Chapter 3: Looking for the Mad Taoist Priest

Grandma recalled that the crazy Taoist had once mentioned a place: Wulipu in Anxian. She hurriedly sent Grandpa on his bicycle, urgently asking people along the way, and finally learned about the place in a small town. By the time he arrived at Wulipu, it was already dark. He inquired if anyone knew of a Taoist, and after several inquiries, an elderly man pointed him west of Wulipu to a small, remote village, through a chestnut grove, past a cemetery, and after walking another five miles. He mentioned that there used to be a Taoist there, but he didn't know his name.

Thanking the old man, Grandpa rode through the moonlit night, navigating the chestnut grove, unsure whether the green glow he saw was fireflies or ghost lights. Terrified, he pedaled faster and fell hard, getting up without checking himself, gritting his teeth and pushing forward. By the time he reached the village, he was sweating from the pain, and he squatted by the roadside to check his injuries—his leg was badly hurt and bleeding. Grandpa loved his little daughter dearly and was in despair, crying by the road.

As he wept, a young man emerged from a dilapidated thatched house, with thick eyebrows, big eyes, a prominent nose, and dressed in a flowing white robe, exuding an air of a celestial being. He approached Grandpa and asked what was wrong.

Being an impatient person, Grandpa spilled everything out to this stranger.

After hearing Grandpa's story, the young man said, "Don't worry, let's go inside and talk more slowly. I'll bandage your wound." He led Grandpa into his humble abode, where the walls displayed the Taoist Three Pure Ones: Yuqing Yuanshi Tianzun, Shangqing Lingbao Tianzun, and Taiqing Daode Tianzun.

The young man brewed a cup of tea for Grandpa and gestured for him to sit. When he rolled up Grandpa's pant leg, he found a large gash that had soaked through the fabric with blood. The young man went to fetch herbal medicine to dress the wound, temporarily stopping the bleeding, though the pain still lingered.

After the bandaging, the young man brewed another cup of tea. To Grandpa's surprise, the tea, though plain-looking, seemed to gradually calm his nerves, and the pain subsided. Once more, he recounted the situation and asked if the young man knew of the old Taoist.

To Grandpa's shock, the young man replied, "If I'm not mistaken, the person you're looking for must be my master, but unfortunately, he passed away three years ago. However, if your master sent you, I'll take a look at your daughter—what do you think?"

Hearing that the old man was dead, Grandpa thought he had no choice but to take a chance, nodding eagerly, fearful that the young man might vanish too.

The young man asked for the little girl's birth date and, using a compass, calculated something. He told Grandpa, "If nothing changes, your daughter probably won't live past the fifteenth of this month. My master warned about this nine years ago, but it seems you didn't believe him..."

Horrified, Grandpa knelt before the young man, weeping, "We never imagined the crazy Taoist—no, the old man—was telling the truth! What should we do?"

Everything seemed to be destined. As the young man helped Grandpa up, he murmured, "Alright, just wait a moment."

A short while later, the young man emerged from the side room, donned in a Taoist robe adorned with golden and silver threads, wearing an eight-trigrams hat, white Taoist shoes, and carrying a bag with the eight trigrams. He said to Grandpa, "You need to take me to your home, as quickly as possible. If you can leave now, let's go!"

Seeing the young man's Taoist attire, Grandpa realized he had encountered someone knowledgeable and quickly got up. The two of them set off for Grandma's home that night, unaware that this hurried journey would leave Grandpa with a limp for the rest of his life.

Although Grandpa was a capable worker in the village, with his injury, he could only grit his teeth and push on. This young man was the one who later became entwined with our family, Cha Wenbin. At that time, Cha Wenbin had a son and a daughter, living a modest life in the countryside, rising with the sun and resting at sunset.

Upon arriving at Grandma's house, Grandpa explained the situation to her and led Cha Wenbin to Auntie's room. Strangely, the little black dog belonging to Uncle was unusually friendly towards Wenbin, excitedly rubbing against his legs. Usually, that dog was fierce to strangers, reportedly even nearly biting my father before.

Wenbin patted the little black dog's head, smiled, and went inside, asking everyone else to wait outside. After a while, he emerged with a heavy expression.

Grandma anxiously asked, "Taoist, how is she?"

Wenbin didn't say much, only asking Grandma to prepare a table outside. Not daring to delay, she hurriedly set up a small table at the door.

Then, Wenbin instructed Grandma to prepare a bowl of "upside-down rice" (rice that is shaped by the bowl and then inverted, maintaining its shape). After setting up the offerings, he placed a bowl of upside-down rice on the table. From his bag, he pulled out three incense sticks, a stack of talismans, a box of red powder, and a brush. He then asked Grandpa to move Auntie's bed to face the door and tie her down with rope.

At that time, Auntie had been restless since Wenbin entered. Even Grandpa struggled to hold her down, as if she had suddenly gained immense strength overnight. Following Wenbin's instructions, they bound Auntie with rope. I later learned that the purpose of the rope was not just to restrain her but also to trap her soul, preventing it from escaping.

Once Auntie was tied up, the Taoist stuffed something black and stone-like into her mouth to prevent her from biting her tongue. After completing everything, he reverently lit the three incense sticks, which were longer and thicker than regular incense, with a yellow hue. Oddly enough, the room had no wind, yet the smoke from the incense combined into a single stream, slowly drifting into Auntie's room...

Next, Wenbin took out an inkstone. Grandpa, being a calligraphy enthusiast, recognized it as no ordinary inkstone but a special one shaped like an eight trigrams, with a red center rather than the usual black.

The Taoist looked at Uncle's little boy, patted his head, and said, "Kid, go relieve yourself and bring it back in a bowl."

Grandma quickly found a large bowl and took the little boy outside. Shortly after, he returned with the urine. The Taoist poured some of it into the inkstone, added the red powder, stirred it, and began to draw talismans on the paper. The brush never left the paper, drawing eight continuous talismans, which he then placed in the eight directions of Auntie's room.

Strangely, after placing the last talisman, Auntie let out a terrifying scream. With something stuffed in her mouth, it was inaudible, but her eyes were wide with fear and rage, shaking her head in distress.

Wenbin didn't even glance at the struggling Auntie. Instead, he hurried over, stepping in a special pattern, drawing a talisman with each step. Then he would touch it, and the talisman would spontaneously ignite. Chanting spells, the commotion in the room intensified, and Auntie's struggles grew more frantic. It seemed a mere nine-year-old girl could nearly break free from the thick ropes; the bed creaked under the strain, and her face turned from pale to flushed, her mouth gasping but no words could be made out.

After burning a total of forty-nine talismans, Auntie's strength seemed to wane, leaving only heavy panting. The family was too frightened to move, while Wenbin's expression grew increasingly grave, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. When the last talisman was burned, he was drenched in sweat.

The Taoist sat down on the floor, accepting a cup of tea from Grandma, appearing utterly exhausted. After resting for about three minutes, he stood up, looking quite drained, beckoning Grandpa over and whispering, "Everyone should leave the room now; I need to speak with you."