Chapter 37: Maoshan Sorcery (2/2)

"Where did you get these bones? Putting them on my desk—how unlucky." Wiping sweat, he hitched up his pants, stepping back. "I can cremate them, but do you have a death certificate?"

I shook my head. For this unnatural death, where would I get one? Liu had turned to bones overnight. "Family signature?"

Another shake. The director's attitude was infuriating. Old Wang looked ready to explode, so I stepped between them.

Time for trickery. "Uncle Chen, you know what I do, right?"

"You replace your grandpa as the yin-yang master here." He eyed me like an idiot. Grandpa had earned trust over years; young practitioners like me got no clients, hence my rare visits.

"Do you believe in ghosts?" I asked mysteriously.

"Bullshit! I work with the dead—where are the ghosts? Stop the theatrics. Bury these bones where you found them. I'll not 为难 (make things hard) you for your grandpa's sake, but don't cause trouble."

Pointing to the bones, I said solemnly, "Yin spirits cling to these. Look." Running my hand over them, they glowed—silver powder trick, a common con. The director yelped, hiding.

I spun tales of ghosts in his office, curses on his luck. Finally, he called the crematorium team. Before leaving, Old Wang gave him a talisman. "To sell the story," he muttered. "No one was around—could've beaten him."

I sighed, "Master, if he grabbed you, why not fight back?"

"Different—fighting means 赔钱 (compensation). I don't know him—where would he find me?" he said seriously.

I was defeated. He didn't know the director, but I did. Besides, Uncle Chen was decent, just stingy. Cremation cost gas—I couldn't pay, so why not cut corners?

Greeting the crematorium worker, we cremated Liu's bones. Burying him in Zhoujiazhuang risked wild dogs digging him up—we had no tools.

Watching the flames, I felt somber. My mortal enemy was my grandpa's disciple, my 师叔 (uncle in 师门). I bowed: "Farewell, Brother Liu."

"Useless—his three souls are gone," Old Wang said, smoking.

"Can't I say it for myself?"

"A yin-yang master self-deceiving?" He scoffed.

Bones turned to ash quickly. We bought an urn, then left. As we parted, Old Wang said, "Come tomorrow to 拜师 (become my disciple). Your grandpa taught you feng shui, but he called me, wanting me to teach you Maoshan arts. Maoshan selects disciples strictly—our sorcery blends folk witchcraft, making it the most potent. Practitioners must be of absolute virtue, lest secrets fall into evil hands."

I was stunned. Grandpa had contacted him? Why didn't he tell me? Old Wang said learning Qimen Dunjia needed patriarchal protection; only a legitimate master could accept disciples. He was the 107th Maoshan Patriarch.