At midnight, when the Yin energy is at its heaviest, it's also when living people are most likely to interact with the dead. Major rituals are typically conducted during this hour. Zha Wenbin glanced at the Celestial Master's talisman firmly affixed to the wall, steeled his gaze, opened his Qian Kun bag, pulled out the protective bell, strapped on his Seven Stars sword, and glanced at the large seal resting on the table but chose not to take it. He arranged Wang's relatives, placing the men on the left and the women on the right, standing on either side of the hall. Originally, they were to conduct the major burial and place the bodies in the coffins, but that had already been done ahead of time, so it wasn't necessary now.
Once they were positioned, he signaled the women to form a line, circling around the four coffins. The men followed them, walking counterclockwise while the women went clockwise. Every three rounds, they turned around and changed direction. Zha Wenbin moved in step alongside them, shaking the bell as he chanted spells, reciting verses for the deceased. After completing the six circles, he indicated that everyone could step back.
They originally intended for the spirits to cross the Immortal Bridge, but considering the eight-year-old child, he thought: what if the child's parents tried to take him across? Zha Wenbin abandoned that notion; the crossing wasn't necessary. Next, he grabbed a handful of glutinous rice and a handful of tea leaves, mixed them in a bowl, and sprinkled the mixture around every corner of the room. He planned to wrap things up. If nothing unusual occurred next, they should be fine. He prepared to go outside for some tea and rest.
Before he could step through the door, a gust of wind suddenly blew through. Zha Wenbin felt a chill and instinctively drew the protective sword from his back. As he turned, he realized it was too late; the lamp for Wang Weiguo had extinguished among the four long sleep lamps remaining, and the other three flickered weakly, on the verge of going out as well.
With a quick hand motion, he threw a talisman into the air. Before the paper could hit the ground, the Seven Stars sword glinted sharply as it pointed straight at the middle coffin. The talisman caught fire as it fell, causing the three lamps to burst back to life as if doused with oil. However, the wick of the middle lamp wafted only a thin stream of smoke. Zha Wenbin shouted, "Stop!" and pressed another soul-restricting talisman directly onto Wang Weiguo's coffin.
It seemed that this ominous door, without its guardian spirit, was indeed a bad omen. Wang Weiguo was now a ghost, not just a spirit. However, he remained in the house and hadn't left yet. Zha Wenbin couldn't afford to be careless; this spirit undoubtedly radiated malice.
Outside, people noticed the Daoist's sudden actions and rushed over to see what was happening. Zha Wenbin made a gesture indicating not to approach and closed the main door behind him. He was about to confront Wang Weiguo!
Newly deceased spirits usually aren't too vengeful, but today was the exception. Although Wang Weiguo was a farmer, residing long-term in such a cursed spot had allowed his grief to accumulate unbearably. It overwhelmed his fear of the Celestial Master's seal. If released tonight, disaster would surely ensue, and Zha Wenbin was acutely aware of the dangers.
Upon shutting the door, the stench of blood became more pronounced, infiltrating every pore of Zha Wenbin's body.
In those days, rural homes lacked today's tiled floors. Wealthy families might use cement, but most still had dirt floors. Zha Wenbin stuck the Seven Stars sword directly into Wang Weiguo's coffin; the sword trembled as if to inform the occupant that it was excited to fulfill its purpose.
He also took out a brass mirror etched with the Eight Trigrams and placed it on the stool where the big seal had been. Facing Wang Weiguo's coffin, the mirror's surface began to reflect the coffin. Slowly, the bloody odor appeared to diminish. Noting this slight change, Zha Wenbin hurriedly crafted a small figure out of yellow paper, placed it on the ground, wrote Wang Weiguo's birth date and time on the back, and nestled it atop the coffin.
Next came the search for the vengeful spirit. Zha Wenbin took out the Luopan compass, watching as the needle twitched before finally locking on the northeast corner. He made a hand gesture, tapping just above each eyelid—a technique known as opening the heavenly eye. Once activated, he indeed noticed Wang Weiguo squatting in the northeast corner, blood-soaked and glaring at him.
How to open the heavenly eye? Aside from needing to learn the appropriate Daoist techniques, one also requires a medium; many animals in nature can see things hidden from human sight. For example, one night in a deserted village, dogs may bark frantically, ignoring their owner's pleas, and retreat while barking toward an empty direction—a sign they see something unseen by humans.
