Volume Two: A Time of Turmoil Twists and Turns Chapter Eighty-Nine: The Art of the Immortal Spirit, Souls Amidst the Mountains

Chen San was still utterly confused, not understanding a thing, until lunchtime, when he finally realized that the moment Yang Chengzi struck the black tile, he had already determined whether the child's soul was present or not.

This revelation infuriated Chen San. Couldn't he have just said so when he finished? Wouldn't it have been nicer to chat with the two girls instead? So much time wasted watching him perform rituals that, in the end, had nothing to do with him.

Chen San glared at Yang Chengzi with undisguised annoyance, grumbling ceaselessly. Yang Chengzi ignored him and didn't speak to Chang Yu either, but ate his meal deep in thought.

He recalled the night the soul-chime rang, the sounds of galloping horses and running feet—could these events be connected to the child?

He realized he couldn't leave now. If the matter wasn't settled, he'd always feel indebted to that child. Besides, just running away wasn't an option; if, after finding Master Du E, he had to return this way and learned more people had died, how could he ever free himself from such karma?

Yang Chengzi finished his meal with a troubled expression. Chang Yu and Chen Xin, having heard about the child from Chen San, were both horrified and sorrowful.

After pondering for a long while, Yang Chengzi decided to voice what was on his mind.

"This matter has fallen into our laps, and I don't know what to do. If we intervene, we might be stuck here longer, and the longer the phantasmal demon remains in Chen San's body, the greater the danger; if we don't intervene, as a Daoist, I'd be failing my duty. What do you all think?"

For a moment, everyone was at a loss for words. Chen Xin glanced at Chen San, then turned to Yang Chengzi, saying, "This child is truly pitiable, but such things can't be allowed to happen again. If this village ends up like Chen Family Town, how would that be any different from the work of a phantasmal demon?"

Chang Yu nodded in agreement. She had been to both Chen Family Town and Jingyao Village; the terrifying scenes there were still vivid in her mind.

"Yes, let's stay," she said.

Yang Chengzi turned to Chen San to ask his opinion.

The flower on Chen San's forehead was strikingly obvious. He lounged about, fiddling with his teacup, and when he noticed Yang Chengzi looking at him, he grinned foolishly and said, "I'm fine. Let's stay."

Though his words were light, Yang Chengzi saw not a hint of hesitation in his eyes. Now that they'd collectively decided to stay or go together, Yang Chengzi no longer hesitated.

"Alright, I'll finish the remaining rituals. We'll stay and resolve this matter before we leave."

With a resolute gaze, Yang Chengzi walked out. Chen San drank a few sips of tea and hurried after him, though he didn't follow Yang Chengzi directly, but rather wandered about the village.

He returned near dinnertime, reeking of pipe smoke. When he arrived, Yang Chengzi and the two young women were already eating.

Chen San looked at them in frustration. "You all started eating without me? Didn't think to call me?"

Chen Xin's eyes curved with laughter. "You never said where you were going. How were we supposed to find you? Besides, you came back on your own, didn't you? Come on, eat—your food’s ready."

Seeing Chen Xin's radiant smile, Chen San forgot all his grievances and sat down, grinning, to dig into the food.

Chang Yu asked what he'd been up to all afternoon. Only then did he remember and put down his chopsticks.

"Right, right! Do you know what I was doing this whole afternoon?"

Yang Chengzi frowned. "Chatting idly with the old men in the village?"

Chen San looked at him in astonishment, clasping his hands in admiration. "Master Yang, you must teach me some of your skills when you have the time. Your ability to read faces is unmatched!"

Chen Xin shook her head. "You reek of pipe smoke; anyone could guess it. No need for face-reading."

Chang Yu was becoming impatient. "Get to the point. Judging by your expression, did you discover something?"

Chen San, who had hoped to show off, was left embarrassed when they guessed correctly.

"Fine, fine. I spent the whole afternoon talking to over a dozen old men about the village. Guess what I found?"

Yang Chengzi slapped him on the shoulder. "I've still got rituals to perform. Hurry up—stop keeping us in suspense."

"Someone dies in this village every year."

