Martial Uncle 07

After the ordeal with the restless spirits, the eldest and second senior brothers finally seemed to have regained some of their composure.

“Come on, repeat after me.”

“To hear the Way in the morning, to die content in the evening.”

“What does that mean?” Jiang Mubai scratched his head.

The eldest senior brother replied softly, “Master Uncle, as I understand it, it means that if you learn the truth in the morning, even if you die by nightfall, you would be willing. Is that right?”

Master Uncle waved his hand dismissively. “Uh, it’s both right and wrong.”

The eldest senior brother cupped his hands respectfully. “Please, Master Uncle, enlighten us.”

“I’m just annoyed with your master’s old sayings, but you’ve learned them all so well,” he said with a smirk.

The eldest senior brother remained polite.

“This phrase actually means: if I find out your address in the morning, by nightfall, you’re dead!”

The eldest senior brother was clearly taken aback, looking puzzled. “Is that so?”

Zhao Yichen nodded vigorously and recited the line twice more. “Master Uncle, I get it now! Anyone who crosses us is like ‘to hear the Way in the morning, to die content in the evening!’” It seemed the second senior brother had accepted his identity as a dark cultivator.

“That’s right!” Master Uncle praised him. “I’m not on the same page as your master, so let me share what my disciples learn. Next line: ‘What you do not wish for yourself, do not impose on others.’”

“I think I know this one,” Jiang Mubai pondered for a moment before saying, “It means... don’t give others what you don’t want yourself?”

“Getting there! The correct interpretation is: what I don’t want, I won’t let others have either!”

“Oh!” Jiang Mubai was delighted, feeling proud of his insight.

The journey had taken a full three days. Master Uncle was exhausted and kept swearing under his breath, but the three of them were used to it by now. Master Uncle was just like that—he spoke his mind freely. Along the way, he shared many lessons with them. If it weren’t for him shelling out money to buy a horse-drawn carriage halfway through, it probably would have taken five days to arrive.

Even riding in the carriage, Master Uncle kept grumbling. He complained about his sore backside, while Jiang Mubai was quite happy—no walking was a real treat.

They had arrived at a remote village. Seeing the carriage, the villagers gathered curiously. Jiang Mubai jumped down, and Master Uncle poked his head out, muttering, “My backside is killing me. Who called someone to drive away evil spirits here?”

Hearing this, the villagers exchanged glances. Finally, an old man leaning on a cane stepped forward.

“Are you the expert from Baiyun Temple?” he asked.

Jiang Mubai looked at Master Uncle, who nodded solemnly, playing the part of a mystic. Dressed in fresh Taoist robes, Master Uncle really did have an air of authority.

“That’s me. What’s the matter? Speak up.”

The old man glanced around, clearly respected in the village as the others politely stepped back.

“I suspect there’s an Elder Spirit in our village,” he whispered.

“Elder Spirit? What’s that?” Jiang Mubai asked.

The eldest senior brother answered softly, “Legend says that if an old person lives past a hundred years without dying, they turn into a demon—known among the people as a man-eating ghost. But I’ve never actually seen one.”

Jiang Mubai looked over as Master Uncle folded his arms. “Let’s talk price first!”

The old man was taken aback. “Price? But I thought Master Xuanchen from the Baiyun Temple—”

Master Uncle cut him off. “He’s him, I’m me. He likes to work for free, but I’ve got to make a living.”

The old man pondered for a moment, then finally nodded. “Alright! Daoist, as long as you can deal with this demon, we’ll pool the money together for you!”

Having agreed on the price, the master uncle walked ahead proudly, while the old man led the way. He introduced himself as Zhang Fugui, the village elder of Zhangjia Village, where most of the residents share the same surname.

Jiang Mubai glanced back and saw the villagers trailing behind them—not too close, but not far either.

“Let’s start with the details. What exactly happened?” he asked.

The old man began recounting recent events. Fourth Zhang’s family lived on the far west side of the village, more on the outskirts.

The Zhang family had four sons, all named rather plainly: Eldest Zhang, Second Zhang, Third Zhang, and Fourth Zhang. Their father had passed away early, leaving Old Lady Zhang to raise her sons on her own.

All the children were filial and had never divided the family property, choosing instead to stay together to care for their mother.

But just before the new year, Old Lady Zhang fell gravely ill. About a month ago, perhaps sensing her time was near, she called her sons to give them some final instructions. That very night, she passed away.

However, as the sons kept vigil over her body, an unexpected event occurred.

Sounds came from the coffin, startling the sons and the villagers who had come to help. The bravest among them, Eldest Zhang, stepped forward to check—and to their shock, their deceased mother slowly sat up. Old Lady Zhang had come back to life.

What was meant to be a funeral turned into a celebration. Upon hearing the news, villagers came to offer congratulations, saying even the King of Hell didn’t want to claim her, as she was almost a hundred years old.

But things took a strange turn starting that very night. The dogs in the village barked wildly, and Zhang Fugui went out to investigate. He found his own dog curled up trembling in its kennel, terrified of something unseen.

The next day, he began asking around and finally heard from Second Zhang’s wife that two chickens had gone missing overnight, with blood and feathers scattered on the ground.

As the village elder, Zhang Fugui felt responsible and called in a hunter to examine the scene. They concluded that a wildcat must have entered the yard, which explained the dogs’ silence and the missing chickens.

But just as Zhang Fugui was about to leave, he noticed something odd. Eldest Zhang was carrying a bowl of thin porridge, coming out from the small room where their mother had lived. When asked, Eldest Zhang said he had brought the porridge early that morning to Old Lady Zhang, but she was still asleep, and since she hadn’t touched it by noon, he was worried it would spoil and planned to drink it himself.

Zhang Fugui didn’t think much of it—after all, their distant cousin was over a hundred years old, and it was normal for her to eat little.

But what happened next made him uneasy.

The revived Old Lady Zhang seemed even more spirited than before. After waking, she would go out for walks, returning only at dusk. Zhang Fugui had encountered her several times, but when he greeted her, sometimes she seemed not to hear him. Zhang Fugui shook his head—living so long could be quite a burden.

Then one day, when Old Lady Zhang turned her head, he froze. She twisted her mouth into a strange grin, revealing a mouthful of rotten teeth. Her unblinking gaze sent chills down his spine.

Almost all of Old Lady Zhang’s chickens had been killed. Even with the hunter’s help, they couldn’t catch the creature stealing the chickens. On the fifth day, Zhang Fugui was jolted awake by urgent knocking at his door.

Only after putting on his clothes and stepping outside did he realize that the little granddaughter of the Zhang family had gone missing the night before, leaving behind only a single shoe, faintly stained with blood.

He quickly rallied the villagers to search, but they found nothing.

Since the girl’s disappearance, Zhangjia Village had been unusually quiet for several days. Only Eldest Zhang and his wife were frantic with worry, yet the child was nowhere to be found.

Zhang Fugui found the whole situation strange. After careful thought, his attention returned once again to Old Lady Zhang.