Author: 年终 / Nian Zhong

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

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Chapter 28: Underworld Team Building

“No,” Bai Shuangying said.

Then he left first, giving Fang Xiu no chance to say a word.

He was determined to uncover what it was about this human that could affect his seal. Bai Shuangying had heard that some people tattooed scripture or arrays on their bodies. Maybe Fang Xiu was hiding something under his clothes.

Besides, he wasn’t happy about being shut out.

Fang Xiu trudged back to the room, rubbing his face a few times.

It wasn’t really a big deal, and there was no way he was going to forcibly drive Bai Shuangying out, right?

The shower stall was barely a square meter, walled off on two sides by glass, with the other two sides against tile. On a little rack were white towels and bath sheets, looking surprisingly modern.

Fang Xiu removed his ring made of hair and wrapped it in a towel. Since the soul-nourishing spring supposedly washed away Yin energy, and the ring was an evil-spirit product, he worried it might dissolve like a puff of cotton candy.

“I’m actually taking off my clothes.”

He turned to face the wall while slowly pulling off his T-shirt.

Linking fingers with Bai Shuangying was no problem. Sleeping pressed against Bai Shuangying with their clothes on was no problem. Even being packed together inside a coffin barrel hadn’t made Fang Xiu feel shy.

Yet, being watched by Bai Shuangying while he showered… Fang Xiu was surprised to realize he still had a shred of modesty.

It was as if being naked changed things somehow!

But pressed to explain exactly how, Fang Xiu couldn’t find the difference.

Bai Shuangying’s gaze felt like a soft brush, sweeping up and down Fang Xiu’s spine. The back of Fang Xiu’s neck burned, and a prickling sensation spread across his shoulders. His hands hovered at his waistband, unable to make the final move.

He couldn’t take it anymore. Fang Xiu couldn’t help glancing over his shoulder.

Bai Shuangying sat rigidly on the ritual table opposite the bathroom, staring intently at his every move.

He wasn’t looking at Fang Xiu like a fellow man, or even like a fellow being. Bai Shuangying wore his usual unreadable expression, calm eyes tinged with inquisitiveness. It was strangely familiar, in a bizarre way.

Suddenly Fang Xiu was reminded of a cat that belonged to one of his elementary school classmates.

That cat also couldn’t stand being shut out. Whether its owners were using the toilet or taking a shower, it insisted on being there to supervise. Its stare had been exactly like Bai Shuangying’s in this moment.

Seeing Fang Xiu glance back, Bai Shuangying didn’t even blink, just tilted his head slightly.

Fang Xiu: “……”

Fang Xiu: “…Pfft.”

His ghost really was sort of adorable.

Feeling a bit better, Fang Xiu slowly tugged down his pants and turned on the faucet.

The soul-nourishing spring water was slightly cool, but it gave off a thick white mist as it flowed, carrying a faint smell of mugwort. The water was crystal-clear at first, but as it rinsed away the Yin energy from his body, it turned grimy and dark.

Fang Xiu cranked up the water, then stuck his head underneath, hoping to wash away his needless anxiety.

“Turn around,” Bai Shuangying said abruptly.

“Ah?” Fang Xiu nearly choked.

Bai Shuangying: “For the next ritual, I’ll help you as a ‘friend’. But first, I need to assess your physical condition.”

Fang Xiu: “You’re already helping me a lot. There’s no need to be so polite.”

“We’ve formed a contract, so a baseline level of assistance is required,” Bai Shuangying said. “But a ‘friend’ would help on his own initiative, yes?”

Fang Xiu wiped the water from his face, uncertain how to respond. Previously, he was the only one going on and on about “friendship”. Now that Bai Shuangying was actively playing along, Fang Xiu found himself at a loss.

When Fang Xiu still didn’t answer, Bai Shuangying continued, “Your clothes in the Tower are actually condensed from your vitality, and mine are the same. In reality, neither of us is actually wearing anything. Don’t overthink it.”

With that, Bai Shuangying casually lifted his left shoulder.

His white robe gradually melted and seeped into his skin. Part of the robe slid aside, revealing a graceful collarbone and a stretch of fair, taut flesh.

Fang Xiu: “…Stop! Stop! Stop! I get it. You don’t need to demonstrate any further! That’s enough!”

His neck felt scalding hot. His heart felt like it had been flash-boiled, and by the time he realized what was going on, he’d broken into a slight sweat.

Bai Shuangying looked over calmly, while Fang Xiu tried to say something, anything, to smooth things over. But his tongue went numb.

He’d thought a little embarrassment would quickly subside. After all, they were both men. Everything Fang Xiu had, Bai Shuangying presumably had…right?

Yet the subtle tension refused to vanish. Right now, he felt he’d rather smash ten more Shan Huanzi to pulp in front of Bai Shuangying than endure this.

Enough. There was no point in fussing about it. Fang Xiu discreetly drew a breath, covered his crucial areas with a towel, and turned around.

The moment Bai Shuangying saw Fang Xiu’s front, he let out a hum.

…So Fang Xiu did have something on his body, but it wasn’t any scripture or array.

Fang Xiu was quite slender, with eight interlacing knife scars crisscrossing his lower abdomen. His left thigh bore a large patch of old abrasions, while his right calf had a long scar that looked like it had been through some kind of treatment.

Ordinarily, these were all hidden under his clothes, impossible to see.

Bai Shuangying fell silent, his gaze once again brushing Fang Xiu like a coat of paint.

“All done?” The atmosphere was so weird that Fang Xiu coughed, trying to break the silence.

He had known it would turn out like this. Next, Bai Shuangying would probably ask about those wounds…

“You’re too thin,” Bai Shuangying remarked.

Fang Xiu: “?”

“Your body isn’t sturdy enough. It doesn’t look good, and it makes you easier to kill,” Bai Shuangying said in a tone that was more like a wildlife documentary voiceover.

His tone held neither curiosity nor pity, nor any forced indifference. It was as if those scars had simply been part of Fang Xiu from the start.

Fang Xiu suddenly laughed, pointing at the knife scars on his stomach.

“You’re not going to ask about these?”

“Why would I? They’re no different from growth rings,” Bai Shuangying answered calmly.

“You have these marks because you survived harsh ordeals. That’s a good thing.”

Sitting on the ritual table with his black hair and white robe softly draping down, Bai Shuangying at that moment looked even more like a god statue than the one in the Weishan Shrine.

Fang Xiu blinked, and a drop of water from his lashes ran into his eye, stinging it.

Everything went blurry, so he couldn’t quite make out that lovely face, but his heartbeat still skipped.

[Hey, did you hear? Oh dear, that child has it so rough…]

[Yes, it’s awful. How is he supposed to carry on…]

[So pitiful…]

[Poor thing…]

Countless old memories roiled in his mind. He had heard words like these so many times his ears had nearly grown calluses.

Fang Xiu didn’t hate the people who made those comments. He knew they meant no harm. But extra sympathy and pity could be like a sedative: not necessarily bad, but certainly something he didn’t need.

He had considered that Bai Shuangying might be curious or might not care at all, maybe even saying something dark and ghostly.

What Fang Xiu hadn’t expected was that, so far, he actually liked the evil spirit’s view the best.

…He hadn’t lost yet. He was still standing here, alive, and that was a good thing.

“Indeed, I am strong.”

Fang Xiu smiled brightly, relaxing entirely, almost forgetting that he was stark naked.

“As for my body shape, you’ll just have to deal with it. The Underworld doles out our ritual bodies. You can’t order custom ones. If I had my way, they’d give me something built like Fourth Master.”

Bai Shuangying thought for a moment. “That type is too bulky. And it’s not nice to look at.”

Fang Xiu: “…” So he’s picky about this, too.

Then he thought of a rather interesting question. “Since this body is just a magic weapon, can I feed it to my ‘Meal Card’? Suppose I smear a bit of blood on my enemy, hide out for two hours, then just press the Earth Knocking Cauldron onto them. Wow, that might be worse than an evil spirit.”

“No.”

Bai Shuangying crushed his fantasy. “It only destroys pure magic items. A magic item housing a soul can no longer be considered just a magic item.”

Fang Xiu was disappointed. “So what would that be considered?”

“A living soul inside an object is halfway to being an evil spirit,” Bai Shuangying said. “Also…”

Fang Xiu leaned in, intrigued. “Also?”

Bai Shuangying’s gaze flicked downward. “Your towel just fell.”

Fang Xiu: “……”

He silently picked up the towel, turning away. This time, not only was the back of his neck red, his entire face was, too.

……

After the shower, the first thing Fang Xiu did was test out his new ability. He pooled some of the soul-nourishing water on the floor and reached into its surface, pulling out a bottle of Wangzai brand milk.

Since it was originally an offering, he could drink it even without a physical body, which felt unexpectedly touching. After a moment’s thought, he took out a second bottle and placed it by Bai Shuangying.

Bai Shuangying: “I don’t like that kind of offering. It barely has any Yin energy.”

Fang Xiu: “I know. It’s actually for the God of Weishan. But you’re sitting on my ‘offering table’, so I can’t exactly place it anywhere else.”

