Author: 年终 / Nian Zhong

Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/

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Chapter 26: A God on Weishan

“Protection from all evil” could keep malicious spirits at bay but not living humans. Shan Hunzi never expected that Fang Xiu would strike without warning.

The moment he relaxed and turned away, Fang Xiu thrusted forward with all his strength, and that Luoyang shovel pierced straight through Shan Hunzi’s chest.

The newcomer hadn’t hesitated in the slightest, and there was even a faint, weary smile on his face.

Shan Hunzi couldn’t understand.

Just a moment ago, Fang Xiu had gone wild beating up Old Man Fu, and he seemed so exhausted that a single poke could topple him. If Fang Xiu wanted to ambush him, he should have saved his energy beforehand.

The ritual was already over, and Fang Xiu had offered plenty of reasonable grounds for negotiation, so Shan Hunzi had let his guard down just a bit.

Even when he hit the ground, shock was still written on Shan Hunzi’s face. He was so stunned that he couldn’t make a sound.

He suddenly thought of Fourth Master. Fourth Master had died just as quickly, not even having time to use his magic weapons.

…So now he himself had been tricked, and Fang Xiu was going to kill him for his treasure?

…But Fang Xiu was in terrible shape, and the ghost he raised was restrained by the “protection from evil”. Shan Hunzi hadn’t revealed anything like the jade Buddha. Why would Fang Xiu take such a risk?

Fang Xiu crouched beside Shan Hunzi, still carrying Brother Scar’s bloody head strapped to his back.

“Your real name is Cui Dakun, fifty-six years old, from Hai Province. As of twenty-two years ago, you committed six crimes and killed eight people, still at large.”

Fang Xiu lowered his head to look at him, speaking as if they were just chatting casually. “So you went off to the mountains to become a Taoist priest. No wonder the police couldn’t find you. I knew there was definitely something wrong with you because I recognized your face.”

“You… You’re here for… revenge…?”

Shan Hunzi couldn’t think of another reason. Fang Xiu knew him in such detail and had orchestrated his downfall.

It had been more than twenty years, and his appearance had aged a lot. How the hell had this guy recognized him?!

“No, I don’t have any personal grudge against you. It’s just that my life plan happens to require the death of people like you.”

Fang Xiu said solemnly, “Besides, I’m just a cleaner. Aren’t you basically filth yourself?”

Shan Hunzi: “…”

Even in excruciating pain, he wanted to spit blood right into this man’s face.

Fang Xiu began drawing a circle around Shan Hunzi, speaking earnestly as he worked, “That’s why you shouldn’t trust deals that seem too good to be true. As the saying goes, while you’re eyeing the interest, someone else is eyeing your principal*…”

*It means while you’re looking at your small gains, someone else is focused on your original investment.

Naturally, Shan Hunzi wasn’t listening. He was glaring at Fang Xiu.

Fang Xiu’s steps were feeble beyond belief; it didn’t look like an act. That made sense: this kid didn’t so much hide his strength as he excelled at pushing himself far beyond his limits.

When normal people reach their physical limit, pain or fatigue would make them stop, but Fang Xiu would just keep going.

How unlucky he was to encounter such a weirdo. Shan Hunzi struggled to breathe, feeling dizzy from blood loss.

He knew he was about to die here.

“Return… Return… Return…”

Shan Hunzi parted his lips, muttering in broken fragments.

“May… merit… be complete… may all… rejoice…”

At those words, Fang Xiu stopped drawing his circle.

He gazed down at Shan Hunzi in silence. Beneath his disheveled hair, his eyes were like empty holes devoid of any light.

……

When Bai Shuangying finished devouring Old Man Fu, Fang Xiu had just completed his own work. Seeing the man in front of him, so exhausted that he could scarcely stand upright, Bai Shuangying slowly arched an eyebrow.

Fang Xiu was covered in blood and gore from head to toe, his left shoulder grossly swollen, and his complexion a ghastly blue. He was swaying on his feet, his eyes unfocused, looking like he might collapse at any moment.

