The Fallen Sect

Shi Xuan lifted the ink-black porcelain cup and slowly took a sip. A chill ran straight from his throat to his lower abdomen, then spread through his entire body, leaving him refreshed and clear-headed. After savoring the aftertaste for a moment, he praised, "Good tea. Truly good tea!"

Han Shijin looked slightly pleased, but when he saw the black porcelain cup in Shi Xuan's hand, he added, "It is a pity that such fine tea has no fitting cup. The several sets of porcelain buried with us do not suit this tea's nature; only this black porcelain is somewhat better. What a pity, what a pity." He truly looked regretful.

"Then why does Elder Han not have your descendants offer up a few more sets?" Shi Xuan asked, somewhat puzzled.

"How could it be so easy? We cannot leave this yin residence for more than a mile. Only three times a year, during the great ancestral rites at the shrine, can we return home through our connection to the spirit tablets. But those are all held in the early morning. Yin and yang stand apart, though close at hand they are worlds away. We cannot speak to them, nor can we remain until night to enter their dreams." Han Shijin rarely encountered a living person to speak with, and could not help becoming a little long-winded.

Shi Xuan thought of Madam Fang. "But Elder Han, after all these years, surely you have gained some skill in spells and techniques?"

Han Shijin waved a hand. "We are not like those vicious ghosts that exist by relying on Yin Energy and lingering obsession. After all these years, we can only command the paper figures burned for us and float these tea trays and cups. If we truly threw caution to the winds, we could force our way into the dreams of blood relatives here, but that would consume too much of our origin. The loss would outweigh the gain, the loss would outweigh the gain."

Shi Xuan had only read notes left by Daoist Sect predecessors and possessed merely a shallow understanding of such matters. Listening to Han Shijin now, he found it engrossing. At his side, Chu Wan'er kept stuffing fruit into her little mouth, yet still spared some attention to listening to her master and the old man speak, as though she were hearing ghost stories.

"Oh? How does Elder Han know that the loss would outweigh the gain?"

"My father once entered this old man's dream to warn me, and that consumed his origin. After this old man came down here, my father completely dispersed within just a few years, not even lasting as long as my mother. My mother passed away before my father, yet after this old man came down here, she lasted over thirty years before dispersing. That is why I say so," Han Shijin explained.

Although Han Jing had been dead for many years, he had been very young when he died. Unable to leave the yin residence all these years, his mind had only grown by a few years. Seeing the pretty older sister Chu Wan'er happily eating fruit, curiosity bubbled up inside him. He quietly slipped out of his mother Madam Wei's embrace and floated over to Chu Wan'er.

Chu Wan'er was about to grab another piece of fruit when a pale, tender, slightly translucent little hand suddenly stretched out beside her and touched the fruit before she could. Wan'er looked over and saw it was the child with his hair tied into skyward tufts. Not daring to be rude, she secretly attacked him with her eyes.

Han Jing was completely immune to her eye attack. But his intelligence was still low and his ghostly age short, so he could not move the fruit. His chubby white little hand passed straight through it, and no matter what he did, he could not pick it up. After several failed attempts, he was nearly in tears.

Shi Xuan and the Han family had all noticed what Chu Wan'er and Han Jing were doing. But they were children, so everyone let them play while continuing their conversation. The female relatives sat quietly nearby, not daring to interrupt, though they kept gazing curiously at these living people with whom they had not spoken for so many years.

"I see. By the way, Elder Han, you said earlier that there are only three or four small Daoist Sects on Mang Mountain. What are they like?" Once the pleasantries were finished, Shi Xuan turned to the main matter.

Seeing Han Jing about to cry, Chu Wan'er hurriedly picked up the fruit to comfort him. To her surprise, the fruit passed through Han Jing's face and emerged from the back of his head. Chu Wan'er jumped in fright, leaned back, and grabbed Shi Xuan's sleeve. Under Shi Xuan's reassuring gaze, she grew curious again. Holding the fruit, she poked and prodded Han Jing all over, watching her hand pass through his body with bright, excited eyes.

Han Shijin narrowed his eyes and stroked his beard as he recalled, "This old man has been dead for nearly fifty years. Back then, there was once a large Daoist Sect on Mang Mountain called the Ghost Control Sect. It had over a hundred disciples and was quite the spectacle for a time. Unfortunately, thirty years ago, for some unknown reason, it declined. Now the Ghost Control Sect has only five or six people left, and it is often bullied by two other small sects, the White Bone Sect and the Ghost Refining Gate. It is truly miserable."

At the mention of the Ghost Control Sect, Shi Xuan thought of the Great Method of Ghost Control and the Soul-Bewildering Banner in his possession, which had once been called the White Bone Soul-Driving Banner. Could the Ghost Control Sect's decline have been caused by that old daoist dying on Tongxuan Mountain? But Han Shijin clearly did not know much, so Shi Xuan could only ask something else. "Then what of the White Bone Sect and the Ghost Refining Gate?"

"Daoist Priest Shi, think about it. The Ghost Control Sect has only five or six people, and is jointly suppressed by those two sects, yet it can still survive on Mang Mountain to this day. Their strength can well be imagined. They are certainly not the Daoist Sects you seek," Han Shijin said half-jokingly.

Shi Xuan thought that was indeed true. "Then does Mang Mountain have any other unusual places?"

"No, no. Mang Mountain is only so high and so large. Every year, countless people come up the mountain to pay respects and wander about. If there truly were anything strange here, it would have been discovered long ago." Han Shijin shook his head.

