The Spirit Guiding Technique

Chapter 1: The Spirit Guiding Technique

The clouds were thin, the moon bright, and the stars sparse. A full moon hung high in the sky, spilling down a watery glow that lent the night a cold, clear brilliance. Beneath its light, the crisp, rhythmic jingling of a bell rang out from a lush mountain forest. It sounded almost like a strange melody, yet in the silent woods, the music seemed eerie.

As the bell drew nearer, the moonlight gradually revealed the scene in the forest. A boy who looked about seventeen or eighteen walked slowly through the dense woods. He wore a black Taoist cap, a gray jacket, and yellow sneakers. He was not tall—about five foot seven—and looked rather quiet. In his right hand, he held a small golden bell; in his left, a wooden sword made of peachwood.

Every two steps the boy took, he shook the bell twice and swept the peachwood sword through the air twice, as though warding something off. His getup looked a little ridiculous. But if you counted the things following behind him, it stopped being funny and became downright eerie and terrifying.

A line of people followed him—or, more precisely, a line of corpses. Their eyes were all shut, they had no breath, and their faces were deathly pale. There was not a single sign of life about them. And that was what made the scene so uncanny. They trailed numbly behind the boy, walking in a line of ten. A yellow paper talisman, twenty centimeters long and five centimeters wide, was pasted to each of their foreheads. Vermilion symbols that ordinary people could not begin to decipher were drawn across them, hiding most of their faces. Even so, it was clear that these people were only in their thirties or forties. Each one rested his right hand on the right shoulder of the person ahead, while the one at the front laid his hand on the boy's right shoulder.

The boy took two steps and shook the bell twice. The corpses behind him took two steps as well. It was a horrifying sight: a boy leading a procession of dead bodies through the mountain forest. If anyone else had seen it, who knew how many people might have been scared to death? Luckily, there was not another living soul in these woods, so no one else was in danger of being frightened.

The insects and beasts in the forest seemed to have been scared stiff, too. They all lay low, not daring to make the slightest sound, making the dark, silent woods seem even quieter and more sinister. Now, aside from the boy's bell, the only sound was his low muttering.

"Every last one of those bastards can drop dead! May your whole family die! You got so many of my uncles killed. You'll get what's coming to you—I curse you to die a horrible death!" The boy was furious. He cursed louder and louder until, at last, he was howling at the sky.

It was as if the heavens had sensed his fury. The bright moon and sparse stars vanished in an instant, replaced by a mass of dark clouds. Blue bolts of lightning slithered through them, and thunder that shook the heavens and earth boomed across the land.

"God, what, have you finally opened your eyes? If you have, then strike that bastard, Every Last One of Them, dead! Let him die a horrible death!" The boy pointed at the sky and roared, his fury boundless.

BOOM! A deafening crack suddenly rang out. A blinding flash lit up the heavens and earth as a silver bolt of lightning came crashing down, striking the mountain behind him. It split a tree so huge that it would have taken at least five people to encircle it with their arms, leaving a massive gash.

Under that dazzling light, the boy was no longer the indistinct figure he had been in the moonlight. The flash revealed him gazing up at the sky, his youthful face streaked with grime. Fury burned in his eyes, but exhaustion showed through as well. His gray jacket was clearly visible in the glare. It had originally been black, but so much dust had coated it that it had turned gray. The yellow sneakers on his feet were not their original color either; they had been covered in dust until they looked like this.

The boy's name was Chu Xiaotian. He had been born in a small mountain village. His parents had left to work elsewhere when he was very young, and after they left, they never came back. No one in the village knew what had happened to them. But everyone understood that they must be dead. His parents had been famous for their filial piety; they could never have abandoned their elderly parents at home.

Chu Xiaotian had no choice but to live with his grandparents. They were old and had no reliable source of income, so life was painfully hard. Fortunately, people in their area had a custom called Spirit Guiding. In plain terms, it meant guiding the dead—using a method incomprehensible to people of this age to lead the deceased into their own graves. The people there believed that the dead had to walk into their graves themselves to be considered to have lived out their natural span and to have a chance of ascending to the Western Paradise. Chu Xiaotian's grandfather happened to possess the skill of Spirit Guiding. He was renowned across the surrounding villages, the most famous spirit guide in the region. The corpses he guided always walked naturally into their graves; unlike those guided by others, they never stopped halfway or collapsed on the way.