Zha Wenbin used the tears from an ox to open his heavenly eye. Before slaughter, oxen often shed tears. The butcher would use a small knife, even smaller than a fruit knife, to stroke the bulkiest muscle just behind the neck. As the ox knelt, a swelling would form, and in response, tears would flow. The butcher would insert the knife into this bulge, leading to the ox's demise. It's said that oxen possess a sense of awareness, understanding their impending death, which is why they kneel and cry. This tear is seen as a pure substance, capable of detecting hidden evils, so Daoists collect it for use in opening the heavenly eye, but it has a limited duration. Zha Wenbin's heavenly eye could only remain open for as long as a stick of incense burned.
At that moment, Wang Weiguo had transcended the concept of a soul; he was a vengeful spirit born purely of resentment. His gaze fixed on Zha Wenbin, but he seemed to hesitate in the presence of the seal and the sword, not daring to make a move.
Holding the compass in one hand and drawing his sword with the other, Zha Wenbin executed the Seven Stars pattern, swiftly reaching the northeast corner. Just then, Wang Weiguo, who had been crouching, suddenly stood up. Before Zha Wenbin could react, he bolted towards the main door, seemingly trying to escape. Yet, before he reached halfway through the coffin, the Yin-Yang mirror suddenly shook with a golden light, causing the vengeful spirit to stagger and collapse as if rebounded. By the time Zha Wenbin approached, Wang Weiguo was struggling to rise again.
Seizing the opportunity, Zha Wenbin quickly pulled out a talisman, swiped it across the sword, and ignited it. With the flaming talisman thrust forward, he aimed it directly at Wang Weiguo's face.
At the critical moment of the strike, the bloodied Wang Weiguo ducked just in time to evade the attack. Zha Wenbin raised his sword to strike, but Wang Weiguo lifted his head, his earlier hostility now replaced by a hint of fear. Lowering his head once more, Zha Wenbin's raised hand faltered; it turned out that Wang Weiguo, now a vengeful spirit, was bowing in supplication.
Seeing this, Zha Wenbin sighed and said, "You were once an unjustly dead soul. Your heavy resentment has transformed you into a vengeful spirit. Within three to five years, you will either become a vicious spirit or face divine punishment and dissolve forever, ultimately blocking your path to reincarnation. Today, since you've broken your route to rebirth, I can only escort you on your journey, forcing you to endure the suffering of reincarnation as livestock before you can be reborn as a human. Are you willing?"
The vengeful spirit seemed to understand, raising his head to look at Zha Wenbin before glancing back at the three other coffins. Lowering his head again, he made no further movement.
Zha Wenbin sheathed his sword, picked up the small paper figure he had prepared, recited the rebirth spell, and circled Wang Weiguo, throwing the figure towards the heavens while exclaiming, "Stand!" The paper figure fluttered in the air and landed directly in front of Wang Weiguo, standing upright as if animated, even though it was merely a simple cut-out from yellow paper!
Seeing this, Wang Weiguo seemed to understand his fate, lowering his head even further. Zha Wenbin lit another incense stick and held the protective bell in one hand and the incense in the other. As he continued chanting, the incense burned faster alongside the recitations, and soon, the smoke from the incense started swirling toward the paper figure. Meanwhile, Wang Weiguo's form began to blur until he finally vanished entirely from the hall. When the last ember of incense extinguished, the paper figure fell to the ground, tipping in Zha Wenbin's direction, landing face down as if offering one last salute.
Zha Wenbin carefully picked up the paper figure, sighed, and gently tossed it into the burning offering pot. Within moments, the figure transformed into wisps of blue smoke. Just as he was preparing to wrap up, a loud banging echoed from the main door. Before he could approach, the door was flung open, revealing a group of villagers with wide eyes peering inside. Director Zhao quickly dashed over, glancing around at Zha Wenbin. "What's going on?" he asked.
Director Zhao remained silent, studying the corners of the room cautiously before saying, "We heard a man's voice weeping from inside. The kid said it was his dad's cry and insisted on coming in. We kept knocking on the door, but there was no response. Fearing something had happened, we began banging on the door. After a while, it wouldn't budge, and when we heard a loud scream from inside, we gave it one final shove, and it opened. Wenbin, are you alright?"
Zha Wenbin glanced at the group panting outside, then at Mr. He, who nodded at him. Zha Wenbin replied, "I'm fine. What you heard earlier was merely an illusion. Don't take it seriously!" He stepped outside, found a large teacup, and downed the contents in one gulp. After wiping his mouth, he noticed someone crouching against the wall. As he approached, he realized it was Director Jin.