The two sides chatted for a while longer. Only after Chu Wan'er had grown tired of playing did Shi Xuan pull her up and bid farewell to the Han family. Han Shijin led his family all the way to the entrance of the yin residence, while Chu Wan'er's arms were stuffed with a bag of assorted fruit.

"Elder Han, please stop here. This is far enough." Shi Xuan turned at the gate and bade Han Shijin farewell once more.

Han Shijin sighed. "In these fifty years, Daoist Priest Shi is the first living person to visit this residence. You have allowed this old man and his family to feel a connection with the world of the living again, and brought joy to our hearts. Once we part today, who knows when we may meet again? By then, this old man may no longer be in this world, having dispersed between heaven and earth."

"Elder Han, why do you say that?"

"These past few years, this old man has already felt signs that his body is slowly dispersing. I suppose that in life I exhausted my heart and mind too greatly, damaging my origin, and thus cannot last as long as others. I fear it will be within the next year or two." Han Shijin sighed sorrowfully.

"Dad!" "Father-in-law!" "Grandfather!" "Great-grandfather!" ... Apart from Han Jing, the rest of the Han family cried out to Han Shijin in grief, but there was helplessness in all their faces.

Shi Xuan could only offer a few gentle words of comfort before again taking his leave. Then, amid the Han family's reluctant farewells, he led away Chu Wan'er, who had been waiting impatiently at his side.

After taking only a few steps, he heard Han Shijin call out, "Daoist Priest Shi, this old man just remembered something. If you seek immortals and visit the Dao, you may try Huilong Temple in Luojing. This old man once heard the imperial clan's Elder Rui mention that a True Immortal resides there."

Shi Xuan was overjoyed by this unexpected news. He turned back and respectfully bowed. "Thank you, Elder Han! This humble Taoist is immensely grateful."

After bidding farewell to the Han family of ghosts, Shi Xuan continued deeper into the mountain with Chu Wan'er. Although Han Shijin had said there were only two or three small Daoist Sects here, not worth visiting, Shi Xuan was no child who would believe everything he heard. He had to investigate for himself before returning.

"Master, those people just now did not seem like ghosts!" Chu Wan'er asked, tugging Shi Xuan's hand.

"Oh? Wan'er, did you not..." Shi Xuan made a gesture of passing through things.

Chu Wan'er rolled her eyes. "Back then, I only believed they were ghosts because they floated around. But they were completely different from what Wan'er knew before! They had a home, food, and drink, and when they spoke, they were so refined... um, whatever that word was. They were not fierce at all. They really did not seem like ghosts!"

Shi Xuan laughed inwardly. "Then what do you think ghosts should look like, Wan'er?"

"Hmm, blue faces and fangs, heads without bodies, bodies without heads, eyes without mouths, mouths without noses, guts spilling from torn bellies. That is what they should look like!" Chu Wan'er rattled off so much in one breath, utterly unlike how she could not even remember how to say "refined" just now. Who knew where she had heard all this?

"Where did you hear that?" Shi Xuan began telling Chu Wan'er about the Ghost Path and the difference between ordinary ghosts and vicious ghosts.

As she listened, Chu Wan'er muttered softly, "That is what everyone says."

As they walked and talked, they actually encountered two vicious ghosts along the way. Unfortunately, both had shallow Dao practice and had not even recovered their intelligence. Shi Xuan dispatched each with a single Golden Blade Divine Wind Slash, casually satisfying Chu Wan'er's curiosity. At last, she saw vicious ghosts with blue faces and fangs, and vicious ghosts with guts spilling from torn bellies. Her staying up so late instead of sleeping sweetly, following her master up this mountain where the cold wind blew wildly, had not been for nothing. Well, there had also been tasty fruit.

When they reached a secluded place, Shi Xuan saw a cluster of buildings there. There were many rooms, and their appearance was rather luxurious, carved with images of vicious ghosts that made the place seem gloomy and sinister. Unfortunately, it had fallen into utter disrepair, as though no one had repaired it for a long time.

At the main gate hung a crooked plaque bearing the seal-script words "Ghost Control Sect." Shi Xuan smiled inwardly. He had encountered this sect so quickly. They might as well go in and take a look.

He picked up Chu Wan'er and, under her curious gaze, cast the Invisibility and Qi Concealment Spell. The two of them slowly faded into the air until they completely vanished. Then Chu Wan'er's crisp voice rang out from where they had stood. "Master, Master! Is this an invisibility spell?! This is so fun! Wan'er wants to learn it!"

Shi Xuan hurriedly told her to be quiet, then cast the Wall-Piercing Technique. The two passed through the bluestone wall and entered the Ghost Control Sect. Chu Wan'er tightly covered her mouth with her little hands, afraid that in her excitement she might accidentally speak. Immortal techniques were truly amazing! Truly fun!

Shi Xuan led Chu Wan'er through several courtyards toward the room where a lamp was still lit. He then poked a tiny hole and looked inside to see what the people within were doing.

Inside were two middle-aged men dressed as daoist priests. Both paid close attention to their appearance and carried a rather immortal, transcendent air. One, a pale-faced daoist priest with a long beard, sighed to the other, "Senior Brother, Sect Master, you should come down the mountain with me. The Ghost Control Sect has long been finished. Why not seek out some nobles and wealthy merchants below the mountain? With our methods, would we have to fear failing to gain glory and riches? Would that not be better than staying in this ruined, desolate sect?"

"Ah, junior brother, senior brother knows that your plan is the better one. But senior brother was raised by Master from childhood and promised him before his death that he would take over this sect. How can he cast aside the ancestral legacy and go down the mountain?" The dark-faced daoist priest with a short beard answered with a sigh.