Chapter 54: The Auspicious Hour (1 / 2)

In the countryside, groundbreaking ceremonies are a big deal. On this particular day, the entire village — men, women, young and old — followed us to the mountain stream. The sight of hundreds of villagers moving in unison was truly spectacular. I walked at the front alongside the village chief, followed by the wealthier families who had contributed larger sums of money.

Everyone wanted to witness firsthand what kind of Taoist temple I was going to build. A few days earlier, I had discussed the construction plans with the engineering team. Their insights were quite valuable — they knew how to ensure the temple's structural integrity. The foreman, a man named Zhang in his early forties, came from a poor background. He had spent years leading a group of migrant workers before returning to Tongliao to start his own team.

It had been a blustery autumn day, but as soon as we entered the hills surrounding the Hidden Dragon Acupoint, the wind mysteriously died down. Even when someone lit a lighter, the flame rose perfectly upright. This place was an ideal wind-sheltered location, surrounded by mountain ridges that acted as natural barriers. No matter how strong the wind was outside, here it felt peaceful and still. The sun shone brightly, and fluffy white clouds drifted across the sky. As we stood on the hilltop, the clouds began to shift slowly, and from the east, a beam of light descended directly toward the Hidden Dragon Acupoint — it resembled a rainbow after a storm, even though there hadn't been any rain.

"This is bizarre," Foreman Zhang remarked. "There's no rain, so how is there a rainbow?"

I didn't explain to anyone. I had already calculated the sealing date the night before. Since ancient times, when a Dragon Acupoint — whether a True Dragon or a Hidden Dragon — is about to be sealed, celestial signs often occur. Liu Changsheng had chosen this exact day based on those calculations, ensuring that even after death, he could take advantage of the auspicious timing for his reincarnation.

"Don't tell me we're going to have another zombie situation," someone suddenly blurted out. It was Boldan, the brash guy.

Da Biao immediately slapped him on the head. "You idiot! Didn't Master already deal with all the zombies? Where's that fool Ergouzi today? Why's he missing something this lively?"

Boldan rubbed his head and replied, "Brother Biao, ever since Ergouzi woke up, he's like a different person. These days, all he does is eat vegetarian and chant Buddhist scriptures. I bet he's at home right now, still mumbling those prayers."

I chuckled at that. Apparently, over those seven days, Ergouzi had been chased around plenty by wandering ghosts. You see, what he lost was his human soul. Though it had become a free-floating spirit, his physical body was still alive — meaning his soul retained some yang energy. And to wandering ghosts, that's like a positive charge meeting a negative one — they were naturally drawn to him. But Ergouzi had no spiritual defense and ended up getting bullied badly.

The crowd behind us started whispering among themselves — after all, we had been standing around for nearly ten minutes with no further action. Foreman Zhang finally lost patience and asked, "Master, when are we breaking ground?"

I pointed at the distant golden glow and said, "When you see fairies scattering flowers and child immortals bowing in worship, that's when we begin."

Everyone stared at me like I was crazy. A few elderly women even started giggling and whispering mockingly.

"Oh, come on now," one of them said, half-joking. "So we're expecting divine beings to appear today, are we?"

"Yeah, Aunt Li," another woman teased. "I just hope that fairy is pretty. My son Daming still doesn't have a girlfriend!"

Their laughter was loud and obnoxious, but the men standing around them quickly kicked them to shut them up. These guys had seen me lay down talismans and break cursed soil before. They had experienced yin energy invading their bodies, and even witnessed lifelike zombies and pillars of blood erupting from the ground.

Speaking of gossiping women — allow me to go slightly off-topic and tell a real story from a friend of mine.

Nowadays, people in the cities may not witness it often, but in rural areas, especially during the farming off-season, when most of the men go out to work, the women left behind often gather to gossip. One day they're talking about dowries; the next, they're chatting about whose son got a good job. That sort of talk is harmless — until some people, out of boredom or malice, start spouting nonsense.

There's a saying: "Trouble gathers at a widow's door."

In my friend's village, there was a widow named Hua Niang. She was from the south and had married into the north, but her husband died in a mining accident. With no family left in the south to return to, she struggled to raise a child on her own. Instead of helping her, some of the village women — because she had no local relatives — started treating her like a walking target for gossip and ridicule.

In feng shui and Taoist belief, kicking in a widow's door is considered a severe taboo — and speaking ill of her behind her back is equally dangerous. At first, the rumors were just vague whispers about her past romances. But over time, the stories grew more vulgar and outlandish. One day it was said she was seeing a man from the neighboring village; the next, that she was having an affair with a married man.

This was the 1980s in conservative China, and such talk was like a knife to the heart.

Among those gossiping women, one in particular — a woman surnamed Zhao — was the worst of them all.