The old Daoist priest was already at the end of his oil and withered lamp, with little time left to live!
—This was Mo Chuan's first impression after occupying the old Daoist priest's body.
Within this shell, he could not sense even a trace of vital essence.
That dried-up husk could not nourish his soul. It was even devouring his essence, like a parched riverbed unable to hold even the slightest rain from heaven.
Only a deluge could restore it with a little moisture.
Even if Mo Chuan received several streams of incense offerings, he still could not nourish this body that was about to enter the grave.
Fortunately, the path of incense offerings was like sweet spring water from snowy mountains: its strength lay in its steady, unbroken flow, and all things could yet be hoped for.
"I can still hold on for a few days. I'll possess this body for now and see what happens!"
Mo Chuan pondered inwardly.
It was quite a stroke of luck, really.
Having realized that he had transmigrated bodily, he had been considering how to reshape his fleshly body. Unexpectedly, today he had run into a shell.
It could count as practice in advance.
Come to think of it, this dying body was actually rather suitable.
If its blood and vitality were too strong, they could easily harm his soul-body.
If it were a sickly body, possessing it would be tantamount to harming a person's soul, which would ultimately offend the harmony of Heaven.
"Rumble—"
After the lightning flashed, thunder rolled outside, and rain poured down in torrents.
"Is anyone there? We were passing through this place when sudden mountain rain struck. Might we borrow this precious place to shelter from the rain for a while?"
At that moment, an inquiring voice sounded from outside.
Mo Chuan was just about to reply when "Bang!" A rough crash against the door rang out.
Amid the rush of damp air, someone had already barged in.
Mo Chuan looked over. Perhaps because they were backlit, and because Old Daoist Priest Yanzhen's eyes were dim with age, he could not make out the visitors at all.
"This is just an abandoned temple, Brother Pan. Hurry in, hurry in!"
"If it is an abandoned temple, why does it still have a door?" Brother Pan's voice was hesitant.
"Come in first! Look at you, you are about to be drenched like a drowned rat."
As they spoke, hurried footsteps flooded in.
Counting carefully, there were six figures in all, four men and two women, cramming the thatched hut to the brim.
"It really is a temple! Who is this deity statue?"
"Shh. Do not speak lightly of gods and ghosts."
"Eh, there are even incense offerings here!"
"There is someone over there!"
After entering, the group chattered all at once. As they surveyed their surroundings, they finally noticed Mo Chuan lying on the straw couch.
"I am Pan Xingsi, a xiucai scholar of Qingshui County. Today, I was touring Huayin Mountain with friends, but the mountain rain came suddenly. We rushed in to take shelter and accidentally intruded upon this place. I hope the Daoist priest will forgive us!"
One of them came closer and clasped his hands in salute. Judging by his voice, he was the one who had first asked for permission outside.
Mo Chuan rolled his throat and waved a hand.
"This humble hut is simple. Make yourselves at home. This poor Daoist is unwell, so I will not be able to attend to you."
Pan Xingsi cupped his hands. "Thank you for your understanding, Daoist priest!"
While the two spoke, the others had already begun brushing rainwater from themselves without ceremony.
Several of them even ordered their servants to light a fire and dry their clothes.
Mo Chuan lay on the straw couch, peering through his blurred vision for a long while before finally discerning the situation.
Among the four men and two women, two were servants.
Of the remaining two men, Young Master Qiao was clearly the leader. The two women were also female relatives of the Qiao family, though distant ones.
Pan Xingsi, who had remained unfailingly polite, had likely only earned the right to accompany them because of his xiucai title.
"Daoist priest, please have some tea!"
Not long after, Pan Xingsi brought over a cup of tea. Young Master Qiao had ordered a servant to brew it fresh.
They had originally intended to drink tea and compose poems while enjoying the mountains and waters, indulging their refined tastes.
Now, however, it could only be boiled to ward off the cold.
"You are too courteous."
Mo Chuan sat up and accepted it readily.
This body of his needed energy replenishment, whether food or tea.
"I see that your temple's history must be quite ancient. Are you cultivating in seclusion here, Daoist priest?"
"I am merely scratching out a living in these barren mountains!"
"So you are hiding from the court's taxes and corvée labor!"
Young Master Qiao said this from not far away. Clearly, he had been straining his ears to eavesdrop all along.
"If you are hiding from taxes and corvée labor, why build a deity statue?" The female relative beside him looked utterly puzzled.
