PD -Chapter 8 The Truth Revealed

The three of us went downstairs and returned to my office.

Tang Shanshan sat on the sofa with her arms folded, saying nothing. I had no idea what she was thinking. Her gaze was vacant and unfocused, the tear stains on her face not yet dry. Just looking at her made my heart ache.

I sighed and wanted to get her something to drink, but there wasn’t much in my office. The only tea I usually used to entertain clients had long since run out, so I could only make her a cup of instant coffee and place it on the coffee table.

It was the best drink I had available. Whenever work came in, Liu Xiaopeng and I survived countless all-nighters revising blueprints with the help of these instant coffee packets.

Tang Shanshan picked up the cup and took a sip. Her face twisted slightly, clearly finding the coffee unpleasant, but she didn’t say it out loud. She merely wrinkled her nose.

The movement seemed to relax her facial muscles, which had almost cramped from crying. Looking up, she asked softly, “Can you tell me what exactly happened upstairs now?”

Hearing that she had finally gotten to the point, Liu Xiaopeng immediately chimed in, urging me to explain everything that had happened.

I nodded.

Instead of answering immediately, I took out my phone and opened a series of photographs in my gallery for Tang Shanshan to see.

The photos were of the sketchbook I had burned with a lighter.

Every page contained drawings of that adorable little girl. The girl’s clothing, expressions, and poses varied greatly from drawing to drawing.

Together, the sketches seemed to document her growth day by day.

The delicate, elegant lines were so full of affection that even I could feel the artist’s love and devotion toward the girl.

“This is…”

Tang Shanshan, who had only just begun to calm down, became emotional again. After repeatedly scrolling through the photos, her eyes turned red once more. Fresh tears covered the tracks of the old ones.

“This is my father’s sketchbook. How did you find it?” she asked, biting her lip.

Looking at the photos, I nodded in appreciation.

“Your father must have been an exceptional artist.”

Tang Shanshan released her lower lip, her eyes growing distant as memories resurfaced.

“He really was. He often asked me to be his model. He once told me that his original dream was to become a painter…

But later, work became too busy. He gradually stopped drawing, and my mother didn’t like him painting anyway. She said it was a waste of time and ambition. So he only occasionally sketched me in secret and hid the sketchbook somewhere even I couldn’t find.”

“I found it in a hidden compartment beneath the floorboards of your house, right under the refrigerator.”

“But why did you burn it? What does the sketchbook have to do with that shadow? Didn’t you say the shadow wasn’t Sister Shanshan’s father?” Liu Xiaopeng asked, unable to hide his confusion.

I took a drink from a bottle of mineral water and began explaining the entire sequence of events.

After my first direct confrontation with the shadow, Liu Xiaopeng had accidentally extinguished my Demon-Burning Incantation with a basin of salt water.

Afterward, I learned from Tang Shanshan that her father’s body had been cremated after his death.

A soul whose physical body had been cremated could not continue existing independently in this world.

That realization made me begin to doubt the shadow’s true identity.

Alone in the room, I consulted various reference materials, including my family’s inherited text, The Heavenly Mysteries Record, along with information gathered online.

I compared every characteristic of the shadow with descriptions found in those records.

After hours of searching and pondering, I finally found a few relevant references.

In the Spirit Volume of The Heavenly Mysteries Record, there was mention of a peculiar type of spiritual entity.

Originally, they were lifeless dust particles, no different from ordinary dust clinging to objects throughout the world—things no one ever paid attention to.

Yet human thought-force could transform them into an entirely different lifeform, granting them memory and consciousness.

Of course, that consciousness did not belong to the dust itself. It belonged to the source that emitted the thought-force.

The book referred to these dust particles infused with thought-force as Spirit Dust.

The so-called thought-force was, in simple terms, the power generated by the thoughts and emotions of conscious beings.

Ordinarily, people believe emotions such as longing, remembrance, and attachment exist only within the mind—intangible and impossible to grasp.

But reality is not quite so simple.

If such thoughts become powerful enough, affecting the physical world is not entirely impossible.

From a relatively materialistic perspective, thought-force could be regarded as a form of brainwave activity.

Brainwaves are similar to light or electromagnetic waves in the real world. Once they reach certain thresholds, they can produce measurable effects.

