Whether this Ma Gusu was the same sorcerer Li Zhen hated or not—Li Zhen probably no longer cared.
Piecing together Li Zhen’s motives, Wong Kam-Sun finally understood the man’s recklessness.
Catching his breath, Li Zhen slowly reached for the whip on the ground.
It was still damp—no different from before.
Yet Li Zhen clearly remembered: at the final moment, the whip had struck into the woman’s face, and as it fell away, it seemed to drag out a blur of shadow.
“That whip you used to break the curse—it’s meant for head-descending sorcerers?”
“Took it from a medium. She said it works, but I didn’t know if it really would. Not until today…”
Li Zhen’s words suddenly cut off. His right hand froze midair, still touching the whip.
“You okay?”
“Oh. Yeah, fine.”
Li Zhen calmly retrieved the whip and examined it closely. The fragmented images flashing in his mind slowly sharpened.
Not an illusion…
Without resting, the three of them sent the woman to a small clinic in a remote area.
After Songchai arranged for a trusted friend to keep watch over her, he drove through the night toward Thung Thali.
The temple where Master Wan Madama resided was a secluded place of cultivation, without any phone connection—so contacting him was troublesome. Songchai had to go there in person.
Once he informed Master Wan Madama of the incident, the master would call them back.
Li Zhen and Wong Kam-Sun only needed to wait by the agreed public phone booth.
It was 1:30 a.m. The streets were almost empty, the public phone unused.
The two men sat on a nearby step to rest.
Wong Kam-Sun smoked one cigarette after another.
For both him and Li Zhen, everything that had happened tonight had shattered the worldview shaped by their long, ordinary lives.
Their minds were heavy; neither felt like speaking.
A little past three, Songchai’s call finally came—half an hour earlier than expected.
He said Master Wan Madama had learned of the situation and decided to begin at 3:40.
After hanging up, Li Zhen and Wong Kam-Sun went to the clinic to retrieve the equipment they had bought earlier that day.
The woman had already woken. Though out of danger, her spirit was utterly drained.
Li Zhen and Wong Kam-Sun asked her once more to confirm Ma Gusu’s location.
Weakly, she nodded—that was indeed where his altar lay.
At this point, the woman had no reason left to hide Ma Gusu’s whereabouts.
After about thirty minutes, at 3:30 a.m., Songchai’s friend finally dropped Li Zhen and Wong Kam-Sun off at a vantage point near Ma Gusu’s lair.