As soon as Chen San uttered the words, Chang Yu and Chen Xin stood to clear the dishes, and Yang Chengzi rose to head outside.

Chen San panicked. "Wait, wait! Sit down and let me finish. Honestly, why are you clearing the dishes already?"

Chen Xin wasn't about to indulge him. "If you keep talking nonsense, we won't listen."

"Children—a child dies every year, around this same time." At these words, Yang Chengzi sensed something was wrong, and Chang Yu and Chen Xin fell silent.

"Of the dozen old men I questioned, four or five have lost children. Some remember it happened on the day of White Dew; others can't recall the exact date, but it was around this time. Think—when did that family's child die?"

Yang Chengzi calculated with his fingers, his surprise evident.

"White Dew? That day was White Dew, too."

Chen San nodded repeatedly. "Exactly. Though a few old men couldn't remember the date, I bet it was White Dew as well. In other words, every year on the day of White Dew, a child dies in this village."

Chen Xin and Chang Yu were stunned; Yang Chengzi frowned deeply, unable to fathom why White Dew—a perfectly ordinary seasonal node—could be linked to the deaths of children.

"Are all these children the same age?"

"No, some just a few months old, others up to ten or so. There are over a hundred households here. I only spoke with about a dozen old men, and nearly half had lost children. This is no ordinary matter!"

Chen Xin was baffled. "Isn't White Dew just a regular seasonal change? It's the same everywhere. Why would it be fatal here?"

"Exactly! I've never read anything about White Dew being special. It's just when the weather cools down—that's hardly cause for death," Chang Yu chimed in.

Yang Chengzi stared at his teacup, at a loss.

"What else did they say? How did these children die?"

"Some, like in Chen Family Town, died in their sleep. Some went to bed and were found dead in the well the next morning."

"Didn't the villagers seek help?"

"They did, but no one found anything. They spent a lot of money, but to no avail, so eventually they stopped trying."

After Chen San's inquiries, the matter became clearer. Though they didn't know much, this was no coincidence—something or someone was clearly behind it.

But for now, they were all at a loss. If even Yang Chengzi couldn't see through it, Chen San and the others stood even less chance. Yang Chengzi pondered.

"According to what you've found, Chen San, we do have a way forward. I'll go perform the rituals; I shouldn't be long—just over an hour. You prepare pen, ink, paper, and two bowls of raw rice, and wait for me."

Seeing that Yang Chengzi might have a solution, Chen San's eyes lit up.

"What are you planning? Tell us."

Yang Chengzi waved him off. "Heaven's secrets cannot be revealed. Just get what I asked for and wait. Remember, raw rice—don't cook it."

Chen San, disappointed by Yang Chengzi's secrecy, had no choice but to comply, and followed him out.

Yang Chengzi headed to the child's house, while Chen San went to the village chief’s to gather paper, ink, and two large bowls of raw rice. He returned, and the three of them lit two oil lamps and sat at the table, glancing at each other as they waited for Yang Chengzi to finish his ritual.

After more than an hour, Yang Chengzi finally returned, looking weary, but Chen San didn't let him rest—he quickly pulled him to the table, handed him a brush, and pointed at the paper, indicating it was time to begin.

Yang Chengzi shook his head and put down the brush.

"What's the rush? Let me have some water first. Besides, I'm not the one writing—Chang Yu will be."

Chang Yu stared wide-eyed at Yang Chengzi. "Why me?"

Yang Chengzi sipped his tea. "The other two are illiterate. If I perform the ritual, only you can write."

Chang Yu looked at Chen San and Chen Xin. They awkwardly met her gaze—it was true, they couldn't read or write; only Chang Yu, who'd learned from a village teacher, was literate.

Chang Yu asked Chen San to grind the ink, and Yang Chengzi placed Chen Xin beside Chen San, leaving the bench opposite Chang Yu empty.

He spread the two bowls of rice on the part of the table in front of the empty bench, so that half the table was covered with white paper, and half with raw rice. Once everything was ready, they prepared to begin.

Yang Chengzi rubbed his eyes. "In a moment, whatever I ask, you write down. Whatever answer the rice gives, write it beneath my question."