Thought-force functions in much the same way, except the threshold required to influence reality is far more difficult to reach.

After understanding these concepts, I returned alone to Tang Shanshan’s apartment.

Then I remembered something she had mentioned before—food frequently disappearing from her refrigerator.

While inspecting the area, I discovered the hidden compartment beneath the floor near the refrigerator and found her father’s sketchbook inside.

The moment I saw those drawings, every line overflowing with affection and longing, I became convinced that this sketchbook was the source of the Spirit Dust.

It was the vessel carrying her father’s thought-force.

The sketchbook preserved the immense love her father had left behind for his daughter before his death, as well as his endless attachment to her.

That powerful thought-force attached itself to the sketchbook and, within a house whose feng shui naturally gathered spiritual energy, gave rise to Spirit Dust.

The Spirit Dust acquired life and fragments of her father’s memories.

Thus countless dust-like particles gathered together to form the figure of Tang Shanshan’s father.

However, each particle was an independent individual.

The figure they formed was unstable, which explained the constantly shifting black shadow we had witnessed.

Since I had found the sketchbook—the source vessel—I had a way to eliminate the Spirit Dust.

To be safe, I also set up a dual-layer Spirit-Trapping Array in Tang Shanshan’s bedroom and concealed it beneath the carpet.

The array consisted of two concentric circles covered with intricate talismanic symbols.

Within the inner circle, ghosts and evil entities could not enter.

Within the outer circle, spirits and demons could not escape.

The array was activated using my blood.

That was why Tang Shanshan and I could stand safely on the carpet while the shadow formed by Spirit Dust could neither approach us nor leave the boundaries of the carpet.

The Spirit Dust existed entirely because of the thought-force contained within the sketchbook.

Therefore, once I burned the sketchbook, the Spirit Dust trapped within the array could no longer draw spiritual energy from the outside world.

Naturally, it disintegrated into ash.

“Actually,” I continued softly, “I don’t think the Spirit Dust ever intended to harm you. In fact, because it inherited your father’s memories, it probably wanted to take care of you.”

“When you saw it carrying the blanket toward you, I don’t think it was trying to smother you. I think it was trying to tuck you in.”

The moment I said that, Tang Shanshan looked startled.

Then she lowered her head.

I continued, “But Spirit Dust is ultimately formed from the lingering spiritual thoughts of the deceased. It’s an existence that lies outside the natural laws of this world. So even if it meant you no harm, prolonged contact would still affect your physical and mental health and disrupt your normal life.”

“And the figure you saw wasn’t truly your father. It was merely an illusion created by countless Spirit Dust particles. Each particle carried fragments of your father’s memories and thought patterns. But every particle was still an independent being. Differences in thought and behavior were inevitable. That’s why, after I provoked them, they became increasingly violent and unstable.”

“In any case, they never truly belonged in this world. And because of that, they couldn’t be allowed to remain here. Don’t dwell on it anymore. Later, Xiao Liu and I will help you clean up your apartment. Then you can go home and get some proper rest.”

Tang Shanshan nodded.

After hearing my explanation, the doubts that had weighed on her heart finally seemed to disappear.

Her full chest rose and fell sharply as she released a long breath from deep within her lungs, as though expelling all the anxiety and oppression that had tormented her over the past several days.

Then her body relaxed.

Leaning against the sofa, she closed her eyes and unexpectedly fell asleep.

Looking at her exhausted face, I shook my head.

She was probably still too afraid to return home.

I would just let her stay here for the night.

I stood up, gently laid her down on the sofa, and retrieved a blanket from my bedroom to cover her.

After finishing, I sat back down in my chair, took another sip of water, and stared blankly at Liu Xiaopeng.

Liu Xiaopeng became visibly uncomfortable under my gaze.

Scratching his head, he awkwardly remarked that it was getting late and he should probably leave.

I didn’t answer immediately.

After several seconds of silence, I finally asked:

“When that Spirit Dust shadow charged at us earlier, you were standing at the bedroom door. I saw white mist rising from your right hand.

Was that the power of the Dragon’s Nine Sons you mentioned before?

And if it was…

Why didn’t you make a move in the end?”