The sun blazed as though it meant to scorch the earth, and the Impala's engine rumbled over the baking highway. Outside the windows, broad stretches of corn rippled in the wind like a green ocean in the distance. The closer they came to the new development, the more that vitality thinned, replaced by exposed yellow earth and heaps of construction waste. Dust hung in the air, mingled with a faint, elusive stench of decay.
"Seriously, this place is nothing but dust and noise. People actually pay good money for houses here?" Dean gripped the steering wheel, his sunglasses slipping to the tip of his nose. He glanced at a crane working outside, a mocking smile tugging at his lips. He wore a faded denim jacket over a T-shirt bearing a washed-out rock band logo, and his fingers tapped absently against the wheel as he hummed along to the classic rock on the radio.
Bai Haorui sat in the passenger seat, looking through his grandfather's notes. Neat, small brush-written characters covered the yellowed pages, along with intricate talismans and diagrams of spiritual veins. His brow furrowed slightly as his fingertip passed over the heading "Earth veins," his gaze growing grave. "It's not that they want to. The developers have sold them a load of crap." He looked up at the workers bustling outside. "There's a Native American burial ground beneath this land. The earth veins were damaged, releasing yin energy and attracting the insect plague."
"That seems to be the case." In the back seat, Sam set down his laptop and pushed up his glasses. "I found out that three workers have died under mysterious circumstances at this site over the past two weeks. In every case, insects burrowed into their brains, causing neurological dysfunction. They eventually died in agony. Local entomologists couldn't explain it either. All they could call it was a 'rare insect attack.'" He paused and opened a photograph from the scene. "Look. There are no external injuries on these workers' bodies. It's as though the insects appeared inside their brains out of thin air."
Bai Haorui took out three Five Emperor Coins and gently shook them in his palm. The coins spun rapidly before settling, glowing a faint blue-green. "Whoa. The yin energy's so thick you could pull it into threads, and it's packed with intense resentment. This isn't an ordinary insect plague. These are 'Insect Spirits' born from the yin energy of earth veins." He put the coins away and turned to a case from the Republican era recorded in the notes. "
During the Republican era, rows of workers' shacks went up on a barren slope outside Beiping. The warlord Commander Han wanted a military warehouse built there and forced Old Zhao, the foreman, to finish within three months. More than three hundred workers worked shifts day and night, their picks and shovels sending yellow earth flying. No rain had fallen for over a month, and the dry ground had cracked into a spiderweb.
Old Zhao had no choice either. If he botched the job, there was no telling whether he would survive. He could only hound the workers to keep working, scoffing at their whispered talk of the slope being an ancient burial complex. Ghosts were afraid of cannons, weren't they? Then, on the tenth day of work, when they had dug thirty feet down, a sudden clang rang out as though something had shattered, shaking the entire site. Several workers scraped away the soil, revealing a blue-black stone stele covered in densely carved ancient seal script. Dark red stains clung to it like dried blood.
"Bad luck!" Old Zhao kicked the stele. "Smash it! If we fall behind schedule, none of you will get out alive!"
The instant the hammer struck, a crack opened in the stele. An icy wind seeped out, carrying a foul stench of decay. The workers felt chilled to the bone and nearly dropped their tools. But Old Zhao kept pushing them, and no one dared stop. By the time the stele had broken into several pieces, a buzzing rose from underground, as though thousands upon thousands of insects were writhing beneath them.
At first there were only a few scattered black insects, each the size of a fingernail, with glossy shells and scurrying legs. No one paid them any mind, assuming they had disturbed an insect nest in the old soil. But that night, the swarm erupted. They poured from cracks underground, packed together like a black tide, and slipped through the gaps in the shacks.
Old Wang was a night-shift worker. In the early hours, his coworkers heard agonized screams from his shack. They rushed inside to find him on the ground, covered in black insects. Bugs crawled in and out of his eyes, nose, and mouth, and their movements were visible beneath his skin. His whole body twisted and struggled on the ground. In less than seven and a half minutes, he stopped breathing. His corpse rapidly shriveled, as though every drop of moisture had been drained away.
Panic spread instantly. The workers tried to flee, but Old Zhao and his soldiers blocked them. "Anyone who runs will face military punishment!" Yet the plague only worsened. The black insects multiplied exponentially, attacking not only people but wood and iron as well. The shack posts were gnawed full of holes, and the shovels and hoes soon became riddled with tunnels, snapping as soon as anyone used them.
