Chapter 277: Ritual Money, Old Capital (4)
“Grandmaster, I’ve already asked the rescue team members who stayed nearby.”
The Taoist had sprinted all the way there, his cloth shoes barely touching the ground as he sped like the wind. He stopped respectfully in front of Taoist Li and reported, “The person in charge and the others noticed something unusual in the village near Baizhi Lake, so they went there. But now, due to poor signal, they’ve lost all contact.”
Not far away, the rest of the rescue team kept craning their necks, anxiously glancing in their direction. They were desperate for an answer—hoping the person in charge and everyone else were safe.
When Taoist Li looked up, he caught sight of their anxious expressions. But he didn’t offer any words of comfort. Instead, the wrinkles between his brows deepened.
The group led by the official in charge had arrived after Taoist Ma and Taoist Wang. Once they entered the area near Baizhi Lake, they lost contact with the outside world due to the weak signal. Only one Taoist had accompanied them.
So both the person in charge and the remaining rescue team members had limited, outdated information.
In comparison, what Taoist Li and his group knew was already the most complete picture available—both the extent of the evil spirit’s influence and the casualties it had caused.
The person who had handled the Baizhi Lake case back then had been taken over by a special department and granted honors by the government. Their affairs had been properly arranged.
A Taoist sent to investigate confirmed that the handler had died at the hands of a humanoid statue. It was very likely that the culprits were the same humanoid plastic mannequins from the warehouse in Binhai’s outskirts, once involved in a kidnapping case.
From small clues, greater truths could be inferred. This meant that the malevolent spirit behind all this could freely control humanoid objects to attack, or even kill, specific people.
What was even worse was that similar incidents had started surfacing in regions bordering the southwest. People had begun reporting sightings of moving statues.
It was as if exorcists had fallen into a vast ocean. Each time they struck down one evil entity, another wave came crashing in. The unending nature of it had worn them down. If this continued, it would be the exorcists who fell first, leaving the humanoid entities to gain the upper hand—no one would be left to protect ordinary people.
The top priority now was to solve the problem at its source.
After hearing Taoist Li’s divination results, many sects took the initiative to contact the special department and the abbot of Haiyun Temple, expressing their willingness to join the battle. They refused to let evil spirits take advantage and harm civilians.
To show their sincerity, the sects had planned to send their most talented disciples to the southwest.
The first batch of resumes sent to Haiyun Temple’s abbot all belonged to outstanding individuals.
But Taoist Li merely glanced over them, then shook his head—he didn’t accept a single one.
“The southwest is a ghost city, a place of certain death. Now that ghostly forces are rising from it, it’s even more perilous,” Taoist Li said in a calm tone to the abbot over the phone. “Before we even headed to Baizhi Lake, we were already prepared not to return. We came to lay down our lives and guard the ghost city.”
“But there’s no need to let those others come here just to die. They aren’t strong enough—sending more won’t help.”
Taoist Li gave a snort. “If we die here, let those people stay in their sects and pass down the teachings properly. Don’t let future generations grow up without even knowing what our scriptures are.”
“If someone must die in this battle,” Taoist Li continued with an indifferent expression, speaking of life and death with a calm that was almost chilling, “then let it be us old ones. To share in the light and the dust alike—that is to stay true to the Dao.”
“Haiyun Temple has earned the respect of all these years. Now it must do what it ought to.”
His voice was low but rang like a bell: “If the sky falls, I will hold it up!”
The call ended. The abbot remained seated in silence for a long time, dazed.
The phone in his hand rang non-stop. The landline on the desk lit up and then hung up automatically. New messages kept flooding in on the screen, quickly exceeding 99+, nearly freezing the computer.
But the abbot seemed completely unresponsive to it all. His gaze turned stiffly to the screen, but his mind remained blank.
The last time Haiyun Temple was entirely wiped out was a hundred years ago.
Taoists descended the mountain and never returned. Nine out of ten houses were emptied. The legacy nearly died out.
Among Taoist Li’s generation, only he and Master Chengyun had survived.
