Chinese Girl Lan and the Power of Karna Pishachini Siddhi – A Dark Love Story
In the misty mountains of Yunnan, China, where fog drapes the valleys like silk and superstition breathes through every whisper of wind, lived a woman named Lan — beautiful, graceful, and dangerously curious. Her deep, almond eyes could silence a room, and her walk had a rhythm that made every man’s heart skip. Yet, for all her beauty, Lan’s heart was restless.
There was only one person she ever truly desired — Zixuan, a tall, striking young man known across the village for his charm and kindness. Every girl wished to marry him, but Zixuan’s eyes never lingered long on anyone. He was humble, devoted to his parents, and distant toward those who adored him.
Lan, however, could not bear rejection. She wanted Zixuan not just to notice her — but to belong to her completely, body and soul.
The Journey to India
One winter night, an old mystic woman visited Lan’s village. She spoke of ancient powers hidden in India, of Tantras and Siddhis that could bend fate itself. Among them was the most dangerous of all — Karna Pishachini Siddhi, the power to attract anyone, to control minds, and to command unseen forces of desire.
Lan’s curiosity ignited into obsession. Within months, she sold her jewelry, lied to her family, and set out on a journey to India, claiming she was pursuing spiritual education.
She arrived at an ashram deep in the forests of Varanasi, where she met a learned Tantric Guru who instantly sensed her hunger for forbidden knowledge.
“Child,” the Guru warned, “Karna Pishachini Siddhi is not a game. Once invoked, she will demand her due. You will gain beauty, wealth, and power — but you must feed her what she craves.”
Lan bowed before him. “I accept any price, Guruji. I want the man I love, and I want him forever.”
For forty-one nights, Lan performed rituals — bathing in the river before dawn, chanting mantras under the full moon, and drawing sacred yantras with her own blood. On the final night, as the fire blazed, the air turned heavy, and a figure appeared — a dark, mesmerizing woman with red eyes and hair like burning smoke.
“I am Karna Pishachini, the whisperer of desires,” the entity said. “To serve me, you must promise three things.”
Lan, trembling yet fearless, nodded.
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“I shall give you a man’s essence whenever you hunger.”
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“I shall never allow anyone more powerful than I to break your hold.”
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“I shall keep your secret till death.”
The entity smiled. “Then I bless you with beauty no woman can rival, wealth beyond dreams, and the love you desire.”
When dawn broke, Lan looked in the mirror — her face glowed like the rising sun, her eyes seemed deeper, and a strange red mark appeared behind her neck — the seal of Karna Pishachini.
The Return to Yunnan
Months later, Lan returned home. Her appearance was even more enchanting; every woman in the village whispered envy. Within a few days, Zixuan, while returning from the market, suddenly stopped in the middle of the road and gazed at her.
“Lan,” he said, his voice trembling, “I don’t know why, but I can’t stop thinking about you. Will you be mine?”
Lan smiled — the spell had worked.
The entire village celebrated. Their culture cherished such proposals; once love was confessed publicly, marriage followed soon after. Within weeks, Lan and Zixuan were wed in a grand ceremony. Flowers lined the streets, and the villagers danced until dawn.
For the first time, Lan felt complete. She thanked Karna Pishachini silently, unaware of the dark hunger that awaited.
The Price of Power
As promised, Karna Pishachini kept her word. Lan’s business flourished; her small shop turned into a trading empire. Her face glowed with eternal youth, her beauty unmatched even by the youngest maidens.
But one night, as she slept beside her husband, she heard whispers — the same chilling voice from the ritual.
“Lan… it’s time to feed me.”
Lan woke, gasping. She remembered her promise — one man, every night.
The next morning, she whispered a prayer, calling Karna Pishachini’s name to fulfill her hunger elsewhere. The spirit obeyed — that night, a man from the neighboring village vanished. Then another. And another.