Bai Shuangying: “……”

He looked down at Fang Xiu with a blank face.

Fresh out of his shower, Fang Xiu wore bright red clothes, with the black hair ring back on his finger. His unruly hair was still damp, the ends sticking to his skin, leaving his face fully exposed and making him look unexpectedly harmless.

“Thank you kindly, God of Weishan,” Fang Xiu said, stepping around him and putting his hands together solemnly.

“Thank you for letting us eat your offerings back then. This is just the promised return gift… Hey, hey. What are you doing?!”

Without another word, Bai Shuangying popped the can open and drank it. Then he leapt off the ritual table and once more stuck himself to the ceiling.

“You said it’s not packed with Yin energy,” Fang Xiu said helplessly.

“Humans sometimes eat stuff with no nutritional value,” Bai Shuangying replied.

Fang Xiu forced a chuckle. He could tell his ghost was displeased again. By all rights, he should say something gentle to coax him. But recalling Bai Shuangying’s remark about “friends”, Fang Xiu, on impulse, continued to pry.

He asked curiously, “What’s bothering you?”

“We’re friends, and friends come first,” Bai Shuangying replied righteously, finding this relationship quite convenient.

He had just spent a good while racking his brains about how to intervene in the next ritual “naturally” and “unobtrusively”.

“Folding Fang Xiu into the plans” was infinitely more complicated than just watching the drama from the sidelines. Ever since he’d come into existence, Bai Shuangying had planned only for himself, never involving other beings.

He’d been painstakingly figuring out ways to keep Fang Xiu alive a bit longer, but in the next moment he saw Fang Xiu grinning away, handing offerings to the God of Weishan.

What a complete reversal of priorities. If Bai Shuangying hadn’t lent a hand back then, there would be no God of Weishan in the first place.

Feeling annoyed, Bai Shuangying looked down to see Fang Xiu with crinkled eyes and a silly smile.

Fang Xiu tilted his head to look up. “Exactly. Friends should look out for each other. Want another drink? I’ve still got more.”

“No.”

“In that case, I’m gonna take a nap. Good afternoon!” Fang Xiu flopped back onto the bed and burrowed under the covers.

Within seconds, a few muffled chuckles sounded from inside the blanket.

Utterly baffling, Bai Shuangying thought.

……

Around noon, there was another knock at the door. This time it wasn’t the paper figure, but Jia Xu.

He sounded eager. “I’m organizing a little get-together. You in? We finally have a day off. We might as well get to know each other.”

This was indeed a good opportunity, so Fang Xiu didn’t refuse.

He didn’t say anything, but Bai Shuangying hopped down from the ceiling on his own, clearly indicating he was coming along.

The courtyard was laid out with lunch, much more lavish than breakfast.

The main starches came in three varieties: noodles, rice, and steamed buns. The dessert offerings had doubled, and there were plenty of fried or steamed dishes, plus delicacies like crabs and lobsters. Various drinks were lined up near the table, among which Fang Xiu spotted Maotai at a glance.

Sure enough, it was party time after a successful ritual.

Blondie clutched two bottles of Maotai, his face turning red as he drank. Mei Lan took a slice of cream cake, smiling faintly.

Jia Xu stood up with a cup of wine in hand. “Come on, meeting each other here is fate, even if it’s ‘bad’ fate, it’s still fate. Let’s do introductions so we know how to watch out for each other in the next ritual.”

With that, he started the introductions himself.

Jia Xu was twenty-nine this year, making him a year older than Fang Xiu. He was once a programmer and was currently a co-founder of a small IT start-up, truly deserving of the phrase “young and capable”.

“Whoa, boss, that’s awesome. I’ve heard of your company, and I’ve even played one of your games.” Blondie was grinning as though he’d never clashed with Jia Xu before.

Blondie’s real name was Du Zhichao, twenty-six, unemployed. He mentioned having some money on hand, living passably for now.

Mei Lan had just turned thirty-two and ran a store dealing in calligraphy and paintings; Cheng Songyun was a housewife; Guan He was still in high school. He was only sixteen, not even an adult yet.

At the mention of Guan He being sixteen, the group fell silent, then started cursing the Underworld for its cruelty. Blondie began drunkenly yelling he’d “take care of this little bro”, but Guan He ignored him completely.

All in all, there wasn’t a single major similarity among them. They lived in different cities and seemed to have been randomly selected by the Underworld.

“Fang Xiu, twenty-eight, hospital cleaning staff,” Fang Xiu said succinctly.

“Don’t joke around, buddy. What’s your real job?” Jia Xu didn’t believe him. By the look on Cheng Songyun’s face, she didn’t seem convinced either.

Fang Xiu repeated sincerely, “I’m just a cleaner. In a hospital, you see plenty of gore and drama, so I guess I got used to it.”

Obviously still doubtful, Jia Xu shrugged since Fang Xiu insisted on his story.

He pulled out a piece of cardboard. “I’ve put together some notes on the rules of the ‘E’. Everyone, take a look. We might need this tomorrow.”

No one knew where he had found it, but the text and diagrams on it resembled a sort of “Underworld PowerPoint”:

1. An E usually has three taboos, with one being lethal.
2. An E arises from a person’s obsession; the taboos connect to that obsession.
3. An E can only be broken in a “logical” way, or via specific spells as well.

Jia Xu: “Pay extra attention to number two. An E is kind of like a low-level AI that can’t distinguish good from bad.”

“Even though the God of Weishan had only benevolent intentions, the E still produced a ‘die if you don’t revere the god’ death taboo. So even if the taboos relate to the obsession, it’s not always straightforward.”

Blondie chimed in, “What’s the third line supposed to mean?”

“It means we have to figure out the nature of the E itself, then destroy it with a common-sense approach. For example, if the ‘obsession’ is about candy, then we need to eat it; simply crushing it with force won’t do any good… If it’s a candle, we should douse it, and if it’s a mirror, we smash it. Something like that.”

“But if you use spells, then there are presumably other ways… Like Fang Xiu’s mention of the Samadhi True Fire Talisman.”

Blondie hollered, “Nice, boss, that’s brilliant…”

Pleased with himself, Jia Xu went on. “We’re still not sure if evil spirits are bound by the taboos…”

Guan He frowned slightly and muttered, “Didn’t Fang Ge already go over all this this morning? Why’s he rehashing it with diagrams?”

Fang Xiu didn’t mind. “He’s including visuals. It makes it look more official.”

Cheng Songyun leaned over to look but murmured, “I still can’t follow the diagrams.”

Fang Xiu: “…At least it looks the part.”

Bai Shuangying remained indifferent. Relying on his hidden skill, he didn’t whisper at all. “Pathetic clown.”

Fang Xiu tugged on Bai Shuangying’s sleeve. “Having someone else step up to the plate can be helpful, too.”

Near the end, Jia Xu politely thanked Fang Xiu for the “inspiration”. Now Fang Xiu understood that Jia Xu wasn’t just playing leader for fun. He was used to a leadership role and couldn’t simply turn it off.

Bai Shuangying lowered his eyes. “I’ve seen plenty of men like him. In times of chaos, they don’t live long.”

Fang Xiu stifled a laugh. “I know, I know.”

With that, Bai Shuangying merely grunted. He glanced at the drinks on the table and selected a small bottle of soda. He calmly opened it, poured the soda into Fang Xiu’s cup, and kept the empty glass bottle for himself.

Fang Xiu: “…?”

He was about to ask why when Cheng Songyun quietly nudged him.

Making up her mind, she said softly, “Xiao Fang, I-I’d like to help you.”

“I won’t ask what you do. About what you did to Fourth Master, I haven’t told the others and won’t bring it up in the future, either.”

“I know you’re strong. As long as you’re willing to take me with you, I’ll let you use my ghost, and I’ll help you however you need.”

Fang Xiu was a bit surprised.

Just that ghost shield was enough to make him want to keep her safe. She didn’t have to go this far. If she’d seen how he’d turned Shan Huanzi into shredded meat, she might have reconsidered.

So he answered seriously, “Are you sure? I’m not picky about my methods. If necessary, I might sacrifice you.”

Cheng Songyun shook her head, giving a faint smile. “Auntie thinks you’re a good kid. If it really can’t be helped… then it can’t be helped.”

Then, as if remembering something, she lowered her eyes. “And if it’s someone like Fourth Master, I could kill too. As long as it doesn’t involve harming the innocent, I’ll do anything.”

Fang Xiu was silent for a few seconds.

“Alright,” he said.

When you only have one day off, time runs at double speed. Jia Xu’s “Underworld team-building” session ended, and it was already afternoon.

The festive atmosphere soon fizzled out. No one could relax any further, not even Blondie. They all knew that after dinner and some sleep, a new round of rituals awaited.

No one knew how many of them would still be alive the next time they gathered back here.

Fang Xiu took it in stride. The rituals wouldn’t be postponed just because they felt ill at ease. He and his ghost returned to their room, pondering how to feed Bai Shuangying something.

Then he noticed Bai Shuangying taking out that little soda bottle from lunch.