But Master Chengyun had sacrificed himself for the Dao years ago, dying in the southwest. Now Taoist Li had also headed there, his fate uncertain…
The abbot slowly clenched the phone in his palm, its sharp edges digging painfully into his hand—but he felt nothing.
The southwest hung over his heart like a shadow. Just thinking about it made him feel suffocated.
To handle the crisis in the southwest, Haiyun Temple had suspended nearly all its operations and deployed every Taoist with sufficient strength to the region. Only the young novices remained behind.
Even Taoists who hadn’t yet completed their training were hastily sent to every street and alley of Binhai City to save civilians from evil spirits.
If something truly happened in the southwest, and the Taoists were all lost, then Haiyun Temple’s legacy would once again face total destruction.
The abbot had mentally prepared for this outcome when he first accepted the position years ago. But he never expected this day to truly arrive.
In that moment, he felt utterly lost, a deep sorrow flooding up from within.
It took a long while before he was pulled back to reality by the knock on the door. He mechanically lifted his head.
“Abbot, the matters transferred from the special department are waiting for you to handle.”
The young novice gave a bow, then added brightly, “Also, that university student who took the ebony statue is making a fuss and insists on seeing you.”
“He says we have no right to detain him this long, complains that the temple’s food is awful, and demands we book him a restaurant outside. He wants to go home.”
The ebony statue? Ah… that’s right.
The abbot’s eyes turned slowly, and it took a long time for his mind to catch up and pull his thoughts from the blankness.
If it weren’t for those university students stumbling into the abandoned temple six months ago during their trip and taking the statue that sealed the malevolent spirit, none of this would’ve happened.
The abbot knew it was wrong to think this way, but faced with the possible collapse of Haiyun Temple, he couldn’t help but feel a surge of anger.
He shot up from his seat, finally shaken free from the earlier haze of confusion by his fury, and strode out with determined steps.
His phone kept ringing non-stop. While listening to a young Taoist relaying the words of that young man, he simultaneously responded to interdepartmental calls on the line.
The entire city of Binhai was springing into action.
On this bitterly cold night deep in winter, with the New Year fast approaching, many shopping malls had already been decorated—red lanterns and “Blessing” characters hung high, brimming with festive cheer.
But the distant screams and cries for help made the red light cast on the ground look like fresh blood. The joy vanished, replaced only by an atmosphere of sheer terror.
Yang Binsheng, the head of Binhai’s public safety department, received the news in the dead of night. He immediately sprang from bed, throwing on his clothes as he walked, and rushed out to the convoy waiting for him outside, mobilizing all forces to protect the citizens of Binhai.
The message from Haiyun Temple’s abbot allowed them to quickly identify the most dangerous area—an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city. They immediately dispatched people to assist Taoist Song Yi, who was fighting alone there, and organized emergency evacuations for the surrounding areas.
The crisis had come too suddenly. There wasn’t enough manpower available in such a short time. So Yang Binsheng rolled up his sleeves and joined the front lines himself.
His deputy, concerned about his health—given his age and the risk of fatigue and exposure—tried to stop him. But Yang Binsheng waved him off, solemnly stating that this wasn’t the time to be concerned about personal well-being. Protecting civilians came first.
An emergency public notice was issued, warning that criminals were using humanoid mannequins to smuggle dangerous goods and retaliate against society. Citizens were urged to dispose of any human-shaped figures at home and to securely lock all windows and doors.
In addition, the authorities released contact information for various exorcists.
These famous masters, who were usually difficult to reach, were now dispatched across different districts. Upon receiving a distress call from a certain area, they would immediately rush to provide aid.
Even though the special departments couldn’t reach the official in charge, the abbot of Haiyun Temple, who temporarily took over the role, performed no worse than the official.
In fact, with him directly coordinating with the various sects and masters, things worked even more efficiently than before.
When the abbot explained why Taoist Li had refused to send the sects to the southwest, the gathered masters all fell silent for a long while.
Some older masters vaguely recalled things their elders had once told them when they were young.
Haiyun Temple—whenever chaos arose, they would step forward, never retreating.
And this time was no different.
None of the masters had expected that someone as renowned as Taoist Li truly viewed fame and fortune as nothing, even disregarding life and death.
