True TAIWAN Horror story

The Truth Behind Mrs. Bi

Mrs. Bi hailed from a poor coastal village. As a girl gathering firewood in the seaside woods, she’d somehow been possessed by the spirit of an old sergeant buried there.

This “Sergeant” wielded uncanny powers, helping her over decades. From childhood, she’d used his abilities to divine for others, gaining fame and fortune. Her family prospered—her kids excelled in school and work, all thanks to him.

But there was a dark side. The engineer bitterly revealed that his father died young under mysterious circumstances—many siblings blamed the Sergeant.

Even after marriage and kids, Mrs. Bi’s devotion grew obsessive. She built a home shrine, crafting a golden statue of the Sergeant, spending days locked inside, worshipping him. It got weirder—her sons once caught her cradling the statue, whispering to it like a lover.

Tensions boiled over when the eldest son, drunk and furious, stormed the shrine with an axe. He smashed it to pieces, cleaving the statue from neck to chest, and dumped it in the trash.

Chaos followed. Accidents plagued the family. The axe-wielding brother suffered a stroke days later. Mrs. Bi’s mental state crumbled—lucid one moment, a raving madwoman the next, stripping and running wild.

The family eventually caved, rebuilding the shrine and commissioning a new statue to appease the Sergeant. But this time, he wouldn’t forgive. Messages from other diviners echoed his rage: “I’ll let go when your whole family’s dead!”

A Rookie’s Reckless Stand

My friend later reflected, “They say newborns don’t fear tigers.” Even after hearing this insane backstory, he—still a novice—agreed to help under the engineer’s desperate pleas.

He confronted the Sergeant multiple times, trying everything: force, diplomacy, flattery. Nothing worked. Offerings, gifts, even burning lavish tributes? The Sergeant took them and kept tormenting Mrs. Bi, driving her mad. He was a brick wall—unyielding, unreachable

The only option left was annihilation. But the deity had warned him: the most dangerous spirits are those consumed by obsession, crossing into “demon” territory.

Beings like the Sergeant, even shattered into a million pieces, would cling to their grudge. Given the right conditions, they’d reform, stronger and nastier. The best move? Leave them be.

(Don’t ask me for deeper metaphysics—I’m just relaying my friend’s words. The intricacies are beyond me.)

The Bi family’s saga never resolved. My friend couldn’t broker peace with the Sergeant, leaving Mrs. Bi to fluctuate between sanity and madness. Oddly, despite his threat to wipe out the family, he seemed content targeting the stroke-stricken eldest and his unhinged mother, sparing the rest—for now. An uneasy stalemate held.

Afterward, my friend mulled it over and felt some resentment toward the deity. With its power, it could’ve warned him upfront about the Sergeant’s ferocity, sparing him that blindsided encounter.

The deity’s reply was jaw-dropping: “I did it on purpose—to test if you, still a rookie, could handle extreme danger.”

This wasn’t the first test. Before my friend officially agreed to serve, the deity had dangled temptations—like revealing winning lottery numbers in dreams, urging him to buy tickets and keep the cash. He never did, later verifying the numbers were spot-on. He knew it was a trap: take the bait, and the spirit world would reclaim it through misfortune.

Listening to psychics recount their dealings with spirits, I’m convinced the “black society” analogy fits best. No matter how kind a deity seems or how much it helps, there’s an undercurrent of distrust. It’s a shadowy game—benevolence laced with ulterior motives.