Stranger still, the insects feared neither fire nor water. Ordinary insecticide only made them more frenzied. In just three days, more than twenty people died at the site. There was no time to dispose of their bodies, so they could only pile them on the barren slope, where the insects soon engulfed them, leaving not even bones behind. The survivors looked sickly, their bodies covered in red, swollen insect bites. At night, they constantly heard buzzing beside their ears and dared not close their eyes.
Old Zhao panicked too. He brought in a Western-trained doctor from the city, then a shaman woman, but neither helped. One look at the corpses riddled with insect holes sent the doctor fleeing that very night. The shaman performed her ritual for hours, but the moment she finished chanting, a swarm of black insects crawled into her mouth and suffocated her on the spot.
Just as the workers were on the verge of breaking down, an elderly Taoist in blue cloth robes appeared at the entrance to the site. He carried a bamboo basket on his back and a peachwood sword in his hand. His hair and beard were white, but his eyes were remarkably clear. He was Taoist Master Xuanqing, traveling after descending Mount Qingcheng.
"Master, save us!" As though clutching at his last hope, Old Zhao dropped to his knees with a thud.
Taoist Master Xuanqing ignored him and walked straight to the shattered stele. He crouched, felt the soil, and sniffed the foul air. His expression immediately darkened. "Ignorant fools! You severed the ancient tomb's spiritual vein. These are Vein-Guarding Insects. They live on the spiritual vein's yin energy. Now that you've broken it and cut off their supply of spiritual energy, they have to feed on the vitality of the living to survive!"
Old Zhao trembled all over. "Master, then... what do we do? We didn't do it on purpose!"
"The spiritual vein is the foundation of this tomb and the source of the earth energy here. Sever it, and living creatures suffer." Taoist Master Xuanqing opened his bamboo basket, revealing handfuls of dried mugwort and red cinnabar. "I can temporarily repel the insects with mugwort and cinnabar, then reinforce the tomb with a Tomb-Suppressing Talisman. But to put this to rest completely, you must restore the stele and burn incense in worship for seven times seven days-forty-nine days-to restore the peace you disturbed."
That night, Taoist Master Xuanqing had the workers dig a deep trench around the site. They mixed the mugwort and cinnabar evenly and laid it all along the trench. At the shattered stele, he drew intricate talismanic markings in cinnabar, then dipped his peachwood sword into it and traced patterns in the air, chanting under his breath.
Strangely, the moment the frenzied black insects touched the mugwort and cinnabar, they recoiled as though they had touched a raging fire. They curled up with sizzling sounds and soon dissolved into pools of black liquid. But just as Taoist Master Xuanqing took out the Tomb-Suppressing Talisman and prepared to place it at the center of the markings on the ground, the earth shook violently. Black energy erupted from a crack. Within it, countless black insects gathered into a column as thick as a bucket and charged at him.
"This is bad! The yin energy at the break in the spiritual vein has formed an Insect King!" Taoist Master Xuanqing's expression changed. He swiftly slapped the Tomb-Suppressing Talisman onto the center of the markings and pointed his peachwood sword straight at the insect column. "Mysterious source of heaven and earth, root of all qi! Suppress!"
The Tomb-Suppressing Talisman burst with dazzling red light. The trail of mugwort and cinnabar also glowed red, forming a barrier that blocked the insect column. The Insect King let out a piercing shriek. Countless black insects fell from the column and hurled themselves against the barrier, making the red light shudder on the verge of collapse!
Taoist Master Xuanqing bit the tip of his tongue and spat a mouthful of blood essence onto his peachwood sword. Red flames instantly engulfed the blade. "Azure talisman, secure the vein! Evil spirits, begone!" He leaped into the air and drove the flaming sword hard toward the core of the insect column.
Ssshh! The flames met the black energy with a violent hiss. The insect column writhed wildly, countless black insects shrieking as they burned to ash. Using that momentum, Taoist Master Xuanqing pressed the Tomb-Suppressing Talisman deep into the markings on the ground and shouted, "Quick! Bring the pieces of the stele and put them back together as they were!"
