3 The Witch's Dance (4)

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The witch put on the mask and then got up, still chanting faintly. His voice reverberated in the small hut, the sound low and a little rough around the edges, maybe even husky.

He slowly stepped toward the tub, each movement resonating with an intangible energy that made Zhan Cheng feel trepidation. His heart raced faster with each tap of the witch's feet and he actually broke out in cold sweat.

Zhan Cheng kept his gaze trained on that mask, hoping that it would have some kind of effect on the ghost inside of him. Clearly, the witch wouldn't do anything needlessly. So either this mask was able to help with banishing this ghost or it was something that could protect the witch.

Considering that he had said that just being who he was could keep him safe from the ghost, it was probably the former. Thus, if it helped at all, he would continue to look. He personally would've felt calmer if he was able to see Gongliang Ye's somewhat familiar face but he still wanted to do as much as he could and maybe being this agitated was a good thing after all.

The witch finally reached the edge of the tub. He bent down and picked up the herbs that he had prepared, lighting them on fire, and then circled around the tub, waving with one hand so that the smoke traveled toward Zhan Cheng's figure while he continued to chant silently.

Zhan Cheng started to feel unwell as if the next moment, he would throw up the little he had eaten. He gulped, trying to keep his composure. In any case, Gongliang Ye had already warned him that it could hurt. This kind of discomfort was nothing.

When Gongliang Ye reached the front of the tub again he carefully put down the burning herbs in a small earthen bowl, continuing to wave for a moment before he turned around and instead picked up a small drum. His fingers flew over the animal hide on top, adding to the rhythm of the chant that was slowly growing louder.

Zhan Cheng reached up and grabbed the rim of the tub, trying to stabilize himself. Inside of him, he felt like he could actually feel the ghost for the first time. It seemed to be going on a rampage, trying to hide away from what was going on outside or trying to find a way to break out.

He felt it collide with his forehead and closed his eyes, pressing them tightly together. A faint sound came over his lips but he bit down, not wanting to disturb Gongliang Ye in what he was doing.

The witch made another round, his clothes carrying the faint scent of the smoke from the herbs. Zhan Cheng took a deep breath, hoping that it would make things go faster. And indeed, the ghost did not seem to like this kind of smell.

It roared in his head, a mixture of anger and pain. Zhan Cheng took another deep breath and tightened his grip on the tub. There was a faint crack but he didn't have the luxury of paying any more attention to it. The ghost started to howl and finally threw itself against his forehead, trying to break out.

Just like the witch had said, pain burst out from the place that the ghost was attacking. It was like a headache but one that would send pain throughout his whole body, making him shiver in its wake.

He made another faint sound before he had wrested himself back under control but the ghost already tried again. Zhan Cheng's forehead felt as if it would split open the next moment. The skin turned hot and his whole body started to feel feverish.

He gritted his teeth, his nails digging into the wood, and then also stemmed his feet against the other side of the tub, arching his back and trying to somehow alleviate the pain.

The smell of the herb seemed unbearable. He wanted to groan but had to remind himself that he couldn't disturb the witch. He bore the suffering in silence until the ghost finally made yet another attempt. It pushed against his forehead with more strength, making it feel as if his skin split, opening up a crack so that the ghost could slip out.

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