Zha Wenbin crouched down, ready to ask a question, when suddenly a strong odor of urine wafted toward him. Director Jin looked up and saw Zha Wenbin emerging. Immediately, he lunged to embrace Zha Wenbin's leg, but Zha Wenbin stepped back, saying, "Village Chief, quickly take Director Jin out to change and clean up. Those who are too tired can head home to rest." Amid the laughter of the villagers, Director Jin, with a forlorn expression, was led back to his house to change into some old clothes. By the time he returned, dawn was approaching.
During this time, Zha Wenbin hadn't let his guard down, remaining by Wang Weiguo's side until the first crow of a rooster marked the breaking dawn. Exhausted, he knew he had no time to rest now; the next event involved cremation. Director Jin had already made arrangements, and the spirit car was waiting at the village entrance, ready to depart.
Two men carried each coffin, chosen because Zha Wenbin had assessed their fortune and found them resilient. They were the only ones capable of lifting a coffin of one who died so violently. Next to each coffin was a bound rooster, and as the front traveler struck a gong, Zha Wenbin shouted, "Lift!"
Eight men hoisted the four coffins, following behind Zha Wenbin, who rang the protective bell and scattered paper money. Every three steps, a person accompanying the coffin would whip the bearer's waist with a willow branch until they reached the waiting spirit cars at the village entrance. Once the coffins were loaded, Zha Wenbin reminded Director Jin and the Village Chief: after arriving at the cremation site, they must not stop; the bodies should be cremated immediately. Director Jin had no choice but to agree, nodding vigorously.
In those days, fifty thousand yuan was a significant sum. To rural families, it was astronomical. Just as everyone thought the matter was resolved, one person objected!
Zha Wenbin spoke up: "Fifty thousand yuan for a life? There's an eight-year-old child left orphaned. How will they survive?"
Director Jin had spent a considerable sum this time, purchasing four high-quality redwood urns. They were brought out sequentially, with the eight-year-old child, tears streaming down his face, carrying his father Wang Weiguo's urn at the front. Following behind were his cousins, holding the remaining three. The scene was heartbreaking, and many in the crowd began to cry as well.
After three firecrackers were set off, Zha Wenbin shook the bell and commanded, "Let's go!" He led the way towards Wang Weiguo's ancestral grave.
The burial site was quite simple. Wang Weiguo was buried alongside his mother, who had passed away many years ago. Wang Weiguo, his wife, and their young daughter were laid to rest slightly lower down the slope. The soil was well-packed, representing an ideal resting place. Zha Wenbin hoped these four could find peace here and enter the afterlife smoothly. After their hard work, it was already noon when the funeral procession descended the mountain and shared one last meal together at the Wang family home.
During the meal, people kept coming over to offer Zha Wenbin drinks, but he politely declined. He had no desire to drink tonight. While others might relax, he had to read the omens for the village and ask the heavens if this poor village could have some peaceful days ahead.
After the meal, Zha Wenbin told the village chief to gather Wang's relatives. He instructed them to demolish the house and burn all the wood. This area could not be used to rebuild houses. After explaining the implications, he also recounted what had happened last night, which many had seen. It was a pity for the child, now left without a home. After discussing the child's future care, a group of laborers began converting Wang Weiguo's ancestral home into ruins. Years later, the adults of Wang Village would not dare let their children play on that plot of land.
In the afternoon, Zha Wenbin, Mr. He, and Director Zhao caught up on sleep, not waking until it was dark. After a simple dinner, Zha Wenbin packed his belongings, said goodbye to Wang Xin's family, and headed to an old locust tree at the village entrance. There, he sat down with Mr. He and Director Zhao, enjoying peanuts and sipping on some liquor, waiting for the moment to come.
People were reminded not to plant locust trees at home, as the character for locust includes one for wood and one for ghost, indicating "hanged ghost." This tree is the most likely to attract evil spirits, being extremely Yin. Yet in the eyes of the Daoists, it is also a perfect conduit for spiritual communication. Zha Wenbin was waiting for the hour of Zi—midnight, the most Yin hour of the day—beneath this tree to channel the power of the Big Dipper and ask the heavens! The breeze by the river made all three slightly tipsy. Director Zhao, feeling the effects of the alcohol, expressed his desire to become a disciple. Zha Wenbin firmly refused, explaining that Director Zhao had a good job and didn't need to endure this hard work. Director Zhao couldn't accept this and had already admired Zha Wenbin to a great extent. If it wasn't for Mr. He stopping him, he would have bowed down several times.