Behind Fang Xiu was a circle drawn on the ground, within which lay a mass of mangled flesh. Blood had sprayed outward from that circle in all directions, far and wide.

It looked like a crimson peony in full bloom.

Shan Hunzi’s living soul was firmly bound within that circle, with no way to escape.

Bai Shuangying glanced at his own paper flower, then at that “blood flower”. “What’s… this?”

Using the back of his hand, Fang Xiu wiped some blood off his face, his voice slurred. “Shan Hunzi broke a death taboo.”

“But you already shattered the E,” Bai Shuangying pointed out mercilessly.

Several seconds passed before Fang Xiu said, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to trick you… I’m just too tired and can’t think straight right now.”

He really was exhausted. Fang Xiu had never been fond of heavy physical labor.

At the moment, his Luoyang shovel was dented and bent, and his T-shirt was drenched in blood, making it impossible to hide anything… Good thing. He almost forgot that Bai Shuangying had witnessed everything…

But Bai Shuangying wasn’t human and didn’t care about such details. Fortunately, Fang Xiu had no need to deceive his ghost.

Fang Xiu shook his head a couple of times, leaning on the shovel for support and catching his breath. “Initially, I didn’t intend to go this far. But he started mumbling obscenities right before he died.”

“So the ‘something good you wanted to show me’ is Shan Hunzi’s soul.”

Bai Shuangying approached the blood flower. “…And this flower?”

“Keep guessing?” Fang Xiu grinned.

Bai Shuangying simply shook his head. The man’s line of thought was too out of the ordinary. There was no point in guessing.

“It’s me,” Fang Xiu said, his tone weak but strangely cheerful. “…That ‘something good’ is me.”

“You mentioned that the larger someone’s karma, the more delicious their soul tastes. If that’s accurate, my soul is definitely very, very tasty, probably the best you’ve ever had.”

Bai Shuangying stared at Fang Xiu and suddenly realized a fact:

This was only the first ritual, yet Fang Xiu had orchestrated the deaths of Brother Scar, Fourth Master, and Shan Hunzi.

It wasn’t merely using taboos to kill; normal people would hesitate before killing anyone themselves. They would be nervous, not as calm as Fang Xiu. Only one kind of person would react like that; someone who’s already done too much killing, committed so many sins that they’d become accustomed to it.

So Fang Xiu hadn’t lied. Such a person’s living soul would indeed be the most delicious.

“I get injured easily, and whenever I push myself, you worry I’m acting suicidal, which doesn’t make you too happy.”

Fang Xiu coughed a few times, continuing, “But now you know: even if I die and drag you down somehow, you can still feast on my five-star gourmet living soul.”

“That way, it won’t matter if I’m alive or dead. You’ll have something to look forward to. We can talk with less tension.”

Fang Xiu tugged at Bai Shuangying’s sleeve. “Well, you’ve seen the final good thing this temple fair had to offer. What do you think?”

Bai Shuangying took hold of Shan Hunzi’s soul, looking down at the corpse beneath it, and then turned his gaze to Fang Xiu, sizing him up from head to toe.

Fang Xiu wasn’t asking for Bai Shuangying’s power, nor did he need his concern. He was effectively using his own living soul as a bargaining chip, just to have a bit of companionship.

Right after telling Shan Hunzi, “Don’t trust deals that seem too good,” he then dangled prime bait in front of Bai Shuangying’s eyes. Bai Shuangying had a sneaking feeling he himself was being duped.

He couldn’t help freeing his right hand to rest it on Fang Xiu’s neck. Fang Xiu’s body was at its limit. His skin was scaldingly hot, and his pulse was too erratic to gauge his emotions.

Fang Xiu let him touch as much as he liked, even tilting his head slightly to better feel that coolness.

What’s going on in this human’s mind?

Bai Shuangying felt genuinely curious.

…Click.

A faint noise made Bai Shuangying’s eyes widen. He quickly moved his sleeve, checking his wrist.

On his right wrist, one of his invisible chains had broken apart.

That was just one of countless seals, but in all these centuries, nothing like that had ever happened. It wasn’t a physical chain; it was forged from layer upon layer of karma, impossibly sturdy.