If he wished, he could be a treasured guest in the homes of the powerful and wealthy, amass great riches, and live in luxury. But he had chosen the hardest path instead.
This was the path of a true cultivator.
The masters were deeply moved by Haiyun Temple’s actions.
In such stark contrast, many of them felt ashamed and began to reflect on how they had been conducting themselves.
When everyone walks in darkness, no one sees it as wrong. It’s only natural to choose the easier path.
But among all the paths, only one was teeming with ghosts, danger, and death at every turn.
Yet that path led to the heavens, watched over by the Great Dao.
Those who walked it seemed to shine with light. And those who had long been lost in darkness suddenly realized how far they had drifted from those people without even knowing it.
All they could do was look up at those resolute figures marching ahead—so elegant, so unyielding, like a pine standing tall enough to support the heavens and earth.
Even those who had previously refused to let their disciples get involved eventually sighed deeply and relented. They instructed all their disciples to contact the special departments and join in this disaster relief effort.
“He said if anyone has to die, let it be just his own people. That old man Li is still as arrogant as ever! Does he think I don’t exist?”
An elder master, upon hearing this message from his disciple, swore aloud, grabbed his peach wood sword, and kicked the door open: “What a joke! I’ve competed with him my whole life. Why should he die before I do? Tell him—don’t even think about it! If someone’s dying, I’ll be the first. I’m winning this round!”
Disciple: “Master, you really don’t need to be this competitive about death…”
Elsewhere, a street-side fortune-teller, long accustomed to setting up a booth to read fortunes, was woken by the cries outside. After learning what was going on, he threw down his bowl, threw on his clothes, and stormed out.
“Is this some kind of exorcist group event? And nobody told us? That’s real shady. I mean, sure, we’ve got no prestigious lineage, but to leave us out of this—really not cool. Hey, disciple! Get up! We’re going!”
The disciple responded, scooping up their usual street tools and trotting after him.
The fortune-teller glanced over and gave him a disgusted kick: “What are you doing with my sunglasses? It’s pitch black out! Planning to pretend to be blind for the ghosts? And the divination sticks? You planning to tell a ghost’s fortune and charge them spirit money or something? Go get my peach wood sword and soul-calming bell! Idiot.”
The disciple, totally baffled from the kick, quickly replied and ran back inside to fetch the right gear.
The fortune-teller chuckled and shook his head, then picked up the phone he hadn’t hung up and brought it to his ear again: “Abbot, I’m just a nobody. Neighbors on the street call me a scammer. But I did study a few days of scripture at Haiyun Temple, and I once swept ashes for the Three Pure Ones…”
“I’m just a petty, insignificant man, but I’m still human. How can I stand by and watch my neighbors suffer?”
The fortune-teller laughed heartily, swept his robe, and stepped out of the house with his head held high: “If, by dawn, you find my corpse in the street, Abbot, remember to take care of my body. And make sure my tombstone says clearly—I was also a disciple of Haiyun Temple.”
The abbot quietly listened to the voice on the other end of the phone. A smile slowly softened his once cold and stern expression.
He gave a gentle nod. “Alright.”
Over the phone, reports of the Binhai situation poured in—brief, fast, and filled with urgency.
Outside the call, behind the door in front of the abbot, came the angry scolding of a young man and his mother.
The mother was furiously questioning why her son had been detained, why they weren’t being allowed to leave. What right did a small Taoist temple like Haiyun Temple have to do this?
The young Taoist guarding the mother and son stared at his nose and focused inward, saying nothing. It was obvious he was already tired and annoyed from explaining the situation repeatedly, and had simply decided to ignore them altogether, pretending to be a wooden dummy.
Just as the abbot opened the door, a pillow thrown in a fit of anger by the young man happened to hit the door—but missed and landed squarely on the abbot’s head.
The young acolytes hadn’t expected such a coincidence. Their eyes widened in shock and worry as they turned to look up at the abbot.
The abbot raised his hand and firmly caught the pillow, not allowing it to touch him in the slightest.
He slowly lifted his head, his gaze calm as he looked at the mother and her son.