In the end, Zha Wenbin had no choice but to propose a challenge: wait until the hour and see if Director Zhao could sit quietly under this locust tree for half an hour. If he could, he'd be allowed to become a disciple; if he couldn't, then he should forget it. Director Zhao thought it was just a matter of sitting in the shade, and agreed without hesitation.
When the hour of Zi arrived, Zha Wenbin took a look at the constellation overhead and tossed a turtle shell: the result was a hexagram—"Kan below, Zhen above, Thunder and Water Resolution." The hexagram indicated: resolution means dispersing, escaping peril, dissipating evil, and releasing disputes.
When asking about fortune and misfortune, it seemed favorable. This was the first time Zha Wenbin smiled in weeks. Mr. He, seeing the hexagram had been revealed, inquired about the result. Zha Wenbin replied, "No one from Wang Village will die within the next three years!"
Mr. He bowed in gratitude towards Zha Wenbin, who quickly stopped him: "How can I accept such great respect from you, Mr. He? That could shorten your lifespan!"
Mr. He waved his hand: "Zha, Wang Village is my wife's family home. It's unfair to involve you in these dangerous matters. My bow is for the entire village; you truly deserve it!"
Zha Wenbin returned the gesture: "I've been a bother to you the past few days. You've accommodated my needs so well, and I feel ashamed. I'm not well-versed in the Dao and couldn't save your wife; I hope you can forgive me." He bowed again after speaking.
At this point, Mr. He had tears streaming down his face, likely reminded of his late wife. He wiped his tears and asked, "Zha, what are your plans moving forward?"
Zha Wenbin glanced at the stars above: "To the heavens!"
"What a plan! You are devoted to the Dao. If you need assistance, my old bones are at your service. Regarding the 'Wish-Fulfilling Manual,' I'll research it when I return, and if I uncover anything, I will inform you immediately!"
Zha Wenbin thanked Mr. He. Just then, Director Zhao approached, eager to express his desire: "Master, allow me to pay my respect as your disciple!" He started to kneel, but Zha Wenbin quickly stepped back, directing him toward the nearby locust tree: "Go! Mr. He and I will be waiting here for you."
As Director Zhao walked toward the locust tree, he mumbled, "It's just for some shade, is there anything to worry about? With Daoist Zha here, the ghosts won't dare come." He confidently marched under the tree, found a stone, and sat down. In just a few minutes, a breeze blew from the river, and surprisingly, Director Zhao began to feel sleepy. The figures of the two men nearby started to blur, his eyelids grew heavy, and before long, he was fast asleep.
Zha Wenbin monitored Director Zhao intently. Within ten minutes, something changed: Director Zhao's brows furrowed tightly, large beads of sweat began to appear on his forehead, and he kept biting his lips, showing signs of distress.
"What's going on?" Mr. He asked. Zha Wenbin didn't respond, simply gesturing for Mr. He to remain silent and observe.
A couple of minutes passed, and Director Zhao's complexion began to pale, his body trembling. Zha Wenbin shook his head, quickly pulling out a talisman paper and holding it between two fingers. He walked towards the tree, noticing Director Zhao gasping for breath, his neck swelling. Zha Wenbin flicked his fingers, and the talisman ignited. Before the ashes could fall, Director Zhao suddenly opened his eyes: "What happened?"
Zha Wenbin said, "It's nothing to worry about."
Director Zhao wiped his forehead and spread his arms, realizing that on such a pleasant day, he was drenched with sweat. So it had just been a dream. Zha Wenbin asked, "Can you tell me what you saw?"
Director Zhao looked at the sweat on his hands and murmured, "A woman was choking me. I was on the verge of suffocating. Suddenly, I woke up and saw you right next to me."
"Alas, that wasn't just a dream," Zha Wenbin sighed.
"Not a dream? Then…" Director Zhao looked at Zha Wenbin in disbelief.
Zha Wenbin nodded: "That was the spirit of the tree. This tree is filled with heavy Yin energy. It's been here for over a thousand years, drawing moisture from the river, effectively becoming a conduit for spiritual communication. A significant number of evil spirits congregate here. You were sitting precisely on its 'thigh.' If you were a person destined for the Dao, she wouldn't dare to reveal herself. It's evident that you are not destined for this path. You should return to your duties."
