Chapter 108: Thoroughly Beaten

"As an atheist, I know I shouldn't pin my hopes on a traditional sorcerer, nor should I believe in gods or ghosts, but I truly cannot explain this. I requested Mr. Cha's assistance strictly in a personal capacity; this does not represent the official stance of the police department."

I remarked, "That's true. If word got out that the police were solving cases with the help of ghosts, it would be a laughingstock."

"Exactly. So, since Mr. Cha requested your presence, if you can help us solve this case, I, on behalf of the Hong Kong Police Force, would like to thank you both."

I glanced at Cha Wenbin, wondering why I was even here. I knew nothing of this trade, but seeing him safe was the best outcome I could hope for.

That night, at a forensic pathology building in Hong Kong, the entrance was tightly sealed. Outside, numerous reporters held cameras and microphones. In a place that prides itself on freedom of speech, the press has a right to know, and their barrage of questions had left the middle-aged man in charge with a splitting headache. He was He Zhonghua, a Chief Superintendent and Director of Operations—one of the highest-ranking Chinese officers in the Hong Kong police force.

This was an incredibly unusual homicide case. Three forensic pathologists had died bizarrely. Although surveillance captured the entire process, the killer came and went like a phantom. In a media-saturated city like Hong Kong, the story had exploded; rumors flew wildly across television and newspapers.

At that moment, Cha Wenbin and I were in the basement morgue on the west side of the building, where the bodies of the three pathologists were being slowly pulled from the cold storage units.

Accompanying us was a veteran officer with twenty years of forensic experience. The deceased were both his colleagues and his friends.

He unzipped the body bag to reveal a male corpse. Its eyes were wide open, its mouth frozen in an "O" shape. The skin was purplish from the cold, and frost clung to the hair. I noticed a massive incision running from the throat to the navel, with frozen beads of red liquid near the stitches; this must have been the autopsy performed after death.

The pathologist explained, "The deceased had no obvious external injuries. After the autopsy, we found no abnormalities in the organs or bones. The blood found at the scene has been verified to have come from the victim's own tongue."

With that, he inserted a metal instrument into the corpse's mouth, used forceps to probe inside, and pulled out a piece of red flesh. I took a look—good heavens, it was half a tongue!

"They all died by biting off their own tongues. He was my colleague; his child is only three years old. There is no reason for him to self-mutilate." The pathologist then opened the other two bags. He pointed to one. "This is our hospital's janitor. He wasn't supposed to be on duty that night, but because we were short-handed, Dr. Lin called him in to help with the sewage. The woman is Dr. Lin’s assistant. All three died from biting their tongues."

I instinctively touched my own mouth. Biting one's tongue—how painful that must be!

The pathologist looked at Cha Wenbin and said, "I am a medical professional and an atheist. Forensic science is about logic and rigor. Since my superiors arranged for you to be here, I will cooperate, but..." He paused. "I have performed over three hundred autopsies and seen all kinds of causes of death. I deal with death every day. It's not that I haven't encountered strange events, but I still want to preserve a bit of scientific dignity for my colleagues."

"I understand," Cha Wenbin replied. "I sympathize with your feelings, but there are many things passed down by our ancestors that cannot be explained by science. May I ask you to take me to see the female corpses now?"

"Please, follow me."

The elevator descended to the second basement level. This was the cellar, where a heavy steel door was secured with a combination lock and guarded by police. After passing through two gates, the doctor led us down a long corridor. The dim lights on the ceiling flickered, and the air was thick with the smell of formalin, which triggered my nasal allergies.

With a loud creak, a rusted door was pushed open. Inside were several large water tanks, the floor covered in sewage. Mixed with the pungent odor and the harsh yellow incandescent light, the place felt like a living hell.

Several iron chains hung above the tanks. The pathologist pulled them, the pulleys emitting a "creak-creak" sound like an old lady's rocking chair. Moments later, several waterproof bags were hauled out. Using an iron hook as if he were handling pork, the doctor dragged the bags onto a gurney and asked, "Shall we examine them here or take them to the autopsy room?"

Cha Wenbin looked around, clearly understanding the nature of this place. Anyone requiring identification after death was likely soaked in these tanks; it was essentially a morgue for the unclaimed. Aside from the door, there were only two ventilation ducts overhead. The atmosphere was eerie. My heart hammered against my ribs, and I suddenly regretted coming here.

