Chapter 0087: The Flying Head Curse
The two of them set off by car, traveling all the way from Cambodia back to Pattaya, Thailand. Under the introduction of the gambler, Frank Fang met with the man's uncle and cousin. They were indeed wealthy; the luxury villa, located in the southwestern part of the city, was split into two sections with three staggered levels. It was elegantly designed, featuring a garden and garage in the front and a swimming pool in the back. The gambler's uncle was an elderly man in his sixties who looked listless, as if he had just recovered from a severe illness. The cousin, named Rangjie, spoke to Frank Fang with a face full of worry: "Several neighbors nearby have already moved away. But we've lived here for decades, and my old father refuses to leave. I hope you have a way to solve this—money is not an issue."
Frank Fang said it was no problem and introduced Ajarn Mo Teng to Rangjie. As they sat in the living room drinking tea and talking, Rangjie explained: "This has been going on for about half a month. Out of nowhere, a human head appeared; it flies around in mid-air, and in the dead of night, it constantly slams into the glass windows of the nearby houses. Someone sprinkled salt on their windowsills, only to find the next day that the salt had been dissolved by some kind of mucus. My father is literally sick with terror but still won't move. Do you have a way to fix this?"
Ajarn Mo Teng spoke up: "That is the Krasue (Flying Head Curse). It is the most powerful and dangerous level of Black Magic. I am a Necromancer myself, but even I wouldn't dare practice the Flying Head Curse, because it is extremely easy for something to go wrong during cultivation, resulting in death."
Rangjie asked anxiously, "Is there any way to solve it? Or perhaps make him practice somewhere else? But we don't even know which house this person lives in!"
Ajarn Mo Teng thought for a moment: "Since it frequently appears in this vicinity, he cannot be more than a thousand paces away. When practicing the Flying Head Curse, the head can only fly within a range of a thousand paces. Any further, and he will die."
The gambler quickly asked, "Then how can we find this person?"
"It is very difficult to find him proactively," Ajarn Mo Teng replied. "Because they look just like ordinary people. Unless they admit to being a Necromancer, no one can recognize them. There are only two ways to solve this: one is to wait until he finishes mastering the spell and moves away on his own; the other is to catch the head when it flies over."
Frank Fang interjected, "Then let's just catch it!"
Ajarn Mo Teng said, "It's not as easy as you think. Catching a head practicing the Flying Head Curse is the same as starting a blood feud with a Necromancer. You can't just send it back, or he will want you dead. But if you don't return the head, the Necromancer's headless body will spray blood from the neck and die before dawn."
The gambler said, "If he dies, he dies! Once he's dead, what's there to fear from a feud?"
"Of course it's not that simple. A Necromancer's spells aren't innate, nor are they learned from TV shows—we all have masters. If you kill the apprentice, the master certainly won't let you off easily," Ajarn Mo Teng stated.
Hearing this, Rangjie became even more terrified and asked desperately, "Then how exactly can we solve this?"
Frank Fang feigned a difficult expression and replied, "This is very hard. Ajarn Mo Teng would be taking a massive risk and exerting an immense amount of spiritual power. Even if you are willing to pay, I'm afraid you might not be able to afford the price."
Rangjie hurriedly asked, "Is it two million Baht? My father has already agreed, and the cash is ready. There is no problem. Please, help me plead with the Ajarn! I will also give you a fee for your hard work!" This was exactly the effect Frank Fang wanted. He first collected fifty thousand Baht from Rangjie as a "sincerity deposit"—in reality, he was afraid that if things didn't go well, he wouldn't lose money himself. Then, he told Ajarn Mo Teng they could begin.
Ajarn Mo Teng had practiced magic for many years, but because Necromancers have a bad reputation, most people feared him and stayed far away. Conversely, people who actually needed a Necromancer often couldn't find one. Seeing a big business opportunity at his door, he was truthfully tempted. After all, practicing magic was also for making money; one million Baht could buy a very nice villa at current Thai prices.
The two began staying at Rangjie's house that night, receiving lavish hospitality. During the day, Ajarn Mo Teng took Frank Fang out to wander around, but he was actually surveying the terrain to deduce which direction the Necromancer might live. Frank Fang asked, "Master, what evidence or clues do you use to find a Necromancer's residence?"
