The sound of starlight flickering and then dimming reached my ears.
In the dark night sky, there was an abrupt eruption of starlight boldly asserting its presence.
The sound of flowing water.
The sound of water striking rocks, debris, and wood, gently eroding the objects it touched.
The sound of water forming foam.
The sound of water splashing into the air and then raining down like needles to the earth.
The sound of a water droplet clinging to a decayed, skeletal tree branch before falling.
The sound of a bell dangling and clanging faintly in Jinseong’s hand.
The sound of something creeping along, scraping against the floor, splashing through muck, and cutting through refuse.
Sounds.
Sounds abound.
Thud.
Thud.
From somewhere far away, responding to the noise from the garbage island, another sound came.
Following the sound of the bell as a guide, and the starlight as an indicator, footsteps approached. The gait resembled that of a human but was weightlessly light, beyond human. Yet it was too deliberate with hatred to classify it as an animal. It was neither truly of the living, as there was no sound of breathing, nor definitively of the dead, as there was no flesh.
By just hearing the sounds, it could send a human into a daze, and those who tried to focus to discern its nature would be entranced, lured toward death by a dreadful malevolence.
This sound—it was the step of a ghost.
Though legless, it made sound. While floating, as if swaying its hands, it moved as if to step on the ground which was no longer an option. It was deceiving the eyes of people by mimicking past sounds of life.
Longing for what has gone?
But, what could be done when there was no flesh left, no soul, and a mind that crumbled?
The only thing that remained was malice toward the living—and so this is what a ghost truly is.
Thud.
Thud.
It deceived the senses with its lack of physical form—a malevolent spirit. When it fashioned its body to tear at people, it became a malevolent ghost!
Every step was depraved, wicked, and terrifying.
“Come forth, you spirits of the land. Come through the water, cut through the water currents, and withstand the water energy that weighs upon souls, coming here before me,” called Jinseong.
Ding-dong.
Jinseong shook the bell, observing the congregation of spirits, attracting evil spirits with one small swing, and luring malevolent spirits with another. It was like tempting a starving person with the smell of roasting meat, or a person sick of stench with the scent of flowers. This was the sound that lured the ghosts, a whisper their deteriorating minds had no choice but to follow.
Should they possess reason, they’d fall under the weight of the ritual Jinseong performed. If their reason were faint, they’d occupy their place before Jinseong, like animals following instinct.
This was the accursed call, the power of an evil doctrine, and the insight of a necromancer and possession shaman who lived closer to spirits than people, probing the mysteries of death.
Dragging hidden spirits before him, this was the start of controlling them.
Ding-dong.
At the water’s edge, the ghosts began to move in response to Jinseong’s whisper.
With grotesque figures, they splashed into the water. The malevolent spirits hovered uncertainly before gliding across the surface, while the malevolent ghosts thrust their barely maintained forms into the water.
Plop-splash.
Plop-splash.
The sound of spirits entering the water.
Like moths to a flame, these spirits dove into the water, dissolving into it.
The spirits that attempted to fly over the water were overwhelmed by the amplified water energy and fell, melting away like snowmen in hot water. Thus, they were swept away, dissolving completely until they could gather their forms again on land.
Plop-splash.
The same fate awaited malevolent ghosts.
They hurled themselves into the water but could not cross it. The water melted them, froze them, and scattered them like vaporous spirits. To the water, they were intruders; the enhanced water energy rejected their dark presence, maintaining its purity.
And so, these spirits melted—dripped away, dissolved like snow, crumbled like sandcastles.
Regaining their form on land, they dove into the water again.
And they repeated this meaningless cycle endlessly.
Ding-dong.
All according to Jinseong’s intent, unable to resist his ritual’s seduction.
In this manner, the spirits were experiencing what seemed like eternal pain.
But then, an unexpected change occurred.
Bubble.
Plop-splash.
The river water boiled, and at the river’s center, a splash erupted like water was being thrown about by unseen hands. Water droplets scattered in all directions, and something momentarily revealed itself like aquatic weeds before vanishing.
Plop-splash.
Splash!
Splash!
And this happened at various points.
Where spirits should have dissolved at the mere touch of water, something was creating waves.
A sight emerged—like black tendrils of water plants undulating toward the surface, rising defiantly with their crowns upright. The revealed eyeballs were filled with foul stench, and their inflated skins looked as though they’d disintegrate at the slightest touch.
Yet their eyes brimmed with venomous hatred.
For some grievous cause, these eyes were rife with hatred and fixation on humans, glaring fiercely at the land as if resenting the disturbance to their rest.
Rise.
Water ghosts. Water sprites.
Spirits who died in the water and could not leave their place. To ascend to the heavens, these malevolent spirits must claim another soul to replace themselves. Indiscriminate in their targets, they ensnare others as companions, never satisfied, haunting their spots and luring people to their deaths.
Having truly perished in cold spirits, they are resilient to most yang chi. At home in waters unfit for human life, they are notoriously difficult to confront. Their tenacity across ages and cultures is unmatched—few spirits can match the malevolence found in those who died in the water.
Drawn by the sound of Jinseong’s bell and the vibrations from his ritual, they rose from the depths of the Great Ling River—not waiting for intruders to come but instinctively revealing themselves.
These water spirits simply watched the spirits attempting to enter from the land.
They stared at the ghosts cycling between dissolving and reforming.
Jinseong, however, stated:
“A disciple once asked his master: ‘Master, ghosts arise when people die, and their forms resemble humans – is it because they long for their past life? Or is it merely mimicking living beings like a mirror?'”
Ding-dong.
“The master answered: ‘Disciple, understand this—what you see as human in form is otherwise insubstantial. Ghosts have no fixed form, no defined shape, and no set substance. They take on countless transformations, from beasts to trees. Listen to my words well, disciple, and never be deceived.'”
Excited by the standoff between the two ghosts, Jinseong shook his sword and his bell.
Ding-dong.
The sword cut through the air, while the bell emitted complex, intricate sounds.
Among the clinking sounds were pauses, faint yet definite, and they rippled through the air with an odd sense of detachment.
The bell twisted and turned, weaving sounds that only spirits could hear, reassembling them under Jinseong’s will.
[Grinding sound.]
[“People on the island, you’ve eaten well, haven’t you? Give me a bit, even a small spoonful of the cornmeal porridge…”]
In the final throes of despair, the spirits screamed with malevolence.
What was there to lament, though? They had come willingly, lured by the sound, and they had rushed forward with the intent to harm.
Thus, it was only fitting they be reshaped under Jinseong’s shamanistic arts.
Splash.
Plop-splash.
Once more, the spirits dove into the water. Just like before, both evil spirits and malevolent ghosts melted upon touching the water—but this time something different occurred.
When the waves subsided and the spirits were sent to the land, they could no longer regain their original forms.
Instead, they drifted as molten shapes of spirit energy, reshaped under Jinseong’s hand into specific forms.
These resembled bloated humans inflated with air, like pufferfish or balloons. They had facial features and limbs attached, appearing grotesquely distorted and rubbery.
Their sizes varied, from the size of a human head to that of a large party balloon, but they shared one common trait—they floated on the surface of the water.
“To the pitiable beings who suffer in the water, I shall extend my power. By the hand of Mara, I shape you, making you float unscathed on the water. Tears of gratitude shall flow profusely, and as your sanity erodes, you shall move as my army, ensnaring the confused and spreading evil.”
Jinseong laughed as he watched the spirits floating on the water.
“Come, ghosts.”
In this twisted time, similar to spirits adrift in the sea around Korea.
“Let’s go.”
To the sea.
