PCJ – Chapter 486 Chilling Cold

Zhang Jiaohua nodded vaguely, half-understanding. These words were something he often heard the old Taoist mention in his dreams. The old Taoist had several disciples, but he only passed on the authentic Taoist techniques to Chen Dao, likely because “the Tao is not lightly passed on.” It requires both talent and destiny.

“Has this haunted house been here for so long, and you didn’t know about it?” Zhang Jiaohua asked.

“We’ve heard of it, sure, but we’ve never been here. There are plenty of such haunted houses in the capital. If we ran to every rumored spot, even with four legs, we couldn’t cover them all. Besides, this isn’t our job. Why should we handle it?” Zhang Yichen replied with a smile.

“Then why did you come this time?” Zhang Jiaohua asked, puzzled.

“You really have a lot of questions. This time, we came because someone specifically invited us. Something so bizarre happened here that the authorities had to investigate. When they encountered difficulties, they naturally turned to people like us in religious circles. We have some cooperation with the government—they seek our help when needed, and in turn, they provide funding for temple repairs and such.” Knowing Zhang Jiaohua was still young and unfamiliar with these matters, Zhang Yichen explained in detail to prevent endless questions.

As they entered the courtyard of the haunted house, the temperature abruptly dropped. Although the courtyard was bathed in sunlight, it felt as though the sunlight had lost all warmth. This peculiar phenomenon was unsettling.

“Have you ever encountered something like this?” Zhang Jiaohua asked Zhang Yichen, noticing his furrowed brows.

Zhang Yichen shook his head. “Situations like this are rare, even over decades. What’s strange is how dense the yin energy is here, yet it remains confined to the haunted house, not spreading outward. That’s very unusual.”

“Yeah, and there’s no visible formation around to explain it,” Zhang Jiaohua added, puzzled as he glanced around.

The group accompanying Zhang Yichen also began to survey the area. Among them, one man, Meng Guoshen, took out a compass and started measuring the magnetic field. Meng, in his forties, soon exclaimed, “Look, the magnetic field here is completely disrupted!”

“This place is definitely strange,” added an elderly cultivator with short white hair. Zhang Jiaohua had learned his name—Zhang Jing.

“Let’s check the source of this yin energy,” Zhang Yichen said, gesturing for the group to follow him into the haunted house.

Despite its age, the house was grand, showcasing its past splendor. The outer walls featured intricate European carvings, with prominent Western-style figures. The heavy front door wasn’t fully shut, leaving a finger-wide gap through which yin energy seeped out.

“Be careful. Whatever is in here isn’t simple,” Zhang Yichen warned.

Inside, the house felt frozen in time, its antique furnishings intact despite decades—or even centuries—of neglect. Zhang Jiaohua observed that all items were neatly arranged, with no signs of damage.

“Though these objects are preserved, they’re entirely saturated with yin energy. If this energy dissipates, they’ll likely crumble to dust,” Zhang Jiaohua murmured.

Zhang Yichen stopped him from exploring upstairs. “No need to check up there; it’s bound to be the same.”

Meng Guoshen commented, “This house was reportedly dismantled at some point. How is it still intact?”

Zhang Yichen explained, “It wasn’t. Before dismantling, the authorities wanted to preserve some artifacts, considering them cultural relics. During the clearing process, though, workers started dying—one on the spot, others falling severely ill. Investigators sent afterward disappeared entirely. Reliable figures suggest over a dozen deaths and disappearances, far more than rumors claim.”

Zhang Jiaohua was stunned. “Over a dozen people?”

“This information is classified to prevent panic. If it weren’t so serious, would we be here?” Zhang Yichen said grimly.

Suddenly, Zhang Jiaohua pointed toward a staircase. “The source of the yin energy isn’t in the house—it’s coming from behind that stairway. Something is controlling it, and it’s likely no ordinary entity.”

Meng Guoshen noticed his compass needle spinning wildly. “You’re right. The yin energy is strongest there. My compass is almost off the charts!”

As he spoke, the compass’s glass shattered with a sharp crack, drawing a tense silence among the group.

“If it’s a ghost controlling this yin energy, it must be incredibly powerful,” Zhang Yichen said, his expression serious.

“Prepare yourselves. Let’s find out what’s causing this,” he added firmly, leading the group to the stairwell.

They discovered a door behind the stairs. Pushing it open revealed a dark, cold passage leading underground. The chill was so intense it created mist as it met the surrounding air, shrouding the stairs in a dense fog.

With flashlights in hand, the group descended cautiously. Zhang Jiaohua lit an ancient oil lamp with a small flame conjured from his palm, startling the others with his precise control of magic at such a young age.

The chilling passage hinted at frequent use in the past, with smooth stone steps and wall-mounted oil lamp holders. As they ventured deeper, the mystery thickened, and the sense of an impending confrontation grew stronger.