An Office Worker Is Good At Exorcism - Chapter 330

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 329
Part 5. The Great National Shaman (3)
Click.
The hand emerging from the Buddha Statue’s face froze.
It happened the moment Yoon Sang tore the talisman.
The breath Kang Hyung-seok exhaled was no longer like mist, and the pressure bearing down on his shoulders and crown felt slightly lighter.
Clang.
The Shaman’s Bell was telling me something.
The curse had broken, and now was the moment to reveal the truth and shatter everything.
Kang Hyung-seok glanced down at the Shaman’s Bell, then shifted his gaze to the Buddha Statue’s face from which the black hand extended.
‘I understand.’
The Guardian Spirit offered no voice.
Yet through his spirit, it conveyed what needed to be done and how, so Kang Hyung-seok gripped the Shaman’s Bell and the divine blade in his left hand.
Then he raised his right hand and reached it toward the hole in the Buddha Statue’s face.
This is the true form.
This is the source, and all answers lie here.
Squelch.
The moment I thrust my hand into the hole, pushing through the cold, rigid arms, I felt lukewarm warmth and sticky viscera against my palm.
Kang Hyung-seok continued driving his arm deeper while shaking the Shaman’s Bell.
Clang-clang-clang-clang!
“Taishanglao-jun shuo ling huang-miao zhen-jing taisang yuan-ji da-dao taisang sanshiliu bu zungjing taishanglao-jun yuhuang da-di hou-tu zunshi.”
I declare to all spirits of heaven and earth.
Aid this disciple of the divine.
Protect me, and help me sever this calamity.
“Beiji zimi da-di zimi zhu-sheng da-di zuoyi zhen-jun du-jiang zhen-jun sanguan zhen-jun sixing zhen-jun xiaozai zhen-jun jiugao zhen-jun zuobao zhen-jun youbao zhen-jun.”
Reciting the sacred incantation rapidly, Kang Hyung-seok drove his arm in up to his elbow, and his fingertips brushed against something.
The mere touch of it sent such a chill down my spine that my hair stood on end.
Yet instead of withdrawing, Kang Hyung-seok grasped it firmly while shaking the Shaman’s Bell.
Clang-clang-clang!
“Yuepai zhen-jun bao-ming zhen-jun jiuyao zhen-jun taiyang zhen-jun taiyin zhen-jun muxing zhen-jun huoxing zhen-jun tuxing zhen-jun.”
That was when it happened.
Ding.
The sound of a bell rang out.
And before my eyes, this Buddha Statue, this Temple, and everything that had transpired here began to unfold.
Ding.
A woman’s hand ringing the bell.
Drag-drag-drag.
The sound of a mannequin being dragged.
Ding.
An Old Man lying motionless like a corpse, listening to the bell’s chime.
Age spots bloomed across his weathered face, and deep wrinkles carved his features into something disturbingly familiar.
‘The Japanese Onmyoji.’
The man who had committed terrible deeds upon this land.
He had been here.
He had performed some dark ritual in this place.
The figures surrounding him chanted incantations with their palms pressed together, their voices drawn up from the depths of their chests, and I felt vitality returning to the Old Man’s body.
“…Daishu Daimei.”
The ritual sacrifice at the Abandoned School and the death of Kim Joo-seok’s family.
They had been sacrificed through Daishu Daimei to extend this Old Man’s lifespan.
Now I could understand everything.
Even why the Seowang Spirit’s eyes in Baeksa Village had been blinded.
‘It was their doing.’
How could they not fear the spirits when they had to use people of this land as offerings?
They had performed their sorcery while blinding even the eyes of the divine.
“Ox head!”
Song Hyung-doo’s voice from the Abandoned School struck my ears.
Gripping an awl, he drove it down upon the ox head in the Kitchen a total of five times.
With each strike, someone died, and the life of the dead flowed toward this Old Man.
“Shhhhh.”
As breath burst from the Old Man’s lips, the bell’s tolling grew louder.
Though the entire process unfolded with an air of solemnity, I felt a nauseating revulsion rising within me.
Not because the perpetrator was a foreign Shaman.
But because his intentions and purposes were too grotesque and horrifying to be called human.
“How could they.”
Watching the Japanese Onmyoji rise with assistance, I muttered in a heavy voice.
“Use people….”
And then the Japanese Onmyoji pulled the IV line from his arm and opened his mouth.
The voice that emerged was Japanese, but in my possessed state, I could understand its meaning.
To clean up.
The spiritual energy of this place was exhausted, so he commanded them to use the relevant people as human pillars for what came next.
The Old Man’s command would become reality the moment he departed.
Some would have their eyes and tongues torn out, some would have their skulls crushed and die, and some would be struck down and perish.
This was why a place once frequented by many had become so desolate.
Step, step.
The Old Man walked toward the Temple’s exit, wearing only the gown the Female Coworker had dressed him in.
I called out to him.
“What is your purpose?”
At that moment, the Old Man’s footsteps ceased.
A memory recorded in space itself.
My voice could not have reached him, yet we faced each other as if transcending time and space.
“Why would you go to such lengths to extend an already-ended life in a foreign land? What purpose could possibly justify it?”
The Old Man offered no response.
He merely gazed fixedly at the point where Kang Hyung-seok stood, as though acutely aware of his presence.
A prolonged silence stretched between them, and then the Old Man turned and slipped away beyond the Temple’s threshold.
The illusion dissolved.
Reality reasserted itself.
The Buddha Statue remained before me, yet the arm that had protruded from its shattered face was no longer visible.
Whoosh.
As I withdrew my arm from the Buddha Statue, I exhaled sharply through my nose at what lay in my palm.