So whenever there was a death in the area, people came to ask his grandfather to lead the deceased into their graves and let them rest in peace. In return, he received a handsome fee. Their days were hard, but at least they never reached the point of going without food or clothes.

Chu Xiaotian had never attended school, but his grandfather had taught him to read from childhood, using an ancient script. His grandfather said the outside world was too dangerous and told him never to leave the village. He wanted Chu Xiaotian to inherit the Spirit Guiding Technique and stay in the countryside, guiding the departed villagers nearby to rest in peace. It was not only a great virtue, he said, but also a way to support the family.

Chu Xiaotian had no fondness for the world outside. Even as a child, he knew his parents had left the village and never returned. So he chose to follow his grandfather's path.

Chu Xiaotian was clever and quick to learn; he understood anything after only a little instruction. By the time he was fifteen, he could guide the deceased into their graves by himself and help them rest in peace. From that day on, his grandfather retired from the trade, leaving every job to Chu Xiaotian. Chu Xiaotian never tarnished his grandfather's reputation as the region's greatest spirit guide—in fact, he seemed poised to surpass him.

Two years after Chu Xiaotian inherited his grandfather's Spirit Guiding Technique, his grandfather, already over seventy, and his grandmother passed away on the same day. After weeping bitterly, Chu Xiaotian arranged their funeral. Then, using the Spirit Guiding Technique he had learned from his grandfather, he led them into the graves they had prepared during their lives. That time, Chu Xiaotian's skill reached a peak even his grandfather had never attained. Under his guidance, his grandparents walked into the graves hand in hand.

On that very day, Chu Xiaotian's fame soared. He surpassed his grandfather and became the new master spirit guide.

But Chu Xiaotian did not remain the master spirit guide for long. His grandfather had underestimated the allure of the outside world to a young man. Plenty of people from the village worked in the city, and many had earned far more there than Chu Xiaotian's grandfather had as the region's greatest spirit guide. When they came back, they told Chu Xiaotian all sorts of things about city life. The boy who had grown up in the mountains gradually changed from hating the outside world to yearning for it. Six months after his grandparents passed away, Chu Xiaotian left for the city with some villagers who worked there, hoping to make big money.

Before leaving, he knelt all night in front of his grandparents' graves. The next day, he set off with the other villagers.

Life in the city really was far more exciting than life in that little mountain village. But Chu Xiaotian, who had never gone to school, found it hard to fit into all that excitement. So he decided to learn. Alongside the uncles who had brought him there, he took a job with a construction crew building a subway for the city. He worked hard all day, then went back to sleep each night, grinning as he counted the day's pay. Sometimes he went out to have a good time with those same uncles, drinking beer and eating hotpot at an open-air food stall. They even went for late-night snacks, and sometimes visited karaoke bars, where he belted out "Eighteen Bends on the Mountain Road"—a song that could make ghosts cry and cows drop dead from singing.

Chu Xiaotian thought this life was pretty good. It was more tiring than before, but far more exciting.

But that life did not last long. Three months later, the underground passage they were digging collapsed. The uncles working below, along with several other people, were all buried underneath.

It had to be said that Chu Xiaotian was lucky. He would have been among them that day, but something happened to make him feel unwell, so he had gone to see a doctor, much to his frustration. That was how he escaped disaster.

Given how serious the accident was, the construction company seemed to take its responsibility very seriously. They brought in well-known rescue experts and a rescue team, with experts directing the excavation on site. They advanced from both ends of the collapsed section, working toward the middle. After three days of careful digging, everyone buried in the passage had been pulled out. Some had only scraped their skin, while others had broken arms or legs. But luckily, no one had died. The collapsed section had been supported by thick iron frames, and those frames had left them a small pocket of space to survive in.