Zhang Manor's Haunting

Jinghe County had recently been plagued by a strange affair.

—At the mansion of the wealthy Steward Zhang, evil spirits and ghosts had begun causing trouble!

The haunting was wicked indeed. It possessed only women and never approached men.

Steward Zhang's principal wife and six concubines had all been possessed. Whenever the spirit acted up, their blood and qi surged, their eyes rolled white, cold sweat drenched their entire bodies as though they had been caught in a downpour.

Those unable to bear the suffering even bit their lips and screamed miserably.

It was said that when an expert had expelled the evil from the most favored sixth concubine, she had clawed the bedding to shreds in agony. The pain had made Steward Zhang wipe away tears without a care for the outsiders present.

In this age starved of entertainment, the matter became the talk of every street and alley in the county in the blink of an eye.

Countless commoners secretly cursed the Zhang family behind their backs. They had committed every evil under heaven and were finally suffering retribution!

As soon as those words were spoken, someone objected.

If it was retribution, why had it not fallen upon Steward Zhang?

That left everyone speechless. They did not know how to refute it, though private misgivings quietly arose in their hearts.

Could it be that even ghosts bullied the weak and feared the strong?

Thus, another rumor began circulating among the people: ghosts feared evil men.

Take executioners and butchers, for instance. Living people dared not approach them, and even fierce ghosts had to take a detour upon seeing them.

The fact that the spirit dared not possess Steward Zhang proved precisely that Steward Zhang was a villain and a scoundrel!

Even fierce ghosts had to retreat three paces from him.

And you know what? That argument found quite a market, and for a time it raged louder and louder!

It truly made one sigh: good men did not live long, while disasters lingered for a thousand years!

At that moment, Steward Zhang—the man whom the public claimed "even fierce ghosts had to avoid"—was standing outside his principal wife's door, craning his neck to peer inside while repeatedly wiping cold sweat from his forehead.

Beneath his sumptuous brocade robe, his legs trembled without cease.

His principal wife was suffering another attack from the spirit. She lay upon the daybed, both hands gripping its edge, brows tightly furrowed as she moaned in pain.

Beside her, two shamans dressed in sacred garments and sacred hats held drums in their left hands and mallets in their right. They shook their bodies, rang bells, performed shamanic dances, and chanted invocations to summon gods and drive away evil.

"The sun sets beyond the western hills, and heaven turns dark; every household bars its doors. Travelers hasten to the inns, birds fly to the forest, tigers return to the mountains... First we invite the fox, then we invite the weasel; invite the great python, the spirit marten, and the Sorrow King..."

The shamans' chant rose and fell in rich cadence, their tongues curling strangely. To the others, the scriptures sounded obscure and unfathomable, inspiring even greater awe.

Yet no matter how hard the two shamans, First Deity and Second Deity, exerted themselves—

The principal wife remained in unbearable pain. At one point, she suddenly arched straight up, craning her neck as beads of sweat soaked through her clothes.

"The sun sets beyond the western hills, and heaven turns dark; every household bars its doors..."

After First Deity and Second Deity completed the ritual, they looked at the principal wife's posture, exchanged a glance, and attempted to start again.

Unexpectedly, First Deity suddenly shuddered from head to toe.

He stopped in his tracks.

With terror written all over his face, he backed out of the room. "Steward Zhang, this demon is exceedingly vicious. Forgive us for being powerless."

Having said that, he turned to leave.

"Hey, hey, hey! Please wait, you two..."

How could Steward Zhang dare remain at the door? He hurriedly used the excuse to chase after them.

"You two are renowned experts throughout these ten villages and eight hamlets. If even you are powerless, then what... what should I do?"

Steward Zhang caught up with them, cold sweat beading on his head.

"Steward Zhang, I have heard that an immortal child has appeared at Fu Luan Temple in Qingshui County. Perhaps he can resolve your predicament."

The two shamans hurriedly clasped their hands and recommended another practitioner.

"Qingshui County?"

Just as Steward Zhang was about to ask further, a servant reported, "Master, a wandering Daoist has arrived outside. He says he wishes to examine the ladies."

At once, Steward Zhang bristled and waved his hand. "Go, go, go! Any wild Daoist dares come and swindle money from me? Does he think I'll grab at any remedy in my desperation?"

Ever since this haunting had occurred in his household, countless self-proclaimed immortals and experts had sprung out of nowhere across Jinghe County overnight.

At first, he had treated them with utmost courtesy and respect.

But after one after another left empty-handed, he finally came to his senses. So they were just a pack of Jianghu swindlers, here to cheat him of money!

From then on, he invited no one unless they had an established reputation.

Yet even so, he had summoned every expert from the surrounding ten villages and eight hamlets, with no improvement whatsoever. It had frightened him so badly that he had spent the past several days living outside the city.

"Master, that Daoist... seems to have some skill."

The servant hesitated before stammering out the words.

Logically, he should not have spoken out of turn. But while his master could hide at a farmstead outside the city, servants like them still had to guard the manor. If this matter remained unresolved, they were terrified as well!

"How so?" Steward Zhang asked.

"Master, this servant is clumsy with words. You'll understand once you see him."

"This..." Steward Zhang hesitated briefly, then gritted his teeth. "Invite him in!"

"Yes!"

