Chapter 9 Chapter Nine — The Shrine and the Spirit Coffin

Beneath the fearsome power of the thunder, the ghosts' steps faltered — and that gave Wang Chunsheng a moment to breathe.

He looked at Li Daoxuan, thunder seal in hand, and hope flickered in his eyes.

This little Daoist could command thunder!

They were saved!

Wang Chunsheng ran toward Li Daoxuan — but Li Daoxuan was faster. One step, and like a blink he appeared before Wang Chunsheng.

"Daoist, save me!"

"These… these are all ghosts!"

Li Daoxuan said nothing. His face grave, he seized Wang Chunsheng's wrist and turned to run.

Though his mana had grown, Li Daoxuan had only five Five-Thunder Talismans left, and this mob of vicious ghosts numbered at least dozens — he could not meet them head-on.

Wang Chunsheng, wrist in Li Daoxuan's grip, felt as if wind had risen beneath his feet; in the blink of an eye they were out of the manor, wind shrieking past his ears.

But when he looked back, he nearly jumped — the ghostly throng was still in pursuit. Their feet never touched ground; they flowed like a black mist, closing swiftly on the two.

Had this formidable Daoist not been dragging him, he would long since have been caught.

Yet even so, the ghosts clung fast, impossible to shake.

Li Daoxuan poured mana into his eyes and scanned around. He found that in one direction the yin energy was far thinner than elsewhere — perhaps there lay the exit?

Without a second thought, he dragged Wang Chunsheng toward it.

After three turns and a long, deep passage, a shrine rose before Li Daoxuan and Wang Chunsheng. Its gate stood open; the two dashed inside.

Beyond the door, the ghosts halted as one, gazing coldly at the shrine — like dozens of icy statues in the dark.

But eerily, they only watched; none stepped inside, as if something within the shrine inspired in them a deep dread.

…

Hemmed in outside, Li Daoxuan and Wang Chunsheng had no choice but to shelter in the shrine.

Wang Chunsheng trembled, legs still shaking — for all his bold front, he was only an ordinary man.

Li Daoxuan ignored him and studied the shrine.

It was large, lined with many spirit tablets — the place where the village honored its ancestors. In the clan-based ancien régime, the shrine held a very high place in people's hearts; it was to be worshipped often, that the ancestors might grant protection.

But here the tablets were thick with cobwebs, and a musty smell hung in the air — clearly long unswept.

Most striking was the coffin set in the shrine's central hall.

At the sight of that coffin, Li Daoxuan's eyes narrowed. The old saying goes: a coffin that touches the earth brings the whole family ill fortune.

This coffin had hung suspended by ropes, but the ropes had rotted through, letting it settle to the ground.

Earth energy nourishes the yin; in a place so thick with yin, such a coffin was all too likely to undergo corpse-change.

This copy lacks the author's permission, while the author's official page contains the chapter for readers.

Li Daoxuan had no desire to open it. Decisively, he stuck a Five-Thunder Talisman to the coffin and murmured the incantation.

A thundercloud gathered in the sky.

But just then, every spirit tablet in the shrine began to tremble. In Li Daoxuan's ears rang what seemed countless old voices, bidding him get out.

In the next breath, a loud thud came from within the coffin; the lid was pushed open from the inside, and a figure sat up.

Boom!

As the heavenly thunder was about to fall, the figure in the coffin gave a soft eh? — then with both hands pinched the Yin sign, five fingers hiding the nails, exactly the Daoist Heaven-Thunder Seal.

"Roar forth wind and thunder, heed my command — disperse!"

In an instant, the thundercloud Li Daoxuan had summoned with his talisman vanished like smoke. Even the dense yin energy over the village thinned greatly, and bright moonlight poured in.

Li Daoxuan's mouth fell open.

What in the world — zombies that know thunder magic?

But he soon saw the figure was no zombie, but a Daoist with graying hair, thin of frame yet sharp of eye.

The Daoist looked fifty or sixty, with a square face, in shabby yellow Daoist robes, hair greasy — who knew how long unwashed.