It was a 200ml glass soda, short and squat, perfectly transparent. Bai Shuangying wiped it clean, placed it upright on the ritual table, and inserted the paper flower from the temple fair.

Once he’d stuck it in, he even adjusted it multiple times, searching for the most perfect angle. His white eyes followed the flower intently, shifting as he made minute corrections.

Watching that white-clad figure, Fang Xiu felt a slight ache in his chest.

“You’re not going to wear it for the next ritual?” he couldn’t help asking.

“No. I won’t,” Bai Shuangying said at last, pleased with the angle he’d found.

“It’s too fragile,” he continued. “I don’t want to break it right now.”

……

Early the next morning, the second ritual arrived on schedule.

Compared to the first time’s confusion and anxiety, this time the air was heavy. They followed the paper figure up the stairs to the second floor, and no one spoke along the way.

The second-floor corridor no longer resembled a rustic country road. Instead, it was now an old apartment hallway. Even the walls were plastered with “locksmith ads”. The door at the end had a rusty, peeling surface, the kind found in older stairwells. Behind it lay darkness.

Fang Xiu casually grabbed hold of Bai Shuangying’s sleeve, and they walked side by side.

“This is something else… The second floor even has a new setting,” Fang Xiu whispered to his ghost. “I’m guessing this time we’re in some apartment building—ow!”

The moment everyone stepped through the doorway, some sort of change erupted.

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The author has something to say:

They’ve been completely exposed—totally seen through! (In that tone of voice.) 

Too bad those two are still clueless, tsk tsk tsk. 

The second ritual is about to begin—this time, let’s see who can guess the story (*/ω＼*). 

The style of the entire book is basically the same as the first story; there won’t be anything super dark or grim, so just relax and enjoy~n’t be anything super dark or grim, so just relax and enjoy~

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<<< || Table of Contents || >>>

Author: 年终 / Nian Zhong

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

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Chapter 27: Reward Time

The first thing Fang Xiu did upon waking up was check his entire body.

His dislocated shoulder was completely healed, and all the cuts and scratches had vanished. Evidently, the Underworld had reclaimed the “disposable body” it had granted them. Now he was just a happy living soul again.

The second thing Fang Xiu did upon waking was hop around the room.

Unfortunately, his constitution and strength were the same as ever. Destroying the Weishan E hadn’t brought him any sort of power-up. It seemed the reward wasn’t going to be a direct boost to his attributes.

Still, being alive and back here was plenty to celebrate. The room was tidy, and the bed was soft and comfy, leaving him with a sense of finally returning to civilization. He hurled himself onto the bed, buried his face in the pillow, then sprang back up into a spread-eagle position.

Then he noticed the seductive ghost clinging to the ceiling.

Bai Shuangying, who was watching Fang Xiu bound all over the place: “……”

Fang Xiu, suddenly aware Bai Shuangying had been watching the entire time: “……”

Fang Xiu thought it over, then scooted to free half the bed. “Do you want to lie down, too?”

Bai Shuangying flipped over on the ceiling to face the wall, feeling distinctly like “out of sight, out of mind”.

The third thing Fang Xiu did after waking was take stock of his spoils.

Since dozing back off wasn’t happening, he decided to get up and sort out his bloody harvest.

He had snatched five jade Buddhas from Fourth Master. These jade Buddhas, once smeared with blood from his middle finger, could serve as a substitute for his life.

As good as they were, there were obvious limitations: smearing the blood took time, making them useless in sudden emergencies.

From Shan Huanzi’s corpse, he had salvaged a stack of yellow talisman paper, a small carved wooden token engraved with the characters “Rain Demon*”, and a bizarre little cauldron the size of an eyeball.

*Clarity: This may not be entirely accurate translation. The engrave characters are (雨聻). (雨) means rain while (聻) is an obscure character often found in classical literature referring to a higher-level ghost (a ghost that have died and become 聻, kind of like a ghost of a ghost). It’s supposed to be a higher-level ghost that’s more terrifying than a ghost and thus the character is used as a ward against evil spirits. In Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio, it is said that ghosts are afraid of 聻.

…He didn’t recognize any of them and could only sigh.

“Let me have a look.” At some point, Bai Shuangying had silently appeared behind him.

Since it was rare for Bai Shuangying to offer help, Fang Xiu scooted aside in a flash.

Bai Shuangying tapped the yellow paper with a fingertip, a slight look of distaste crossing his face. “It’s Taoist talisman paper. You can’t use it if you don’t understand Taoist techniques.”

Fang Xiu’s heart sank as he pushed the paper aside.

Next, Bai Shuangying pointed at the token. “This is also a Daoist magic weapon. It’s engraved with a Ziwei* incantation that wards off evil.”

*One of the highest gods of heaven and one of the Four Sovereigns.

Noticing how Fang Xiu’s eyes lit up, Bai Shuangying added, “But the quality is terrible. All it really does is make a ghost feel uncomfortable.”

Fang Xiu’s heart sank again, though he still kept the little token.

When Bai Shuangying saw the small cauldron, his expression flickered slightly. “Not bad.”

Fang Xiu quickly picked it up for closer examination.

It was entirely blood-red, faintly warm to the touch. Though only the size of an eyeball, its mouth was pitch-black and seemingly bottomless.

“That’s an Earth Knocking Cauldron, an Underworld item,” Bai Shuangying explained. “If you let a magic item soak up your blood for at least one hour, you can feed it to this cauldron.”

“Once inside, the item is destroyed, and its power remains in the cauldron for one day, which you can use to summon headless evil spirits.”

Fang Xiu mulled it over. “Does that mean the headless evil spirits literally have no brains?”

Bai Shuangying: “…Yes. They’re only really good at acting as meat shields.”

Fang Xiu patted the little cauldron. “I see. You sure know a lot.”

Normally, it would be perfect for disposing of useless magic items, a bit of recycling. But Fang Xiu was intrigued by its other functionality.

He clasped the Earth Knocking Cauldron in his palm, leaving his fingers just loose enough that you couldn’t see he was holding anything.

So that was how Shan Hunzi “barehandedly” destroyed Fourth Master’s Spirit-binding Chains. He had simply fed it to this cauldron.

Against evil spirits, the cauldron was nothing special. But against humans, it could be a truly formidable weapon. Fang Xiu even found it more useful than the jade Buddhas. Yet…

“Earth Knocking Cauldron is too much of a mouthful, so I’m going to call it my ‘Meal Card’,” Fang Xiu told Bai Shuangying. “If I’ve got leftover power after recharging it, I’ll swipe it so I can buy you a meal.”

Headless evil spirits had no heads, so wasn’t this like headless shrimp? Bai Shuangying was far too attractive a ghost to be stuck holding a severed head and gnawing on it. What a sight that would be. This “Meal Card” fit perfectly as a snack dispenser instead.

On the spot, Fang Xiu stuffed the Earth Knocking Cauldron—no, the “Meal Card”—into his pants pocket. He was reluctant to set it down.

……

“Up, up, up. Time for breakfast! Eat for good health…”

“No fierce ghosts at the table~ Don’t be late~”

The paper figure knocked on the door, hollering away like some kind of morning wake-up service.

Fang Xiu didn’t open the door immediately. “Why are no fierce ghosts allowed?”

Paper figure: “Their appearances are horrifying. It might affect everyone’s appetite.”

Fang Xiu: “My ghost is breathtaking. He’ll only make people hungrier.”

“…Fine, bring him.” The paper figure fell silent for a few seconds.

It really didn’t have a comeback. A ghost that beautiful was terrifying in its own right.

Fang Xiu grabbed Bai Shuangying, and the two of them headed out into the courtyard together.

Counting Fang Xiu, there were still six people here. The only difference from last time was that the auntie who didn’t summon a ghost never returned.

Seating remained as before: Jia Xu, Blondie, and Mei Lan at one table, Fang Xiu seated with Cheng Songyun. This time, Guan He didn’t hide in the corner by himself but quietly took the seat to Cheng Songyun’s left.

Seeing Fang Xiu, everyone but Cheng Songyun greeted him warmly.

Jia Xu jumped to his feet first. “Welcome to our hero. The paper figure says you personally destroyed the E! Awesome, Fang Xiu. How’d you stand up to Fourth Master?”

“That fool looked like he could crush you with one punch. You’re seriously badass.” Blondie gave him a grin.

Their understanding of Fourth Master remained at his peak state.

Cheng Songyun pressed her lips together, looking a bit pale. She tried her best to keep calm when she looked at Fang Xiu, but he could see an undercurrent of fear in her eyes.

Well, seeing someone as large as Fourth Master turned to minced meat up close would traumatize anyone.

“Fourth Master accidentally triggered a taboo, so I got an opening,” Fang Xiu said with a smile toward the other table.

Then he pulled three jade Buddhas out of his pocket. He passed two to Cheng Songyun and one to Guan He, then sat down with Bai Shuangying without making any further distributions.

Jia Xu’s broad grin grew stiff. “And that…?”

“All our ghosts can handle a bit of defense, but Guan He’s ghost is really weak, so it’s best if he takes one.”