Chen San was bewildered, so Yang Chengzi explained, seeing his confusion.

"In a moment, characters will appear on the rice. You just write them down as they appear."

Chang Yu nodded, still somewhat confused, but she understood that all she needed to do was transcribe the questions and answers.

Yang Chengzi took a plain yellow talisman from his pocket, held it between two fingers, and began to chant. Chen San couldn't make out what he was saying. Soon, Yang Chengzi stamped his right foot, and the talisman burst into flame.

A stream of spiritual energy rose from the ground—a green, glowing mass like a basket of vegetables—hovering over the bench. Sensing the energy, Yang Chengzi began to ask:

"Are you the mountain spirit of Fengming Mountain?"

As soon as he finished, a clear "Yes" appeared in the rice. Chang Yu, astonished, forgot to write it down.

"Was the child who died these past days killed by a ghost?" Another "Yes" appeared.

Noticing Chang Yu unmoving, Chen Xin nudged her, and she quickly began recording.

"Is this ghost still on the mountain?" The word "Present" appeared.

"Is it one ghost, or a group?" The answer, "Many," showed up.

Yang Chengzi felt he understood—they were the ghosts from that night.

"Why did they kill this child?" The words "Cursed spell" appeared; Yang Chengzi frowned, puzzled.

"Was it someone who cursed them to kill?" Again, "Yes" appeared.

"Why only kill one child?" The words "White Dew" appeared, but the group didn't understand the implication.

"Does a child die every year on White Dew?" "Yes" again.

"Who cast the spell?" The answer: "Evil sorcerer."

Yang Chengzi frowned. Why would an evil sorcerer cast a spell to have them kill a child every year?

He continued: "Why does the evil sorcerer want a child killed every year?"

This time, the rice simply smoothed itself out, no characters appearing—this was something the mountain spirit didn't know.

Chen San couldn't hold back. "Is the evil sorcerer still here?" The answer: "Gone."

Yang Chengzi pressed on: "Who were these ghosts in life?" The word "Soldiers" appeared.

"Who killed them?" Again, "Evil sorcerer."

Yang Chengzi was shocked. The evil sorcerer killed these soldiers, then cast a spell?

"Did the evil sorcerer kill them on the night of White Dew?" "Yes."

"Were these soldiers stationed here before?" "Yes."

"Why did the evil sorcerer kill the soldiers?" The answer: "Child."

Seeing the word "Child," Yang Chengzi felt they were close to the truth.

"The evil sorcerer killed the soldiers for a child, then cast the spell?" "Yes."

Yang Chengzi now had the gist, but still felt something was missing.

At this point, Chen Xin asked, "Were these soldiers trying to kill the evil sorcerer and the child?"

Yang Chengzi looked at her, puzzled as to why she would ask this, but the rice displayed another "Yes."

He was momentarily stunned—Chen Xin had guessed at the truth. He was about to ask her to continue when the spiritual energy dissipated.

Chen San, still fascinated, wanted Yang Chengzi to summon it again, but Yang Chengzi shook his head.

"That was the mountain spirit's energy; it gathers only once every ten years. Summoning it again would mean waiting another ten years."

Chen San was astonished. "But we didn't even get all the answers—wasn't that a waste?"

Yang Chengzi examined Chang Yu’s notes. "Not necessarily. Let’s study these questions and answers—we may be able to figure it out."

"Yes, we've already learned so much. Perhaps we can piece together the entire story from these answers," said Chang Yu excitedly.

Chen San came to his senses. "So what did it say? Read it out—I can't read, remember."

Chang Yu recounted the questions and answers one by one. Chen Xin, bright as ever, immediately grasped the situation. She had already guessed much of it, and with Chang Yu’s account, she was able to connect the dots.

"According to what Sister Chang Yu said, here's what I think happened: Before Fengxi Village existed, soldiers were stationed here. They were ordered to kill the evil sorcerer and the child with him. At midnight on White Dew, the sorcerer and the child appeared, but instead the evil sorcerer killed all the soldiers and cast a spell on them. Now, their ghosts haunt this mountain, and because of the curse, they kill a village child every White Dew, likely mistaking the village children for the one who was with the evil sorcerer."