Soon, every week, a man disappeared mysteriously. Women cried, priests prayed, but no one suspected Lan. She lived like a queen while the shadow of her power devoured the innocent.
Months passed. The once-lively village grew eerily quiet. Men vanished, leaving only women and children behind. People began to fear the nights; the air reeked of dread.
The Child and the Curse
One morning, Lan fainted while walking through the courtyard. Zixuan rushed her to the hospital, where the doctor smiled.
“Congratulations, Lan! You’re going to be a mother.”
Tears filled her eyes — joy mixed with terror. What would happen when Karna Pishachini demanded her next offering?
Meanwhile, fear consumed the village. Desperate, the women gathered and went to the village Kulguru, an old priest known for sensing negative energies.
When he entered Lan’s courtyard, he froze. “This house reeks of dark Tantra,” he hissed. “You have invited the Karna Pishachini into our land!”
Lan’s eyes widened. “No, Guruji, I—”
Before she could finish, a shadow moved behind her. Karna Pishachini appeared — invisible to most, but the priest saw her clearly. Her laughter echoed like shattered glass.
Lan whispered the command, desperate to silence him. Within moments, the priest screamed and fell to the ground, lifeless — his body shriveled as if his soul had been consumed.
That night, the skies darkened, lightning tore through the clouds, and the wind howled through the empty streets. The curse had fully awakened.
The Devouring Night
Days turned into weeks. There were no more men left in the village. Karna Pishachini grew impatient, prowling like a hungry predator.
At midnight, she entered Lan’s home, her fiery eyes glowing.
“You made promises, Lan. Where is my offering?”
Lan fell to her knees. “There are no men left! Please… spare my husband.”
“Then I shall take him.”
Before Lan could react, Zixuan screamed. His body lifted off the bed as if pulled by invisible hands. Karna Pishachini’s form enveloped him in crimson mist. Lan cried, “No! I release you from your vows! I free you!”
But the entity only laughed. “It’s too late. Your power fed me. Now I shall feed on what you love most.”
The Plea for Salvation
In despair, Lan called her Guru in India. Through trembling sobs, she explained everything — the promises, the deaths, and her husband’s capture.
The old Guru sighed. “Lan, I warned you. Only Guruji from RidhiSidhiTantra has the power to command her now. Pray that he listens.”
The ashram connected the call to Guruji of RidhiSidhiTantra, who was deep in meditation. His disciple knocked on his chamber door, breaking his trance. Listening quietly, Guruji understood the gravity of the curse.
“Karna Pishachini is bound by oaths. You must perform the Reversal Mantra immediately. I will guide you from here.”
Under his instruction, Lan drew a sacred triangle with turmeric and saffron on the floor, placed a mirror in its center, and chanted as Guruji whispered the mantras over the phone. The air thickened — the mirror began to crack.
“Now, call her name,” Guruji commanded. “Offer her release!”
Lan screamed, “Karna Pishachini! I release you from my promises! Take back your gifts, your wealth, your beauty — but spare my husband!”
The ground shook violently. The red mist swirled into the mirror, and a wailing cry echoed through the night.
Then — silence.
Lan collapsed, gasping for breath.
The Dawn After Darkness
When she opened her eyes, Zixuan sat beside her, alive and breathing. The morning light flooded the room.
Outside, women screamed in joy — men were returning to the village, dazed but alive. The curse had lifted.
Guruji’s voice came softly through the phone, “I have sealed her within her own realm. You are safe now, but remember — never invoke what you cannot control.”
Lan nodded through tears. “Thank you, Guruji. You have given me my life back.”
Guruji smiled faintly. “No, child. The Divine has given you mercy.”
That day, the villagers rebuilt their peace, though whispers of the dark nights remained. Lan lived quietly, devoting herself to charity, never again touching forbidden powers.
But on some nights, when the moon turns crimson and the wind hums like a whisper, Lan can still feel a faint warmth on the back of her neck — the mark of Karna Pishachini — reminding her that every desire has a price.