“Cheng Jie’s shield can protect one extra person, so a single jade Buddha in her hands counts as two. Giving her two jade Buddhas equals four for the whole team. Then adding the one for Xiao Guan, that’s five total. So exactly one for each of you.”

With a sincerely earnest tone and expression, Fang Xiu continued, “As the one who actually got hold of them, I’m just keeping one more Buddha than anyone else. That’s fair, right?”

Jia Xu tried to keep smiling. “…Yeah, they were yours in the first place. I was just making conversation.”

Blondie did some finger-counting, got confused, and returned to quietly wolfing down his food. Mei Lan lowered her head and stayed silent.

Guan He murmured his thanks. Cheng Songyun hesitated but accepted.

She looked like she wanted to say something to Fang Xiu, but the paper figure suddenly spoke, cutting her off.

“Congratulations to all of you, truly! The first ritual is over, and you’re free to rest!”

It still wore that jovial grin.

The moment “rest” came up, Blondie hastily swallowed a mouthful of rice. “How long do we get to rest?”

Paper figure: “From this morning until tomorrow morning, you get a full day and night. Last night was a little extra kindness on our part.”

Blondie nearly choked. “Fuck, at least give us seven days. One day off is basically a single weekend!”

The paper figure’s expression remained calm. “The first ritual only took three days altogether.”

“…Anyway, I know you all must have a lot of questions. Let’s go through a few major points.”

Before Blondie could press the issue, it swiftly changed the topic.

“All of you enter the Tower in soul form. The body you use for the ritual is just a magic tool. As long as you have even a scrap of life left at the end, we’ll get you back to the tower in one piece, so you don’t need to worry about unhealable injuries.”

“When you first arrived, evil spirits temporarily ‘checked out’ your bodies. They’ll call your workplace to ask for leave on your behalf, then find a safe spot for you to ‘stay alone’.”

“If you survive and return, everything proceeds as normal. If you die in the ritual, your real body dies right along with you. Simple.”

Jia Xu’s eyebrow twitched. “Everything normal? But with eight rituals, that’s over a month. What about my job?”

The paper figure grinned. “If you live to come back, you can just wish for piles of gold.”

Jia Xu clicked his tongue softly, still not quite satisfied. He was quiet for a moment, then prodded further. “That guy who got eaten by a ghost before. There was blood everywhere. But aren’t we all just living souls inside the Tower? Why were we bleeding?”

“The Disaster Relief Tower gave you a provisional physical form, so that blood and flesh are part of your living soul’s vitality. If you lose too much vitality, your soul will disperse. But no worries, minor damage recovers quickly.”

Fang Xiu let out a soft hiss. He remembered how Bai Shuangying had pulled out all those soul fragments. He definitely preferred having a humanoid shape to being reduced to some ball.

The Tower was considerate, at least in that respect.

Seeing that no one else had questions, the paper figure floated lightly onto the incense burner in the courtyard’s center. Fang Xiu fixed it with a burning gaze, like a prizewinner waiting for the host to finish talking.

“The E at Weishan Village is gone. Whoever dispels an E gets an extra reward…”

The paper figure’s voice rang loud and clear. “The E was destroyed by Fang Xiu, so he will receive a huge reward­!”

Hearing about huge reward, Jia Xu’s eyebrow twitched again, while Blondie emitted an envious “Ooooh!”

Evidently pleased with that response, the paper figure spoke more loudly. “If you personally vanquish an E, you become entangled in its karma. Mr. Fang, please pick one anomaly from Weishan Village, and we will turn it into an ability for you.”

Fang Xiu lifted an eyebrow. “Anything at all?”

He had more faith that Bai Shuangying was a fox demon than in the Underworld’s generosity.

“Of course there are limits. Since you only brushed against the E’s karma, you didn’t ‘own’ it,” the paper figure explained. “The heavier the anomaly’s required yin energy, the weaker its final effect. If you’re unsure, just ask.”

It proceeded to list three of the village’s taboos as examples:

If Fang Xiu chose the taboo “food and water must not be consumed,” he could make food and water taste foul, but still edible.

If he chose “do not harm the villagers,” then anyone who harmed him would be afflicted with total-body itching for ten seconds (humans only).

The death-related taboo demanded too much yin energy, so it wasn’t an option.

“Obviously pick the second one!” Blondie smacked the table and yelled at Fang Xiu. “Second one, second one! It’s useful!”

Bai Shuangying, on the other hand, remained as still as a statue. He had a feeling Fang Xiu’s mind wouldn’t work so straightforwardly.

Sure enough, Fang Xiu didn’t answer right away. “So, I can pick from any phenomenon in the village?”

Paper figure: “Yes. You could even choose the ‘ghostly wall’ effect of the temple fair, although the actual results might.”

“If it’s something that doesn’t require much yin energy, can it be replicated at 100% power?” Fang Xiu cut in.

Confidence flickered in the paper figure’s eyes. “Don’t underestimate the Underworld’s capabilities.”

“Oh,” Fang Xiu said. “Then I want the offering table at the Weishan Shrine.”

Paper figure: “?”

Blondie, in mid-shout, abruptly started squawking like a chicken with its throat caught.

“That table automatically replenishes offerings, so by all accounts it counts as an anomaly.”

Fang Xiu aimed an innocent look at the paper figure. “I’m guessing the evil spirits in the village kept refilling it, so it was purely manual labor, which probably didn’t involve much yin energy at all.

“And if it’s only about keeping food fresh, that doesn’t require much yin energy, does it? If you lot can supply ordinary goods from the living world, you won’t even need the yin energy to ‘keep-it-fresh’.”

“It is technically possible, but…”

But…there didn’t seem to be any real issue with it.

Yes, Fang Xiu had indeed chosen an anomaly. Yes, that anomaly required little yin energy. Yes, the Underworld could replicate it.

…But the end result sounded suspiciously like a takeout delivery service.

The paper figure could only stare, unable to force a smile.

Heaven help it… This was not the outcome it had scripted. It had prepared a plan for the second taboo, but among all six people, of course the weirdest one had been the one to destroy the E… Now it’d have to rewrite the plan and contact someone topside to buy supplies…

“Are you certain?” it asked, swallowing its indignation.

Fang Xiu beamed. “Absolutely!”

Paper figure: “……”

Paper figure: “…Very well. Please wait a moment.”

Revising a plan was part of the Underworld’s job. The paper figure understood… alas.

Now it wasn’t just Cheng Songyun who seemed on the verge of speaking but holding back. Everyone else looked similarly flustered.

“Fang Ge, I really feel like the second taboo would be better. If a bad guy attacks, it could at least slow them down,” Guan He said cautiously.

Cheng Songyun couldn’t hold back either. “We’re not going to see something like Weishan Village every time. Xiao Fang, maybe think it over one more time?”

In high spirits, Fang Xiu sat back down and picked up his chopsticks. “It’s only ten seconds of itch, right? The enemy can grit their teeth and bear it or use medicine or spells to hold it off. Anyway, if we run into that problem, we can figure something else out.”

“…But good food is nonnegotiable.” He grabbed a piece of chicken, and his words blurred as he chewed.

One stick of incense later, the paper figure finished casting the anomaly’s spell.

With a complicated look, it tapped Fang Xiu’s left inner arm with its fingertip, leaving behind a vivid red Kan trigram symbol. After a few seconds, the symbol faded away and sank beneath his skin.

Paper figure: “The E of Weishan belonged to water. All you have to do is create a shallow surface of water as your ‘offering table’, and you can retrieve offerings. It’s exactly the same amount and variety you originally saw, not a bit more or less.”

“Additionally, you can’t take this ability back to the human realm. Once you complete all your rituals, the Disaster Relief Tower will seal it.”

“What an incredible prize for breaking an E. No wonder Fourth Master and the others were so desperate.” Fang Xiu rubbed his patch of skin with a note of admiration.

No, Bai Shuangying thought, that surely wasn’t what they’d been aiming for.

“What’s on your mind?” As “friends”, he was willing to ask directly if he didn’t understand.

Hearing Bai Shuangying’s sudden question, Fang Xiu almost choked on his food. He coughed a couple of times and looked into those strikingly pale eyes.

“Well, uh…”

Fang Xiu stammered a little, voice quiet. “There might be even nastier rituals ahead where there’s no choice but to resort to, say, cannibalism… That’d be too passive, just not easy to handle.”

“Besides, offering people food yourself is a good way to get closer to the target,” he finished in all seriousness.

Recalling all the “feedings” along their journey, Bai Shuangying asked, “So am I your target?”

“You’re my friend,” Fang Xiu said.

Always such a slippery answer, Bai Shuangying thought.

During the remainder of breakfast, Fang Xiu explained the truth of Weishan Village to the others and summarized some points about the E, looking earnest and slightly shy, as though “kind and benevolent” were written all over his face.

But Bai Shuangying still remembered how Fang Xiu had turned Shan Hunzi into a bloody pulp with a shovel. Compared to this busily “performing” version, he found that bloodstained Fang Xiu much more pleasing to the eye.

…Well, never mind. Whatever Fang Xiu’s true intentions, the guy had already been dragged into deeper waters alongside him.