After hearing this, Director Zhao suddenly stood up. He understood that Zha Wenbin was telling the truth and realized he had narrowly avoided disaster beneath the tree. He thought he might truly lack a connection to the Dao, but he was unwilling to give up, "What if I followed Daoist Zha without learning the Dao? I could just help carry things."
Zha Wenbin firmly replied: "Director Zhao, don't bring up the pursuit of the Dao; you have no fate with it. Following me will only lead to troubles. As friends, I advise you to focus on your official duties. With your looks, you'll rise through the ranks and achieve great things!" He said this, turning toward the car waiting on the roadside. In the end, Mr. He persuaded Director Zhao to let it go. Years later, Director Zhao became the head of the provincial transportation department, confirming Zha Wenbin's words about his rise to prominence.
Before returning to the provincial capital, Zha Wenbin and the three others first visited Director Jin. When Director Jin saw Zha Wenbin again, he looked as if he were about to cry. He truly feared that this man would cause him more troubles.
The three of them sat down casually on the office sofa. Director Zhao, in particular, was grinning slyly at Director Jin, which made Jin so uncomfortable that he couldn't hold back and finally asked, "Sir, how is the situation at Wang Village?"
Zha Wenbin, nestled in the corner of the sofa, paused his fiddling with the lid of his teacup. "After you get that driver to come out, go to the crossroads where the incident happened on the Night of the Returning Soul. Set up four sets of bowls and chopsticks, prepare some food and wine for a memorial, and put a little more thought into burning the paper." After finishing, he glanced at the distant Falling Phoenix Slope and resumed playing with the teacup.
Director Jin stole a glance in the direction Zha Wenbin was looking and quickly understood. "Sir, is that all we need? We don't have to go back to that ghostly place? I've already bought the sycamore trees from various places. They should arrive in a few days. Do you think they…"
"Are the dead going to come looking for you?" Director Zhao shot a glare at Director Jin, causing Jin to tremble and shake his glasses.
Zha Wenbin pressed his hand down and rolled his eyes at Zhao before saying, "After the memorial, send that car to be scrapped. Don't use it again. Just do some good deeds from now on. You make a living off the dead, so you should accumulate some virtue; it will benefit you. We'll take our leave now." With that, he stood up and prepared to leave.
Hearing this, Director Jin let out a long sigh. Since returning from Wang Village, he hadn't closed his eyes. Every time he closed them, he would see those four coffins and felt that those vengeful spirits would come looking for him. Now he finally felt at ease, so he opened the drawer, looked at Zha Wenbin, and called out, "Sir, please hold on."
As Zha Wenbin had already crossed the threshold, he turned to see Director Jin handing him an envelope. "Sir, not only have you helped me with the feng shui, but you've also resolved this major difficulty. You have saved my life. I have no way to repay you, so please accept this token of my gratitude."
It turned out to be a monetary gift, but Zha Wenbin didn't even glance at it. "If you really want to repay me, take good care of that orphan."
"Of course, of course! I'll take even better care of that child than I would my own. Please don't worry, this is just a small token of my respect. Please accept it, no matter what." He stepped forward, but Zha Wenbin waved his sleeve dismissively and walked away, his voice carrying back, "People are doing their part; Heaven is watching…" leaving Director Jin standing there, stunned with the envelope in hand.
Director Zhao drove the car, and as they arrived in the provincial capital before dark, the three of them went to a restaurant for dinner. Afterward, Zhao took Mr. He home and then bid farewell to him and Zha Wenbin.
Realizing he was back in the once cozy little home alone, Mr. He couldn't help feeling a bit sad as he looked at his wife's framed photo. Zha Wenbin lit a stick of incense for Madam Wang and offered some comforting words, which helped Mr. He stop his grief. Zha Wenbin thought about how he had been living with Mr. He for a while now. Although Mr. He didn't mind, that didn't mean he didn't feel guilty. Not willing to accept money for performing rituals for others, Zha Wenbin began to think he needed to find some work for himself. If nothing else, he could set up a fortune-telling stall in the street to earn a little money for food. After considering this idea, he mentioned it to Mr. He and asked him to take him to the City God Temple the next day.
As soon as he voiced this thought, Mr. He rejected it outright and even became angry. "Wenbin, do you feel uncomfortable staying with me? You've done so much for my family and for Wang Village without asking for a penny in return. What does it matter that you're living here? Besides, I'm lonely at home too. Don't entertain such thoughts. You are truly capable; how could you do something like that? Just stay here and help me study that text; let's not talk about setting up a stall again!"
