Chapter 282: Ritual Money, Old Capital (9)
When Taoist Ma cautiously pushed the door open to check outside, Taoist Wang, who had been feeling drowsy from taking turns resting, was immediately jolted awake by the cold wind blowing in.
Not daring to be careless, Taoist Wang gripped his peach wood sword, talisman paper pinched between the fingers of his other hand, and stood firmly in the center of the hall, staring intently at Taoist Ma’s back with a solemn expression.
The rest of the group was also influenced by the serious atmosphere created by the two Taoists.
All conversations ceased. The air grew taut with tension, and no one dared to make a sound. They held their breath and huddled together, silently praying that nothing would happen, that they could just get through the night peacefully and leave safely in the morning.
But what one feared the most, often came anyway.
With a screeching creak of the door hinges, the door slowly swung open.
And when Taoist Ma looked up, he was suddenly met with a stiff human face.
Caught off guard, he jumped in fright, then quickly realized—it wasn’t a living person.
It was a wooden statue.
But the face was so lifelike that at first glance, it could easily be mistaken for a real person. Only the hollow and rigid eyes betrayed a hint of eerie unnaturalness.
The statue stared blankly at Taoist Ma, and seemed to be looking past him into the room. Even the surrounding temperature dropped as cold as an ice cellar, making one involuntarily shiver.
With the help of the faint light, Taoist Ma managed to make out the appearance of the statue.
For some reason, he felt that the face… looked a bit like Taoist Li.
What shocked him even more was that the statue wasn’t dressed in ordinary villager clothing—but in a Taoist robe.
That made it look even more like Taoist Li himself.
But how could that be possible!
Even though Taoist Ma had mentally prepared himself for encountering ghosts and monsters, seeing the person he respected most appear in such a ghastly form still stunned him, throwing his thoughts into chaos.
His hand, which had been gripping the door frame, unconsciously slipped away. His eyes widened as he stared, unable to tell whether what stood before him was Taoist Li or a cursed wooden effigy.
Or perhaps… he himself was the ghost?
In his decades of catching ghosts and exorcising demons, Taoist Ma had faced numerous life-and-death situations and seen terrifying moments few could imagine.
He knew all too well that the malice of an evil spirit went far beyond what ordinary people could comprehend.
A soul that had fallen into evil would lose its sense of right and wrong. The longer it was infected by ghostly energy, the more its original memories and emotions would fade, until it became something even its former self would not recognize.
Evil spirits hated the living and took pleasure in human suffering.
Maybe the spirit knew they were Taoists and disguised Taoist Li and the others as wooden statues, using an illusion to make them think their fellow disciples and masters were evil spirits—tricking them into attacking those they loved and respected?
Or maybe… they themselves were already dead and just didn’t realize it, and in their eyes, the Taoists from Haiyun Temple who had come to exorcise evil looked like monsters?
Countless thoughts crossed Taoist Ma’s mind, tangling into a mess that left him frozen in place, unsure how to react.
Behind him, Taoist Wang noticed his stiff posture. Frowning in alert, he stepped forward briskly. “What is it? What’s outside?”
As he moved, he quickly passed Taoist Ma and saw the wooden statue outside.
His pupils shrank instantly, and he blurted out, “Taoist Li!”
But the moment the words left his mouth, Taoist Wang came to his senses. No matter how human-like this statue appeared, it lacked the dignified aura that Taoist Li always carried.
It was a spirit!
Taoist Wang immediately grabbed Taoist Ma’s arm and flung him back into the room. Then, raising his peach wood sword, he lunged straight at the statue.
“Puchi!” A sound.
The sword pierced the wooden statue’s chest with deadly precision.
Yet Taoist Wang’s face showed no joy—only horror.
He could clearly feel it—the sensation beneath his sword… wasn’t wood. It was soft, like human flesh.
It felt as though he hadn’t stabbed a wooden statue, but a living person.