…Next ritual, he wouldn’t just be off to the side watching. They’d step onto the stage together. Thinking about that did sound interesting.

Once everyone had finished their breakfast, the paper figure spoke again.

“Right, from now on, each time you return from a ritual, be sure to take a shower.”

“It’s a special soul-nourishing spring that washes away any yin energy left behind by the E. If a living soul gathers too much yin energy, it’ll eventually affect their real body.”

Fang Xiu: “……”

Fang Xiu: “Bai Shuangying, wait here in the courtyard for a minute. I’ll just go wash up.”

He wanted to retract that earlier thought about the Tower being considerate.

He remembered perfectly well that the shower room in this place was glass-walled and offered zero privacy. It wasn’t about male or female so much as Fang Xiu just really hating to be seen naked. Even in the human world, he’d never gone to public bathhouses.

Yet after a moment of thought, his ghost spoke calmly.

“No,” Bai Shuangying said.

---

The author has something to say:

Hahaha, bet you didn’t see that coming. There’s only a one-day break between instances (so sad).

In this chapter, Xiao Fang picked up a “dining table superpower”, and Xiao Bai got a “meal card magic item”, so everyone’s got a bright future ahead.

In the first volume, Bai Shuangying hardly ever stepped in, which really pained all the fans who love seeing them stick together… But now they can finally team up for real!!!

---

<<< || Table of Contents || >>>

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.

---

<<< || Table of Contents || >>>

Author: 年终 / Nian Zhong

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

---

Chapter 25: The End of the Mountain God

In front of Fang Xiu was still the graveyard west of the village.

It was clearly a different point in time. There was no rain, and the weeds between the graves were lush and green. The setting sun was like fire, and the entirety of Weishan looked as though it was ablaze.

“If someone dwells in the mountain, clad in creeping fig and trailing ivy… I forget the rest after that.”

A little girl with pigtails walked through the graveyard, reciting poetry under her breath, carrying a small grasshopper cage in her hand.

She looked to be about seven or eight years old. Beside her were two boys. One appeared to be the oldest, and the other was younger than she was, sniffling with a runny nose.

Their clothes were old and heavily patched, looking like styles from decades prior.

There weren’t many insects in the graveyard, so the three children headed toward the grove at the foot of Weishan. A few minutes later, they heard the little girl let out a shrill scream.

“Ghost—!”

Immediately, the oldest boy moved protectively in front of them. All three kids could see clearly what that “ghost” really was.

It was a deformed boy.

He had two extra arms, and his spine was curved. His facial features were misaligned, making him look rather frightening.

He wore only a few ragged scraps of cloth, and his skin was covered in bloodstains and bruises. He seemed to have just been beaten. Curled up on the ground, his body occasionally twitched, like a particularly ugly worm made of flesh.

The older boy breathed a sigh of relief. “Ni’er*, it’s okay. It’s just the child nobody in the village wants. He must have been seen by someone who thought he was unlucky and gave him a beating.”

*It’s an affectionate way to address a young girl/daughter. Kind of like calling her sweetheart or honey (but not in a romantic context).

“The child nobody wants?” The little girl asked curiously. “Brother, what do you mean by ‘the child nobody wants’?”

The brother scratched the back of his head. “Remember how the auntie next door was crying? She had a baby last month. Our village has children like this every year. Most of them are born dead.”

“In years with a lot of rain, there are even more of these deformed babies. Grandpa says it’s because too much rain brings heavy yin energy to the village.”

“Then why don’t they want this one? He’s still alive, isn’t he?” The girl pointed at the deformed boy in the bushes.

“They can’t afford to raise him.” The older brother mimicked the adults’ tone. “Grandpa says that even if someone’s reluctant to throw the baby away, most of them only live to their early twenties; a lot die in their teens.”

“They look scary, and they don’t live long. Everyone thinks it’s bad luck. Plus, our village isn’t well-off. Who has the means to provide for him? Better to put him in a vat and leave him outside, letting fate decide.”

“Oh, I remember now.” The girl made a gesture with her hands. “I saw that big vat at Auntie’s place. She even put some food in it.”

Her older brother nodded seriously. “Right, exactly that one.”

But I bet her child is gone by now. I saw that vat in the woods a few days ago, and the smell was awful.”

At this, the three children fell silent for a moment.

The girl looked at the boy curled on the ground, who couldn’t speak and whose shoulders shook as though he were sobbing.

After thinking it over, she said, “If each family in the village gave him a little food, wouldn’t that be enough to keep him alive? He got thrown away by his parents and then beaten up. He’s so pitiful.”

“That auntie next door was really sad. She cried for days,” she added.

“But there’s no real reason to feed him, right? Why would everyone give him food?” The older brother scratched his head hard. “Still, now that you mention it, he really is pretty pitiful…”

“Food, food,” the younger brother repeated with his unclear speech.

The three children squatted silently in the bushes for a while longer.

“I’ve got an idea.” The girl’s face tightened with resolve. “Everyone says he’s unlucky, so let’s claim he’s actually an auspicious sign… That’s it! Like an omen of good fortune! We’ll all say that we saw him fly!”

Older Brother: “……”

Older Brother: “Saying he can fly is too far-fetched. Let’s say he glows.”

Younger Brother: “Glows! Glows!”

“He both flies and glows.” The girl felt she was quite clever. “All those grandpas and grandmas really believe in that stuff. They’ll definitely be willing to give him food.”

The older brother was more realistic, though only a bit. “Then we should take him to the village chief and ask him to speak for us. That would be best.”

“Yes, yes—and we need evidence.” The girl searched all her pockets and finally found a piece of candy.

It was wrapped in bright red paper labeled “Double Happiness Hard Candy”. This was a rare treat. Their parents had brought back a few pieces when they attended a wedding banquet in town.

It was a round candy with a transparent, vivid red hue. She had looked at it many times, unwilling to eat it.

In the end, the girl reluctantly unwrapped the candy and placed it in the deformed boy’s hand.

“Hold it tight. This is your magic core*,” she said in a serious tone, not caring whether he could understand or not.

*Neidan or internal alchemy. It’s an array of esoteric doctrines and physical, mental, and spiritual practices that Taoist initiates use to prolong life and create an immortal spiritual body that would survive after death (also known as Jindan (golden elixir)). Its reference is often used in cultivation.

The deformed boy clutched the candy, neither letting go nor making a sound, as if he did sort of understand.

……

The village chief of Weishan Village was a kind middle-aged man, short in stature. All the children knew he was the only teacher in the village.

At first, hearing the three children’s outlandish story, he couldn’t help but laugh. But seeing the wounds on the deformed boy, his smile gradually faded.

He fetched a basin of water to gently clean the boy’s body, then brought out a bottle of red medicinal liquid to treat his wounds. The child was covered in injuries, so skinny his bones showed and his ribs protruded sharply.

Seeing this, the village chief frowned deeply, letting out a constant string of sighs.

“The village chief believes us. He definitely believes us,” the little girl said, clenching her fist as she spoke to her older brother. “We’re really good at this.”

The younger brother whispered, “All three of us, all three.”

“You kids have an interesting idea… I should’ve done something about this long ago.”

After settling the boy down, the village chief patted their heads. “Don’t worry, I’ll tell everyone in the village that these children are the children of the mountain spirit.”

“Children of the mountain spirit aren’t unlucky. All they need is a bit of offering, and they’ll bring good fortune.”

“‘Mountain spirit’ sounds scary,” the girl mumbled. “Chief, didn’t you just teach us that the mountain spirit is really a mountain god…”

The village chief finally smiled, deep wrinkles forming at the corners of his eyes.

“You’re right. Then let’s call them the children of the mountain god.” His tone was gentle. “They’re all children of the Mountain God.”

The girl was satisfied. “He even has a magic core! That’s a real treasure. Chief, make sure you don’t lose it.”

“I understand. Now go on home and memorize your poetry.”

Early the next morning, the village chief really did announce the news to the entire village and brought up the fact that the boy had been beaten.

Some villagers immediately jumped out to say it was nonsense. After all, for more than two hundred years, people had quarried stone from Weishan to make inkstones, and they hadn’t seen even half a mountain god during that entire time.

Others found it hard to accept, since everyone had always believed these deformed babies were unlucky. How could the story suddenly change?

But more people stayed silent and offered to provide a bit of food. Among them was even that auntie from next door. The little girl stared at her in shock.

“Auntie never believed in ghosts or gods, right? She even argued with Grandpa about this.” The girl tugged on her older brother’s sleeve with one hand while holding onto her younger brother’s hand with the other.

Her older brother thought for a long time. “Maybe she just can’t bear to see it anymore.”

He didn’t say what exactly she couldn’t bear to see.

The boy ended up living at the village chief’s home. He grew up on communal offerings, got taller and stronger, and learned to speak and write.

Even so, he still didn’t have a name. People jokingly called him “the God of Weishan”. Some meant it kindly, some maliciously.

He knew, of course, that he wasn’t actually a mountain god. He also knew the villagers knew that, too.

As for that piece of candy, he kept it in a little wooden box, hidden in the deepest corner under his bed, as though it really were some kind of immortal’s core.