Zha Wenbin stood up; he was a tall man and had never taken advantage of others. After spending so much time here, he already felt quite guilty. Mr. He's remarks only made him feel more embarrassed, and he began to make excuses to leave. Just then, there was a knock at the door.
When he went to answer, it turned out to be Professor Wang from the archaeological team, holding some preserved food in one hand and a bottle of liquor in the other, smiling brightly at the door. Professor Wang had just returned from an excavation somewhere and hurried over with the food and drink. Without further ado, the three of them started enjoying the preserved food with a few drinks. During the meal, Professor Wang listened to Mr. He recounting the events in Wang Village, particularly those concerning the ghosts. He widened his eyes in astonishment. His admiration for Zha Wenbin grew even more, and he kept raising his glass in salute to Zha, which eased the atmosphere considerably.
When it came up that Zha Wenbin was thinking of going out to read fortunes, Professor Wang opposed it, insisting that a Daoist shouldn't stoop to fortune-telling. They discussed it and came up with an idea: the provincial archaeological team was short of a technical consultant, which simply meant they needed a feng shui master. According to Professor Wang, due to the recent artifact craze, many archaeological sites had been completely robbed, and these grave robbers, known as "earth mice," not only had keen instincts but also understood feng shui, often leaving the archaeological teams with empty graves. Also, strange events often occurred during archaeology; just last time at the General's Temple, they had almost lost their lives. They wanted Zha Wenbin to join the team as a consultant. Firstly, it would provide support, and Zha could find a legitimate line of work; secondly, Mr. He figured that many long-lost items could only be found in the ancient graves, perhaps offering some clues.
Zha Wenbin was concerned that he might cause trouble for the two of them since he lacked both cultural knowledge and archaeological experience. But this job sounded promising. After hesitating for a long time, Mr. He said he would personally accompany Zha to the archaeological team the next day, assuring him that there would be no problem. Zha Wenbin nodded in agreement. Once the three of them felt that the matter was settled, they began to drink without restraint. One knows that a drink among good friends is never too much, and it wasn't long before the two bottles of red sorghum spirit Professor Wang brought were emptied, and they opened another bottle from Mr. He's collection, drinking until midnight when the three of them finally fell into a deep sleep.
In the pitch-black night, Zha Wenbin suddenly heard a voice calling him: "Daddy, Daddy…" He listened closely, "Daddy, Daddy, I'm so scared. Come save me, Daddy…" Squinting into the distance, he saw a grand building resembling a hall and a small pond nearby. The moonlight reflected in the center of the pond, with ripples spreading out, scattering and then gathering the moonlight. It seemed that the source of the ripples was a small hand, shaking restlessly in the water.
Zha Wenbin hurriedly ran towards it. The pond didn't look far, but he rushed for over half an hour. No matter how fast he ran, the pond still seemed distant, as if he could never reach the edge. The calls echoed, drifting closer and further, but still clear and audible. Zha Wenbin shouted at the top of his lungs, "Girl, girl, don't be afraid! Daddy's coming…" After that, he continued to run towards the pond. After another half hour, he still hadn't reached its edge, and by now he was drenched in sweat and gasping for breath. He leaned against his legs to rest for a moment, turning his head to see a white stone monument nearby, broken at one corner. Wasn't that the monument he had seen when he first woke up? Why was it still here? Had he really been running in circles for an hour?
Using the moonlight, Zha Wenbin slowly approached the stone monument. The inscriptions had become blurred and unclear, except for the character - Abyss at the bottom which he could still make out. The words above it were covered with moss. He gradually peeled away the moss, revealing the characters one by one: "Molten Copper Abyss"!
My daughter, how could she be here? As he gazed at the pond not far away, Zha Wenbin ran madly again, and after another hour, when he finally stopped, the stone monument was still there, with fresh marks where the moss had been peeled away. What was going on? My daughter was in Copper Abyss! Copper Abyss was the eighteenth layer of hell! It was the hell that suffered from endless flames! Why was my daughter suffering here? Zha Wenbin had no time to think, nor could he afford to glance back at the stone monument, and he just kept running, relentlessly towards that direction.
"Daddy, Daddy…" The familiar voice echoed in his ears, but Zha Wenbin could no longer run. He collapsed in front of the stone monument. At the moment his eyes closed, he distinctly saw a giant beast leap into the pond from the shore, heading straight for the small hand waving in the water…
Not far away, the beast grasped a little girl in its hands and jumped out of the pond, glancing back at the prostrate Zha Wenbin. It shook its ugly face and seemed to grin wickedly as it headed towards that grand hall.