Because the whereabouts of the ebony statue had yet to be found, and the young man was not only the only person alive to have seen it with his own eyes but also the sole survivor among those who had entered the abandoned temple, Haiyun Temple decided to temporarily keep the mother and son at the temple in hopes of gathering more clues about the statue.
Besides, considering the situation outside, letting them go would only be putting them in real danger.
No matter what, Haiyun Temple had stood for hundreds of years, and the deity statues enshrined in the main hall had long been imbued with divine power. They carried the might of former celestial deities and were not places where common evil spirits dared to run wild.
In a city like Binhai, where panic gripped the streets, there was no place safer than Haiyun Temple.
The temple was also temporarily serving as a fallback base for exorcists, now open to sheltering both fleeing civilians and those exorcists too gravely injured to continue fighting.
The young acolyte had tried explaining the current situation to the mother and son more than once, but the mother had firmly believed it was all lies meant to deceive them.
She claimed such things couldn’t possibly happen. “How could a statue move?” she said. She had lived for decades and never seen such a thing. In her eyes, the Taoists must be making it all up and using nonexistent threats to trick her.
The young man had grown impatient, fidgeting restlessly and insisting on ordering takeout or playing games. He shouted for the young acolyte to let them go or he’d call the authorities.
When the abbot entered the room, the mother and son had just been enraged by the apprentice’s silent demeanor and were about to get physical.
They hadn’t expected the door to suddenly swing open and the awe-inspiring Taoist they had met that afternoon to be standing there with his head bowed. His robe billowed in the wind that seemed to come from nowhere, rustling loudly.
This was a Taoist who had slain countless ghosts—a man who had truly walked through death and blood.
He had watched his master and fellow disciples die one after another. He had seen Haiyun Temple flourish and then decline, until there was a time when only he, a lone young acolyte, remained to guard the massive temple. The laughter and bustle of the past had vanished, leaving behind only autumn winds and falling leaves, and a boundless, desolate silence.
He had witnessed the grand reopening of the temple gates to receive the remains of fallen Taoists. Every Taoist had bowed their head in solemn silence as they buried the ones they once knew with their own hands.
Some Taoists… had even perished at the hands of malevolent spirits, leaving behind no remains at all.
All they could do was erect a symbolic tombstone to mourn and remember them.
By the time he became the abbot, nearly everyone he had once known was gone. He had personally closed his disciple’s coffin and performed the death rites for him.
With time, he had become increasingly somber and grave, rarely speaking with any lightness.
He stood at the boundary between yin and yang, not allowing evil spirits to harm the living. He made himself a wall, defending the peace and safety of ordinary people with his very being.
Just like every Taoist at Haiyun Temple had done for centuries.
Everyone said that the abbot of Haiyun Temple was a fearsome man who should not be crossed.
But only the abbot knew how much death among his fellow disciples lay buried beneath his maturity and strength.
He knew well that he shouldn’t direct his anger toward ordinary people.
He also knew that even if this young man hadn’t taken the ebony statue, someone else might have, or delays could have worsened the situation—what began as a small affliction could have turned into a grave threat, and when it finally erupted, it would have been even more dangerous than now.
Reason told him it wasn’t the young man’s fault.
He was a Taoist, and it was his duty to protect ordinary people. He needed to analyze the situation calmly and logically, not let emotions take over and lay blame on a young man.
But still…
The abbot closed his eyes and let out a silent sigh. His heart ached with bitterness.
When he opened his eyes again, his face had returned to a calm and unremarkable expression.
“You have dinner, and you have scriptures at hand to pass the time. You even—”
He raised the pillow in his hand and let out a mocking laugh, shaking his head as he said, “You even have pillows and soft bedding to rest on.”
“But the Taoists and exorcists out there—many of them may never live to see tomorrow’s sunrise. They haven’t even had their last warm meal. Their bodies lie exposed to the elements, and they sleep on cold, hard streets.”
His voice wasn’t loud, and his tone was calm, devoid of anger or joy.
But the mother and son still felt a nameless terror creep into their bones. They trembled uncontrollably. The mother instinctively shielded her son behind her, not daring to breathe too loudly, as if afraid the abbot might hurt them.
Gone was the haughty attitude she had shown earlier toward the young acolyte.