Bai Shuangying had tried countless methods to break free, but he had never managed to remove even one link.

Yet it snapped at this moment, with no warning.

Bai Shuangying thought back carefully to what had just happened. Expressionless, he reached out with both hands and started vigorously rubbing Fang Xiu’s head.

“Ahhh! What are you doing?! Stop! Stop—!” Fang Xiu yelled.

It wasn’t caused by mere contact. Somewhat disappointed, Bai Shuangying pulled his hands away.

He had touched Fang Xiu before, so it obviously couldn’t be that simple. But since it involved the nature of his seal, Bai Shuangying wasn’t going to let it drop, not even if it turned out to be a coincidence.

He pondered a moment, then smiled.

“This temple fair has been very entertaining,” he said. “You put on quite a show.”

Therefore, Bai Shuangying decided to let Fang Xiu see something even more interesting.

If Fang Xiu wanted his companionship, then Bai Shuangying would drag him in deeper. This was, in Bai Shuangying’s view, the most binding form of “companionship”.

Until he figured out how his seal had been altered, he wouldn’t let go, even if Fang Xiu himself wanted to die, it wouldn’t be allowed.

In that sense, they were even more like friends now. Fang Xiu would be thrilled.

……

It wasn’t until they entered the Weishan Shrine that Fang Xiu snapped out of the daze caused by that smile.

What a beautiful sight… Bai Shuangying really should smile more often. It was the best smile his ghost had ever shown. Fang Xiu wasn’t sure if it was because Bai Shuangying realized that living souls would be available to him from now on, or that Fang Xiu’s own soul looked like a tasty meal.

In fact, Bai Shuangying didn’t need to show him anything beyond that. Fang Xiu felt that smile alone was enough to lift his spirits. But for the sake of “’give and take’ between friends,” Bai Shuangying ended up half-carrying, half-dragging him to the Weishan Shrine.

…At least he kept his word.

With the E gone, the evil spirits haunting Weishan scattered like startled birds and beasts. The stage opposite the shrine was deserted. Those still alive had been led away by the paper man. Only four corpses remained in their seats.

The bodies were silent now, no longer singing opera, and the only sound in the village was the patter of rain against the ground.

Inside Weishan Shrine, the offerings on the table remained as they had been when they left, with no evil force replenishing them. The statue of the God of Weishan wore a faint smile, giving off the smell of cheap paint.

“Doesn’t seem so special.” Fang Xiu was trembling from exhaustion.

Bai Shuangying took hold of his head, turning his face toward the god statue. “Look again.”

Fang Xiu squinted and saw a small cluster of mist in front of the statue. It barely resembled a human shape, faint and white, as though it might disperse at any moment.

Now Fang Xiu was the one who didn’t understand. “That’s…?”

“It’s a remnant soul on the verge of vanishing,” Bai Shuangying said. “Its unresolved attachment made it stay with the E. The E’s Yin energy nourished it, allowing it to cling to existence until now.”

Fang Xiu frowned. “But the E is gone.”

“That’s why it came here to the shrine. It can eke out a little more time by relying on the incense and offerings.” Bai Shuangying gave Fang Xiu a sideways glance. “It crawled out of that coffin barrel. You seemed pretty fond of the God of Weishan, so here’s the real ‘God of Weishan’s remnant soul.”

Fang Xiu gaped, hesitant. “You specifically brought me here to watch how the God of Weishan’s soul scatters…?”

Apparently it was hard to say which of them was more heartless.

Bai Shuangying gave him a stern look for a few seconds, then walked over to the remnant soul.

“It seems you’re also unlucky,” he said to it.

“To become an immortal, a person needs both merit and destiny. You still haven’t found your destiny, and you’re just half a step short of sufficient merit… In another two hours, your merit would be complete, but you won’t last that long.”

The remnant soul stared in confusion, making no reply.

“But this temple fair is enjoyable, so I’m happy to offer you a bit of destiny.”

Bai Shuangying raised his hand, evidently in a good mood as he pointed to the remnant soul.