"No!" A scream startled Mr. He and Professor Wang, who were outside. Zha Wenbin usually woke up at five, so why was it already seven and he hadn't awoken? Mr. He thought he had just drunk too much last night and was struggling to eat plain porridge with Professor Wang, preparing to wake him up shortly. Upon hearing the scream, the two hurried in to see Zha Wenbin lying there, his hands grasping at the air, his brow furrowed and teeth grinding audibly.
Mr. He saw the situation was wrong and immediately shouted, "Oh no, he must be having a nightmare! Professor Wang, pinch his acupressure point!"
"Got it!" Professor Wang responded and reached out to pinch, but before he could get to Zha Wenbin's lips, his hand was suddenly seized by Zha Wenbin. "Professor Wang, what are you doing?" Zha Wenbin had woken up upon seeing the large hand reaching for his face and instinctively grabbed it.
"You scared us! You're awake? What happened, were you having a nightmare?"
Zha Wenbin shook his head. "I'm fine." He didn't say much more and got up to wash up.
Professor Wang wanted to ask further, but Mr. He shook his head to stop him.
Mr. He lived not far from the museum, and after finishing breakfast, they arrived there while chatting and laughing. With Mr. He's introduction, Zha Wenbin's paperwork went smoothly. He was assigned to Professor Wang's team and was officially hired as a technical consultant, starting work the next day. This way, Zha Wenbin had a job, and Professor Wang was quite excited, insisting on taking Zha out for drinks to celebrate. Zha Wenbin couldn't refuse and went along.
During the meal, the talkative Professor Wang had a few drinks and suddenly asked, "Wenbin, how come we've never heard about your family situation?"
Zha Wenbin paused with his cup, glanced out at West Lake, and murmured, "Family? I have only one son left. He's seventeen and still in school."
Everyone noticed Zha Wenbin's unusual expression. Mr. He continued, "Wenbin, has something happened at home?"
As he downed another glass of liquor, squinting in pain, it was unclear whether he hadn't slept well last night or if he was reminded of something sorrowful; Zha Wenbin's eyes were already bloodshot. "My wife left me with a son and a daughter, but I still couldn't take proper care of them. I owe her spirit in heaven an apology!" With that, he took another gulp, and Professor Wang noticed something was off and tried to persuade against more drinking, but Mr. He stopped him with a hand, signaling him to let Zha Wenbin continue.
Zha Wenbin looked outside at the now autumn West Lake and continued, "My wife died during childbirth. Her last wish was for me to take good care of our children. But before the New Year, my daughter drowned in water only knee-deep! It had to make me pay the price! It was her!" With a crack, Zha Wenbin crushed the cup in his hand!
Mr. He stood up and went over to support Zha Wenbin, wanting to check if his hand was hurt, but Zha Wenbin pushed him away. He stood up and shouted, "I never thought that after my daughter's death, she wouldn't find peace. What did I do wrong? What did I do wrong? Why do you have to force me like this? You've already taken my wife away, and now you're tormenting my daughter! Why?" The heart-wrenching shout left the other two staring in bewilderment, unsure of what to do.
Mr. He looked at Professor Wang and quietly asked, "What's going on? Who are they?" Professor Wang shook his head, "I don't know either."
That afternoon, Zha Wenbin got truly wasted for the first time in his life. He needed alcohol's numbing embrace—not just a social buzz, but the kind that makes you forget. Eventually, two colleagues had to haul his limp body to Professor Wang's place to sleep it off. Whether from the excessive drinking or sheer exhaustion, Wenbin remained dead to the world until noon the next day.
Though his business card read "Archaeological Advisor," Wenbin knew jack about archaeology. Still, this official cover gave him the perfect excuse to spend his days with Mr. He poring over those bizarre character rubbings. After drowning in research materials for hours, Mr. He finally cracked two characters from the ancient text: Qingcheng.
"Qingcheng?" Mr. He scratched his chin thoughtfully. "I think it's a location. Does it ring any bells from your Daoist studies?"
Wenbin nodded eagerly. "Qingcheng Mountain—that's gotta be it. Legend has it that Zhang Daoling, the first Celestial Master, stumbled upon it during his travels. The mountain's insane beauty and mystical vibe drew him in. He explored deep into its heart, discovered a sacred grotto, and boom—enlightenment struck. That's literally where the Celestial Master Sect began, which later became part of the Zhengyi tradition. Daoist circles actually call it the Fifth Celestial Grotto!"