Everything was just a crude little lie.

Another deformed baby was born. This time, the child had four legs but only one eye. Before the village chief could even respond, he stepped forward.

“I can help write letters and read,” he said. “I can earn money. I’ll take care of her.

She can share my offerings. Don’t throw her away.”

And so it went, from the time he left the foot of Weishan to the time he passed away peacefully, a total of ten years.

Before he died, he took the box from under his bed and handed it to the seven-year-old deformed girl. Behind her stood two other deformed children, about three or four years old.

He’d been teaching her to read and write all these years; she was in a much better state than he’d been back then.

“You are the next God of Weishan. Inside the box is the Mountain God’s core. Take good care of it,” he said.

The girl blinked her single eye, staring at him in confusion.

The dying God of Weishan smiled. “But remember, you’re actually not the God of Weishan. That thing isn’t a true core, either.”

Live well. Don’t let down the villagers.”

“And don’t cry.” He turned to another girl by the bedside.

That girl, who had given him the candy all those years ago, was now eighteen. Her name was Sun Ruyi, his benefactor.

In the ten years since, he and the three siblings had grown very close. He was happy now, because he knew she had a long life ahead of her… She was going to leave the village to study.

But Sun Ruyi was still crying, and her brothers tried to comfort her without success. Their own eyes were red, so how could they console her?

[You know the mountain spirit is also a god; at the foot of Weishan, the trees stand dense and tall.]

…..

The second God of Weishan took up her post at the age of seven.

Year after year, besides those two younger children the first god left behind, she took in three more deformed kids.

With so many people, it was no longer suitable to stay in the village chief’s house. The villagers decided that each family would contribute a bit more to build an extra dwelling.

“It’s the God of Weishan’s home. It’s practically a shrine!”

The old village chief laughed. His hair was now mostly white. “How strange and wonderful that our Weishan Village finally has its own shrine.”

From then on, the God of Weishan moved into that shrine. During the day, she helped villagers write letters and taught the deformed children to read. At night, they all slept together on a large communal bed in the shrine.

By then, the village had a younger teacher, so the old village chief no longer taught classes. In his spare time, though, he would come by to teach poetry to the children.

Before long, the God of Weishan faced a new challenge.

Some of the older deformed children had begun their studies earlier, so they were more advanced. The eldest among them knew his life would be short and started to resent the healthy villagers.

He lashed out at the people who brought offerings, tore up his younger siblings’ books, and even stole someone’s hatchet. Finally, when he tried to attack the old village chief with the knife, the second God of Weishan flew into a fury.

She gave him a brutal beating, then banished him from the village.

“Isn’t that repaying kindness with enmity?” she snapped angrily.

“Calm down now, it’s not good for your health to be angry.” The old village chief was wrapped up in bandages from his injury but still spoke gently. “No place can guarantee that everyone will be good.”

After thinking it over, the God of Weishan said, “This isn’t going to work in the long run. I need to come up with a plan.”

A few days later, the second God of Weishan sought out the old village chief.

“I’ve got it. Like you said before, we’ll claim that we’re all children of the Mountain God.

We’re deformed because the children of the Mountain God don’t fit mortal bodies. Dying young means returning to the celestial realm as immortal attendants… I’m the God of Weishan, so they’ll believe what I say.”

“I’ll choose the kindest, most sensible child to be the next God of Weishan. I’ll only tell the truth to that one.”

She wove a new lie.

The deformed children continued to live short lives, but at least they could be happier, without falling into despair and doing harmful things.

The old village chief smiled, though with a hint of bitterness.

Before him stood the “God of Weishan”, who was really just a sixteen-year-old girl.

“All right,” He patted her on the shoulder. “That’s a good story. You should write it down.”

Immediately, the God of Weishan fetched pen and paper and wrote carefully, word by word…

[The God of Weishan is the deity of Weishan, worshiped by the villagers of Weishan Village.]

[Any who are born deformed are the children of the Mountain God, guests in Weishan Village.]

[The children of the Mountain God must train in the human realm. When their time is up, they will return to the mountain. Those of upright conduct will naturally be possessed by the God of Weishan, becoming the next God of Weishan.]

It looked rather terse, so she recalled something from her books and added two lines the old village chief had taught her:

[Do not commit even a small evil; do not neglect even a small good*.]

*This comes from an edict by Liu Bei, which basically means don’t do bad things even if you think it’s small and do good things even if you think it’s trivial.

“Words alone may not be enough. We need clear rewards and punishments.”

The old village chief smiled as he watched her. “If one of them does something bad, how will you punish them?”

The God of Weishan’s eyes lit up. “I can hide some bitter mountain yams.”

“They’re wild plants from Weishan. If you rub them on yourself, they itch like crazy but aren’t harmful. If anyone tries anything wicked again, I’ll rub some on them and say it’s the God of Weishan’s curse… oh, right.”

She picked up her brush and wrote another line:

[Do not offend the God of Weishan. Any who do shall suffer misfortune.]

“I have to scare them,” she said angrily.

And with that, she finished writing the story of the God of Weishan.

She died at seventeen, an ordinary lifespan for a deformed child. In her final moments, she really didn’t pick the oldest child but rather the one with the best character. She gave him the wooden box containing the candy and told him everything.

“You are the next God of Weishan. The box holds the Mountain God’s core. Make sure you keep it safe,” she said.

“But remember, you are not actually the God of Weishan.”

On the day she was buried, twenty‑eight‑year‑old Sun Ruyi returned from afar, bringing with her two beautiful tombstones.

Ever since the “Mountain God” legend began, villagers had liked to bury deformed children at the westernmost edge of the graveyard. Weishan Village didn’t lack stonemasons; they made many simple stone plaques to serve as tombstones for these children. Many of the children were stillborn and had no names. The stonemasons considered it inauspicious to engrave them, so they simply left the stone unmarked.

The two tombstones Sun Ruyi brought likewise bore no inscriptions.

“I understand not engraving the god’s name, but why not carve the birth and death dates?” her younger brother asked.

“Because the God of Weishan is immortal,” Sun Ruyi replied.

[You know the mountain spirit is also a god; At the foot of Weishan’s cliff, the trees stand dense.]

[Pitiful abandoned children, discarded like an old shoe; Ascends to immortality, dressed in blue robes.]

……

The third God of Weishan took office at age twelve, and he now had six children under his care.

He dutifully taught them to read and write and told them the story of the God of Weishan. The old village chief passed away, but the new one was a decent person who strongly supported his work.

A few years later, torrential rains fell on Weishan Village, causing flooding.

The God of Weishan faced an unprecedented problem…

Some people in the village began bullying the deformed children; mostly other youngsters without disabilities.

They would deliberately knock them over, hide nails around the shrine, or pretend it was an accident to brush past them with blades, leaving bloody cuts in their wake.

Some of the deformed children became depressed, staying inside the shrine day after day, saying nothing and never venturing out. Others turned aggressive and got into brawls with the village kids, coming close to causing serious casualties.

In order to calm the villagers, the God of Weishan discussed matters with the village chief. Publicly, the chief announced that they would be driven out; secretly, he sent the deformed children who bore grudges against the village up onto Weishan. There were a few abandoned quarry huts there where they could barely get by.

But that was not a lasting solution.

The third God of Weishan decided to consult the Sun family. The second God of Weishan had told him that the three Sun siblings were very dependable. Once the eldest Sun sibling heard the whole story, he directly grabbed one of the bullies and made him explain himself in person.

Confronted with the frightening appearance of the God of Weishan, the child burst into tears on the spot.

“What gives them the right?”

“Every day I’m up before dawn gathering fodder for the pigs and don’t get to sleep until nightfall. They were born short-lived and pitiful, but I’m pitiful, too!”

“All they do is read a few books and nothing else! Mom and Dad insist on feeding them while I don’t even have enough to eat!”

Feeling awkward, the eldest Sun sibling said, “That’s not true. They’ve earned some money, too…”

“You dare say they haven’t been freeloading? You dare say that?” the child shouted tearfully.

The third God of Weishan fell into deep thought.

Because of the village’s frequent rains, disaster years were common, and they couldn’t live off the villagers’ compassion forever. If the deformed children couldn’t do physical labor, then they would have to use their minds.

He began writing more letters for the villagers and asked someone to buy more books from the town. He wanted the children to learn more so they could help the village in other ways. Unfortunately, by the time these preparations were complete, he himself was on the verge of death.

“You need to read more, read books that are truly useful.” Bending his arm tremblingly, he took the hand of the future, the fourth God of Weishan.

“We have no parents or personal attachments. That makes us best suited to uphold fairness… The village doesn’t have enough teachers, so you must also help teach the children of the village…”

He gave him the wooden box with the candy, imploring, “Remember, you are not the God of Weishan. But you must be a competent God of Weishan…”

He, too, died at seventeen. That year, Sun Ruyi was thirty‑three.

She had been doing business outside and made a decent amount of money. Returning home for the funeral, she donated a large sum to her family and once again commissioned wordless tombstones.