“You want to leave?”
The abbot asked softly. “If you hadn’t taken that ebony statue half a year ago… or, if you had just told us the truth when you brought it to Haiyun Temple a few months back, you wouldn’t even have to be here now. You could be home playing your games and entering your so-called competitions.”
“But because of what you did, many people have lost their chance to escape danger. Binhai City and the entire southwest have become a hell filled with evil spirits.”
“Because of your one mistake, tens of thousands now suffer.”
Before speaking, the abbot had already tried to steel himself—telling himself not to get angry.
But when he finally spoke, when he recalled the reports coming in from all directions, the screams and pleas echoing from the streets, the nonstop news of injured and fallen exorcists…
He couldn’t help the surge of fury that rose from his chest.
If this young man had told the truth even once in the past six months—if he had reported what he saw sooner—perhaps none of this would have happened.
The abbot couldn’t understand why the young man felt no reverence toward ghost deities. Why, upon seeing an abandoned temple—with skeletal remains no less—he still dared to walk in, brazenly taking away offerings and sacred objects.
Even if he had just been a little more cautious… Even if he had retained the slightest respect or fear… If he had just reported the anomaly to the exorcists in the southwest instead of playing some stupid courage-testing game…
But it was too late now. No words could change the past.
The abbot even began to wonder if this had all been part of the Great Dao’s plan.
He could not see into the Dao, nor could he be as impartial and merciless as it.
All he wanted was for those he cared about to survive—to not die…
Seeing the abbot fall silent, the mother, who had just been humiliated by his words and was now simmering with anger, raised her voice to argue back: “Taoist, you can’t say things like that. Are you implying that my child wanted to harm those people?”
“He’s just a kid. What could he possibly know? It was all just an accident—why can’t you be more lenient? Say a few words and move on. Why do you keep piling it on? What if you frighten him?”
She protectively pulled her son behind her, lifting her chin stubbornly as she spoke to the abbot. “Even if someone died, what does that have to do with my child? Hasn’t he been sitting right here the whole time? That’s what you call—what is it?—an alibi. If it’s unrelated to him, stop trying to pin the blame on him. That’s defamation. Watch it or I’ll report you.”
“You have that—whatever it is—the Taoist Association, right? I’ll report you for threats and get you kicked out of the Taoist profession.”
She sneered. “My child is so well-behaved and obedient, yet in your mouth, he sounds like some heinous criminal. Whether others live or die, what’s that got to do with us?”
Seeing his mother backing him up, the young man, who had just been cowering under the abbot’s words, straightened up and declared with conviction, “Yeah, it’s their fault they got themselves killed. It has nothing to do with me.”
“Those Taoists or whatever, if they didn’t go, they wouldn’t have died, right? They insisted on going—how is that my fault?”
The young man secretly rolled his eyes. After being stuck in Haiyun Temple all day and missing his gaming tournament, he was stewing in resentment, which made him forget the fear he once felt about the ebony statue and his classmate’s death. Now that some time had passed, so had those emotions.
He muttered under his breath, “Psycho.”
The young acolyte overheard him. Unlike the abbot, he hadn’t cultivated inner peace, and he got angry instantly. Rolling up his sleeves, he charged forward. “What did you say? Say it again if you dare!”
“Do you even know my master is in the Southwest? By tomorrow, I won’t have a master anymore. What right do you have to say something like that?”
His voice trembled, and he stubbornly fought back the tears threatening to fall from his eyes.
The young man, startled, shouted in panic and scrambled to pull out his phone, pointing it at the young acolyte and recording. “Look, a Taoist is hitting people! Is anyone going to do something? Haiyun Temple is beating people up!”
“I’m going to post this video online so everyone can see the real face of Haiyun Temple!”
The young acolyte, enraged, inhaled deeply and charged like a furious little bull.
“So what if I hit you? I’m about to lose my master anyway! What’s the point of being a Taoist anymore? I am hitting you—what are you going to do about it?!”
The young acolyte was young, but not weak.
He spent his days cleaning Haiyun Temple, taking care of odd jobs, training in martial arts and swordsmanship under the Taoist masters, all to prepare for the day he could stand on his own and save lives from ghosts and monsters. Every hardship became part of his strength.