Initially thinking Taoist Ma had simply been momentarily entranced by the spirit, Taoist Wang suddenly understood why his fellow had frozen earlier.
Because now, he too began to doubt himself.
Am I really fighting an evil spirit? Or am I the one under a spell—tricked into believing that this person is a monster, and attacking… Have I hurt an innocent?
Worse—did I just injure Taoist Li?
Taoist Wang’s heart trembled. In that moment, he could no longer distinguish reality from illusion.
Inside the room, the others only saw the two Taoists standing by the door, motionless for several seconds.
They looked at each other in confusion, having no idea what was happening outside.
But the tense atmosphere in the air made everyone’s nerves stretch tighter and tighter. They suspected that something truly terrifying lurked outside—something even the Taoists struggled to deal with.
Otherwise, why would both Taoists be frozen at the doorway?
Anxiously, everyone shrank back as much as they could, trying to hide behind furniture and walls within the room.
Their hearts pounded like drums, drowning out all other sounds. All they could do was pray desperately in silence.
Sitting on the bed wrapped in her coat, Bai Shuang suddenly sensed something flash by the corner of her eye.
Instinctively, she turned her head. Her gaze followed the faint movement—and outside the broken window, she saw a figure flit past.
But before she could get a good look, the figure had already disappeared beyond the window’s edge.
Bai Shuang gasped and cried out loudly to alert the two Taoists. “Taoists! The courtyard—there’s something in the courtyard! I saw it!”
“It looked like someone just ran past the window!”
That sudden cry was like a blade, slicing through Taoist Ma’s foggy mind. It yanked him out of the mental swamp he had been trapped in. The cold wind hit him head-on, making him shiver—but also bringing him back to his senses.
His eyes sharpened, and gritting his teeth, Taoist Ma charged toward the wooden statue blocking the door.
Whether it was human or evil spirit, he chose—at least for now—to trust his own eyes!
If they had truly hurt the innocent or their loved ones, then let them apologize after all this was over.
The most urgent matter now was protecting the people behind him.
With that thought, Taoist Ma began chanting under his breath, forming hand seals and striking directly at the head of the wooden statue.
He was chanting an incantation to exorcise ghosts. If the thing in front of him really was a ghost, it would be destroyed on the spot. But if it wasn’t, the most it would suffer was a mild concussion—nothing serious.
However, the wooden statue didn’t give Taoist Ma the chance to get close.
The statue, which had been standing silently at the door, suddenly moved. It raised its hand, grabbed the peachwood sword that had been thrust into its chest, and with a forceful grip, snapped it in half. It then held the broken sword tightly and pointed it straight at Taoist Ma.
At the same time, the wooden statue opened its mouth, moving as fluidly as a real person.
A hoarse, grating voice came out of its mouth.
Even though the voice was distorted and rough, Taoist Ma immediately understood what it was saying.
Because the words were none other than the incantation he had just been chanting. Every syllable and phrase came from Haiyun Temple—the exorcism chant he had learned by heart.
It was the Ghost-Slaying Incantation.
This wooden statue was not only unafraid of the peachwood sword, but could wield it effortlessly—and could even recite the Ghost-Slaying Incantation.
These were the very techniques Taoists used to fight ghosts. And now, they were in the hands of a ghost, being used against a Taoist.
How absurd was that?
Taoist Ma reacted on instinct, his muscle memory kicking in as he sidestepped the peachwood sword stabbing toward him. But in his heart, he couldn’t shake off the overwhelming shock.
If someone had told him yesterday that an evil ghost could use a ghost-slaying incantation against a Taoist, he would have thought that person was insane.
But now, the most impossible thing was happening right before his eyes.
Before Taoist Ma could even sort through the chaotic thoughts in his mind, he heard terrified screams from behind.
Taking advantage of his turned body, he glanced back—and saw that the people who had been hiding behind furniture and in the corners were now rushing out in a frenzy, as if trying to get as far away from the furniture as possible.
