Volume One, Chapter 31: Returning Home

The Taoist analyzed that these ghost-faced locust wood coffins were all buried surrounding the central wooden coffin, suggesting that the spirits within these coffins were likely the nether-soldiers of the tomb's master, guarding the peace of his final resting place.

The center contained a corpse-nurturing coffin fashioned from a hundred joined pieces of wood, while the outer layers consisted of several circles of ghost-faced locust wood coffins. It was difficult to imagine the identity of the tomb's master, who possessed the ability to wield such sinister sorcery.

The old hunter asked, "Master Ma, do you have any way to break this?"

The Taoist shook his head helplessly and said, "Back when I possessed spiritual wisdom, that evil power could crush me like a chick, let alone now that my wisdom is gone."

"How long until your spiritual wisdom recovers?"

"Three or five years, perhaps. It’s hard to say. To be honest, I have no hope for myself anymore; I’m at this age, after all. I just hope that Xu can show some promise."

The old hunter patted me hard and said, "Did you hear what your master said?"

I nodded earnestly.

The Taoist continued, "Ghost-faced locust coffins, the hundred-wood coffin, Southeast Asian Kuman Thong spirits—any one of these alone would be enough to finish us off. With all these things gathered together, even the immortals in the mountains would flee for their lives. What can a group of mortals like us possibly do?"

"Master Ma, what do you think is the purpose of this tomb?"

"Rather than a tomb, it is more like an altar."

"An altar?"

"Yes. Someone has set their sights on the spiritual energy of the Greater Khingan Mountains and wants to bury their ancestors here to transform them into dragons."

The old hunter nodded thoughtfully. I was growing more confused by the second, so I hurriedly asked, "Master, what does it mean to 'transform into a dragon'?"

"Burying ancestors here and using black magic to catalyze the energy ensures that their descendants will become high-ranking officials."

Seeing that I didn't understand, the Taoist continued to explain. The Greater Khingan Mountains constitute a dragon vein—one could even say it is the only true dragon vein in the country. In history, there have been two large-scale attempts to sever the dragon veins.

The first was after Qin Shi Huang declared himself emperor. He ordered sorcerers to travel throughout the mountains and rivers, severing every dragon vein they encountered. At that time, Qin had just unified the six states; the territories belonged to Qin, but the hearts of the people had not yet turned toward it. Among the sorcerers sent to sever the veins, one man from the State of Zhao traveled alone to the Qinling Mountains and personally severed the dragon vein of the Qin Dynasty—the Kunlun Immortal Mountain. Originally, the Qin people were merely servants who raised horses for the Zhou royal family, and they had prospered by relying on the Kunlun Immortal Mountain in the Qinling range. This "Kunlun Immortal Mountain" was not the modern Kunlun mountain range, but rather the source of all mountains within the Qinling range. Once the dragon vein was severed, the Qin Dynasty collapsed in its second generation, lasting only fourteen years.

The second attempt to sever the dragon veins occurred in the early years of the Ming Dynasty. Ming Taizu, Zhu Yuanzhang, ordered Liu Bowen—a man whose strategic genius could "defeat the heavens by half a move"—to disperse his disciples to sever the dragon veins. Liu Bowen severed countless veins, but he left the Greater Khingan Mountains untouched. Centuries later, the Manchu people, nurtured by the Greater Khingan Mountains, entered and ruled the Central Plains, sealing off the mountains for hundreds of years to ensure the dragon vein remained undisturbed.

Hearing this, I was puzzled. I asked, "But the television said the Qin Dynasty perished because of its harsh laws and excessive taxes."

"Nonsense! The Qin army had just destroyed the six states; they were at the peak of their combat power. Qin Shi Huang had gathered all the world’s weapons in Xianyang. Even the regular armies of the six states couldn't defeat the Qin army—how could a bunch of peasants do it? It was because the dragon vein was severed and the national fortune was spent. Look at the Ming Dynasty’s Wanli Emperor; he didn't hold court for over thirty years, yet the Ming Dynasty didn't fall. Back then, that bastard Toyotomi Hideyoshi led fourteen thousand Japanese soldiers to invade the Korean Peninsula, and they were still beaten back to their tiny island by the Ming army."