“…I acknowledge you.”

Even though Fang Xiu was exhausted to the point of delirium, he still sensed the abrupt shift in atmosphere. The moment Bai Shuangying spoke, the very air in the shrine changed; the pressure was suffocating.

Within the shadows, the remnant soul pulled itself together, faintly taking a more distinct human form. It was no longer dissolving. Rather, it glowed with a faint golden light.

Bai Shuangying lowered his hand. “Go stay in Weishan. In two hours, you’ll be able to complete your merit.”

The remnant soul dipped slightly, as if bowing, and then drifted out of the shrine.

Fang Xiu watched it go, somewhat more awake now. “So you just saved her?”

“Mm,” Bai Shuangying replied, prepared for one of Fang Xiu’s warped misunderstandings.

“Thank you,” Fang Xiu said, his tone truly sincere and extraordinarily solemn.

“Saving people is far harder than harming them. You really are remarkable.”

Bai Shuangying didn’t detect any false note in his voice, and he blinked in mild surprise.

“I never expected…” Fang Xiu went on dizzily, “never expected you to be so powerful, and yet still forced to work for the Underworld.”

Bai Shuangying: “…” I’m not, and it’s all your fault.

That mouth of his was still irritating, so Bai Shuangying decided to ignore him again.

By now, the appointed time with the paper man was almost up. Bai Shuangying took hold of Fang Xiu, who was about to keel over, intending to head back to the Disaster Relief Tower. But Fang Xiu shook his head, saying he had one more thing to do.

After leaving the shrine, he slowly climbed onto the stage, making his way to Mai Zi’s corpse.

It was hot and humid, and after two or three days, Mai Zi’s body bad become bloated. The stench of decay spread over the stage. Without changing expression, Fang Xiu stepped forward, stopping a single step away from the corpse.

Lao Mian and Mai Zi died so quickly and quietly that nobody else had time to interfere. Later on, the play dedicated to the gods served as proof. After discovering Mai Zi had mutated, Lao Mian killed him instantly in self-defense.

“It’s a pity. If Lao Mian hadn’t killed you right away, this ritual would’ve been a lot easier.”

Fang Xiu said to the corpse, “But also, because you died so early and did so little, I was able to confirm the conditions for ‘mutation’ and figure out the third taboo… Thanks.”

From the cloth bag he carried, he took out Brother Scar’s head and placed it neatly in front of Mai Zi’s body. “In ancient times, people used steamed buns as a substitute for real human heads in offerings. I don’t have steamed buns right now, so let’s go back to the original source. Hope you don’t mind.”

Bai Shuangying eyed the gore-smeared head, feeling that “going back to the original source” was an extreme way of putting it.

“When did you realize that the ‘God of Weishan’ wasn’t a malevolent god?” Bai Shuangying asked, prodding Brother Scar’s empty eye socket, sounding casually curious.

“The second night, when we found the shrine,” Fang Xiu replied.

Bai Shuangying: “…?” That was awfully early.

“During the day, there were plenty of clues. The village had traces of propaganda banners, indicating it had normal contact with the outside world. The villagers moved out in an orderly fashion, not like they were fleeing disaster. This doesn’t align with a place plagued by an evil god or struck by tragedy.”

“Then we found the shrine… There were so many offerings there, all very modern, piled up to the brim. Some drinks weren’t even unpacked.”

Fang Xiu lowered his gaze. “Rather than a proper offering to a god, it felt more like elders stuffing food into a youngster’s hands.”

“And this village has been abandoned for so many years, yet people still remembered to come back and pay respects. From the production dates on those offerings, they definitely came back last year.”

“So I believe the people of Weishan Village are very fond of the God of Weishan.”

Bai Shuangying watched Fang Xiu quietly. Fang Xiu kept his eyes down; it was unclear whether he was explaining things to his own ghost or talking to Mai Zi.

As long as one assumed there was no evil god at work, it wasn’t too complicated.

“The graveyard is overflowing with tombstones. Even if life got better later, the villagers still had short lifespans. Something’s definitely off about this place.”