Taoist Ma was confused.
But soon, as the crowd scattered, they revealed what they had been so desperate to avoid.
It was a person.
No—more accurately, it was another wooden statue.
This statue had equally lifelike facial features and wore a loose garment draped haphazardly over its body. It was slowly crawling out of a wardrobe, having just pushed its door open.
Its face was frozen in a smile—the kind of wide grin that should have looked cheerful. But since its eyes and facial muscles remained completely still, the smile became eerie and terrifying.
As the statue braced itself against the wardrobe and crawled out, someone nearby mustered up the courage to grab whatever was within reach and threw it at the wooden figure.
But the kettles, pots, and bowls made of iron and steel clanged sharply against the statue’s body and failed to stop its advance.
Instead, the statue slowly twisted its neck to look at the person who had attacked it.
That single glance made the previously bold staff member break out in a cold sweat. Instinctively, he stepped back several paces.
Taoist Ma wanted to rush over and deal with that wooden statue, but the one beside him was still attacking, leaving him no room to move.
“Wake up, Taoist Wang!”
Taoist Ma shouted angrily. “I know what you’re hesitating about, but right now—we don’t have time!”
Faced with a dilemma between an uncertain possibility and the crisis before him, Taoist Ma gritted his teeth and chose the present.
Even if everyone here had already died and turned into ghosts without realizing it, protecting the production crew was still his responsibility.
Junior Brother Yan wasn’t here. Only he and Taoist Wang remained. If even one person in the production crew got hurt, he couldn’t face Junior Brother Yan again. He’d be too ashamed to report to the official in charge or see Junior Brother Yan ever again.
Taoist Ma knew he had probably fallen under some kind of illusion, but he made a quick, decisive choice—cutting through the chaos with a sharp blade.
To hesitate in a crisis only made things worse!
Even if it turned out to be the wrong decision, he would accept it. He would bear all the consequences alone.
Taoist Ma let out a loud roar and began chanting the Golden Light Incantation, shielding everyone who stood behind him.
After dodging the wooden statue’s sword, he crouched low and spun in the air, avoiding the peachwood blade entirely, careful not to let it touch him. Then he lunged fiercely at the statue.
Uncertain whether it was human or ghost, Taoist Ma simply abandoned all the usual ghost-fighting techniques. Instead, he used the most primal, direct method: with the full weight of his body, he slammed into the statue, amplifying his strength with momentum gained in mid-air, forcing the statue down beneath him.
The wooden statue’s face, which had shown no emotion up to that point, flickered with a hint of surprise.
And then the world spun upside down.
Taoist Ma tackled the statue to the ground, reached out, and yanked the peachwood sword from its grasp. Then, summoning all his strength, he let out a roar and drove the broken sword straight into the wooden statue pinned beneath him.
That was when Taoist Ma felt the same sensation Taoist Wang had experienced before.
Soft, warm, and pliable—not the cold, hard texture that wood should have.
What lay beneath the peachwood sword wasn’t a wooden statue at all.
It was a living, breathing human body.
Taoist Ma froze.
The wooden statue let out a faint groan of pain, then suddenly began to struggle violently. It flung Taoist Ma aside and staggered out of the courtyard.
He stared blankly at its retreating figure—and at the trail of warm blood it left behind as it ran.
For two full seconds, Taoist Ma sat on the ground in a daze, staring at the bloodstains on the broken end of his peach wood sword, his mind a whirlwind of confusion.
It wasn’t until the others in the room began shouting in alarm that he finally snapped out of his trance, rising like a wandering soul. He turned and rushed back into the room, ready to face the wooden statue that had frightened everyone.
Even though Taoist Ma wanted to chase after the figure to investigate—to see clearly whether it was a wooden statue or a living person—he didn’t dare linger. He was worried it might be a diversion, a trick to draw the enemy away.