“From now on, my family will provide the tombstones for the God of Weishan. Think of it as our good deed,” she said.

[You know the mountain spirit is also a god; At the foot of Weishan’s cliff, the trees stand dense.]

[Pitiful abandoned children, discarded like an old shoe; Ascends to immortality, dressed in blue robes.]

[The village’s boys and girls are its guests; Honored ones inside and outside the shrine.]

……

The fourth God of Weishan took up the position at fourteen, never betraying the previous one’s trust.

Weishan Village was remote, and villagers were used to settling disputes themselves. Petty conflicts broke out constantly; once tempers flared, injuries easily resulted.

After the God of Weishan stepped in, matters improved a great deal. This God of Weishan was quick-witted. He had studied law from a young age. He could argue any case in an orderly way that convinced people. Now, villagers brought disagreements to the shrine to reason things out instead of coming to blows.

During busy farming seasons, families would leave their children at the shrine, where the deformed children taught them. The “children of the Mountain God” taught reading and also arithmetic.

When the God of Weishan was twenty‑three, the village produced its very first college student. The entire village lit fireworks and banged drums. As one of the student’s former teachers, the God of Weishan was overjoyed.

The old village chief was positively beaming. He picked an auspicious day and called everyone together.

“Why don’t we hold a temple fair for the Mountain God?” he suggested excitedly, gesturing with his hands.

“We can do it every year, seven days and seven nights!”

Now that the village was better off, everyone readily agreed.

However, on the sixth day of the fair, the God of Weishan fell ill, so ill he couldn’t leave his bed. He listened to the lively festival music with a smile. That same day, he summoned his successor and handed her the small wooden box that contained the candy.

So much time had passed that the candy had begun to deteriorate. Afraid it would melt, he had wrapped it layer by layer in moisture‑absorbing paper, replacing it each year. Aside from being a bit dulled in color, it looked much as it had before.

“Remember, you are not the God of Weishan,” he told the next successor. “Weishan Village has never had a real god. It was only people.”

On the seventh day of the fair, the villagers commissioned a plaque, made a pair of couplets, and carved a wooden statue of the God of Weishan.

Within the shrine, a gleaming couplet in gold lettering was hung high on the wall, personally composed by the old village chief.

[Do no evil, heaven’s blessings are far-reaching; Practice all virtue, and the rain that nurtures all things brings deep fellowship.]

In the center, an unfinished wooden idol stood. The villagers had faithfully carved the deformed limbs, for the old village chief said that the God of Weishan had always looked unusual and there was nothing to hide. If the statue looked deformed, it would comfort the children who saw themselves in it.

But each God of Weishan had been different—different gender, different features—so no one knew which face to carve. In the end, they left only a faint smile.

They only needed to wait for the paint to dry before giving it a thorough polish.

…What shrine doesn’t have its own image of the deity?

…A small gap in the legend of the God of Weishan, one the villagers happily filled.

The villagers had always known the God of Weishan was not actually divine.

But so what? As long as the God of Weishan didn’t tear the lie apart, neither would they, and thus the God of Weishan remained a god.

On the day that God of Weishan was laid to rest, forty‑two‑year‑old Sun Ruyi returned home. This time, she kept vigil for the first seven days of mourning and never left again. That same year, she became the new village chief of Weishan.

When the statue of the God of Weishan was finally completed, the villagers brought many gifts. Sun Ruyi prepared a poem, not to honor the statue, but to remember her friends.

[You know the mountain spirit is also a god; At the foot of Weishan’s cliff, the trees stand dense.]

[Pitiful abandoned children, discarded like an old shoe; Ascends to immortality, dressed in blue robes.]

[The village’s boys and girls are its guests; Honored ones inside and outside the shrine.]

[Upholding virtue and punishing evil with clear judgment, and henceforth, justice is seen in the hearts of men.]

……

Time flew by, and so did the succession of the God of Weishan; from the fifth, to the sixth, the seventh… all the way to the tenth.

The tenth God of Weishan assumed the position at age twelve. She had three arms, four legs, and a small, undeveloped head at her neck.

She did not adopt any deformed children. The reason was simple: she was the last deformed child of Weishan Village.

Weishan Village was remote and had poor climate conditions. The land was infertile. The only specialty was the Weishan inkstone, which never sold well. Recently, muddy water often ran down the mountain, destroying crops if people weren’t careful.

All the young folks had left for the town, saying there were more jobs there, plus better schools, and indeed, over the years, Weishan Village had produced many college students, so everyone knew the importance of an education.

Many elders followed their children and grandchildren to live in town, only returning on holidays to let the kids pay respects to their ancestors. They said life was better outside, and that people lived noticeably longer there.

Strangely, after the young people departed, fewer and fewer deformed children were born. By the time of the tenth God of Weishan, not a single one had appeared.

Now, only about half the original villagers remained in Weishan. You could hardly see any young people; most who stayed were older folks attached to their home, such as Sun Ruyi.

Sun Ruyi’s older and younger brothers had passed on, yet she herself survived to the ripe old age of seventy‑eight. This was nearly unheard of in the village. She was no longer the village chief but still often visited the young God of Weishan.

With no children in need of teaching and no disputes in need of judging, the tenth God of Weishan had plenty of free time. Carrying her small wooden box, she simply moved into Sun Ruyi’s home.

One old and one young, with nothing particular to do, they read books and newspapers every day, living as though they were grandmother and granddaughter.

A few years later, something new happened in the village.

Officials from the town arrived, hanging banners and setting up a desk at the entrance for public announcements. Their main points were twofold: first, that Weishan Village’s environment contained natural mineral pollution; and second, that its location was poor and prone to disaster if the rains got any worse. In short, they were urging the villagers to relocate.

“Granny, you should leave. Don’t both your children live in the capital? You can go and enjoy your old age.” The tenth God of Weishan said anxiously, “They’re right. There’s a problem with Weishan Village’s water and soil.”

“Our village clearly isn’t poor anymore, yet the elders still die young. Meanwhile, those who left are doing so much better.”

“We can’t sell our Weishan inkstones because they smell fishy once they get wet, right? There must be something dirty in the soil dissolving in the water, and people end up drinking it… The heavier the rain, the worse the pollution, and that’s why there used to be so many kids were born deformed.”

She held the book and analyze it solemnly. “People used to just accept it because they didn’t understand, but now we have a scientific explanation. Everyone should move away.”

Sun Ruyi said nothing.

“They’re not just trying to scare us about potential disasters. Lately the rains have been getting heavier, and the soil on the mountain is unstable. A mudslide could happen. I heard the town can help people apply for free housing…”

“Ni’er, I understand,” Sun Ruyi said. “Weishan Village is already how it is. There’s no need.”

The God of Weishan was taken aback.

“All the young people have already gone, so no children will suffer anymore. It’s just us old folks left; we live each day as it comes. Why make it harder on ourselves?”

“My parents and my brothers are buried here. Why would I leave alone?”

“But… the mudslides…”

“That’s only a ‘maybe’.” Sun Ruyi sighed. “It’s been raining like this for centuries, and we’ve never had a mudslide. None of us have many years left, so what are the odds we’d be that unlucky?”

She patted the God of Weishan’s head and smiled. “You’re still young. You wouldn’t understand.”

The God of Weishan knew that Sun Ruyi had been there when the first God of Weishan came into the world, and she had also sent off the previous nine. Sun Ruyi had read many books, conducted large business ventures, served as village chief, and written poetry for the God of Weishan.

But the tenth God of Weishan still could not agree with her thinking.

She, too, had read many books. She knew that the climate of Weishan Village was shifting and the ground in the mountain was in terrible condition. They were only one prolonged downpour—a truly relentless rain—away from disaster.

So the young God of Weishan gathered scientific articles and newspaper clippings, going door to door to persuade the villagers.

The town officials couldn’t stay in the village every day, but the God of Weishan could. Thanks to her persistent efforts, another half of the villagers left.

As for the remaining elders, they were stubborn as oxen, dismissing her worries as groundless. Irritated by her pleas, they simply refused to see her. They knew she wasn’t truly divine, and she knew it, too.

The final God of Weishan died at twenty‑two.

The day before her death, she was still trying to convince Sun Ruyi to leave. But come the next morning, the old was left burying the young.

In her last moments, the God of Weishan opened the wooden box and took out that candy. There was no one to succeed her; there was no more need to wrap it up. Everyone knew Weishan Village would have no more Gods of Weishan.

In the end, the last God of Weishan clutched the candy tightly and pressed it to her chest.

She still didn’t want to die; she hated her own short life. Never before had she felt such reluctance. After all, the God of Weishan’s mission wasn’t over. At the very end, she hadn’t even managed to persuade Sun Ruyi to leave; how could she feel at ease departing like this?

She knew she wasn’t actually a god. She knew Weishan Village had no god. And yet…

“If the God of Weishan was real, that would be wonderful.”

She murmured these words and took her final breath.

Even in her last moments, her eyes remained slightly open.

When an object carries lingering attachment, and the ties of karma converge, it becomes an “E”.

Eighty years of time, ten generations of karmic bonds, plus one pure yet overwhelming wish. In the corpse’s hand, that piece of candy exuded a dense, chilling aura, gradually turning dull and lightless.