Ajarn Mo Teng took something out of his pocket: "We can try it with this." It was a piece of straw twisted into a braid; each strand consisted of one thick and one thin straw tightly wound together, now dried out. Ajarn Mo Teng went to a crossroad and, while there was no wind, found two roof tiles to prop the straw upright before lighting it with a match. Strangely, after it burned, the ashes fell uniformly toward the south, as if pulled by a magnet.
"This is Yin-Yang Curse Grass, made from the coffin ropes used to bind a man and a woman who died violently on the same day. It is attracted to Necromancers. This proves there is indeed one nearby, in that direction." Ajarn Mo Teng pointed south.
Frank Fang asked, "The next step is to walk south and light the Curse Grass again, right?"
Ajarn Mo Teng smiled: "No. Our goal isn't to find where the Necromancer lives to catch him; it's to know which direction he's coming from. We can go back now."
Upon returning to Rangjie's home, Ajarn Mo Teng had him gather men and materials to set a trap in front of the south bedroom window. The open window was rigged with extremely fine steel wires acting as a tripwire, connected to a large rope net on the floor. The net was suspended by pulleys from the ceiling and connected to ox tendons. If something flew in from the window and touched that wire, the net on the ground would be rapidly hoisted up by the ox-tendon pulley system, trapping whatever entered.
Rangjie and his father watched them finish the setup with skeptical expressions, unsure if it would work. All that remained was to wait. Ajarn Mo Teng and Frank Fang slept in that room, waiting for the Necromancer to appear.
After four or five days of silence, Frank Fang grew restless and asked, "Has that Necromancer already moved away?"
Ajarn Mo Teng shook his head: "Impossible. Practicing the Flying Head Curse requires fifty consecutive days of rituals. It's unlikely they'd move mid-way. This is a villa area with few residents—the perfect place for a Necromancer to practice."
Late on the sixth night, while Frank Fang was sound asleep, he was suddenly jolted awake by a series of loud noises. He scrambled up, rubbing his bleary eyes, as Ajarn Mo Teng switched on the light. The rope net at the south window had been hoisted up, and inside it was a human head, thrashing violently. Frank Fang jumped to the floor and pounded on Rangjie's door, calling him and the gambler cousin out. Under Ajarn Mo Teng's command, the gambler first stood on a chair to unhook the net, and Rangjie caught it cautiously.
The head inside the net was hideous, a pale bluish-gray color. Its eyes were half-closed, occasionally snapping open, and its hair was as messy as tangled weeds. Ajarn Mo Teng warned everyone: "Stay away from its head! Don't let it bite you!"
Rangjie was shaking so hard he could barely hold the net. Frank Fang rushed forward to help, and they clumsily lowered the net onto a wool mat on the floor. Ajarn Mo Teng used his left hand to pin the head through the net, chanting under his breath. The head continued to thrash, nearly breaking free from his palm several times as Frank Fang and the others watched with their hearts in their throats. Ajarn Mo Teng used his right hand to slowly flatten the net, then grabbed the head by its hair with his left hand and lifted it. Frank Fang immediately pulled the net away and slid a large blue plastic bag underneath.
As Ajarn Mo Teng lowered the head into the plastic bag, it suddenly convulsed, tore itself from his grip, and after rolling a few times on the floor, actually took flight, soaring toward the window. Everyone was paralyzed with fear. But Frank Fang, having weathered many storms, was bolder; in his desperation, he grabbed a ceramic vase from a wooden cabinet and hurled it with all his might. The vase shattered against the head, and the force of the blow knocked the thing back to the floor.
"Pin it down! We can't let it fly out again, or we're all dead!" Ajarn Mo Teng shouted. The gambler cousin lunged forward, using his body to pin the head beneath his belly. Frank Fang ran over with the plastic bag, only to hear the gambler let out a blood-curdling scream. The man rolled aside, but the head was stuck to his stomach—the head's mouth had clamped down viciously on the skin of his abdomen.
In a panic, Rangjie began punching the head. Ajarn Mo Teng pulled him away, grabbed the head by the hair with his left hand, and hovered his right hand with fingers splayed over the head's temple. He chanted a mantra rapidly. The head slowly loosened its grip, and Frank Fang quickly shoved it into several layers of plastic bags and tied the opening tight.