Compared to the truth, he was more concerned about the crew who had no means to protect themselves.
When Taoist Ma rushed back inside, he saw that Taoist Wang had already recovered from his earlier daze and was standing in front of everyone, shielding them. He was forcefully dragging the wooden statue out of the wardrobe.
Then, with a loud shout, Taoist Wang picked up a nearby chair and slammed it down on the statue. The blows came fast and hard, like a storm. The onslaught left the statue no chance to resist or fight back.
Before the statue could react, Taoist Wang gripped its joints with bare hands. With a sharp twist and a loud crack, he dislocated all four of its limbs.
The statue collapsed to the floor, motionless.
Its head had been twisted 180 degrees during the struggle, now facing backward. That stiff face still wore a smile—unchanging, unmoved.
It was as if it were mocking everyone’s futile efforts.
Then, the wooden eyeballs began to slowly dim.
With a sharp crack, though no one had struck it again, the statue’s chest suddenly caved in. Then its head, torso, and limbs collapsed one after another…
With a series of crisp snapping sounds, the wooden statue crumbled, as though crushed by a heavy object.
A wave of putrid, bloody stench spilled from the broken body.
Black pus seeped from under the statue, spreading uncontrollably across the floor.
The stench was like a piece of meat left sealed in a box for decades—rotted, fermented, unbearable.
It assaulted everyone’s senses.
They gagged from the smell, quickly raising hands to cover their noses and mouths.
But their eyes burned from the stench, forcing them to blink rapidly. Reflexive tears streamed from the corners of their eyes, helping soothe the irritation just enough to bear it.
Wherever the pus flowed, everyone backed away, afraid it might touch their shoes or pant legs.
Only Taoist Wang remained frozen, staring at the ruined statue in front of him.
That face—still smiling at him.
But more like ridiculing him.
Taoist Wang felt both anger and confusion rise in his chest. A sense of emptiness—something he had never experienced since becoming a Taoist—spread inside him.
On the path of cultivation, Taoist Wang had never wavered.
Taoist Li and Haiyun Temple had always been guiding stars for all disciples of Haiyun Temple.
As long as Taoist Li lived, as long as Haiyun Temple stood firm, no one would lose their way.
The many predecessors who had sacrificed themselves for the Dao had paved the way for future disciples with their corpses.
—To fiercely defend the balance of yin and yang, to protect the peace and happiness of ordinary people.
The Dao of Haiyun Temple existed for the people of the world.
That goal had always stood firm in the distance, allowing Taoist Wang to lift his head at any time and see his path clearly.
And that had been his unwavering belief.
But now, Taoist Wang was lost.
The scene before him shattered everything he had believed. Conflicting thoughts battled in his mind, neither side gaining ground. He no longer knew what was real, nor whether he himself was human or ghost.
And the thing he had just killed… was it truly a ghost? Or a person?
Taoist Wang didn’t even dare consider the possibility that he had died long ago, and everything he thought was protection had actually been harming innocent people—or even his fellow Taoists from Haiyun Temple.
How could he possibly face himself then?
As he stared at the pile of decaying flesh and wood chips, dazed, a hand gently landed on his shoulder.
Taoist Ma sighed and said, “Don’t think too much. In times like this, it’s better to act like a fool.”
“Think about it another way—what if those evil entities want us to doubt ourselves like this?”
Because they had seen so much, the more experienced the Taoists were, the more complex their thoughts became during crises. They tried to weigh every piece of information and choose the most appropriate response.
Just like Yan Shixun—he never trusted what he saw on the surface.
Only after careful, calm observation and deduction would he draw a cautious, deliberate conclusion—and decide how to deal with the ghost before him.
—Send it to the Underworld to be punished and reincarnated.
Or cast it into Hell, to suffer eternal pain and torment in repayment for its sins.
Though Taoist Ma wasn’t exactly like Yan Shixun—he didn’t treat ghosts and humans equally before forming a conclusion—his instinct was always to protect the living.
