The Fourth Uncle-Master

Wang Laosan finally took the matter seriously and led the group toward the pond he had mentioned.

Second Senior Brother wore a stern expression and whispered to Jiang Mubai, "Keep an eye on the situation. If things go wrong, we leave immediately. I don’t think our uncle is very reliable."

Jiang Mubai nodded in agreement.

However, Second Senior Brother was quickly proven wrong when their uncle actually managed to capture a vengeful spirit using a red rope. It was a tangled mass of unborn children, writhing together. The Wang family was terrified, and the pregnant woman among them fell to her knees, sobbing and murmuring apologies.

Wang Laosan kicked her and, still defiant, glared at the uncle. "How dare these little ghosts threaten my son? Hey, you—destroy them!"

The woman clung to his leg, pleading, "No, please spare them! They’re your children too..."

Wang Laosan’s face darkened. "Get off me! Do it now!"

Jiang Mubai grew uneasy as the uncle hesitated, but then the man suddenly cracked his neck and began explaining, "This thing is called a 'lingering infant spirit.' Children who die before or just after birth become these entities." He shook the red rope. "If they escape, they’ll haunt your family relentlessly."

Wang Laosan panicked. "Then why are you waiting? Get rid of them!"

The uncle smirked. "Why should I? Oh, right—you only paid five copper coins for me to investigate, not to exorcise them."

Wang Laosan’s eyes bulged. "You—!"

The uncle gave the rope another shake.

Wang Laosan swallowed his words.

"How much?" he gritted out.

"Since you’re so pitiful, ten taels of silver."

At this, Jiang Mubai heard Second Senior Brother suck in a sharp breath.

"Ten taels? Have you lost your mind? The Xuan Chen Taoist charges just a few coppers at most! You—you—!"

"Me, me, me. He’s him, I’m me. No payment? Fine, I’ll just head back." The uncle made as if to untie the rope, and the trapped spirits writhed violently, a horrifying sight.

"Five taels! Five taels!" Wang Laosan faltered, seeing the uncle was serious about releasing them.

"Ten taels." The uncle didn’t stop loosening the rope. Jiang Mubai wondered if he should intervene, but Second Senior Brother, though conflicted, stayed still out of deference.

"Eight taels! That’s all I have!"

"Wrongs have their perpetrators, debts their debtors. You know who to haunt, don’t you?" The uncle cooed at the squirming mass like it was a child, sending chills down Jiang Mubai’s spine.

"Ten taels!" Wang Laosan finally stomped his foot.

"Cash." The uncle straightened immediately and sent Jiang Mubai to fetch the silver.

As Wang Laosan ranted and cursed the whole way, Jiang Mubai’s unease grew. Ten taels for an exorcism? Was this really how much it cost?

When they returned, the uncle nodded in satisfaction at the silver. Then, without warning, he tightened the rope and slung it over his shoulder.

"What—what are you doing?"

The uncle didn’t look back, gesturing for Jiang Mubai and Second Senior Brother to follow.

"Taking it home. I think it’s kind of cute. Gonna keep it in a water jar. You want it?" He glanced back.

Wang Laosan recoiled. "You took my silver! Why aren’t you destroying them?"

"I took silver to capture them. Destroying them would cost me my spiritual power—that’s expensive."

"You—"

The uncle turned, flashing a sinister grin. "From now on, if I hear even one word I don’t like from you, who knows? They might just show up at your bedside."

Wang Laosan’s face flushed crimson, but he stayed silent.

The uncle prodded, "No hitting, no cursing, and you still can’t speak like a human?"

Jiang Mubai kept his head down, barely believing his ears when Wang Laosan muttered, "Thank you, Taoist Master."

Could a person’s nature really change so quickly?

"Uncle, this isn’t right," Second Senior Brother finally spoke up.

The uncle shot back, "What isn’t right? That he disrespected you? That he insulted our sect with five coppers? That he drowned his own daughters? Or that he refuses to repent? Hmm?"

Jiang Mubai found himself agreeing, while Second Senior Brother stammered before falling silent.

Staring at the squirming thing in the uncle’s grip, Jiang Mubai shuddered. "Uncle, you’re really keeping it?"

The uncle smacked his forehead. "Forgot." He untied the rope, letting the creature slither away into the night.

"Uncle! You let it go!" Jiang Mubai cried.

The uncle shrugged. "What, you wanna raise it? That’s a 'face spirit,' a type of imp. They lurk near water, feeding on human resentment."

Jiang Mubai blinked. "But wasn’t it a vengeful spirit?"

"Vengeful my foot. Don’t be so superstitious. When people die, their light goes out—no ghosts, no grudges." The uncle adopted a lecturing tone. "But that thing does retain the resentment and appearances of the dead it’s consumed."

Second Senior Brother gasped. "Uncle, you scammed him?"

"Scammed? That pregnant woman was drowning in guilt over her lost daughters, plagued by nightmares. My little performance will cure her. Call it a treatment fee."

Jiang Mubai and Second Senior Brother exchanged glances, too exasperated to argue.

"But why release the imp?" Jiang Mubai pressed. Their master had always taught them to vanquish evil.

"If it hasn’t harmed anyone, why not? What nonsense has your master been feeding you? Fine, you need lessons." The uncle dragged them off.

Jiang Mubai wasn’t sure if the uncle’s logic was sound, but it was undeniably fresh. No matter the angle, the man had an answer—even Second Senior Brother nodded along.

They heard many unorthodox teachings from their uncle that day.

"Doing good is fine, but if you earn five coppers for a job when you need seven to eat, how long until you starve? And how can you do good when you’re dead?"

"What’s so great about being 'good'? Do good people not eat? My idiot brother claims cultivation turns you into an immortal who lives on incense? Eating, drinking, shitting—that’s human nature. Lose that, and what’s left of your 'goodness'?"

For the first time, Jiang Mubai refused a woodcutter’s request for help carrying firewood—his uncle’s assignment.

The woodcutter’s shock turned to curses. Jiang Mubai froze. The uncle had been right.

"Some people—you help them a hundred times, but refuse once, and they turn on you. That’s human nature!"

But the woodcutter never got to utter his next curse, for a figure darted out from beside Jiang Mubai and landed two resounding slaps across the woodcutter’s face.

The woodcutter froze in shock, then erupted in fury—only to deflate the next moment when his uncle pressed the blade of his chopping knife against his throat.

With hurried apologies, the woodcutter "voluntarily" left behind a bundle of firewood before scurrying down the mountain.

Jiang Mubai could already picture the expression his master, Xuan Chen Taoist, would wear upon returning. He couldn’t help but shrink his neck slightly at the thought.