The mother and son screamed as they got into a scuffle with the young acolyte. The scene turned into complete chaos.
The abbot turned a blind eye—pretending to look at the sky, the ground, even his shoes. He kept answering phone calls one after another, too busy to intervene.
—He understood the child’s grief and anger.
He had once been through the same. Watching helplessly as his master and master uncles rushed to their deaths, without even an excuse to hold them back.
To the abbot, this young acolyte was like a younger version of himself, fulfilling the actions he had once suppressed in the name of rationality.
But then a phone call came through, and the words spoken on the other end made the abbot’s relaxed expression turn serious again.
It was an exorcist from the Southwest.
In an urgent voice, the caller pleaded with the abbot to go to Baizhi Lake to support the official in charge and their team.
“The Southwest is already a place of certain death. You really should—”
The abbot furrowed his brows, trying to dissuade him, but was cut off.
“I know!”
The young exorcist choked up. “I know… because that’s where my master died!”
Many years ago, on a certain night, a man in white robes knocked on the door of the home he shared with his master.
Rubbing his sleepy eyes, he had groggily gotten up and saw his master greet the visitor with a warm “Hermit Chengyun,” clearly familiar with him.
That visitor had a gentle smile, looked refined and handsome.
But what he said hit like a thunderclap on a clear day.
‘Old friend, the Ghost Dao is about to awaken. I need your help. If I die in the Southwest, someone must continue guarding the Ghost Dao until heaven and earth find a new hope—or until my disciple grows strong enough to face the grim truth and is guided by the Great Dao to Baizhi Lake to resolve all karma.’
He had warned that the journey would be dangerous and continued, ‘I heard that your sect once helped carry out the Southwest Bone Substitution Technique many years ago, saving the region from ghostly infestations. Now, disaster is looming again—we must suppress the evil spirits once more.’
‘Do you still remember the names of the carpenters who crafted the wooden figurines for the Bone Substitution Technique back then?’
His master was shocked at first but quickly agreed. After a brief word to his young disciple, he hurried out the door with the man in white.
Outside, the white-robed man had turned to the boy, bowed slightly, and said with a soft smile, ‘Years from now, I’ll trouble you to make another trip to Baizhi Lake.’
With that, he turned and left, the hem of his white robe fluttering like a wild crane riding the wind.
That scene stayed with the exorcist for many years.
It was the last time he ever saw his master. From that day on, he never even saw his master’s remains.
“I asked around, and they all said my master’s bones were left behind at the place he guarded—he used his own body as part of the formation to suppress the evil spirits.”
The exorcist’s voice cracked. “It took me a long time to understand. That man, Hermit Chengyun, must have foreseen all this long ago. That’s why he left those words for me.”
“My master must still be at Baizhi Lake! I have to go recover his remains—and then finish what he started.”
The exorcist pleaded, “I don’t care about lineage or tradition. As a disciple, I haven’t even lit a single stick of incense for my master. That’s unfilial beyond belief! Let me go. Otherwise, even if I stay alive, I’ll have a mental block and won’t be able to advance in cultivation. It would be no different from being dead.”
The abbot was taken aback, surprised by the young exorcist’s story.
Just as he was about to agree, he paused, suddenly recalling the abandoned temple.
According to the young man, the corpse in that temple had long since turned to bones, yet it still firmly pinned the ebony statue beneath it.
The young man thought the person had died clinging to money, refusing to let others take the gold and silver.
But the abbot could tell just from the description—what had truly happened was that the exorcist had exhausted all his strength, and with no other choice, had used his own body to guard the formation. He made sure the ebony statue could operate at full power to suppress the evil spirits in Baizhi Lake.
—Those remains, casually tossed aside by the young man, were the very bones someone had searched and yearned for over many years.
Back then… Hermit Chengyun had already foreseen the birth of the Ghost Dao and the calamities to come. He and the exorcist had found the ebony statue together and planned everything, even predicting the turmoil of tonight.
When the abbot realized this, he was shaken.