Still, he had stood alone for decades. His careful thinking and past experience gave him confidence when dealing with the supernatural.
But now, that very experience, which had once made him decisive and effective, had become a shackle—binding his thoughts and leaving him hesitant, torn between choices.
And Taoist Wang was the same.
Having gone through a similar inner struggle, Taoist Ma could understand exactly what Taoist Wang was feeling now.
He sighed, then crouched beside Taoist Wang and carefully examined the rotting corpse.
Gradually, Taoist Ma’s expression turned serious.
He realized there were clear differences between this wooden statue—the one that had attacked from the wardrobe—and the one outside the door.
Most obviously, their clothing and appearance.
Though this statue also wore a Taoist robe, it was draped loosely over its shoulders, lacking the upright and dignified aura of a true Taoist. It looked more like a street punk who had stolen someone’s robe and gone out to play. The oversized robe hung on it like a thug’s costume.
More importantly, the wooden statue outside—whose appearance so closely resembled Taoist Li that it had shaken both Taoists’ minds—was clearly sharper and stronger. After suffering serious injury, it had decisively retreated, leaving a trail of fresh, warm blood.
Just like a recently wounded living person.
But the statue that Taoist Wang had destroyed had turned into a rotting corpse after its “death.”
As if it had already been dead for a long time, hidden inside the wooden shell.
Taoist Ma ignored the overwhelming stench of decaying corpses. Even though his eyes were red and watering from the foul smell, he still carefully examined the rotting body, hoping to find more clues from it.
He had thought things through clearly.
If his speculation was correct—or if both of his seemingly contradictory guesses were somehow true—then the proof would lie in the minute differences between the two wooden statues.
A new theory began to take shape in Taoist Ma’s mind.
Perhaps both they and Taoist Li’s group had been subjected to an illusion at the same time?
And the evil spirit had hidden itself among them, masking its presence and confusing all the Taoists’ perception in order to disrupt the situation, driving them to turn on one another.
These wooden statues dressed like Taoists but concealing decaying corpses within—those were the evil spirits.
And that person just now, whose face looked exactly like Taoist Li’s…
Was likely the real Taoist Li.
At that thought, Taoist Ma’s hand began to tremble involuntarily. A wave of fear swept over him, but he also understood that at the time, he hadn’t had a better choice.
Taoist Ma shared his guess with Taoist Wang, and everyone in the filming crew listened intently. As the chilling truth gradually unfolded, shock swept through the group.
“W-Wait a second,”
Someone, confused by Taoist Ma’s words, hesitantly asked, “So you mean, we’re not just facing evil spirits, but also good people? And the people on the other side have to figure out who’s who—whether we’re the evil spirits or fellow humans?”
Someone else cried out, “Then doesn’t that mean the Taoists on the other side might mistake us for evil spirits and just take us out on the spot?!”
Panic quickly spread among the crowd.
“Are those Taoists really strong? How do they compare to Brother Yan? They really can’t afford to make a mistake!”
“If they misidentify us, wouldn’t we be done for?”
“How did things end up like this?! Aren’t we human? How could we end up lumped in with evil spirits?!”
“I used to never understand Brother Yan. I thought he overthought things and wondered why he didn’t just eliminate the evil spirits outright like other masters… But now, I take back what I said. I sincerely hope all masters would act like Brother Yan—carefully discerning before taking action.”
“Never thought I’d live to feel what it’s like to be mistaken for an evil spirit… what a once-in-a-lifetime experience.”
“Taoist, we’re going to be okay, right?”
“W-Wait, so the one that Taoist injured just now… might’ve been a Taoist from the other side? Oh no… we’re fighting our own people, aren’t we? Damn…”
Nervous emotions rippled through the group, and the only way they could vent their anxiety was through talking to each other.
But the more Taoist Ma listened, the heavier his heart grew.