The workers had been terrified out of their wits, but seeing a chance now, they hurriedly hauled over the fragments and assembled them under Taoist Master Xuanqing's direction. He chanted while filling the cracks between the pieces with cinnabar. As the final fragment fell into place, the red light on the ground grew brighter and brighter. The Insect King gave a shrill, agonized scream and dissipated completely into the air. The remaining black insects scattered, vanishing into cracks underground.
Taoist Master Xuanqing slumped to the ground, his face pale, clearly exhausted. Pointing at the restored stele, he told Old Zhao, "This is the tomb of a noble from a former dynasty. Its spiritual vein connects to the earth energy. You must never disturb it again. Burn incense and pay your respects every day. After forty-nine days, the spiritual vein will slowly repair itself. If you dare disturb it again, the insect plague will return, and no one will be able to save you."
Old Zhao nodded repeatedly, not daring to neglect a thing. For the next forty-nine days, incense smoke curled through the site daily, and no one dared move another shovelful of earth. The warehouse was never completed. After hearing about the insect plague, Commander Han did not dare insist either."
Dean snorted and reached to flip through Bai Haorui's notes, only for Bai Haorui to slap his hand away. "Bai, haven't you got anything new? Why is it always cinnabar and mugwort?" He raised an eyebrow. "I think we should bring insecticide. Or something more practical-like my silver knife." He patted the silver dagger at his waist, confidence filling his eyes. "If it weren't for me last time with that Wendigo, you and Sam would've been its dinner."
"Oh, please," Bai Haorui shot back mercilessly. "Who hit that Wendigo three times without breaking its defenses? In the end, wasn't I the one who struck its weak point with my peachwood sword?" He pulled a large bag of aged glutinous rice from his backpack and poured it into a cloth sack with a rustle. "Aged glutinous rice absorbs yin energy. It's a lot more useful against Insect Spirits than your silver knife."
Sam sorted through his information beside them without looking up. "Stop arguing. Tom, the developer, says they'll reach the central part of the burial ground this afternoon. If we don't stop them, the plague could spread to nearby neighborhoods, and more people will die." He closed the laptop and looked at them. "We need to reach the site as soon as possible and locate the heart of the Native American sacred ground."
Dean grunted and adjusted his sunglasses. "Fine. We'll listen to Little Sammy. Bai, let's compete this time and see who's more useful. If you lose, you wash my Impala for a month, inside and out-including the dust on the engine."
"No problem." Bai Haorui raised an eyebrow. "But if you lose, you have to wash my underwear and socks for a month. How about it?"
"No problem!"
The Impala stopped at the site entrance. A middle-aged white man in an expensive suit immediately came over, his belly protruding like he was six months pregnant. This was Tom, the developer. His suit was covered in dirt, his collar loose and his tie crooked. The cigar in his hand had almost burned down to his fingers, but he hadn't noticed. "You're the environmental problem specialists?" His voice was loud and carried an unquestionable air of command. He thumped his chest in assurance. "Don't worry. Take care of the problem here, and I guarantee you'll be happy with the money."
Bai Haorui studied Tom, his brow tightening. He could sense a faint trace of death energy lingering around him, clearly the influence of the earth vein's yin energy. "Mr. Tom, we recommend suspending construction," he said gravely. "The burial ground beneath this site is highly unusual. Forcing the excavation could trigger a more serious disaster."
"A disaster? What disaster?" Tom scoffed, waving dismissively. "It's just a few bugs. Spray some insecticide and be done with it. Listen, I've invested millions. I'm not stopping construction just because you say a few words!"
Just then, a gray-haired old man came trembling out of the site, leaning on a cane. He wore a faded plaid shirt and a battered cowboy hat. Dirt lay embedded in his wrinkles, and he clutched a Native American feather amulet polished smooth with wear. He was Joe, an elderly worker who had lived here for decades and personally watched the site change from wasteland into its present state.
"Mr. Tom, you can't dig!" Joe's voice was hoarse and trembling. He grabbed Tom's arm, his eyes full of anxiety. "This is sacred Native American land. There'll be retribution if you dig it up! Those workers' deaths were a warning!"
Tom's face darkened, and he shoved Joe away. "You old bastard! Keep spouting nonsense and I won't be so nice!" Joe stumbled backward several steps and nearly fell. Bai Haorui immediately stepped forward to steady him.
"Mr. Joe, do you know where the heart of the sacred ground is?" Bai Haorui asked softly.