“The ‘E’ arises from clear-cut obsessions. Taboos never conflict with each other. The taboo of ‘protecting the villagers’ is very direct, so there must be another reason behind the ‘drinking water mustn’t be consumed’ taboo, like forcing the villagers to leave, or problems with the water itself, or maybe both.”

The evil spirits destroyed newspapers carrying reports of contamination, slipped lies into the opera lines, and imitated the villagers at their worst. They worked hard to make the God of Weishan appear inscrutable and evil, but in the end, they couldn’t hide the taboos themselves.

The E of Weishan was clumsily protecting villagers who had long since departed.

Because the “E” was born of human obsessions, Fang Xiu knew all he had to do was find the one whose obsession had given rise to it, someone the villagers still remembered after so many years, someone they treated with the care reserved for a younger family member, a so-called “god”.

Before leaving, Fang Xiu once more looked out over the empty Weishan Village.

It was daytime, and rain kept pouring, just like on the day they arrived.

Fang Xiu cast one last glance at the stage, softly humming a tune:

“Too puzzling, too unclear, no comment to give,

Can’t get out, can’t get in~ Like a bird in the cage~”

In the end, the reason they couldn’t “get out” was because the ritual restricted their range, and it had nothing to do with the E.

The E’s only purpose was to enforce that “no entry”. …By the way, since he personally broke the E, what sort of reward would the Underworld give him?

After the two of them left, Weishan Village lay deserted, not even a ghostly shape remaining.

Knock knock knock, knock knock knock, knock knock knock.

Suddenly, a door in the village began knocking by itself, precisely that empty warehouse Fang Xiu and the others had stayed in on the first night.

Knock knock knock, knock knock knock, knock knock knock.

The knocking lasted just over ten seconds before the village sank back into silence.

As though nothing had ever happened.

……

Two hours later, a dozen or so miles away.

A man rolled down his car window and said in a helpless tone, “It’s been days, and we’re still not allowed through!”

A local police officer sighed. “I’m not picking on you specifically. The road there is really dangerous right now. No cars are allowed to pass.”

Driver: “Don’t fool me, brother. It was just fine a couple of years ago. We’re all from Weishan Village. We just want to go back to pay our respects…”

“If I say no, it’s no. Head back. That road is about to collapse. You’ve got seniors in your car. Think about them.”

“Haa, it’s the seniors at home who want to go back.”

“Don’t go. That place is strange,” an auntie who was onlooking interjected. “There’s clearly nobody living there, yet at night it’s all lit up. Scares a person half to death…”

The driver was annoyed. “Who says? Every time we go back, nothing happens. Our village is just fine.”

Seeing that an argument was brewing, the officer hurried between them.

At that moment, the rear window of the car rolled down, and a teenage girl poked her head out. “Great-Grandma said, don’t make things hard for the officer. If we really can’t get in, we’ll find a high place and pay our respects from far away.”

“…Officer, how about that?” The driver scratched his head.

The policeman agreed.

Given the complex terrain, continuous rain these past days, and the elderly passengers, he didn’t dare let a whole carload of people wander around. He specifically showed them to a safe hilltop.

The road there was sturdily built, and from that vantage they could see Weishan in the distance, and, right beside it, Weishan Village.

Another two hours later, the group arrived at the designated spot without incident. From afar, Weishan Village looked gray and still as ever.

Great-Grandma had said the god they were worshipping wasn’t particular about ceremony. So they simply laid a sheet of waterproof fabric on the ground as a makeshift altar.

The offerings were the same as always: meat, sweets, plus newly produced drinks and canned goods. The younger generation liked to keep up with trends, so they even added a cup of milk tea.

They stacked the offerings neatly, all facing the direction of Weishan.

“God descends from Weishan—guests arrive with bitter rain—

Immortals come year after year—the shrine opens day by day—

At sunrise we greet our guests with joy—at moonset we bid them farewell in sorrow—

Good guests share the deity’s name—peace reigns for a decade’s time—”

Ninety-eight-year-old Sun Ruyi closed her eyes, listening to the familiar sacrificial song.