Their words reminded him of something—why did the evil spirits appear identical to living humans?
If this was just an ordinary malevolent entity, could it really go that far?
Decades ago, an entire Bai family village had been wiped out because of one such spirit. It had taken the sacrifice of an exorcist and the power of the ebony statue, connected to the ghost deity, to suppress it.
Taoist Ma knew very well how fierce that spirit’s backlash had been after the suppression failed.
But to reach this extent—to openly swap identities in front of heaven and earth, first using the shadow puppet ghost play to avoid divine detection, and now going even further to switch the roles of evil spirits and living people…
This clearly meant that the Great Dao was favoring the spirits!
Humans were no longer the primates of all living beings. Ghosts were.
Back when they first arrived at Baizhi Lake, it was still early, so Taoist Ma and his companion had no idea that Taoist Li had already arrived with the others. They also hadn’t heard Taoist Li’s divination.
Yet even without that, the strangeness unfolding before them led Taoist Ma to gradually figure out the truth.
But when he pieced everything together, there was no joy at solving the mystery.
Instead, his heart sank like a stone.
The natural Dao, the power that practitioners used to transcend the bounds of science, was drawn from the myriad sentient beings under the Great Dao. They relied on the Dao’s favor, borrowing strength from all four directions and divine entities.
That was why, after the Dao began to crumble, cultivators were so deeply affected.
They could no longer borrow strength, and their power to suppress evil spirits was naturally weakened.
Even so, back then, though it was difficult, the Taoists could still call upon divine support. The talismans in their hands and the peach wood swords they carried could still intimidate and expel ghosts.
But now…
Evil spirits reigned.
How were the living supposed to survive?
Taoist Ma’s eyes turned icy cold.
He stood up and said to Taoist Wang, “Stay here, I’ll go take a look—I’ll be back soon.” Without delay, he turned and left, heading for the courtyard gate.
If his guess was correct, he had to find a way to pass the message to the other side, to let them know they were not evil spirits, but fellow humans.
They could not fall into the evil spirit’s trap, tearing each other apart and weakening themselves.
Dying for something so meaningless—unacceptable!
Taoist Ma’s eyes were firm as he stepped out of the courtyard.
The deserted village was still the one he remembered.
The abandoned village houses, long without human presence, were covered in dark green moss. The paths had been overtaken by weeds as tall as a person. In the cold and desolate mountain wind, the grass swayed slightly.
It seemed even the wooden statue that had fled earlier had disappeared completely into the overgrowth, leaving no trace behind.
Taoist Ma paused in thought, then took off walking in the direction the grass had swayed.
He noticed that not all the grass was moving—only certain patches swayed from near to far in succession.
It was as if something invisible had passed through the tall grass.
Taoist Ma quickly confirmed his suspicion. Following the swaying path through the grass, he indeed found a wooden statue.
But it wasn’t the one he had previously wounded.
This statue stood quietly under the eaves, half of its body swallowed by darkness. Its head was lowered, obscuring its face from view.
Only the neatly dressed Taoist robes on its thin frame seemed to suggest its identity.
Taoist Ma froze for a moment before realizing that this might be another Taoist he had mistaken for an evil spirit.
He took slow steps forward, signaling that he meant no harm, and softly asked, “Are you from Haiyun Temple…?”
Before Taoist Ma could finish speaking, he saw the wooden statue slowly tilt forward and fall to the ground with a heavy “thud.”
What lay behind it was revealed—
Another wooden statue.
Upon hearing Taoist Ma’s voice, this second statue slowly raised its head to look at him.
In its tightly gripped hand, a peach wood sword was still dripping with blood.
…
“Taoist Li! There are wooden statues with living eyes and mouths all over this village!”
An urgent warning came from not far away.
Taoist Li had just skewered a charging wooden statue with his sword. Before he could even catch his breath, a sense of danger flared, prompting him to turn alertly and glance behind him.