The shrine's tablets still trembled, ever more violently.

The yellow-robed Daoist picked at his ear, impatience flashing in his eyes, and snapped, "What's all the noise? Disturbing this Daoist's sleep — all of you, shut up!"

No sooner had he spoken than all fell silent; the tablets stood meekly in place, not a stir.

The yellow-robed Daoist turned to Li Daoxuan and Wang Chunsheng, clicked his tongue, and said, "Little Daoist, didn't your master teach you the Five-Thunder Talisman strikes only demons and ghosts, never men?"

Li Daoxuan hesitated, then chose honesty.

"Senior, I have no master."

"No master?"

A sharp light flashed in the yellow-robed Daoist's eyes, then quickly hid.

"Heh. Do you take me for a fool? No master, yet you learned the Five-Thunder Talisman — a secret art of Mount Longhu?"

That Li Daoxuan could learn the Five-Thunder Talisman was naturally thanks to the Heaven-Subduing Demon Scripture — but that was his greatest secret, and he would tell no one.

"I am from Hongzhou. In the eighth year of Wude, to flee the war, I took refuge as a cook at the Cloud-Rising Temple on Little Peak Mountain. But in the ninth year of Wude, the temple too was destroyed in the fighting.

"I fled for my life, fell by mischance into a valley, and by luck did not die. There I came upon a corpse in Daoist robes, and from it recovered a tattered book, containing some arts."

The yellow-robed Daoist fixed on Li Daoxuan's eyes. "And then?"

"Then I buried that Daoist, and hid in the valley to cultivate on my own. Later I developed mana, left the valley, and have made my living subduing demons."

Li Daoxuan spoke with ease, no trace of nervousness, no fear of being seen through.

For this was indeed his true experience — even the fall into the valley had truly happened, though it was the life of this body's original owner, before the transmigration.

The only difference: the original owner had found no book upon that Daoist's corpse.

Nine parts true, one part false — even if the man investigated, there would be no flaw.

The yellow-robed Daoist listened, then asked, "The Daoist's corpse you met — what did he look like?"

Li Daoxuan thought. "A man, square-faced, somewhat stout. Ah — at his neck was a purple birthmark, shaped like a plum blossom."

The yellow-robed Daoist sighed softly, and believed. "That Daoist was a disciple of my Mount Longhu — rare talent even among the outer gate. A pity."

Li Daoxuan's heart stirred — this yellow-robed Daoist, too, hailed from Mount Longhu.

After a pause, he studied Li Daoxuan closely. "That book — is it still with you?"

Li Daoxuan shook his head. "Lost it during a demon subjugation. Never found it again."

The yellow-robed Daoist gazed at Li Daoxuan, marveling.

"No master to teach you, only a broken book, yet you mastered the Five-Thunder Talisman and cultivated mana. Rare indeed."

He looked at Li Daoxuan as if beholding a most curious treasure.

Li Daoxuan, a little embarrassed under the gaze, coughed. "Er… I suppose I was just lucky."

"Lucky? Heh. Of the three hundred outer disciples on Mount Longhu, fewer than a handful can master the Five-Thunder Talisman. Little Daoist, your bone structure is fine — you are indeed fine material for the Dao."

Li Daoxuan was about to demur modestly.

But the yellow-robed Daoist shook his head and laughed. "Pity. Fine roots, yet your foundation is poor — and you're blind."

Li Daoxuan froze. Blind?

We were getting along so well — why start cursing?

The yellow-robed Daoist gave a cold snort and pointed at Li Daoxuan, scolding, "If you weren't blind, how could you fail to notice the vicious ghost standing right beside you?"

A vicious ghost… beside me?

Li Daoxuan was about to retort, when his spirit jolted — he recalled something.

Earlier, when he had fled with Wang Chunsheng using Shrinking the Earth, Divine Striding, the two had run pell-mell. That Li Daoxuan had mana was one thing — but Wang Chunsheng, from start to finish, had never once complained of tiredness.

An ordinary man would have been breathless long ago.

Li Daoxuan turned to look at Wang Chunsheng, who had not spoken in a long while…