The following day, eighty‑eight‑year‑old Sun Ruyi paused before a new tombstone. Her hands trembled as she set down two pastries and a bottle of drink.

“Now I really can’t go.” Sun Ruyi smiled wryly. “If I left, who would bring offerings to the shrine?”

It was as if something responded to her words. The moment Sun Ruyi left the graveyard, a sudden gust of eerie wind rose from the new grave’s center.

In an instant, dark clouds blotted out the sun, shredded grass swirled in the air, and midday became as dark as night. The yin energy was so immense that countless evil spirits emerged in broad daylight.

…And thus, the “E” of Weishan descended upon the world.

Very soon, the villagers discovered something was wrong with the crops in their fields and the water they drank.

Day by day, the strange smell intensified, making everything inedible. Even food brought from outside quickly took on a foul reek.

Strangely enough, the offerings at the Weishan Shrine remained perfectly fine.

The older folks looked at one another. “It must be the God of Weishan causing mischief”. This phrase hovered on everyone’s lips, yet no one said it out loud. In the end, they sighed and gave in. In under half a month, all the villagers had moved away.

Sun Ruyi was no exception.

On the day she left, she lingered for a long time in front of the God of Weishan’s grave.

“You silly child. Why are you so stubborn?” Her eyes were red. “I’ll come back each year for the temple fair to bring you something to eat.”

“…And wherever you are, make sure you still eat well.”

From the next day onward, Weishan Village lay officially deserted.

Until this very day, ten years later.

……

Gulp.

Fang Xiu swallowed the fragments of candy, and countless threads of karma fell silent.

Amid the howling yin wind, a paper figure from the Underworld drifted down like a savior descending from the sky.

Only then did Fang Xiu notice that he, Cheng Songyun, and Shan Hunzi were all cloaked in a faint layer of golden light. Cheng Songyun stood as if in a daze, seemingly not comprehending what had happened. Shan Hunzi glared openly, making no attempt to hide his displeasure.

The surrounding evil spirits continued to encircle them but didn’t charge closer; they seemed quite wary the paper figure form the Underworld.

Ignoring the host of evil spirits around them, the paper figure turned to Fang Xiu with a broad grin.

“Dispersing calamity, dispelling the E—protection from all evil. The ritual is complete. I shall now escort you all back to the Tower—”

“Give it back! Give it back!”

Old Man Fu roared at the paper figure. Unlike the other evil spirits, he charged straight at the group.

“Ten years of cultivation brought me this far! Another ten and I’d become an immortal ghost! How dare the Underworld—ugh!”

The paper figure, Shan Hunzi, Cheng Songyun: “……”

Bai Shuangying: “?”

Fang Xiu, in one swift motion, rush forward and slam his shoulder into the lanky Old Man Fu, pressing his knee against him. With the Underworld’s protection behind him, Fang Xiu swung his right arm, pummeling Old Man Fu’s face with heavy blows.

Though Fang Xiu wasn’t especially brawny, his punches were ruthless. Each fist landed squarely on Old Man Fu’s distorted face. Its gaping mouth-like cavity clamped shut and turned into a narrow slit; that stark-white face was already becoming misshapen.

Old Man Fu’s real form was thin and frail. He wasn’t an evil spirit suited for close combat, and now that with his evil magic nullified, he was reduced to a literal punching bag.

The surrounding evil spirits that had been poised to attack all froze in place, terrified into silence.

For a moment, the graveyard grew deathly still, broken only by the thud of fist meeting flesh.

The paper figure: “…”

Unable to hold back, it asked, “What are you doing?”

“Testing the performance of your ‘protection from all evil’.”

Without lifting his head, Fang Xiu replied, “After all, force is mutual. He’s smashing my hand with his face.”

The paper figure was at a loss for words.

“Protection from all evil” was meant to shield the ritual participants so they wouldn’t be attacked by vengeful spirits after destroying the E. In all the time it had served, the paper figure had never seen anyone use the protection this way.

And yet, it couldn’t exactly scold Fang Xiu to “show some mercy.”

The ritual was clearly over, and yet Fang Xiu was engaging in this “hurt the enemy by a thousand, hurt yourself by a thousand” brawl. Just what was Fang Xiu… Wait… Perhaps there was a point.

No way. The paper figure slowly turned its head.

Sure enough, its bad feeling proved correct. When Fang Xiu finally tired of beating his Old Man Fu, he hefted the barely recognizable Old Man Fu in one hand, panting as he called out to Bai Shuangying.

“How’s this? Can you eat it?”

Bai Shuangying strolled over, the corners of his mouth lifting high. “Yes.”

As he approached, Fang Xiu grabbed Bai Shuangying’s sleeve to help himself stand. Once he was finally upright, he leaned weakly against his ghost.

“Was the temple fair fun?” Fang Xiu asked in a low voice.

Bai Shuangying pondered a moment. “The food was good. The ending felt… a bit underwhelming.”

Not that he was surprised. After all, from Fang Xiu’s perspective, destroying the E as soon as possible was clearly the best choice.

Hearing this, Fang Xiu muffled a laugh against Bai Shuangying’s shoulder. Bai Shuangying could feel the vibration of his chest and the racing of his heart.

“Who says the temple fair is over?” Fang Xiu covered his mouth as he whispered, “I have something better to show you.”

Bai Shuangying tilted his head, idly toying with the paper flower he wore. Finally, he seemed to have thought of something.

“All right. If your performance is interesting enough, I’ll give you something in return. Among friends, there should be give and take.”

Watching this pair—one in red, one in white—so blatantly whispering to each other, the paper figure’s mouth twitched.

It couldn’t stand it any longer. Clearly, someone here was bewitched by a seductive ghost!

Remaining strictly businesslike, the paper figure repeated, “The ritual is complete. I shall now escort you to the Tower…”

“May I leave a bit later? Just give me one more hour. I still have something to settle.” Fang Xiu wipe sweat from his forehead as he finally released his “Bai Shuangying crutch”.

Knowing Fang Xiu was a key figure in destroying the E, the paper figure remained patient.

“Ah, by all means, take your time. This ‘protection from all evil’ will last for another hour.”

Luckily for the paper figure, nobody else had so many requests.

After all that trouble, Cheng Songyun was exhausted both physically and mentally. Confirming that the unconscious companions had been teleported back to the Tower, she immediately asked to return herself. With a wave of its hand, the paper figure transformed Cheng Songyun’s body into golden light, and she vanished on the spot.

Shan Hunzi rolled his eyes. Now that it was clear there would be no reward for destroying the E, he couldn’t be bothered to argue any further.

…He was just about to request to return to the Tower when Fang Xiu blocked his path.

“There’s something you still haven’t asked me.”

Fang Xiu picked up the Luoyang shovel from the ground and leaned on it like a cane. He looked exhausted, his lips nearly bloodless.

It took Shan Hunzi a moment to realize what Fang Xiu meant: back when Fang Xiu had revealed that Shan Hunzi was only pretending to be mad, Fang Xiu had mentioned he knew exactly how he had been exposed, and that the answer would require payment.

“Stay with me for an hour, and I’ll tell you. That hour will be your fee.”

Fang Xiu winked. “An hour in exchange for learning how you slipped up. Quite the deal, no?”

“Why?”

“Because it’s a rare opportunity, and I have questions for you as well. Besides, who knows, we might run into each other again someday. I don’t want us at each other’s throats.”

Shan Hunzi hesitated for two seconds. “All right.”

It was hard to refuse an offer like that. He would still need to keep faking madness in the future, and if someone else noticed, it would be a problem.

Seeing that the two had come to an agreement, the paper figure forced a smile. “Then I’ll return in about the time it takes for two sticks of incense to burn.”

With that, its form flickered and dissolved into a wisp of green smoke.

Freed from the E, the surrounding spirits began to disperse. Bai Shuangying took a seat in a leisurely manner on top of Old Man Fu, casually ripping off an arm to eat.

With Bai Shuangying no longer concealing himself, Shan Hunzi could see the seductive ghost sitting there and looked even more disdainful.

Fang Xiu was still trembling on his feet, as if his strength were spent to the very limit and he was about to collapse.

Yet, to be safe, Shan Hunzi kept a magic weapon clutched in his hand.

“Speak,” he said, clearing his throat and looking at Fang Xiu. “How exactly did you—”

Splurt.

Before Shan Hunzi could finish, hot blood spattered across his face.

A sharp Luoyang shovel had pierced straight into his chest.

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The author has something to say:

The truth behind the God of Weishan is revealed! Xiao Fang’s mask has fallen off… halfway. (…In the next chapter, the other half will fall off, then Xiao Bai’s will too, and that’ll just about wrap up this volume—

As for the real story, Fang Xiu only guessed the main idea—no way he could’ve guessed all these specifics, lol. I’ll explain the rest in upcoming chapters!)

“Should someone appear on the mountainside,
Clad in creeping vines and girded with trailing ivy.”
—Quoted from Qu Yuan’s “Nine Songs: The Mountain Spirit.”

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