There, hidden in the shadow cast by a wall, stood a wooden statue that had been silently watching him the entire time.
Taoist Li instinctively wanted to rush over and deal with it.
But he hesitated for half a beat—and suddenly felt that the face on the wooden statue looked very familiar.
Wasn’t this… Taoist Ma?
That thought slowed his hand. Blinking in surprise and doubt, he stared at the statue, unsure of what was going on.
Earlier, the southwest exorcist had introduced the concept of living-eyed, living-mouthed wooden puppets. He had mentioned that, for certain powerful ghosts known to exorcists, in order to effectively exorcise them, the exorcists would first research the ghost’s identity and appearance from their life. Then they would carve a wooden statue to match that appearance exactly.
This way, the ghost would be attracted to the familiar-looking statue and possess it—transforming from invisible to tangible, giving the expellers a clear target.
Taoist Li couldn’t help but wonder: Taoist Ma and Taoist Wang had entered Baizhi Lake ahead of them, but had since gone missing without a trace—no signs of life or death.
Could it be possible that they had already perished? That their souls had been captured and used by the Ghost Dao, imprisoned within wooden statues?
Otherwise, why did this statue look exactly like Taoist Ma?
For a moment, Taoist Li didn’t dare make a move.
He quickly made a decision, turned around, and ran outside the abandoned house. In a loud voice, he explained his discovery to the other Taoists.
As soon as he shouted, many Taoists immediately responded.
Following Taoist Li’s initial warning, the Taoists spread out and began searching the entire village.
What they discovered shocked them. In the other houses, they also found many wooden statues.
What’s more, their facial features and daily habits were indistinguishable from those of living humans.
It was as if this village were a settlement for wooden puppet statues—and that their intrusion had disrupted a peaceful existence that was perfectly normal for the statues.
Though the Taoists quickly shook off the illusion and reestablished their defenses, disabling the statues and locking them back in the abandoned houses to prevent further interference, they couldn’t help but feel unsettled by the bizarre sight.
Several Taoists began noticing that many of the statues charging out of the houses looked incredibly familiar.
After thinking carefully, they exclaimed in shock—weren’t these some of the people who had gone missing from the production crew?
Since many crew members neither appeared on camera nor had any contact afterward, the abbot had been worried the Taoists might not recognize them and accidentally harm their own people.
So, before the Taoists had left Haiyun Temple, the abbot had requested a copy of the production team’s personnel list from a special department. It included full profiles and photos of everyone involved in the filming, to help the Taoists identify and rescue them.
Now, that preparation proved useful—
But it also restrained the Taoists’ actions.
They couldn’t tell whether these wooden puppets, who resembled crew members, were real humans or illusions created by evil ghosts to mislead them.
The southwest exorcist watched helplessly as the Taoists, who had originally gained the upper hand, began to falter. Their hesitation made them vulnerable, and many were soon injured as a result.
Anxious beyond belief, he slapped his thigh repeatedly, racking his brain to recall anything useful from the manuals and notes of his sect—desperately searching for something that might help the Taoists.
All of a sudden, inspiration struck like a flash of lightning.
The southwest exorcist shouted, “The ancestral tombs in the village with the surname Bai are all empty! My master once mentioned this—he said those missing corpses were very likely stuffed into those life-sized wooden carvings!”
“Taoist Master, I can’t say for sure about the rest, but if a wooden statue smells rotten, it must be a ghost!”
With that statement from the Southwest exorcist, many possibilities were instantly ruled out for the other Taoist masters.
Even though they couldn’t confirm the true identity of all the wooden effigies, they could at least recognize part of them for what they truly were.
If they could kill one, that was one less ghost. Every ghost slain would tip the scale in their favor.
Just as all the Taoists regained their resolve and launched fierce attacks against the wooden sculptures possessed by evil spirits, one of them, Taoist Li, suddenly paused at the sight of a statue inside one of the houses.
