Zhang Enpu and Young Master Liu wound their way through alleys and backstreets until they reached Yushuo’s house, only to find the front yard crowded with people surrounding the pond, a noisy, chaotic scene. When the villagers saw Zhang Enpu in his Taoist robes arrive, they cleared a path. Yushuo’s uncle approached, asking, “Celestial Master Zhang, what is to be done?”

Zhang Enpu walked over and patted Yushuo’s mother’s shoulder comfortingly. “Madam, do not grieve too deeply. The departed cannot return.” Upon hearing this, Yushuo’s mother wept even more bitterly.

After observing the pond for several minutes, Zhang Enpu determined that a Corpse-Drowning Ghost resided within. He immediately instructed several middle-aged men familiar with swimming to fetch a small knife from home and tie it securely around their necks with a rope. Following Zhang Enpu’s command, the men descended into the pond. By this time, the pond’s edge was utterly packed; nearly everyone in the village had gathered, forming a tight cordon around the water, three paces apart, five paces deep.

The reason Zhang Enpu had them each bring a small knife stemmed from an incident years prior when a Taoist priest passed through Xiushui Village during a period of rampant corpse disturbances. Upon seeing the priest, the Corpse-Drowning Ghosts promptly leaped into the water and vanished. The priest had told the villagers that as long as one entered the pond carrying a small knife, the ghosts would not dare to harm them in the slightest. One skeptical villager, refusing to believe the priest, jumped into the pond with a knife. As soon as he hit the water, his feet were seized by a Corpse-Drowning Ghost. Before he could prepare himself, he had swallowed several mouthfuls of water. Fighting the ghost at the murky bottom, the man, thankfully a strong swimmer, recalled the knife on his neck in that moment of crisis. He snatched it and stabbed the ghost fiercely. The creature shrieked in pain, released its grip, and fled in panic, allowing the man to escape. He yelled to those on the bank, “I’ve dealt with the ghost! The Daoist was right; they truly fear small knives!” Soon after, the Corpse-Drowning Ghost surfaced, surrounded by green water—undoubtedly its blood. Thus, the Corpse-Drowning Ghost feared the small knife, much as a snake recoils from sulfur.

The men in the water thrashed about like silver eels, searching everywhere for any sign of the ghost. The disturbance was so immense it was like turning over rivers and seas; in no time, the once crystal-clear pond became hopelessly turbid. After searching fruitlessly for a long time, one of the men below shouted up to Zhang Enpu, asking if the ghost had fled upon sensing their arrival. Zhang Enpu replied, “Impossible. I know it’s in this pond. It’s likely hidden in the mire at the bottom.” He then ordered them all back to shore.

Zhang Enpu next commanded men to fetch kitchen ash from their hearths and bring some kerosene. Some were confused by this request, but Zhang Enpu smiled and explained, “The ash and kerosene belong to the element of Fire. The Corpse-Drowning Ghost is of Water. Fire and Water are incompatible. Therefore, ash and kerosene, just like the small knife, can suppress the ghost. The deeper the ash from the bottom of the hearth, the better.” Soon, men arrived carrying a shoulder-pole load of ash and several jugs of kerosene. Zhang Enpu had them pour the ash and kerosene onto the ground, mix them thoroughly, and then sprinkle the mixture across every surface of the pond, neglecting even the most obscure corners. Then, they settled in to watch what would happen.

The crowd waited by the pond for about an hour. A silvery, fish-belly sheen began to appear on the water’s surface; clearly, the fish couldn't bear the smell of the ash and kerosene and were near death, yet the Corpse-Drowning Ghost remained unseen. Someone grew impatient and ran to ask Zhang Enpu why the ghost still hadn't surfaced. Zhang Enpu looked intently at the water, frowning, finding nothing amiss. Suddenly, his face lit up with joy, as if he had grasped something essential. He immediately called for drums and gongs. They were quickly procured, and Zhang Enpu directed several strong men to beat them furiously. The resulting noise of gongs and drums was deafening; some people instinctively covered their ears.

After another half-hour of ceaseless banging, the drummers were nearing exhaustion. More and more dead fish floated to the surface, but still no Corpse-Drowning Ghost appeared. Just as disappointment began to set in, Aunt Yushuo shouted from the opposite side of the pond, “Look! The Corpse-Drowning Ghost!”