Yang Chengzi nodded repeatedly. "You're far cleverer than Chen San. According to your theory, why did the soldiers want to kill the sorcerer and the child?" Chen San pouted in protest.

"That’s hard to say. Soldiers obey their generals. Maybe their superiors ordered the child’s death, or perhaps they were just passing through."

"If we want to know why these ghosts only kill one child a year, we’ll have to go up the mountain and find them. Maybe, as Chen Xin said, they mistake the village children for the one who accompanied the evil sorcerer."

Chen San stroked his chin. "Is there really such a curse? To prevent ghosts from reincarnating, making them repeat their actions and kill a child every White Dew?"

"Such spells would not exist among the righteous Daoist sects, but among evil sorcerers, anything is possible. Their magic often defies the natural order."

"To know the truth, we’ll have to go up the mountain tonight. But I think Chen Xin is right—the child’s fate was so weak that it’s a miracle he lived this long. If they look for a new child every year, eventually it would have been his turn."

Chen San glared. "When you said 'we,' who exactly did you mean?"

Yang Chengzi smiled. "You think it’s just me and Chen Xin going up there? Could you act any more cowardly?"

Chang Yu and Chen Xin giggled, covering their mouths. Chen San’s face twitched with embarrassment as he swallowed hard.

"A whole crowd of ghosts—why don’t you go by yourself?"

Yang Chengzi shook his head. "I need you to see things for me. My spirit eyes can’t pierce it, and forcing them open would shorten my lifespan. You just need to look for me."

Before their ascent, Chen San grumbled in the house, clearly unwilling—but no one paid him any mind. Yang Chengzi lay down to rest, telling Chang Yu to wake him in an hour. Chang Yu and Chen Xin were deep in whispered conversation, leaving Chen San sulking until he too dozed off.

When the time came, Chang Yu woke Yang Chengzi, who smiled gently at her, then glanced at Chen San, still fast asleep, and shook his head. He slapped Chen San on the thigh.

Chen San woke instantly, rubbing his thigh, and slapped Yang Chengzi on the back.

"Why’d you hit me?"

"There was a mosquito—I got it for you. No need to thank me." The two grumbled as they got up.

Fengxi Village lay at the foot of Fengming Mountain. There were many paths up, but Yang Chengzi chose the easiest.

Halfway up, Chen San asked, "This mountain’s huge. How will you find them?"

"If you were lying in ambush to kill a passerby, where would you wait?"

"Where I could see below and descend quickly!"

"Exactly. The cliff edge overlooks the trail. We’ll search along the cliffs—they’ll never be far from there."

Chen San rolled his eyes. "I thought you’d use some Daoist magic—turns out we’re just groping in the dark."

"Tracking talismans don’t work well in the mountains, and I’m out of yellow paper. We’ll have to buy some in town. Using your brain isn’t so bad, is it? Or do you only use it to find a wife?"

They bickered as they climbed. The mountain wasn’t high; after about a mile they reached the summit.

From the peak, the rolling hills looked just like a mother hen. Where they stood was the highest point—the hen's tail.

Once atop, the two fell silent. Chen San glanced about while Yang Chengzi focused his senses. Heading south, it wasn’t long before Yang Chengzi detected ghostly energy—no vengeful aura, just pure ghostly presence.

"They’re close. Be careful!"

At his words, Chen San froze, looking around in alarm.

Darkness surrounded them; without a torch, they could barely see by moonlight. Knowing there was not just one ghost, but many, Chen San’s nerves were stretched taut.

He saw nothing, but clung to Yang Chengzi as they proceeded. Suddenly, Yang Chengzi halted, and Chen San felt a wave of dread. Blocked by Yang Chengzi, he craned his neck for a look—and was stunned.

A dense gathering of ghosts, armed with swords and spears, clad in armor, sat in ranks. Three who seemed to be officers sat on stones, talking, with dozens of spear-bearing ghosts standing guard nearby. A few ghosts crouched at the cliff’s edge, peering down.

Not far off, others sat in a circle as if around a fire. There were not only human souls, but horses too—three ghostly steeds, bound by the same curse, unable to reincarnate.