Joe raised his head, glanced at Bai Haorui, and pointed toward a waste pile in the corner of the site. "Over there. When I was young, I saw a stone stele carved with strange patterns. It was buried under the waste later." He sighed, his eyes filled with sorrow. "I warned Tom long ago, but all he sees is money. He wouldn't listen."
Dean kicked a nearby mound of earth and curled his lip. "All I see is a pile of broken rocks and one greedy developer." He deliberately bumped Bai Haorui. "Careful. Don't spill your rice. You'll attract rats before you drive away any bugs."
Bai Haorui tossed him the rice sack with a backhanded throw. "Hold this. If you run into bugs, feed it to them."
Sam suddenly pointed toward the waste pile. "Look. There's a corner of a stone stele sticking out."
The three immediately headed over. Dean and Sam worked together to move the rebar and concrete chunks on top, gradually exposing a stele covered in strange carvings. The entire stone was black, its indistinct patterns resembling some ancient totem. Faint yin energy emanated from it.
Bai Haorui took out an ink-line reel, pulled out the cord, and secured one end to the stele before snapping it toward the ground. The ink line instantly pulled taut with a faint hum, a pale red glow rising along it. "This is where the yin energy is coming from," he said with certainty. "The heart of the sacred ground is beneath this stele. It should be an ancient tomb site."
Sam nodded. "While researching, I saw that this area was recorded as a Native American burial ground in the nineteenth century. It was later forgotten because of urban expansion and the gradual disappearance of the Native Americans." He looked at Dean. "We need to get down there as soon as possible and stop Tom's workers from digging."
Dean tossed the rice sack back to Bai Haorui and drew his silver knife. "All right. I'll handle the workers. You two take the chance to get down there." He walked toward the construction workers, pulled out his fake credentials, and flashed them. "Federal Bureau of Security Investigation. We received a report of safety hazards at this construction site. Stop work immediately!"
The workers exchanged glances. Tom came running over in a fury. "What safety hazards? Aren't you environmental experts? You're here to cause trouble, aren't you?"
"You know perfectly well whether we're causing trouble." Dean raised an eyebrow, his voice threatening. "Those workers' deaths-do you really think they were accidents?"
Tom's expression shifted, his gaze flickering slightly. Dean had clearly struck a nerve. He opened his mouth to say something, but Dean's stern stare forced him to back down. "Everyone... stop work!" he shouted at the workers, his voice trembling a little.
Taking advantage of the confusion, Bai Haorui and Sam moved aside the soil beside the stele, exposing a pitch-black opening. Dense yin energy poured from it, sending chills through them. "I'll go down and find the Insect Spirits' core. You stay up here to back me up," Bai Haorui told Sam. "If a swarm shows up, keep an eye out up here and be ready to help me at any moment." He shouldered his backpack, packed with glutinous rice, cinnabar, a peachwood sword, and Tomb-Suppressing Talismans, took a deep breath, and climbed inside.
The opening was narrow and steep, allowing only one person to crawl through. Bai Haorui switched on his flashlight, illuminating the passage ahead. Damp moss covered the walls, and water dripped overhead with steady plinks. The farther down he went, the heavier the yin energy became. Even the flashlight's beam grew somewhat dim.
At last, he reached the bottom. A spacious ancient burial chamber lay before him. A stone coffin stood at its center, surrounded by the same totems carved on the stele. The yin energy was coming from inside it. Piles of white bones filled the corners of the chamber, probably Native American remains.
Bai Haorui took out his Five Emperor Coins and shook them in his palm. They glowed a deep blue-green, indicating that the yin energy here had reached a critical point. He slowly approached the coffin. Suddenly, the ground began to shake, and countless black insects crawled from the gaps in the coffin, surging toward him in a dense mass. They were the size of fingernails, with hard shells and sharp legs, and looked exceptionally vicious.
"Damn it. That was fast." Bai Haorui immediately pulled out his rice sack and scattered a handful of cinnabar-soaked glutinous rice and powdered mugwort. The rice instantly absorbed the surrounding yin energy as it hit the ground. The insects sizzled on contact with the mugwort powder, their bodies curling up and losing their vitality.