I retorted stubbornly, "During the Ming Dynasty, those Japanese weren't even as tall as a dog; I could take on ten of them myself."

Truth be told, I still didn't believe in the concept of dragon veins. I pressed on, "Only the Manchu people came out of the Greater Khingan Mountains; the dragon vein doesn't seem that impressive."

"The Balhae, the Jin, and the Liao—where do you think they all originated?"

I shook my head, as I truly didn't know. I had heard of Balhae, but never the Balhae State.

The Taoist cursed in anger, "Why am I arguing with a little brat like you? Let’s go, down the mountain. Come back in three years. If you haven't mastered the craft by then, I will bury you here myself."

The old hunter said in terror, "Wait, Master Ma, must we wait three years? Won't this thing have gained enough power by then? What will we do?"

The Taoist sighed, "It will be fine for a while. A corpse-nurturing site takes time to manifest its power. The gods and ghosts of Ghost-Killing Ridge will hold it off for a few years. I have no other choice; since we found the ghost ginseng, we should first deal with what is within our capabilities."

The old hunter was unwilling, but felt helpless. He said, "Three years. You must return in three years. I will grit my teeth and live for another three years."

The Taoist was even more unwilling—perhaps out of disappointment and helplessness. Having cultivated his whole life, he found that upon entering these mountains, he was still like a lamb waiting for the slaughter, his life at the mercy of others.

Because we had lost so much blood, we were both exhausted. Going to Ghost-Killing Ridge was impossible; our only path was to descend the mountain and recuperate.

After returning to the camp, under the old hunter's guidance, the Taoist saw the machines that emitted radiation. Not knowing how to handle them, he resorted to the most direct method used by farmers: burying them.

At the moment of parting, the Taoist promised the old hunter that in three years, he would return to the mountain and teach me to become the most formidable "Chuma Xian" (spirit medium). He also guaranteed that once I was grown up, he would return to the mountains to take the old hunter's place in guarding this forest.

The old hunter said nothing and did not see us off. He sat on the edge of the heated brick bed, hunched over, puffing on his pipe. Amidst the swirling smoke, he remained silent, though the smoke itself seemed to contain a thousand unspoken words.

The journey down the mountain was exceptionally smooth. The Taoist whispered to me that anyone capable of laying out such a trap in the deep forest could not be a merchant; they had to be a high-ranking official, and a powerful one at that. He told me to keep this matter buried in my heart after we descended, but never to forget it.

Whether or not this sinister trap could be broken would depend on my own destiny in the years to come.

When we arrived home, it was just turning dark. The Taoist gave me ten yuan and told me to buy some food and go to bed early, saying he had matters to attend to and would be visiting someone to handle a case, so he couldn't take me along.

If the Taoist hadn't accidentally pulled a box of government-issued natural latex condoms from his cabinet before leaving, I might have actually believed him.

I, Xu, have been sharp-witted since I was a child. Although I couldn't read, I had played with balloons with my friends and knew what those were for. My friends who had attended school had even read the instructions on the box to me.

Given the Taoist's age, he wouldn't need such things for a partner of his own generation—any old woman would have long since passed menopause. Therefore, the Taoist must have been seeking someone younger. However, since most local brothels provided their own, there was only one possibility: he was visiting some young widow.

The Taoist rode off on his "Twenty-Eight" bicycle without looking back. Left alone, I felt empty and had nothing to do, so I boiled some water to bathe; my body was aching all over.

Halfway through my bath, footsteps suddenly rang out in the courtyard. When I pricked up my ears to listen, the sound vanished. The footsteps were extremely light—definitely not the Taoist's. I stepped out of the wooden tub, tiptoed to the door, and peeked out. Outside, there was nothing but silence and the bright, clear moonlight.

Had I heard wrong?