Ghost Boys: The Curse of Summoning Boys

Mad Monk took a swig from the wine flask.

“You're not a fool, kid!”

Hearing him say that, a chill ran down my spine. Thinking of the boys born from the "Child Summoning" method, I couldn't help but swallow nervously.

It seemed like Mad Monk could see right through me.

“Don't worry. Other people’s results will be different from your Auntie Pearl’s. This ‘Child Summoning’ technique is basically just giving an unconverted wild ghost a chance to be reborn as a human. It's a good deed, in a way. But, if there’s some vengeful spirit tied to your family, heh, the results will be different.”

“What will happen then?”

I was genuinely curious.

Mad Monk chuckled darkly. “Well, it’ll play out as you expect. But before that, I’ll give you something to protect yourself.”

He threw me a half-broken branch. “This is fifty-year-old thunderwood. It’ll ward off any evil spirits.”

I hesitantly took the branch.

The death of my little sister was like a tiny stone thrown into a calm lake. It created ripples, but soon everything returned to normal.

After all, back then, the death of an infant wasn’t exactly something rare.

Auntie Pearl soon became pregnant again.

At three months, her belly looked like someone five or six months along.

The village doctor said Auntie Pearl was carrying multiples. I couldn’t help but think back to the three dark shapes that had entered Auntie Pearl’s womb.

With the previous incident in mind, my grandmother didn’t rush to slaughter chickens or ducks for Auntie Pearl’s nourishment this time.

But that didn’t mean Auntie Pearl went hungry.

By the time she was five months pregnant, Auntie Pearl’s appetite became absolutely monstrous—far beyond what a normal pregnant woman should have.

We three watched in disbelief as Auntie Pearl devoured a massive bowl of rice meant for four people. Not only that, she finished every single dish on the table.

My grandmother scowled, “Are you a pig? Eating that much, don’t you worry you’ll burst?”

Auntie Pearl wiped her mouth with her sleeve and glanced at the now empty table.

“I’m so hungry. Can you make me another bowl of noodles?”

Reluctantly, I went to the kitchen and made her a huge bowl of noodles. Before I could even season it, Auntie Pearl grabbed the bowl and wolfed it down in seconds.

I was a bit puzzled. Could it be that Auntie Pearl was carrying three starving ghosts in her belly?

The next morning, I heard my grandmother cursing outside by the chicken coop.

“Damn beast, how dare you steal my chickens!”

My sharp eyes caught sight of a few chicken feathers in Auntie Pearl’s hair, and my heart skipped a beat.

But Auntie Pearl only smiled.

“I must’ve bumped into the chickens while chasing them yesterday.”

But that wasn’t the worst part.

Over the next few days, our chickens, ducks, and geese started disappearing or mysteriously dying. Some were eaten so thoroughly that only their heads remained, others were left with nothing but a pile of bloody feathers.

When Auntie Pearl reached her seventh month of pregnancy, we found one of our goats dead in its pen. It had been devoured, leaving only half its body behind, its insides spilled across the ground. The sight was truly horrifying.

Grandmother couldn’t sit still anymore, no matter how much she reinforced the pen, it seemed useless.

“I’ll be damned if I don’t get to the bottom of this.”

So, I was moved from the pigsty to the sheep pen.

“If you can’t keep watch, you might as well stop eating here for free.”

I clutched my worn-out quilt, trembling.

At midnight, familiar rustling noises came from the sheep pen.

Under the faint moonlight, I saw Auntie Pearl crawling on all fours, her movements unnaturally twisted.

Saliva hung from her lips, her eyes gleaming with a greedy look as she gazed at the goats in the pen.

I was terrified, but if she ate the goat, then I wouldn’t have to stay in this house anymore.

I swallowed hard, grabbed the peachwood stick I had prepared earlier, and swung it hard at Auntie Pearl.

The moment the branch touched her, she let out a sharp scream and scrambled out of the sheep pen.

I sighed in relief, looking at the peachwood stick in my hand. It seemed that Elder Monk Gideon hadn’t lied to me.