Chapter 11 Chapter Eleven — The Ghost-Raiser

Hearing this, Li Daoxuan understood the whole affair, start to finish.

"That plague must have been the wandering Daoist's doing. Otherwise the villagers would never have heeded him — and even those soldiers seemed to play along. This place is hidden deep in the mountains; why, the moment the plague appeared, was it surrounded by troops?"

The yellow-robed Daoist gave Li Daoxuan an approving look, a glimmer of admiration in his eyes.

He liked speaking with clever men.

"You are right. And Liu Heita, then holding the two prefectures of Hong and Ding, had won a hundred battles — how arrogant his bearing. Why would he spare a thought for a tiny mountain village? One must suspect the wandering Daoist was working behind it."

A chill ran through Li Daoxuan. The evil of men surpasses the tiger — a tiger can eat but a few, yet that wandering Daoist, with the lightest of touches, had slain an entire village!

"Daoist, was there truly no one who saw through the wandering Daoist's scheme, back then?"

The yellow-robed Daoist thought. "They say the village had a spirit-woman who urged the villagers not to heed the demon's words. But the despairing villagers would listen to no one. She knew some crooked arts, and later slipped out through the soldiers' encirclement — her whereabouts unknown."

Li Daoxuan started. He recalled the old witch he had met while slaying the bat demon — how, before dying, she had clutched his trouser leg, begging him again and again to save the village. He had thought she meant Xiaosha Village, but now it was clear: she had meant Li Family Village!

She was that very spirit-woman who had escaped alive all those years ago!

For years she had wandered around Li Family Village, watching these familiar dead endure their suffering, ever seeking a way to free them…

Pity that in the end she had died beneath the bat demon's fangs.

Li Daoxuan told the yellow-robed Daoist this; he too sighed, and said, "Though her cultivation was shallow, she was loyal and righteous, with a merciful heart — a great good!"

He looked at Li Daoxuan, and the admiration in his eyes deepened.

"You learned but a few talismans, yet dared to subdue demons, and truly slew a century-old bat demon. Bold and shrewd — not bad!"

Li Daoxuan was about to demur.

Just then, a night wind howled, and the shrine's spirit tablets began to tremble without cease.

The yellow-robed Daoist's eyes narrowed. "These old fellows are warning me — the Red Robe vengeful ghost is about to break free!"

He waved at the tablets. "Rest easy. With this Daoist here, no need to panic."

Li Daoxuan poured mana into his eyes and looked at the tablets — but saw nothing.

"Your cultivation is too shallow; many things cannot be seen with the Dharma eye. Yet our Daoist school has a method to open the Heavenly Eye — learn it, and seeing them would be no trouble."

After a pause, a light flashed in the yellow-robed Daoist's eyes. "The Red Robe's breaking free means the wandering Daoist will soon show himself. Heh. Little one, you wandered in by mistake — leave now, lest you lose your life."

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Li Daoxuan hesitated. By rights he should flee as far as possible; a great battle was likely imminent.

But…

Li Daoxuan had a premonition: if he truly left now, he might never see this Daoist again.

Not that the Daoist would die here — but that he would miss a fine chance to take a master.

He had the Heaven-Subduing Demon Scripture, yet his path of cultivation still held many pitfalls. For instance, the moment he cultivated now, his lower abdomen ached faintly, and the pain only grew.

That was a question the Heaven-Subduing Demon Scripture could not answer — it was, after all, a dead thing.

And though this world had Daoist sects like Mount Longhu and Maoshan, their rules were strict; they took only children under seven. Even if he joined, he would be but an outer disciple, and learning the true teachings under a master would be near impossible.

Before him was a rare chance!

This yellow-robed Daoist's cultivation was fathomless — with a lift of his hand he had dispersed the thunder Li Daoxuan summoned. When Li Daoxuan gazed at him with the Dharma eye, he saw the man wrapped in a misty jade light, wholly unlike a mortal.

Perhaps within Mount Longhu, his standing was no low thing!

Gritting his teeth, Li Daoxuan cupped his hands in salute. "Daoist, though my cultivation is slight, having learned of this, I would lend you my strength!"

The yellow-robed Daoist fixed on him. "Boy, think carefully. At your level, you may well die here."

Li Daoxuan sighed. "To be honest, I too fear death. Were I alone, I would have turned and run. But with a senior present—"

Li Daoxuan lifted his eyes; they were clear and firm.

"Though unworthy, I would risk it once. For a Daoist is one who acts for Heaven's justice. I, Li, have not yet entered the Daoist register, but my heart seeks the Way!"

He was not merely mouthing pretty words. Though Li Daoxuan wished to take the man as master, he also felt a fierce disgust for that wandering Daoist who had loosed a plague and used a whole village's lives to scheme and raise a ghost.

Such a heretic, who treats human life as grass — more loathsome than any bat demon or vengeful ghost!

At Li Daoxuan's words, the yellow-robed Daoist's eyes lit; he laughed heartily and praised, "Well said — 'a Daoist is one who acts for Heaven's justice.' That sits well with this Daoist. Boy, you'll do."

He clapped Li Daoxuan's shoulder. "What is your name?"

"Li Daoxuan, styled Changyuan."

"Listen well: this Daoist is called Zhang Qianyang."

The yellow-robed Daoist — Zhang Qianyang — gave a slight smile, already bracing for the other's eyes to widen in shock, for exclamations of awe.

Li Daoxuan blinked. No reaction at all.

Zhang Qianyang coughed, a little embarrassed. "You've not heard my name?"

Is the name famous?

I've heard of Li Shimin, Wei Zheng, Fang Xuanling — but Zhang Qianyang, who is that?

Still, out of politeness, Li Daoxuan hurried, "Your great name is known to me; I am ashamed not to have shown due respect sooner."

Zhang Qianyang was all the more embarrassed — the little Daoist truly had never heard of him.

He took a round ancient jade from his bosom and handed it to Li Daoxuan.

"Boy, keep this. At a critical moment it may spare your life."

Li Daoxuan quickly tucked it away, hiding it in his breast. He still had a few Six Ding Six Jia Protective Talismans, but who ever complains of too many life-saving things?

"Ah — besides the Red Robe bride and the heretic, beware two ghosts."

Li Daoxuan said at once, "The Master Chen of the household, and the old woman in burial clothes?"

These two ghosts differed from the other earth-bound spirits — they seemed to have waking wits. Especially that old woman in burial clothes; Li Daoxuan had never felt she belonged to the village.

Zhang Qianyang was a little surprised. "Didn't expect you'd noticed. Good. Master Chen, as the bride's father, took on some of her grievance and is now a vengeful ghost. And that old ghost in burial clothes…"

Zhang Qianyang gave a cold laugh. "If I guess right, she is the heretic's kept ghost — set to watch the village, lest any variable arise. Should an outsider blunder in, she either deals with him herself, or leads him to the wedding, to be torn apart by the ghostly throng!"

"Be careful — she too is a vengeful ghost, and that burial robe she wears has some trick to it."

Having explained all that bore warning, Zhang Qianyang took another pull of strong liquor and gazed into the distance at the sky-raking yin energy, his eyes growing grave.

Above the village now, the moon was wholly hidden; a heavy black cloud like a coffin shrouded the whole place.

From somewhere far off, a thick red mist shot into the sky, its killing aura piercing the heavens, the shrill wind like a female ghost's wail.

It came from the direction of the Chen manor.

"The Red Robe is breaking free. Little Daoist — hasten, we must get there!"