Those Years When I Was an Exorcist - Chapter 1

The shrill ring of my phone pierced the early morning air, sounding like a mournful wail.

In my dream, I was on the verge of reaching the climax with my dream lover when the insistent ringing shattered the moment, leaving me utterly deflated.

How could anyone not be furious, stomping their feet in frustration?

Seething, I snatched up my phone and barked into the receiver, “Who the hell is this? Calling this early—are you out of your mind?”

“It’s me, Xiao Li… I’m sorry about last night… Is everything alright? Did that headless woman come again?” Her voice trembled noticeably.

Hearing this, I felt a surge of irritation and snapped back, “If she came, you can see it on the security footage, can’t you? You ask me every day, and when I say no, you never believe me!”

“No, that’s not what I meant! I trust you completely, but I’m worried there might be blind spots the cameras can’t cover…”

Before she could finish, I exploded, “Damn it! Your house is crawling with cameras—even in the bathroom! You probably know what kind of sh1t I take when I’m on the toilet!”

Just as I was about to unleash a torrent of curses, the woman on the other end of the line burst into heartbroken tears.

I’m a soft-hearted person, and I can’t stand seeing women cry, especially beautiful women. It makes my head swell three times its normal size.

My tone softened immediately. “Xiao Li, the headless woman is truly gone. She’s entered Reincarnation. If you don’t believe me, come back and stay for three days. I’ll even stay with you for free. If you feel safe, then you can pay me. How about that?”

“That’s not necessary. I trust you. After all, you’re a Gold-Rank Exorcist. But I’m still too scared to go back. I’ll have my husband stay there for a while and see how it goes.”

After hanging up, my phone showed a deposit of 100,000 yuan. The job was finally done.

I let out a long sigh of relief. I could finally leave this cursed place.

I’d spent nearly a month here and only made 100,000 yuan—a terrible loss.

Now that the money was in hand, I didn’t want to stay another minute. I immediately packed my belongings and exorcism tools, eager to escape this hellhole.

100,000 yuan a month might sound like a lot, but for someone of my rank, it was peanuts.

As an Exorcist, I’ve been to at least eight hundred haunted houses, if not a thousand.

Most were murder scenes, and I’ve encountered all sorts of Wandering Spirits—grotesque, bizarre, and utterly terrifying.

Some entire buildings were plagued by frequent paranormal activity, driving residents away and gradually leading to their abandonment.

Others were schools where students mysteriously vanished one after another, forcing their closure.

Even more extreme, I once risked my life to take on a demolition project at a crematorium…

What choice did I have? With great power comes great responsibility. If I don’t descend into hell, who will?

In our line of work, it’s not just about agility and lightning-fast reflexes; talent is paramount.

Some exorcists or outdoor paranormal streamers rely on reckless stunts and cheap tricks to deceive clients and viewers.

Those are the lowest of the low—things like breaking into funeral homes at night, spending the night in deserted villages, sleeping in coffins, or manipulating the remains of the deceased—despicable tactics to grab attention.

I’ve long outgrown such gimmicks. Now, I specialize in exorcising Wandering Spirits.

As for why I got into this line of work… well, like a child without a mother, we have to start from the beginning.

Ten years ago, fresh out of the military and in the prime of youth, I wanted a uniformed job where I could still contribute my remaining energy.

Back then, the options were either joining the local police auxiliary or becoming a city management officer.

But I disdained both options.

The first involved wandering the streets with a group of old men, carrying a dog-beating stick. The pay was meager, the boredom maddening, and the atmosphere so stagnant I feared it would prematurely age me.

The second paid well, but it required chasing small vendors from one end of the market to the other every day. Everyone was just trying to make a living, and my conscience wouldn’t allow me to do that.

Yet doing nothing all day was equally frustrating. Then I saw a job advertisement.

It was for security guards at a newly opened department store in a prime location. The base monthly salary was five thousand yuan, with commissions for good performance, meal allowances, and other benefits, totaling nearly ten thousand yuan.

In our eighteenth-tier city, where the average income was less than two thousand yuan, these terms were exceptionally generous.

When I saw the requirements, I was stunned. My God, these are ridiculously low!

Age: 18 to 50. As long as you’re a man in decent health, literacy doesn’t matter.

Number of positions: unspecified.

The only real requirement: willingness to stay.

No probationary period—start working immediately.

I remember the advertisement going viral instantly. Interviews were held on the top floor of the department store, and the turnout was massive, with crowds overflowing into the hallways.

The scene was a sea of people, an unprecedented spectacle.

Applicants lined up from the seventh floor of the mall all the way across the street, circling the plaza three times.

The applicants were a motley crew, every type imaginable.

The man ahead of me, a towering six-foot-tall figure, told the interviewer he had mastered Iron Palm.

As he spoke, he raised a hand swollen red like a steamed bun to demonstrate.

Only then did I notice the man’s hands were grotesquely asymmetrical. His right hand was at least ten times larger than his left, if not more.