In that moment, he clearly saw that in the path of cultivation, some people—those dazzlingly talented ones—shone like stars in the sky. They were brilliant, awe-inspiring, and unreachable.
Hermit Chengyun hadn’t just calculated these events. He had glimpsed the Great Dao itself.
And that was why he ultimately died by the karma of the Great Dao.
So the bones in that abandoned temple—they must belong to the missing master of this exorcist.
The young exorcist’s tearful plea moved the abbot. He also understood that since the exorcist’s master had been involved with Baizhi Lake long ago, those arriving only now had no right to stop him.
So, the abbot sighed and gave his consent.
The exorcist cried tears of joy and repeatedly thanked him through sobs.
“But you must understand this.”
Before hanging up, the abbot informed him about the skeletal remains in the temple and warned him sternly, “Your master died in that temple. The evil there is nothing like the ghosts you usually face. That place is where the Ghost Dao is about to be born. It’s extremely dangerous—you could die at Baizhi Lake too. You—”
“That’s exactly what I want.”
The exorcist answered firmly. “Back then, it was my ancestors who helped suppress the ghosts of the Southwest. Now that the disaster has returned, of course I must take up the responsibility.”
“Consider it a post-sale service.”
He scratched his head and grinned sheepishly, unable to stop smiling at the thought of bringing his master’s remains home.
After receiving Taoist Li’s contact from the abbot, the exorcist—already nearby—rushed over without wasting a second.
When a Haiyun Temple Taoist tried to stop him, he cheerfully showed him the authorization the abbot had sent.
The Taoist was surprised, unsure why the abbot would allow someone else to get involved.
But after listening to the exorcist’s story, the Taoist’s expression gradually turned serious and led him to see Taoist Li.
Several Taoists were already sitting cross-legged in front of the shadow puppet museum’s archway, chanting incantations while forming hand seals. The formation had begun to take shape among them.
Considering that two previous search groups had disappeared right at this location, and coupled with the little girl many had just seen, the Taoists quickly confirmed that the missing people were most likely trapped within one of the shadow puppets in the museum.
It was highly likely that Xie Lin’s younger sister, Xie Jiaojiao, was behind it all. Using the Bone Substitution Technique, she had silently and seamlessly swapped those people into the puppet show.
Thus, they formed a formation here in preparation to break the illusion.
Meanwhile, Taoist Li led another group of Taoists toward the abandoned village near Baizhi Lake, aiming to locate the official in charge.
The shadow puppet show originated from the Bai Family Village. That village had once been massacred, and even the officials handling the case had died mysteriously at the hands of malevolent spirits. These clues led Taoist Li to immediately focus on Xie Jiaojiao and the Bai family village.
To untie the bell, one must find the one who tied it.
Since the cause lay there, the solution must lie there too. The method to end all of this undoubtedly existed at that origin.
Just as Taoist Li was preparing to leave, another Taoist rushed over, dragging the exorcist from the Southwest with him and explained everything that had happened.
Taoist Li’s expression grew serious. After a long silence, he sighed in admiration, “It truly is Gou Dan—he even anticipated this.”
The Southwest exorcist: …? Who’s Gou Dan? What does this have to do with what I just said?
Taoist Li, looking proud of his little junior brother, beamed joyfully. The exorcist remained bewildered, while the Taoists who knew the truth simply fell silent.
Even the Taoists focused on maintaining the formation nearly lost their balance and fell over.
One of them glanced at Taoist Li and secretly thought, It’s a good thing Fellow Taoist Yan isn’t here—otherwise, we’d be seeing that blackened expression of his again.
…After all, Hermit Chengyun was a famous figure, renowned far and wide, a traveler with friends all over the world. No one in the Taoist community didn’t know Hermit Chengyun.
But once his name passed through Taoist Li’s mouth, no matter how gifted and extraordinary the man was, he became nothing more than that dirty little “Gou Dan” gnawing on a steamed bun in his memories.
The Taoist didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. But Taoist Li was of the highest seniority, and saying anything would seem inappropriate. All he could do was shake his head and smile, secretly hoping Taoist Li wouldn’t call him “Gou Dan” to Hermit Chengyun’s face.