But there were simply too many. As soon as one wave was destroyed, another surged forward. Bai Haorui scattered rice as he retreated, drawing his peachwood sword and watching the coffin warily. Suddenly, the coffin lid flew off with a bang, and an enormous earth insect crawled out. As thick as a bucket, its body was coated in a heavy layer of soil. Countless smaller insects crawled out of it, forming a massive swarm.
"This is the Insect Spirits' Insect King!" Bai Haorui's heart sank. He knew ordinary glutinous rice and mugwort could no longer handle it. He immediately took out his ink-line reel, drew out the cord, and snapped it toward the earth insect. The line wrapped around its body and instantly pulled taut. The earth insect gave a muffled roar and began to struggle.
Seizing the chance, Bai Haorui scattered cinnabar powder at its head, then raised his peachwood sword and thrust at its eye. The sword was coated in cinnabar, and the Three-Five Evil-Slaying Talisman glowed faintly red as it pierced the earth insect's eye. The creature let out an agonized shriek and thrashed violently.
Meanwhile, Sam heard the commotion in the burial chamber from above. He immediately took out a sack of salt and scattered a circle around the opening, mixing the salt with cinnabar and mugwort. Suddenly, countless insects crawled from the hole and surged toward the workers. They screamed and backed away in terror. Sam shouted, "Get inside the salt circle! Now!"
Dean rushed over too, took out his lighter, and set fire to a nearby barrel of gasoline. "Bai, hurry up! This fire won't last long!" The flames blazed, temporarily blocking the swarm's attack. But the insects did not retreat. They circled beyond the flames, waiting for the fire to go out.
In the burial chamber, Bai Haorui was locked in combat with the Insect King. Its body was so hard that his peachwood sword left only shallow marks. But he noticed that, deliberately or otherwise, it kept guarding the stele. He drove it back with an all-out thrust, then pried open the stele's base with his peachwood sword.
"What are you rushing me for? You think I'm grilling burgers? Just flip it over and it's done?" Bai Haorui shouted back toward the opening, his hands never stopping. Beneath the stele's base was a small recess containing a black stone. He had no idea what it was.
"Sam, use Molotov cocktails!" Bai Haorui shouted.
Sam reacted immediately. Together with Dean, he lit several Molotov cocktails and threw them into the hole. Flames spread down the passage, burning countless insects. The swarm let out shrill screams.
Bai Haorui seized the chance to raise his peachwood sword, coat it thoroughly in cinnabar, and thrust at the black stone. "Disperse!" he shouted. The peachwood sword pierced the stone, instantly turning it to powder. The earth insect gave an earth-shaking scream, and its body began to disintegrate. Countless smaller insects fell to the ground, dead.
The yin energy gradually dispersed, and the burial chamber grew brighter. Panting, Bai Haorui sat down and wiped the sweat from his forehead. He waited for the flames to slowly die out, then crawled toward the opening.
When he returned to the surface, Dean immediately came over. "Well? Is it done?"
Bai Haorui nodded and tossed aside the peachwood sword in his hand. "Done. The Insect Spirits have dispersed." He looked at Tom nearby. Tom's face was deathly pale and his legs were shaking, clearly terrified by what had just happened. "Don't damage the burial ground here again, or something even worse will happen."
Tom nodded repeatedly. "Understood. I'll stop construction immediately and restore this place to how it was."
Joe came over and gratefully clasped Bai Haorui's hand. "Thank you, young man. You saved all of us." The feather amulet in his hand glowed faintly, as though responding to something.
Bai Haorui smiled. "No need to thank me. It's our job." He looked at the stele. Its totems seemed a little clearer now. At its base, he noticed a strange symbol-an inverted pentagram embedded in an earth pattern.
Just then, a system notification sounded in his mind:
[Mission complete. Reward: passive skill "Earth Vein Perception" (can identify damaged spiritual vein nodes)]
Dean patted his shoulder. "What are you spacing out for? If we're done, let's get moving. I don't want to stay in this damn place with dead bugs all over the ground." He raised an eyebrow. "Seriously, though, we owe this one to you.-Want to take Uncle as your master? Uncle can teach you to draw talismans."
Dean rolled his eyes. "Pass. We can't go mixing up the generations."
Sam smiled and shook his head beside them. He took out his notebook and recorded the Taoist method of "earth vein restoration." "This method is useful. We can refer to it if we run into something similar."
The three climbed into the Impala and drove off into the distance.