Cha Wenbin didn't answer. Instead, he asked, "Are you not afraid of following in your colleagues' footsteps?"

The doctor kept his mask on, and I couldn't read his expression. Perhaps doctors, especially forensic ones, are just cold and heartless. He didn't speak, just silently pushed the bodies toward the door. After a few steps, Cha Wenbin suddenly pulled me behind him, kicked the heavy iron door shut with a loud bang, and, pulling an Eight-Trigrams mirror from his sleeve, shouted at the doctor, "You beast, kneel!"

I was stunned by the sudden turn of events. Before I could react, I heard the squeal of wheels. The doctor, as if possessed, pushed the gurney toward us like a madman. Cha Wenbin and I dived to either side. With a crash, the cart slammed into the wall, and the body bags tumbled to the floor. The doctor then grabbed an IV stand and swung it at us. I quickly raised a four-legged stool to shield my chest. *Thud!* The metal prongs struck the wood. I felt as if a boulder had smashed into my chest, knocking the wind out of me.

The doctor possessed immense strength. He shoved the IV stand against me, forcing me to retreat until my back hit the wall. He showed no sign of stopping, thrusting the stand toward my throat!

I truly thought I was done for. I felt a sense of injustice—I hadn't provoked him, yet he was trying to kill me. Fortunately, Cha Wenbin arrived in time. I don't know what he threw into the doctor's face, but the man clutched his eyes, giving me a chance to escape.

As the doctor clawed at his eyes, I scrambled away, panting, my legs trembling. "What is going on?!"

"He's possessed! Be careful. We have to save him. Is that pendant I gave you still with you?"

I frantically checked my chest. "Yes, it's still here."

"Good. With that, most things won't be able to possess you. You have to help me pin him down." He moved toward the side of the doctor. I saw a length of chain hanging nearby. I ran to the tank, trembling as I tried to unhook it.

The more nervous I was, the clumsier I became. The chain was looped over a pulley; I just needed to pull one end, but I fumbled for what felt like ages. By the time I realized what to do, the doctor had lunged. I turned, but it was too late. I was slammed hard and felt my feet slip. With a splash, I fell headfirst into the water tank.

What was in that tank? Formalin! Rotting corpse water!

I don't know how much I swallowed. A heavy weight pressed my head down into the liquid, smashing my face against the bottom of the tank. Everything was in chaos.

It wasn't just us; the situation upstairs was just as frantic. The officer in charge of monitoring was losing his mind—the scene on his screen was more intense than any movie. Large numbers of police gathered in the lobby. Reporters, having waited for ages, swarmed in, but for some reason, the elevators had broken down! The only access to the second basement was the freight elevator. I was being held underwater, and those people upstairs could only watch the monitors in helpless panic.

In the nick of time, Cha Wenbin proved his worth. He grabbed the chain, looped it around the doctor’s neck, and hauled back with all his might. That finally gave me the chance to crawl out of the tank.

Unfortunately, Cha Wenbin was countered. Anyone possessed by such a spirit has abnormal strength; the doctor was now pulling the chain back to strangle him. Ignoring the foul taste in my throat, I grabbed the IV stand and swung it at the doctor’s head.

*Crack!* The stand snapped in two. Blood poured from the back of the doctor's head. The pain caused him to release Cha Wenbin and charge at me. I tried to run, but the door was four or five meters away. He tackled me to the ground, and I felt my front teeth loosen...

This Taoist exorcism wasn't like the movies where you fly around with fancy moves. Dealing with possession is a nightmare—you can't hurt the host, yet you have to subdue them. Back in the village, it took seven or eight men to pin down one possessed woman, let alone just the two of us.

In the critical moment, Cha Wenbin was reliable. The doctor bit into my shoulder, and I screamed for my mother, tears streaming down my face. Meanwhile, Cha Wenbin was calmly drawing a talisman on the floor!

I had to give it to him; I bought him the time he needed. By the time I was half-dead from the biting, he finished the talisman and slapped it onto the doctor’s forehead.

One thing subdues another. As fierce as the entity was, that single piece of yellow paper rendered him docile. When Cha Wenbin dragged me out from under the doctor, I felt like thanking his ancestors for eight generations; I was so pained I had nearly blacked out.

Just as I thought I could rest, the talisman on the doctor's forehead suddenly burst into flames. Cha Wenbin shouted, "Oh no..."