It was a house heavily scorched by fire.
Unlike the other dilapidated and desolate homes, this one was piled high with chests and boxes. Some of the boxes had their lids open, revealing gold, silver, and jewels inside, sparkling brightly even in the darkness.
It looked as if someone had just moved in.
Yet in the living room, four Grand Master’s chairs were arranged neatly in a row.
On the main seat sat a pair of husband-and-wife statues.
The man wore a simple, honest smile and turned his head to gaze at the woman beside him. His eyes were full of warmth and honeyed hope for a beautiful future.
That woman was his wife.
She was carved as being pregnant—her round belly suggested the child would be born any day.
But her expression did not mirror her husband’s joy. There was no gentle smile, no serene contentment—only a face twisted in hideous resentment and hatred.
She held her belly with both hands and stared directly at the fetus within, her mouth stretched open to the limit, as if screaming in hysteria.
Taoist Li could even see her wooden stomach pulsing—rising and falling—as if a real fetus was moving inside.
To the left and right sat another man and a young girl in the remaining Grand Master’s chairs.
The man appeared middle-aged, while the girl was still a child.
They faced each other with tension so sharp it could cut, more like enemies than family.
Beside the little girl stood a tall and elegant male statue. He gazed at her intently, his mature and handsome face filled with concern and reluctant sympathy.
But what truly caught Taoist Li’s attention wasn’t just the eerie statues.
It was… the black mist curling through the air.
The mist was cold and sinister, almost tangible, winding itself around the belly of the female figure, nestling intimately against the unborn child as if unwilling to let go.
The moment Taoist Li stepped into this lavish and unusual home, he sensed that it was different from the others.
Even the air here was thick with ghostly energy.
No… not just ghostly energy.
His expression gradually grew solemn.
Besides ghostly energy, there was another, more righteous force present—something pure, dignified, and reminiscent of the spiritual power of a ghost deity, closely tied to death.
Taoist Li, now over a hundred years old, had lived through the era a century ago, before the Great Dao declined. He had grown up surrounded by ghosts and spirits, and had personally witnessed Yin officials from Fengdu and the underworld. Compared to ordinary exorcists or Taoist priests, his sensitivity to ghostly energy was far more refined.
This current aura made Taoist Li feel as though he had been transported back a hundred years—to the very day he first laid eyes on an Yin official from Fengdu.
The sensation was nearly identical to what the Fengdu Yin official had once evoked in him.
Could it be… that faint trace of ghost deity power embedded in the ghostly energy belonged to Fengdu?
Could Fengdu itself be involved in the birth of the Ghost Dao?
Taoist Li’s heart skipped a beat.
Just then, the previously open front door suddenly slammed shut behind him with a loud bang.
The room was sealed off from the outside world, leaving only Taoist Li inside.
He whipped around and saw the door automatically locking itself.
The lanterns on both sides of the entrance flared to life, their flickering flames casting light over the room—only, the shadows they cast danced like demons baring their fangs and claws.
The black mist grew thicker, so dense that it shrouded nearly the entire room. Aside from a few vague outlines, nothing could be seen clearly anymore.
When Taoist Li calmly turned back around, he found the pregnant female statue—once seated on the main chair—now standing directly behind him.
Her lifeless, sunken eyes were locked on his face, the space between them no more than a few centimeters.
Had he made any sudden move out of panic just now, he would have collided with her.
Yet Taoist Li’s heart didn’t stir in the slightest.
He stood tall and straight, his hair and beard white as snow, gently swaying in the breeze stirred by the black mist.
He calmly clasped his hands behind his back and looked at the woman’s stomach.
There, the belly thrashed violently, as if the unborn child within couldn’t wait any longer to tear through its mother’s womb and burst forth.
Taoist Li recalled the prophecy he had once divined.
The Ghost Dao would be born.
Could it be… the fetus growing inside was the very incarnation of the Ghost Dao?
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