Not long after that fateful encounter, Li Yi found himself summoned to a sprawling, opulent mansion on the outskirts of a bustling city. As his car pulled up the long, winding driveway, the mansion loomed before him, its grandeur marred by an unmistakable aura of unease. The wrought-iron gates, adorned with elaborate scrollwork, creaked open as if grudgingly admitting him onto the property.
The owner, a wealthy industrialist named Mr. Henderson, rushed out to greet him. Mr. Henderson was a stout man, his tailored suit unable to fully conceal the agitation that made his hands tremble slightly. His eyes, usually sharp and calculating, were now clouded with fear as he led Li Yi through the mansion's ornate facade. The marble columns lining the entranceway seemed to watch them pass, and the intricate mosaics on the floor depicted scenes that now seemed almost foreboding in the dim light.
Inside, a sense of foreboding lingered palpably in the air. Mr. Henderson, his voice quivering slightly, explained that every night, at precisely midnight, the antique grandfather clock in the main hall would chime thirteen times instead of the usual twelve. The sound of that extra chime was like a death knell, echoing through the cavernous halls and sending shivers down the spines of all who heard it. And with that thirteenth chime, a frigid cold draft would sweep through the house, extinguishing all the candles in its path and leaving behind an eerie, suffocating silence.
The servants, huddled together in the kitchen when Li Yi inquired, recounted their own harrowing experiences. One young maid, her face pale and eyes wide, whispered that she had seen shadowy apparitions gliding through the corridors. Their forms were like wisps of smoke, barely discernible yet undeniably there, filling the air with a sense of dread that clung to her even in the daylight hours. Another servant, a grizzled old butler, added that objects would mysteriously shift positions on their own. He had found the silverware drawer open and its contents strewn about in the morning, though he was certain he had locked it the night before. Paintings that had hung straight and true for generations now hung askew on the walls, as if some unseen hand had given them a violent shove. The once-cheerful rooms, filled with sunlight streaming through the tall windows during the day, now seemed to hold a sinister energy that made everyone avoid them after dusk.
Li Yi set to work immediately, unfurling his silk scroll inscribed with the secrets of the I Ching. The delicate fabric, yellowed with age and use, seemed to hum with power as he carefully laid it out on a table. He then cast the yarrow sticks, their ancient wood smooth beneath his fingers. The way they fell and arranged themselves hinted at a deep-seated imbalance in the mansion's energy flow, like a disrupted river current that was now swirling chaotically.
As he walked from room to room, his compass needle quivered erratically in his hand, as if it were a live thing trying to escape. It led him to a locked door in the east wing, a door that seemed to have been forgotten by time. The wood was dark and scratched, and the brass lock was dull and tarnished.
With Mr. Henderson's permission, a servant fetched the key from a dusty drawer in the study. As the door swung open, a musty smell wafted out, and dust motes danced in the air as if stirred by an unseen hand. The room was filled with towering bookshelves, their volumes yellowed with age and bound in cracked leather. In the center stood a large, mahogany desk, its surface scratched and marred by years of neglect.
On the desk, Li Yi noticed a strange, ornate box. Its surface was carved with intricate patterns that seemed to tell a story of ancient rites and forgotten knowledge. The figures carved into the wood were twisted and mysterious, some resembling mythical beasts and others depicting scenes of arcane ceremonies. As he reached out to touch it, a sudden jolt of energy coursed through his fingertips, so intense that it made his arm tingle. He knew without a doubt that this was the epicenter of the disturbance.
He carefully examined the box, realizing it was sealed with a complex combination of symbols and locks. The symbols were a mishmash of ancient alphabets, astrological signs, and geometric shapes that seemed to defy understanding at first glance. Drawing on his vast knowledge of metaphysics and ancient lore, he sat down at the desk and began to decipher the codes. His brow furrowed in concentration, and hours passed like minutes as he pored over the box, making minute adjustments and muttering incantations under his breath. Finally, with a click that seemed to reverberate through the room, the box opened.
A blinding light burst forth, and a spectral figure emerged. It was the spirit of a long-dead scholar who had once been a guest in the mansion. The spirit's form was translucent, and his clothing was from a bygone era, a long, flowing robe cinched at the waist with a tasseled cord. Centuries ago, he had been betrayed by his peers, his life's work stolen and his reputation ruined. In his despair, he had placed a curse on the house, vowing that it would never know peace until his name was cleared.
Li Yi knew he had to right this ancient wrong. He delved into historical records, searching for any mention of the scholar's story. The trail led him to a hidden archive in the city's oldest library. The archive was a dimly lit room, filled with rows of wooden shelves that groaned under the weight of countless manuscripts. There, among crumbling parchments and brittle papers, he uncovered the truth.
The scholar had been on the brink of a revolutionary discovery in the field of medicine, one that could have saved countless lives. He had dedicated his life to finding a cure for a deadly plague that had ravaged the land. But jealous rivals, envious of his intellect and potential fame, had framed him for heresy, ensuring his downfall. Armed with this knowledge, Li Yi returned to the mansion.
He held a solemn ceremony in the main hall, invoking the spirits of justice and truth. The room was filled with the fragrant smoke of incense, and candles flickered in a carefully arranged pattern. With the help of his metaphysical incantations and offerings of rare herbs and crystals, he presented the evidence of the scholar's innocence to the restless spirit. As the last word left his lips, the spectral figure began to glow with a soft, golden light.
The spirit nodded in gratitude, and with a final, peaceful smile, dissipated into the ether. The curse was lifted, and the mansion was restored to its former tranquility. But as Li Yi left, he couldn't shake the feeling that there were still more secrets lurking in the shadows, waiting for him to uncover.
Word quickly spread of his latest success, and soon, a desperate plea arrived from a remote mountain village. The villagers reported a strange phenomenon that was threatening their very existence. A mysterious fog had descended upon the valley, and within it, strange sounds and visions haunted them. Without hesitation, Li Yi packed his bags and set off once more, ready to face the unknown.