"Daoists are exempt from taxes. Would he not need to build a deity statue to make the act look more convincing? Look at that statue. It is built in such a grotesque, misshapen way—what part of it resembles an immortal?"
Young Master Qiao pointed at the deity statue with a smug expression, congratulating himself on seeing through the old Daoist priest's little scheme.
Mo Chuan glanced at the clay deity statue in the main hall of the hut and thought, There are foul-mouthed, punchable fools everywhere indeed.
"Young Master Qiao, that is mistaken! The court's heavenly might is vast, and its calculations leave nothing out. How could it possibly tolerate such a situation? As far as I know, only those holding ordination certificates issued by the court are disciples of orthodox Daoist sects. Daoist priest, am I correct?" Pan Xingsi said.
"More or less," Mo Chuan replied.
"May I ask whether you have an ordination certificate, Daoist priest?" Young Master Qiao stood up.
Mo Chuan froze, finally coming to his senses. Inwardly, he sighed that he had underestimated the wisdom of the ancients.
So one was playing the good cop while the other played the bad cop, testing his identity?
Fair enough. In this wilderness, who would dare live alone?
"Hee hee hee..."
Abruptly, a burst of giggling sounded outside the thatched hut. The voice was shrill as a fox's cry, making one's scalp prickle.
"A scholar's mind is truly filthy. Borrowing his hut to shelter from the rain and not knowing gratitude would have been bad enough, yet you return kindness with resentment and suspect the master of the house? Utterly vile! Old bastard, why are you not making your move?"
When the laughter faded, a chilling voice urged them on.
In an instant, the entire room fell silent.
Pan Xingsi and Young Master Qiao looked at each other, their faces filled with horror.
Ever since the Magistrate of Qingshui County had been beheaded and died, their elders had sent them to a rural estate to avoid calamity.
Today, they had set out on a whim, intending to find a scenic spot at the edge of the barren mountains to compose poems and match couplets.
Who could have expected that after walking only a short distance, they would become lost?
They had wandered in circles until arriving here.
Then the mountain rain had come suddenly, and a thatched hut had appeared right ahead of them. How could that not make them suspicious?
Yet what they feared had truly come to pass?
Mo Chuan was likewise filled with astonishment.
What was going on?
Could it be that this old Daoist priest had colluded with mountain monsters in the wilderness, conducting business with no capital required?
"Hee hee hee... Such tender, delicate two-legged sheep. Old bastard, if you will not enjoy them, then I shall eat them."
As everyone wavered in uncertainty, layers upon layers of strange laughter suddenly rang out inside the thatched hut!
Pan Xingsi and the others were so frightened that they immediately huddled together. The two female relatives turned pale as paper and cried out sharply:
"Run! Run!"
Amid the screams, one of the female relatives had already fled out in blind panic.
"Do not go! If the bandits are waiting by the door, would we not be walking straight into the net?" Pan Xingsi hurriedly tried to stop her.
But he was too late.
The moment the woman rushed out of the thatched hut, she let out a scream.
The overwhelming downpour hung like curtains, obscuring the scene of slaughter. Only the spine-chilling crunching and chewing remained.
"Mm—"
The remaining female relative covered her mouth in terror.
"This—" "Qiao Shu!"
Pan Xingsi and Young Master Qiao were both aghast, all traces of their former elegant composure gone.
Mo Chuan's heart sank as well.
The chewing sounds meant this was not a vengeful ghost at work, but a monster that devoured people. That was no good news for him.
Fu Luan's old Daoist priest had said that at the same level of cultivation, monsters were stronger than ghosts.
The reason was simple: monsters were all things between Heaven and Earth that had gained spirit and become strange beings. They possessed fleshly bodies by nature; gathered, they took form, and scattered, they became vapor.
After death, they could even switch to cultivating the Ghost Path.
When ghosts harmed people, they mostly muddled their minds or possessed their bodies to work their methods.
That trick was not so effective against monsters, unless one had cultivated for sixty years and could condense a solid body.
In other words, Mo Chuan's strongest method—the Headless Ghost—would likely be unable to deal with this man-eating monster.
"Hee hee... The taste of this tender flesh is truly not bad! Old bastard, if you do not act now, do not blame me afterward for not saving any for you!"
Laughter came again from beyond the door.
It frightened everyone in the room until their faces grew even paler, and they all curled up along the western side of the thatched hut, keeping far away from Mo Chuan.
Before you continue