Mr. He's eyes lit up. He'd known Qingcheng Mountain was a Daoist hotspot, but this connection to the rubbings could be their first real lead. "It's a tourist trap these days," he mused. "Anyone can buy a ticket and wander around." He leaned forward. "Wenbin, what do you think about a quick trip to Sichuan to check it out?"
Wenbin was all for it—they had nothing else to go on—but his new position with the archaeology team complicated things. He couldn't just disappear.
Just then, Professor Wang burst through the door, practically bouncing with excitement. "Guys, you won't believe this! We just got word from upstairs—they want us to do a nationwide survey on Chinese religious artifacts!" He grinned widely. "Apparently, religious items are trending in the antiques market—ritual tools, statues, ancient texts, temple murals—collectors are going crazy for them. They've asked us to put together a team to survey religious cultural sites across the country." He clapped Wenbin on the shoulder. "Perfect timing having our Daoist expert here! I say we focus on Daoist sites. With you along, Wenbin, even if we don't make any groundbreaking discoveries, at least we'll enjoy some amazing mountain scenery!"
Chinese Words/Phrases in Chapter 9 The Burial
Daoist Practitioners and Sects
- Daoist (道士) - A practitioner of Daoism who performs rituals and cultivates the way
- Celestial Master (天师) - High-ranking Daoist title, historically referring to leaders of specific Daoist lineages
- The Dao (道) - "The Way," the central concept in Daoism representing the natural order of the universe
Divination Tools and Objects
- Qian Kun Bag (乾坤袋) - A special Daoist bag that holds ritual tools and talismans
- Seven Stars Sword (七星剑) - Ritual sword patterned after the Big Dipper constellation, used in exorcisms
- Yin-Yang Mirror (阴阳镜) - A brass mirror engraved with the Eight Trigrams used to trap or repel spirits
- Luopan Compass (罗盘) - Feng shui compass used for geomancy and detecting spiritual energies
- Eight Trigrams (八卦) - Eight symbols representing natural forces used in divination
- Turtle Shell (龟甲) - Ancient divination tool used for casting hexagrams and reading omens
Ritual Practices and Techniques
- Heavenly Eye (天眼) - Technique allowing Daoists to see spirits and other supernatural entities
- Soul-restricting Talisman (束灵符) - Paper charm used to control or contain spirits
- Rebirth Spell (转生咒) - Incantation to guide spirits toward reincarnation
- Long Sleep Lamp (长眠灯) - Special lamp used in funeral rituals to guide spirits
- Yellow Paper (黄纸) - Ritual paper used for making talismans and paper figures
- Protective Bell (避护铃) - Bell rung during rituals to ward off evil spirits
- Seven Stars Pattern (七星步) - Ritual walking pattern based on the Big Dipper constellation
- Immortal Bridge (仙桥) - Ritual structure for spirits to cross over to the afterlife
Cultural and Historical References
- Hour of Zi (子时) - Midnight (11pm-1am), considered the most Yin hour of the day
- Night of the Returning Soul (鬼夜) - Night when spirits return to the world of the living
- Molten Copper Abyss (烊铜渊) - The eighteenth layer of hell characterized by endless flames
- Hexagram "Thunder and Water Resolution" (震上坎下解) - I Ching divination result representing dispersal of danger
- Earth Mice (土老鼠) - Colloquial term for grave robbers
Locations
- Falling Phoenix Slope (落凤坡) - A location mentioned in the story
- City God Temple (城隍廟) - Temple dedicated to the deity who protects a city
- Copper Abyss (烊铜渊) - One of the eighteen layers of hell in Chinese mythology
- General's Temple (将军庙) - Archaeological site mentioned in the story
Character Names and Titles
- Zha Wenbin (查文彬) - The protagonist, a Daoist master
- Mr. He (何老) - An elderly scholar who assists Zha Wenbin
- Director Zhao (赵处长) - Provincial transportation official
- Director Jin (金处长) - County funeral home director
- Wang Weiguo (王卫国) - Villager who died and became a vengeful spirit
- Professor Wang (王教授) - Member of the archaeological team
- Wang Xin (王欣) - A villager who hosted Zha Wenbin
- Madam Wang (王太太) - Mr. He's deceased wife