The servant hurried off to bring the visitor in, afraid his master might change his mind.

"Two great deities, did I hear correctly? That Fu Luan Temple you mentioned has... an immortal child?"

"That is correct."

"If he is an immortal child, then his cultivation must be limited, no?"

"Ah, Steward Zhang, you do not understand. Fu Luan Temple's lineage lies in inviting immortals to descend through spirit-writing. Their immense power belongs to their patriarch. Precisely because he is an immortal child, his six senses are pure, allowing him to invite immortals."

The shaman explained.

As they spoke, they saw Steward Zhang turn his gaze toward the courtyard's arched gate.

The two shamans turned to look as well, and their eyes instantly lit up.

What a handsome Daoist!

A young Daoist came striding over with the gait of a dragon and tiger, a Daoist hairpin in his topknot, a Daoist robe draped over his shoulders, and cloud-patterned shoes upon his feet.

The newcomer was none other than Mo Chuan.

To say he was exceptionally handsome was not entirely accurate!

In this era where malnutrition was widespread, merely being able to eat one's fill and develop normally was enough for one's build and appearance to crush ninety percent of people.

What was more, he had remolded his body through the Earth-born Fetus. Free of the accumulated maladies of the five grains, his fair complexion alone concealed a hundred flaws.

But why had he appeared here?

It was purely fate.

After discovering that incense offerings had the marvelous effect of aiding cultivation, he had used the Chen family's incense offerings to manifest in this world, intending to conduct some experiments himself.

Unexpectedly, he passed through several villages and towns, experiencing plenty of local customs and folkways, yet never seeing much incense.

Of course, once people shut their doors, he had no way of knowing whether they burned incense and prayed for blessings within.

He had considered sneaking in for a look.

Unfortunately, now that he possessed a physical body, he had lost the stealth of a ghost's ability to disperse into qi. Naturally, it would not be easy for him to leap over eaves and vault over walls.

Or rather, he simply lacked the ability.

That made Mo Chuan somewhat nostalgic for his days as a ghost.

He had heard that the Daoist sect possessed a method called Emerging Yin Spirit. He would have to get hold of it and practice it when he had the chance.

After walking and resting along the road for two days, he unexpectedly wandered into this unnamed little county. Upon hearing that Steward Zhang's household was haunted, he naturally followed the scent like a cat smelling a mouse.

"Zhang Xian of Jinghe greets you, Daoist Master. May I ask how I should address you?"

Steward Zhang hurriedly approached and clasped his hands in greeting.

"This humble Daoist is Mingchen. Greetings, Steward Zhang!"

Mo Chuan returned the gesture. Mingchen was the Daoist name he had recently chosen, taken from the "sun, moon, and stars" of the Three Scenery Daoist Magic.

"So you are Daoist Master Mingchen. You have arrived at just the right time. Please, quickly examine my wife! My Zhang family is about to be ruined by that fiend."

Steward Zhang had clearly been tormented beyond endurance. Without even exchanging pleasantries, he immediately got to the point.

"Allow this humble Daoist to take a look first."

"Yes, yes, yes! This way, Daoist Master!"

Steward Zhang hurriedly led Mo Chuan inside. The two shamans, who had intended to leave, exchanged looks and followed.

At this time, the principal wife's door stood wide open. Several servants stood timidly in the courtyard, craning their necks to observe the room's movements.

The moment they saw Steward Zhang return after leaving, they shuddered in fright.

Fortunately, Steward Zhang's attention was entirely on Mo Chuan, and he did not rebuke them.

Mo Chuan offered an apology and entered the wife's room.

There, he saw the principal wife, already past fifty, lying on the daybed and gasping for breath.

When she saw Mo Chuan enter, her eyes remained unfocused, as though she were still immersed in some unspeakable, eerie, and fantastical dream.

Mo Chuan glanced around, his brows knitting slightly.

Not because he had discovered a demon.

But because the place was too clean.

Clean as a marketplace beneath the noonday sun.

From the corner of his eye, Mo Chuan glanced at Steward Zhang, who stood at the doorway craning his neck, as well as the two shamans standing some distance away to avoid suspicion. He thought, No wonder so many people had met defeat and sunk into the sand.

There really is something fishy about this.

After a brief consideration, he approached the wife. With a raise of his hand, a Ghost Subduing Talisman flashed at his fingertips and pressed onto the bedding.

Everything remained normal.

Not a ghost?

Mo Chuan extended his index finger again and gently tapped the woman between the brows.

A thread of primordial qi seeped from his fingertip and traveled through the woman's body.

Everything was still normal. There was neither a ghost possessing her nor a spirit creature tormenting her.

Her body was merely depleted and weak.

"Did it flee? No, her body is too clean. If she had been possessed and tormented, traces would certainly have been left behind."

As thoughts flashed through his mind, Mo Chuan turned and walked outside.

"Daoist Master, how is the situation?" Steward Zhang hurriedly asked.

"It is exceedingly thorny," Mo Chuan said.

"Ah? Then... then there is no solution?" Steward Zhang's expression turned ugly.

"There is still one method, though whether it will work is difficult to say."

"Daoist Master, please try it quickly!" Steward Zhang urged.

"This method requires borrowing three sticks of incense from Steward Zhang." Mo Chuan's face was solemn.