—Knowing Yan Shixun’s temper, he’d definitely start a shouting match with Taoist Li over it.
The official in charge, who many were worried about, was in a dire state at the moment.
He never imagined that in the place he thought he was hiding, there would also be a wooden puppet lying in wait. Worse still, he hadn’t even noticed until it was too late—and now he had fallen into its hands!
The chilling air closing in made it hard for him to even force a bitter smile.
All he could do was watch helplessly as the wooden puppet approached. He could even see greed glimmering in its wooden eyes.
The Taoist accompanying the official cried out in alarm, immediately pulling out yellow talismans from his robes. As he ran, he flung talismans in every direction, trying to form a defensive formation.
But the Taoist hadn’t expected that in the blink of an eye, the situation around Baizhi Lake had completely transformed.
—The Ghost Dao had descended, replacing the Great Dao.
From that moment on, around Baizhi Lake, ghosts and demons reigned supreme. Living humans became nothing more than prey on the run.
Even though Yan Shixun had, through the ghost play, used Zheng Shumu to kill Xie Jiaojiao, the Ghost Dao that had already been born wouldn’t slow its growth.
Just like the Great Dao, which emerged from the multitude of living beings, it did not obey those beings—it made the most rational judgments to preserve them.
In the same way, the Ghost Dao, born from a gathering of spirits, would’ve been controlled by Xie Jiaojiao if she had lived.
But after her death, the Ghost Dao lost its nourishment. To survive, it could only spread outward as fast as possible, engulfing all living flesh and blood to sustain its growth.
Until one day, the Ghost Dao could truly rival the Great Dao throughout all of heaven and earth—not just within Baizhi Lake or the southwest.
The formless Ghost Dao roared in the darkness, eager to seize dominion over the world.
That will was reflected in every wooden puppet that had been given life.
The ghostly energy had grown so dense that it damaged the yellow talismans in the Taoist’s hands. Before the formation could take shape, the talismans were ignited by the ghostly aura and burst into flames.
How could a single drop of water withstand the ocean?
The Taoist watched it all unfold with wide eyes, filled with dread.
But the official was right in front of him and about to be harmed. The Taoist had no time to think. He let out a fierce shout and charged forward, peach wood sword in hand.
“Begone, evil!”
As he swung the peach wood sword down, the Taoist grabbed the official’s arm and yanked him behind himself.
In a flash, the wooden puppet seemed to break free from some previous restriction. The mouth that once could only make clicking sounds suddenly let out a shrill, piercing wail.
It turned and retaliated, slashing its wooden palm at the nearby Taoist.
With a sickening “Puchi!” sound, flesh was pierced.
The Taoist’s body stiffened violently.
The puppet’s wooden arm had rammed straight through his chest, piercing his lungs.
In that moment, all air seemed to vanish from the world. He opened his mouth like a broken bellows, his vision going black as pain and suffocation overtook him.
“Taoist!”
The official’s eyes widened with rage and fear as he screamed, wanting to save him.
But the Taoist flung out his hand and shouted, “Go!”
“Find Fellow Taoist Yan! The Great Dao has changed—he must know the truth.”
“He is our hope for success.”
The Taoist forced himself to stay calm, gripping tightly the wooden arm that had impaled him, using his own flesh as a cage to trap the puppet.
He said in a low voice to the official, “Take Master Bai, leave the village, and find Fellow Taoist Yan.”
The official looked at the Taoist for a long moment, then turned and led everyone out of the desolate village, gritting his teeth.
The entire abandoned village seemed to come alive from the dead.
In every derelict house, a wooden puppet stirred in the shadows.
Their wooden eyeballs swiveled with unnatural dexterity. Once controlled by Xie Jiaojiao, their freed mouths and eyes now brimmed with greed, no longer seeking escape from hell but drawn instead by the scent of fresh human blood and flesh. They slowly closed in on the official’s group.
Every ghost and demon near Baizhi Lake sensed it clearly—everything had changed.
Yin and yang were inverted. The roles of ghost and human had swapped.
In this world surrounding Baizhi Lake, the Ghost Dao had overtaken the Great Dao.
And here, evil spirits were now the true lords of all things.
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