Under a relentless barrage of attacks, the little paper servants could not hold out for long, even with three replacement sets of Paper Spirit Armor. They threw themselves forward, shielding the servant in the center who was digging out the resentment bullet. Their sacrifice bought just enough time to complete the extraction.
By the time the bullet was safely delivered to the Ghost Shop's warehouse, the last paper servant had been shattered by ghostly force. Scraps of paper were strewn across the ground. But since neither water nor fire had touched them, the transmission from the little paper servants remained unbroken.
Song Miaozhu watched as the Japanese ghosts burrowed in and out of the valley floor, frantically searching for the vanished resentment bullet. From time to time, angry curses echoed through the air.
Coincidentally, the only Japanese phrase she understood was that one.
"That resentment bullet must be really important."
She severed the connection with most of the shredded little paper servants in the valley, keeping only three to continue observing the Japanese ghosts. Then, she cut out seventeen new little paper servants and sent them out of the inn, dispersing them in different directions across the forest park.
Once they reached their designated spots, she had each one retrieve the resentment bullet from the ghost shop's storage, carefully watching the movements of the Japanese ghost leader in the valley. She wanted to confirm whether he had any inherent sense of the bullet's location, similar to how he could detect bones.
"After all, he seems far stronger than the others—he might not follow normal logic."
As the resentment bullet passed from one paper servant to another, the ghost leader continued to search the valley, overturning rocks and scattering bones with wild bursts of ghost force.
Again and again, she observed him. Yet, no matter where the bullet went, the ghost leader showed no sign of sensing its movement.
"No connection, then."
Only then did Song Miaozhu recall her paper servants back to the warehouse. She would retrieve them from there herself, saving them the time and risk of traveling back.
At dawn the next morning, she returned to the ancient mountain town with her paper servants in tow. On her way past the market, Song Miaozhu made a detour and bought several large roosters.
Roosters crow at dawn, when yang energy first emerges. Their sensitivity to yang makes their blood rich in it. Even now, rooster blood remains a natural bane to yin energy and retains some power to ward off evil.
She also stopped by a convenience store to pick up a box of extra-large sewing needles. After returning to the old house and recovering her spiritual power, she headed straight to the basement to begin crafting paper servants.
Since paper servant curses were meant to target enemies, she didn't need to make them look as refined or lifelike as the servant-style paper figures. Rough human outlines would suffice. There weren't actually five thousand ghosts like she had feared. From what she had seen the night before, there were only 3,528 Japanese ghost souls remaining.
Some, it seemed, had already dissipated over the past few decades.
Even cutting them crudely, it took Song Miaozhu an entire day to finish all 3,528.
Next, she took an ink brush and wrote the latitude and longitude of the ghost mountain valley on each paper servant—this served as their targeting coordinates.
The Secret Art of Paper Crafting stated that the more precise the location, the higher the curse's success rate. The method didn't matter as long as the caster understood it, so using coordinates was perfectly valid.
The coordinates were just a small boost—the real key was what came next.
From the ghost shop's storage, she retrieved a yin-wood box filled with soil dug from the valley. The ghosts' bones were all mixed together, their spirits crammed in chaos—there was no telling whose blood and resentment lingered in the dirt.
But it didn't matter. Every one of them would be her practice target.
The paper servant curse had no limit on targets—she could curse them all at once.
She pressed a handful of soil onto each paper servant, pinning them firmly to the ground. The resentment bullet, likely tied to the ghost leader, was placed on the central one. Then, she painted eyes on each paper servant, channeling spiritual energy to awaken them.
A faint crimson glow emanated from the figures—the first sign of a successful curse. The link had been established. This step drained her spiritual energy fast. After every few curses, she had to pause and recover.
By the time all 3,000+ paper servants were activated, it was past midnight.
Once her energy was restored, she brought out another yin-wood box—this one held the rooster blood from earlier. Even after hours, the blood inside was still warm, as if freshly drawn.
She poured a bowl and kept the rest stored.
Holding the bowl in one hand and a large sewing needle in the other, she dipped the needle into the blood, infused it with spiritual energy, and began stabbing while chanting:
"Japanese evil ghosts—
First needle pierces the head,
Second needle pierces the throat,
Third needle pierces the heart,
Yang energy enters,
Resentment scatters,
Ghost power falters,
Souls disperse—"
Before she could finish "disperse," a sharp pain shot through her brow. The spiritual energy in her spiritual platform was nearly depleted. She swallowed the last words. Spiritual energy was the core of the curse—the price of the paper servant curse. Forcing it without enough energy meant paying with lifespan or health.
And she wasn't that stupid.
Even unfinished, the curse worked.
The three remaining little paper servant fragments in the valley showed ghosts clutching their heads, throttling their own necks, and pounding their chests. Resentment and ghostly energy poured out, their forms growing faint.
After resting, she replenished her energy with a spirit stone and resumed cursing—this time omitting the costly "souls disperse" line.
She'd take it slow.
By the time she finished all 3,000+ curses, the mid-grade spirit stone had shattered, drained of power.
The paper servants' feed showed the Japanese ghosts had finally noticed something was wrong. They'd all returned to the valley, their resentment and ghostly energy noticeably weakened.
Yet, with no enemy in sight, they could only vent their fury on the shredded paper servants, tearing them further apart.
But not enough—Song Miaozhu could still see everything.
The soil from the valley had done its job well—every ghost was affected.
Especially their leader.