A chunk of blackened, rotting flesh.
Though its form had collapsed beyond recognition, I could discern what it once was—and my heart twisted with a sickening pang.
Thud.
I stabbed the blackened flesh with my ritual knife and cast it to the ground, then lowered my gaze while gripping the Shaman’s Bell and ritual knife in both hands.
My mouth tasted bitter.
Whether it was the confirmation that the Japanese Onmyoji still lived, or some other reason, a bitter taste coated my tongue—as though I’d licked gall itself.
Jingle.
Still, I shook the Shaman’s Bell.
Regardless of my emotional state, what I needed to do was abundantly clear.
This was far from over.
I had to first console the Victim Spirits trapped within this Temple.
That was what I, as a Shaman, had to do immediately.
“Now that I have come to fully understand what transpired in this place, I shall perform the ritual for their ascension to heaven.”
Jingle.
The Shaman’s Bell rang out alone.
Yet I did not look toward the bell as I continued speaking.
“Now that I have come to fully comprehend what was done here, I shall perform the cleansing ritual to wash away all defilement.”
I had to purge every curse, every calamity.
I had to uproot this place so it could never again serve such a purpose.
Jingle.
The Shaman’s Bell rang again, and the air around me grew noticeably colder.
The Victim Spirits who had died in this place.
The Victim Spirits who had perished from what was done here.
The accumulated karmic debt and malevolent energy that had seeped into these walls.
I could not undo all of this, but I could cleanse it.
For me, it was possible.
Jingle-jingle-jingle!
The Shaman’s Bell rang louder, and I exhaled softly before beginning to raise the Shaman’s Bell and ritual knife held in both hands.
Jingle-jingle-jingle-jingle!
The dance performed by a Shaman during a ritual is called the Shaman’s Dance.
The Shaman’s Bell is the instrument that bridges the human and divine realms, while the ritual knife is the tool of the Possessed Shaman Tradition who has received the General Spirit.
Shaking the two sacred implements, Kang Hyung-seok began chanting sutras to cleanse all the spiritual defilement from this place and guide the Victim Spirit to salvation.
‘May only peace settle upon this land.’
It was a ritual performed with sincere devotion.
***
Crack! Whoosh!
“Ugh!”
When the talisman he’d suddenly torn burst into flames on its own, Yoon Sang flinched in surprise.
Being nothing but thin paper, the fire consumed it in an instant, and when only the acrid smell remained, all that was left was ash indistinguishable from the earth.
“Uh, uh… uh?”
Yoon Sang looked around with wide eyes, then murmured, “Ah.”
The air around him had changed.
‘My brother must have done something.’
The grotesque form of the Victim Spirit—as if tortured to death—was no longer visible.
Though exhausted, Yoon Sang gazed up at the night sky with a peaceful expression.
Everything from the live broadcast at the Abandoned School to the events at the Temple flashed rapidly through his mind.
Events linked together like a chain, but one thing was certain: this was no ordinary incident for a long holiday.
“Phew.”
Still, it was finally over.
Yoon Sang turned his gaze toward the Temple and smiled faintly, imagining Kang Hyung-seok chanting sutras by now.
At the same moment, though not in the same place, the blind Seowang Spirit of Baeksa Village also gazed toward where the Temple stood.
It was at the village entrance, where a great cherry blossom tree stood.
Swish.
With hands clasped in prayer, just as when he’d faced Kang Hyung-seok, he bowed his head.
In every gesture, every breath, profound gratitude was woven.
“Thank you for your efforts.”
He remained bowed for a long time.
What he could not stop, what he could not resolve—a Shaman, not a god, had brought to completion.
He understood it was no simple task.
“I am grateful.”
Bowing even deeper, he raised his head, hoping for peace in Kang Hyung-seok’s future.
Then he looked back at the village.
It was a village that would soon disappear through redevelopment, yet people still lived there.
Leaning on his staff, the Seowang Spirit walked deeper into the village, hoping their night would be peaceful.
***
It was deep in the night.
Without a sound, the Old Man’s eyes opened, and the elderly Woman Caregiver, who had been tending to him while sitting uncomfortably in a chair, suddenly fixed her gaze upon him.
His face had gone rigid.
“Is something the matter…?”
Without answering the Woman Caregiver’s question, the Old Man pushed himself upright.
He had artificially prolonged his lifespan through great shamanic ritual, yet his aged and withered body was heavy, making his movements sluggish. But in stark contrast, his wide-open eyes burned with such vivid intensity that even the Woman Caregiver flinched.
“What…?”
“What I feared has come to pass.”
Speaking in Korean rather than Japanese, he muttered with a deeply troubled expression.
“The one being I most desperately needed to keep it hidden from—they’ve discovered what I’ve done.”
“….”
The Woman Caregiver’s eyes trembled as though a cold blade had pressed against her throat.
Her breathing grew ragged, and cold sweat drenched her palms.
“Then…?”
The Old Man nodded heavily, then raised his hand to gaze at the wrinkles that covered the back of it with something akin to resentment.
“Time is running short, and of all moments, it had to be now, at the most critical juncture….”
“Should we use people?”
“No. It’s meaningless. Utterly meaningless.”
The Old Man appeared to be gripped by fear.
His hand covering his mouth and his grip on the blanket trembled ever so slightly.
“It is the Great National Shaman. The Guardian Spirit of this nation.”
A Shaman who protects this land.
Just as Seolmundae Grandmother guards Namhae from Jeju Island, this being guards this earth.
Having been discovered by such an entity—the Old Man worked his withered lips anxiously, as though consumed by unbearable dread.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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