Chapter 85: Carrying the Dead (1 / 2)

The twisted face of the evil sorcerer, Baden, contorted into a grotesque smile. His expression sent chills down my spine. I hadn't expected he'd actually harm innocent people just to make a point. I frowned—ghost children are invisible, and once used to cause harm, they're practically impossible to defend against. And we were at a bustling highway service station… if things escalated, innocent lives would be at risk.

After weighing the options, I decided to compromise. I pulled out the Buddha amulet and threw it at him coldly."You can take it—but you must leave China immediately. If I see you again, I'll destroy your ghost child myself."

"Please rest assured, Master," Baden said, bowing slightly. "I won't stay long. Thank you." He clasped the amulet, smiling eerily again. "You're a true disciple of Maoshan. The Ghost King Sect will always welcome your visit to Thailand. Until next time."

With that, he turned and left in a black Audi, disappearing into the night.

Jiang Shiyu pulled up in her car after refueling and rolled down the window. "Who was that just now?"

"No one—just someone asking for directions." I smiled to brush it off.

She urged me to get in. Honestly, at that point, going to Tongliao wasn't absolutely necessary anymore. But I still had two lingering matters: the two souls in the green satchel and Qiao Kun's spirit tablet.There's a saying, "Humans compete for breath, gods compete for incense," meaning celestial beings thrive on worship. Nowadays, temples are dominated by either Buddhist idols or the Three Pure Ones of Taoism. The smaller gods, like the Night Wanderer, rarely receive incense offerings.

I hadn't seen the Night Wanderer in days, but I knew he was watching. After all, "Three feet above the head, there are gods." And as long as I walk this earth as a mortal, he's my direct superior.

Baden's interruption didn't change my mind—I had to go to Tongliao. Thanks to Jiang Shiyu's insane driving speed, we soon exited the highway. As we passed through Zhoujia Village, I couldn't help but feel a pang of emotion. The area still bore the scars of the mudslide disaster, despite some recovery efforts—it was desolate and bleak.

Since we were driving, we had to pass through Zhoujia Village again. Just as we were leaving the village, the headlights swept across a dense pine forest—and what I saw made my heart jolt.

This forest… I had once declared it a natural cursed land. The only way to resolve its deadly feng shui was to plant trees and build a temple to block the killing aura. Back then, only Wang Yi was by my side. Could he have been the one who convinced them?

Suppressing my surprise, we drove a little further and arrived at the Sanqing Temple near the Hidden Dragon Cave.

It was already past 9 PM. The night was dark, but the temple lights glowed softly. The whitewashed walls shone under the moonlight, and the Eight Trigrams mirrors set at all directions reflected a protective brilliance. The surrounding mountain peaks were positioned just right—when the moon reached its apex, the entire temple seemed to glow silver. This shimmering was, in fact, the result of deflecting blade-shaped killing auras.

The area was unnaturally quiet.

Temples like this were always built on ominous land—this one especially so. There weren't even insects or rodents willing to call this place home.

"So beautiful," Jiang Shiyu whispered, pointing at the glimmering temple in awe.

Well, I'm a man. I've got pride too. Hearing her admiration, I couldn't help but puff up a bit."I'm the one who initiated this temple's construction. From groundbreaking to final design, I oversaw the whole thing."

She looked even more impressed, showering me with praise—which, admittedly, fed my small ego nicely.

Just as I was about to knock, the temple doors suddenly creaked open.

A hunched, rat-faced old man with large buck teeth grinned at me. His appearance was so abrupt—and his teeth so big—that I instinctively took a step back.

"Fellow Daoist, long time no see. I humbly greet you." The old man bowed.

"Boundless blessings of longevity," I replied, chuckling.

We locked eyes for a moment—we both knew who the other really was. This old Daoist was, in fact, the giant rat I had helped transform that night. After being granted humanity through righteousness, he was now bound to this temple. Unless he accumulated enough merit, stepping outside would mean instant annihilation.

You see, many local spirits (地仙) reach a point where they must complete a final trial before ascending. They often borrow human bodies—becoming "mounts" for spirit mediums to help others. Once they've gathered enough good deeds, they find a quiet place to take human form—usually as monks, Daoists, or beggars.

Heaven forbids them from marrying or taking up normal jobs. They must rely on alms, and if no one offers food… they starve. Many literally die of hunger before they ever ascend.

I believe it's Heaven's way of preventing abuse of power. To earn their way up, they must walk a thin, precarious line—one misstep, and they're dust.

This reminds me of a real story. If you ever encounter this kind of situation… don't miss your chance.

A friend of mine from Heilongjiang had severe frostbite on his hands every winter. It was so bad it itched like hell—almost unbearable. One day, a beggar showed up at their house."Excuse me, kind family," the beggar said. "May I have a cup of warm water?"

His mother saw him standing there, shivering in nothing but thin rags while snow howled outside. She was moved. She brought him inside, handed him a bowl of hot water, and even reheated some leftovers.

What happened next was shocking.

The beggar gulped down the boiling water in one go—not a single wince.