Taoist Priest 012

I recalled the fellow practitioner I met during the last ghost hunt—a young man who seemed honest and simple-minded. He drew an impressively large array, set up an altar, and performed rituals. I watched the entire process with fascination, as my master had never taught me such methods.

He lured the target ghost into the array and then engaged in a prolonged battle with it using red strings, chicken blood, cinnabar, and other tools. I found it thrilling—it was just like the scenes I’d seen in movies!

The ghost, overwhelmed, tried to flee. It seemed to notice me and rushed in my direction. Annoyed, I felt as if it saw me as the biggest flaw in the array.

So, I punched it square in the face, grabbed its hair, and beat it mercilessly.

The young practitioner stared at me in shock, as if I were the real monster.

He asked for my name before hastily leaving. I felt an indescribable sadness because when I uttered the words "Taiping Dao," his face twisted with shock, disdain, and disgust.

"Master’s orders—do not provoke the... fellow practitioners of Taiping Dao outside," he said, correcting himself mid-sentence, but I knew what he meant.

Ever since my master allowed my senior sister and brothers to lead a horde of ghosts to wreck another sect’s territory, our sect’s name had become something of a taboo.

The car suddenly stopped, interrupting my thoughts. Master stepped out and led us up the mountain. Behind us, an endless procession of ghosts followed. I even started imagining whether Master was planning to wipe out some sect he disliked.

After about half an hour, we arrived at a dilapidated mountain shrine halfway up the slope. It seemed abandoned, but a hunched shrine keeper emerged from a nearby hut. He strained to get a closer look at Master, who then showed him something. The old man silently retreated back inside.

As dusk fell, Master began telling us about the Xuanqing Division.

This was the second time I’d heard the name. The first was when Master extorted those people—the leaders of those sects seemed to fear the Xuanqing Division.

"The Xuanqing Division has existed for centuries. Its members are mostly reclusive experts, incredibly powerful," Master said, glancing at Second Brother as he spoke.

"Of course, your master here is also one of their esteemed figures," Master boasted, his habit unchanged. "But the Xuanqing Division... is nearly finished."

He rambled on—the Xuanqing Division was indeed full of formidable individuals, at least in the past. But the organization had a strange rule: positions were passed down generation after generation. Unless a lineage died out, someone had to inherit the role.

The first generation of the Xuanqing Division made a pact with the underworld, acting as its enforcers in the mortal realm. But those who joined never lived long—some were killed by escaped ghosts, others succumbed early to the yin energy they absorbed. Over centuries, some of the earliest sects had even gone extinct.

Ordinary sects outside chased fame or profit—they were small fry. But most still knew of the Xuanqing Division, which was why my previous incident was resolved smoothly—partly due to Master’s status, partly because he called in favors.

Personally, I thought the most crucial factor was the third: those sects couldn’t handle Master’s ruthless retaliation.

Just as he finished explaining, another figure ascended the mountain—a square-faced man with graying hair. He took one look, strode forward, and grabbed Master by the collar. "Fang Zhiyi, have you lost your mind?" His fury was palpable.

Third Brother nearly lunged, but Master waved us off.

A cold female voice carried from afar: "The underworld envoys have come five times already. They’re growing impatient. Fang Zhiyi, what exactly are you planning?"

I turned to see a woman with a high ponytail, dressed in loose Daoist robes, her expression icy as she approached.

"Let’s talk this through!" Another man darted forward, pulling the square-faced man away. I recognized him—Master Liao, the one who’d taken sides during the last negotiation.

"You’d better explain yourself! Your actions will plunge the mortal realm and the underworld into chaos!" the square-faced man shouted, pointing at Master.

An elderly man with white hair approached, supported by a young girl. Each step seemed to drain him, as if he were on death’s doorstep.

"Enough quarreling. We’re all on the same side."

"Elder Yan." Master bowed respectfully, and the others followed suit. We exchanged glances and copied them.

Elder Yan looked at us and sighed. "The Xuanqing Division is down to just a handful now. Young Kong died in the southern frontier last month."

At this, the others’ expressions darkened.

"Fang Zhiyi, what exactly is your plan?" Elder Yan coughed before addressing Master.

"The Blood Fiend Corpse Fungus has awakened. You all know this," Master said.

Everyone stared at him.

"I’ve tested it. That thing is no easy foe," Master continued, hands clasped behind his back. "So, I intend to negotiate with the underworld."

"What?" The square-faced man was stunned. "Negotiate with the underworld? Are you even thinking straight?"

Master Liao rubbed his hands together, his burly frame resembling a black bear. "Brother Fang, I usually side with you, but this is reckless. The Blood Fiend Corpse Fungus isn’t under the underworld’s jurisdiction. They won’t act outside their rules."

"Which is why the Xuanqing Division has been their lackeys all these years," the woman said coldly, her tone laced with resentment.

Elder Yan raised a hand, but instead of speaking, he exhaled heavily. "Since its founding, the Xuanqing Division has borne the duty of hunting evil spirits and maintaining balance. You know how the underworld operates. To mortals, we may be masters, but before the gods of the underworld, we have no leverage."

Master remained still, gazing at the moon veiled by dark clouds. "Then the rules must change." His voice was calm yet unyielding, as if he were the one in charge of the underworld.

Silence fell over the group.

As if in response to his words, an icy, malevolent aura seeped from the ruined shrine. Everyone tensed. Senior Sister stepped forward, shielding me and my brothers.

"You contacted the underworld envoys?" the square-faced man asked urgently. "This isn’t the time for defiance! Do you want to end up like your master?" In that moment, I realized he still cared for Master deep down.

But I didn’t understand—was the underworld truly so terrifying? From Master’s words, it sounded like the Xuanqing Division was nothing more than their hunting dogs in the mortal realm.

That couldn’t be right.

The master suddenly laughed, turning back to glance at us. He even had the presence of mind to pull a playful face at us before addressing the horde of malevolent spirits, "Run if you want to die." Then he strode boldly into the temple. Without hesitation, my senior sister followed him in. After a brief hesitation, I trailed behind my senior brother. As I listened to the sigh of the square-faced man behind us, it struck me that perhaps today I would finally come to understand the master.