Volume One, Chapter Eight: The Enigmatic Taoist Master

I had firmly decided to leave Master Ma. I didn’t see myself as disloyal or treacherous; we had only known each other for two days, barely any bond between us.

It’s like going to a pet shop, spotting a puppy you like, and deciding to go home to get some money. But when you come back, you find another puppy even cuter, more to your liking. Which one would you choose?

Besides, the puppies at the pet shop don’t bite, but Master Ma is a man-eater.

They say it’s better to live in hardship than to die well; when faced with life and death, everything else is trivial.

“I’ll be heading down the mountain soon. Do you want to come back with me?” I told the Taoist.

“Hey, wait a moment, let’s have a chat first.”

“Chat about what?”

Master Ma casually picked up a skull bone, sat down on it like a construction worker plopping onto a helmet, completely unbothered.

“That’s a dead man’s bone; the dead deserve respect. You’re sitting on someone’s skull.”

“Kid, did you know you opened your yin-yang eyes last night?”

“What’s that? Is it really that easy to open them?”

“Others take ten years or more to learn. With me, one night opens the heavenly eye, two nights wards off demons. Want to try?”

I snapped back sharply, “You’re quite the character, but no thanks. I’m not learning, not trying.”

I answered decisively. I was only thirteen or fourteen then, with no life experience, thinking only about the present. No matter how shabby the temple, it was still a home—better than wandering endlessly.

Master Ma chuckled, “If you go back now, the villagers will laugh at you. You’d have learned nothing and still bowed three times before leaving. That pit you fell in is probably still there.”

“Hmph, if I cared about dignity, would I still be here? I’ve scavenged from garbage heaps just to eat. What face do I have or not have?”

“And what then? Keep scavenging? Even after you have kids?”

That hit me where it hurt. It was my weak point. I was only thinking about getting a wife, not about the future children. But at that age, pride ruled. I stubbornly replied, “None of your business.”

“Rotten wood can’t be carved.”

“Sandalwood or rotten wood, it’s still valuable.”

“Ha! Sandalwood is prized because both your parents are sandalwood. What about you? Who are your folks? Can they get you a job? Enough clothes? Connections to live off the government?”

His words made my face burn. If I went back, I'd only survive by scavenging.

“Master, I was wrong.” I was pragmatic—or shameless enough to admit fault.

With a snap, I knelt before him. Though uneducated, I understood right and wrong. The Taoist spoke the truth. Unlike some elders who preach endlessly, he was teaching me survival.

Master Ma was surprised for two seconds, then broke into a sly grin. “Not bad, some hope for you yet. Stick with me—not promising riches, but at least no hunger or cold. Grow up, make a living, and maybe have two strong sons to enjoy life.”

“Two sons? That’s over the limit. The law says one child per family. No extras.”

Master Ma cursed me, “You’re clever, but that’s not true wisdom—just petty tricks. Tell me, do you know why I locked you outside the gate yesterday?”

“Because you’re mean, what else?”

He grinned mischievously, the kind of smile a petty man wears when he’s won. “Do you know the Five Fierce Soldiers?”

I shook my head vigorously.

“Have you studied those soldiers?”

Still no.

“And the Taoist?”

This one I knew. I answered, “Aren’t you a priest?”

“Damn it, don’t mess around. Taoist teachings—how much do you really know?”

“There’s one in our village. He says he’s a Taoist in the city, controlling thunder and fire, healing and poisoning. Very powerful.”

Master Ma looked puzzled, fear flickering in his eyes. “Bullshit. There’s no such powerful Taoist.”

I hesitated, “Really? Not sure exactly where, but I heard it’s in the Mengzhong Earth City. Pretty impressive, right?”

“Mengzhong Earth City? Southern place? Never heard of it.”

I shrugged, signaling ignorance.

Then the old Taoist changed topic: “Tell me, what do you know about Taoists and Taoism?”

“I’ve seen it on TV. Taoists are amazing—they can call rain, send waves, and even make elixirs.”

Master Ma took a deep breath, looking at me like he wanted to kill me, gnashing his teeth.

I complained, “Master, one minute you’re a Taoist, next a monk, then a spirit medium, then a priest. Two days knowing you and you’ve changed professions four times. I’m confused.”

“You’re ignorant and clueless, you wouldn’t understand.”

I gave a flat “Oh” as he rambled about Taoist armies and the Five Fierce Soldiers, sounding like a storyteller. If I had extra money, I’d have given him some tea money.

We came to a sort of truce. Whether he was human or ghost, at least he didn’t mean me harm.

Though sharp-tongued, Master Ma quickly taught me about the yin-yang eye and the soldiers.

Whether the lonely spirits I’d called on yesterday wanted to help or not, at least we’d made a start, expressing my wish to recruit and support them.

Master Ma’s stamina surpassed mine—he never seemed to tire, day or night. He mocked me as a man who pees against the wind, while he was a little old man who could pee with the wind at his back.

I had no words to counter his nimble pace. I half suspected he had some kind of lightness skill.

From the first day into the mountains, there was no real path. We picked spots where the grass was low or the forest sparse, weaving tree to tree.

The Taoist’s goal was clear: to find an abandoned mountain camp from the late Qing era.

To explain, during the late Qing Dynasty, as the imperial court weakened amid uprisings and foreign invasions, control over the Greater Khingan Range and imperial hunting grounds faded. Many landowners ventured into the mountains to make a living and support their families.

Mountain ventures usually involved four livelihoods: gold panning, logging, setting traps, and digging ginseng.

Logging and trapping were often done by the same group but divided tasks. They’d find dense forests, build temporary shelters that housed a hundred or so people, complete with kitchens and taverns. Larger camps even had brothels—not traditional ones, but more akin to those at gold mines.

A camp typically had two or three women running a tavern and some flesh trade.

These shelters, or small villages, were called mountain camps.