Everyone turned toward Aunt Yushuo. A head resembling a doll’s face broke the surface, gasping for air in great gulps. In less time than it takes to say ‘slow,’ Uncle Yushuo swung his club down toward the creature’s head. The instant Uncle Yushuo raised the club, the ghost submerged. The blow struck the water, sending up a spray, but it struck nothing but empty air.

The people on the bank descended into pandemonium, surging forward toward Uncle Yushuo. Seeing the chaos, Zhang Enpu roared at the crowd, “Don’t move! Everyone stay in position! Those beating the gongs, keep beating! Those drumming, keep drumming! We absolutely cannot let that wretched thing jump into another pond!”

Zhang Enpu said this because if the Corpse-Drowning Ghost managed to slip away in the confusion and leap into another body of water, all their previous efforts would be wasted. This would grant the ghost a chance to recover, making its capture exponentially harder. Hearing Zhang Enpu’s command, the people immediately ceased their restless movements, returning to their posts, poised and ready.

Just as Zhang Enpu predicted, within a few minutes, people on the other side of the pond spotted the ghost surfacing. The villagers harbored a deep, burning hatred for the creature, viewing it as a public menace they longed to boil and eat. There could be no chance for it to catch its breath! They swung whatever they held—sticks, carrying poles, and even hoes and rakes brought from home.

After another fifteen minutes of this onslaught, the Corpse-Drowning Ghost was nearly finished. Even a single person engaging it for so long would have been exhausted; how much more so the ghost? No matter its strength, it could not withstand the coordinated attack of so many people. Finally unable to bear the burning sensation of the ash and kerosene in the water, the ghost, realizing it had reached its absolute limit, poked its head out to gasp desperately for air, its panting sounding almost like despair.

Unfortunately, the creature surfaced right in front of where Father Yushuo stood. Father Yushuo brought his club down with crushing force onto the gasping ghost’s head. A dull thud echoed, and immediately, a pool of green fluid spread across the water. In a moment, the Corpse-Drowning Ghost floated motionless on the surface. Father Yushuo jumped into the pond and hauled the ghost up, twisting it as if wringing the neck of a chicken. Only then did everyone get a clear look at its true form. It was a creature with a doll’s face, duck-like feet, and a body and limbs like a small child’s. However, its hands were terrifying, tipped with long, sharp fingernails. Viscous green fluid continuously dripped from the monster’s head, plinking onto the ground—utterly repulsive.

To think such a small monster had taken Yushuo’s life. Father Yushuo’s eyes were blazing red. A grotesque smile stretched his face, and he uttered a strange cry—whether a laugh or a sob—before hoisting the now-unconscious ghost high above his head and slamming it down onto the flagstones at his feet. Everyone heard a chilling, piercing scream that made the scalp prickle; the sound was exactly like a small child crying. The more timid women recoiled, but the slightly braver ones edged closer, forming a ring around Father Yushuo at the center of the crowd.

Father Yushuo slammed the monster down more than ten times. After the initial screech, the subsequent impacts were punctuated only by dull ‘thuds’ of flesh hitting stone. Each time, Father Yushuo lifted the ghost high overhead, bringing it down with every ounce of strength, as if he meant to smash his own arms onto the ground as well.

It was only when Zhang Enpu called out to stop him that the bloodthirsty Father Yushuo was finally restrained. He sank to the ground, gasping for breath, motionless—clearly suffering from exhaustion due to the extreme exertion. As people murmured among themselves, Yushuo’s mother burst through the crowd, kicking the Corpse-Drowning Ghost several times while weeping hysterically, “Give me back Yushuo’s life! Give me back my Yushuo!” Several women nearby rushed to hold her back.

The Corpse-Drowning Ghost was now nothing more than a shapeless pile of green-blue pulp—a scene too horrific to look upon. To think that a creature capable of such havoc in the water ended up so utterly destroyed on land! It was a perfect illustration: a cat that gets its way is mightier than a tiger, but a phoenix that loses its feathers is less than a common hen. That very evening, someone came to Yushuo’s house and took the remains of the Corpse-Drowning Ghost away. Many days later, the person was known to have boiled and eaten the creature, even boasting smugly that consuming the ghost could enhance virility. Many at the time were chilled and disgusted by this act. Such a depraved craving was akin to the current black market rumors of consuming boiled infant soup for the same purpose—it deserved the strongest condemnation.