If you could even call it a hand, it looked more like a massive iron hammer.

With a crack, he slammed his fist down, shattering two floor tiles.

The interviewer nodded frantically, “Enough, enough! You’re hired! Go get your uniform!”

Next up was a short, bald, muscular man who let out a loud hai! and bent a self-supplied iron rod as thick as a rice bowl with a single headbutt.

The interviewer nodded even more enthusiastically, “You too! Go get your uniform!”

Just then, someone called my name: “Wang Xingjia, are you here?”

Sweat poured down my face. Could they be expecting me to break a boulder with my chest? I thought.

But I don’t even know how to do that!

Before coming, I had rehearsed my lines perfectly and brought a thick stack of certificates and awards. But seeing the scene before me, I realized none of that mattered.

As soon as I entered, I saw two interviewers behind the table: a handsome man and a stunning woman.

What struck me most was their unnaturally pale complexions.

I didn’t dwell on it at the time, too nervous to think clearly. I had already forgotten most of my prepared remarks.

Fortunately, the young man in the black suit glanced at my resume and asked, “You’re Wang Xingjia?”

“Yes, I’ve been awarded a third-class merit and received commendations. In my unit, I…”

“Alright, alright, enough about that.” The man waved impatiently. “Just one question: are you brave enough?”

“Ah…”

I had anticipated countless questions, but this one caught me completely off guard. I nodded blankly. “Of course I’m brave!”

“Given your impressive resume, how about you work the night shift tonight? Is that acceptable?”

“Absolutely! More than acceptable!”

I nodded eagerly, completely surprised that someone like me—who couldn’t even break a stone slab on my chest—would be hired so easily.

My heart bloomed with joy. I stood up politely, gave a slight bow, and was about to take my leave when the interviewer called me back. “Wait a moment!”

“Xiao Chen, take him to the warehouse to get a security uniform.”

So the beautiful woman beside me was named Xiao Chen. She responded softly and stood up.

Only then did I notice her impressive height—at least 1.7 meters. Her dark professional attire, especially the V-neck dress, accentuated her graceful figure.

“Follow me,” she said, gesturing with her hand. I hurried after her out of the room, through the crowd, and to the elevator. While we waited, I couldn’t help but steal glances at her.

Her ink-black hair cascaded down to her waist, making her pale face seem even more unnervingly white.

Her beauty rivaled that of a movie star, but her aloof demeanor was striking. She didn’t bother to look at me once during the entire exchange.

What left the deepest impression, however, were her slender, jade-like hands. Her delicate fingers, tipped with vivid red nails, were particularly striking.

The elevator arrived quickly, and we rode in silence to the building’s second basement level, where the warehouse was located.

As soon as we stepped into the basement, a distinct chill washed over me.

The dim lighting only exacerbated the oppressive atmosphere. The white walls lining the corridor were badly stained with yellow watermarks and covered in patches of moss and black mold.

The constant drip-drip-drip of water echoed through the space.

Xiao Chen and I walked single file, her high heels clicking hollowly against the floor.

The corridor lights flickered intermittently, buzzing incessantly, while a musty, decaying odor permeated the air.

Normally, a girl would be terrified in such a place.

But Xiao Chen strode forward without hesitation, her steps unwavering.

The deeper we ventured, the more intense the cold became. My scalp tightened, and the hairs on my arms stood on end.

Yet, remembering that she showed no fear, I forced myself to follow closely, my nerves stretched taut.

The warehouse stood at the end of the corridor, its heavy door tightly shut.

I expected Xiao Chen to pull out a key, but instead, she raised her hand and knocked.

Tap, tap, tap. The sound echoed through the corridor, but there was no response from within.

I wondered if someone might be living inside the warehouse.

Good heavens, this place is both damp and freezing?

Looking at the thick layer of dust and cobwebs clinging to the door, I wondered, If someone lives here, how long has it been since they last stepped outside?

The thought had barely crossed my mind when the door creaked open.

A suffocating stench of burnt incense and ashes rushed out, nearly choking me.

What startled me even more was the sight of the man who opened the door: a gaunt, elderly man dressed in Taoist robes.

He held a whisk in his hand, his face dark, emaciated, and glistening with oil. A rancid odor clung to him, making him utterly repulsive.

Yet the old man’s eyes were remarkably bright and piercing. When he saw me, he offered a smile—a peculiar, unsettling smile that seemed to hold a deeper meaning.

It was as if he wanted to tell me something, but hesitated because Xiao Chen was standing nearby.

“Get him a security uniform and a baton!” Xiao Chen barked at the old man, her tone almost commanding.

The old man didn’t reply. He turned and disappeared back into the pitch-black room. Moments later, he returned with a plastic-wrapped package, which he thrust at me.

The girl turned to leave, and I had no choice but to follow. As we left, the old man spoke to me with a meaningful look: “Young man, don’t wander around at night!”