Another year was about to pass, and she was still alive.

Ten years ago, Sun Ruyi moved from Weishan Village to the capital. She kept her promise: each year, at the time of the temple fair, she had her family take her back to Weishan Village in person, so she could leave offerings at the Weishan Shrine.

They’d been able to manage it in the past, but this year the rain had lasted far too long. The road was closed off by the local township, and she could only pay her respects from this distance.

That child was carefree and easygoing; she probably wouldn’t blame her.

Suddenly, Sun Ruyi heard a loud rumble.

It wasn’t thunder. It boomed on and on, causing the worshippers to cry out in alarm. Sun Ruyi opened her eyes and asked her great-granddaughter, “Ni’er, what’s going on out there?”

The girl pulled out her phone, filming enthusiastically. “Great-Grandma, it’s a mudslide!”

“Thank goodness nobody lives there. It’s so terrifying. The village rooftops are buried…”

Sun Ruyi was silent for a long time.

“I’d like to get out and take a look,” she said, several minutes later.

“Huh? It’s raining out there. It’s cold, and you should really…”

“I’d like to get out and look,” Sun Ruyi repeated.

Her great-granddaughter couldn’t refuse, so she opened the umbrella and helped the old woman out of the car.

Sun Ruyi walked over to the simple altar. She felt around in her pocket, taking out a red candy.

Nowadays the wrapper was that slick plastic film, and the candy itself was shaped like a small cushion. The words for “Double Happiness Hard Candy” were gone, replaced by a neat, stylized “囍*” character.

*Happy.

In a daze, she heard the drone of cicadas in mid-summer.

The last time she handed out candy, her hand was so small and grimy. Now her hand was larger, very clean, but covered in wrinkles.

Year after year, Sun Ruyi had forgotten many things. Sometimes she couldn’t remember which block her apartment complex was on, or she’d mix up her grandchildren’s names. She could hardly recall any lines from the poetry she once loved.

“If someone dwells in the mountain, clad in creeping fig and trailing ivy… I can’t recall the rest.”

She sighed. “Guess I’ve gotten old.”

But she still remembered that summer day, the moment she handed over the candy.

That deformed child didn’t understand her words, but his eyes lit up. She never forgot that sight, even to this day.

Ninety years later, Sun Ruyi once again offered up a piece of candy. She placed it gently on the altar.

Then, with difficulty, she bowed her head toward Weishan.

At the same time, on Weishan.

The clouds seethed, and heavy rain poured down. Unlike before, the cloud edges glowed with gold.

The great disaster had arrived, yet no one was harmed. The merit grew further, and the sacrificial song resounded in the distance.

In the curtain of rain, a figure gradually became clearer.

This figure had three arms and four legs, and she was, unmistakably, a young woman. She wore a dark robe, her features were fine and delicate, and her lips were strikingly red.

In the downpour, her confusion gave way to clarity.

Besides her old memories, she now possessed knowledge of the Heavenly Way and its deities. She knew she had become the God of Weishan, and how that transformation came about.

She also understood what that small bit of “destiny” she’d just received actually meant.

The newly born God of Weishan looked toward the Weishan Shrine. Though she knew that person was no longer there, she straightened and offered a solemn bow.

“Thank you, High God…”

Right after that, the God of Weishan turned toward the simple altar far away. She gazed at Sun Ruyi and beamed.

This time, she was going to devour every last bit of those offerings.

……

Disaster Relief Tower.

After returning, Fang Xiu collapsed into sleep. Bai Shuangying lay on the ceiling, quietly spacing out.

Suddenly, Bai Shuangying tilted his head. He faintly heard someone giving thanks. Judging by the time, he could guess who it was.

It was that newly born little god.

Yes, she didn’t even know his name, so nobody would suspect him.

Bai Shuangying ran his fingers over the invisible chain, then decided to go on watching Fang Xiu’s sleeping face.

He was still wearing that red paper flower on his lapel. On Bai Shuangying’s own right wrist, the broken link of his chain dangled, clinking softly.

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