But Third Zhang never expected that he would be ambushed by his own younger brother.
He had thought he was done for, but then a stern-faced Taoist priest dragged him out. At this point, he had nothing left to lose—since Fourth Zhang wanted him dead, he’d drag him down to the grave with him.
Zhang Fugui’s mouth hung open for a long moment before he finally muttered, “Then… then my cousin’s resurrection…”
Martial Uncle sighed. “She’s been dead for a while. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have been in such a hurry. Go see for yourselves.” He pointed to the room. A few brave villagers crept closer to look, only to retreat moments later.
“She’s dead! Already rotting!”
“A person’s fate is decreed by heaven. There’s no such thing as resurrection—just the last flicker of life before death,” Martial Uncle said. “But to pin it all on some so-called man-eating ghost? Kid, you’ve got quite the imagination.”
Fourth Zhang, now recovered, stared at his mother’s room with bloodshot eyes, greed practically oozing from his gaze.
Jiang Mubai whipped his head around, but Martial Uncle stepped in just in time to block his line of sight.
“Martial Uncle…”
He saw Martial Uncle giving him a meaningful look. Strange—surely Martial Uncle had noticed?
The villagers found a cloth bundle in Old Lady Zhang’s room. It jingled when shaken, but when opened, it was full of fake silver.
Fourth Zhang kept muttering, “How… how could this be…”
Third Zhang burst into laughter, while from the inner room came the sound of weeping—Second Zhang, who had a broken leg.
“Deal with them according to clan rules!” Zhang Fugui’s eyes burned with fury. He never imagined it was all just human treachery! Turning to Martial Uncle, he said, “Taoist Master, though there was no monster, we still owe you our thanks. An old man keeps his word—the payment promised will be delivered in full.”
Martial Uncle gave a slight nod.
Jiang Mubai didn’t understand why Martial Uncle refused to stay for a meal. After all, Martial Uncle never missed a chance to take advantage of free food.
But since none of the senior brothers objected, he could only follow silently, carrying his bamboo basket.
At the village entrance, Jiang Mubai voiced his doubts. “Martial Uncle, was there really no old spirit?”
Martial Uncle shook his head. “Impossible. That kind of creature is pure fiction. Not just me—your Master, even your Grand Master has never seen one. It’s just a story made up by worthless scum who didn’t want to care for their elders. The original legend claimed that after a person turned a hundred and died, they’d come back to life. The revived elder would retain some humanity, helping with chores, but eventually, they’d turn into a mindless monster that had to be taken into the mountains and dealt with.” Martial Uncle spat, as if disgusted.
“But…” Jiang Mubai hesitated before pressing on. “I definitely sensed a trace of demonic energy…”
No sooner had he spoken than a faint wisp of demonic aura drifted from the right, followed by a piercing cat’s cry. Jiang Mubai turned to see a sleek black cat sitting there, its eyes glowing an eerie green.
“Martial Uncle…”
“Hmm, you’re improving. Not just you—your two senior brothers sensed it too.” Martial Uncle remained calm.
“I’m sure Martial Uncle noticed as well, but since he didn’t mention it, he must have his own way of handling it,” Eldest Senior Brother said.
Martial Uncle chuckled and addressed the cat. “Brother Cat, I assume you have some connection to the Zhang family?”
The black cat let out an odd cry.
The two sides stared each other down. Li Buyan’s hand slowly moved toward the command flag at his waist—a tool specifically used against demons.
But Martial Uncle suddenly laughed. “In that case, you go your way, and we’ll go ours. Agreed?”
The cat didn’t respond, only stretching lazily.
Martial Uncle stopped Eldest Senior Brother with a gesture and climbed onto the cart. “Let’s go.”
“Martial Uncle… that cat demon is probably the one who tricked Fourth Zhang…” Jiang Mubai watched as Eldest Senior Brother remained rooted in place, his gaze unyielding.
Martial Uncle scratched his head. “You’re starting to sound just like that rigid Master of yours. Of course I knew! With its level of power, Fourth Zhang wouldn’t have fallen for it if he hadn’t already been willing. Besides, the Zhang family brought this on themselves. Move!” His tone brooked no argument.
After a moment’s hesitation, Eldest Senior Brother took the driver’s seat.
“Old Lady Zhang never came back to life—that cat demon just possessed her. My guess? All those missing chickens and ducks ended up in its belly,” Martial Uncle said. “Sometimes, human hearts are more terrifying than demons.”
Jiang Mubai nodded, still shaken by the day’s events. He couldn’t believe such evil existed in the world.
“If your Master were here, what would he have done?”
Second Senior Brother didn’t look up. “Capture the cat demon. The villagers would cry poverty, so he’d settle for some rice or flour… though sometimes even that’s too much.”
“So if that old stick-in-the-mud had come, Fourth Zhang might’ve actually gotten his way,” Martial Uncle mused, resting his hands behind his head. “That brain of his, tsk tsk.”
A light tapping sound came from the roof of the cart, as if something had landed on it.
Then the cart stopped.
“Martial Uncle.” Eldest Senior Brother’s voice was icy.
“Heard it. Keep moving.” Martial Uncle didn’t seem concerned.
After a pause, the cart rolled on.
“Martial Uncle, is that cat following us?” Jiang Mubai whispered, uneasy.
“If it wants to follow, let it. That’s what we call fate—understand?”
Jiang Mubai didn’t, but if Martial Uncle said so, it must be true. That was the lesson he’d learned these past few days.
When they returned to White Cloud Temple, however, Master glared at the black cat with clear displeasure. But seeing Martial Uncle’s hand drift toward his waist again, Master chose to pretend he hadn’t noticed. Jiang Mubai, standing behind Martial Uncle, saw clearly—Martial Uncle hadn’t actually brought Grand Master’s memorial tablet with him.
Martial Uncle took out the money and went down the mountain with Second Senior Brother to hire workers for temple repairs.
The next day, the temple was bustling with activity. Second Senior Brother stood proudly in his new Taoist robes, barking orders—though the sight was oddly comical. Jiang Mubai suddenly realized: Second Senior Brother had completely absorbed Martial Uncle’s influence. Now, he was fully embracing his true self.
The old temple gate was replaced, the worn roof tiles swapped for new ones. Second Senior Brother strutted around like a victorious rooster, muttering about where to add gold paint, where to expand, even boasting about someday living in a grand three-courtyard estate.
“You really need that many rooms?”
“Why not? I’ll sleep in a different one every hour…” Second Senior Brother turned—and met Master’s stern gaze.
He immediately lowered his head and got back to work.
The temple was transformed, even the damaged statues restored.
Master marveled that he’d lived to see White Cloud Temple renewed. Jiang Mubai noticed Master had also traded his faded old robes for fresh ones.
Martial Uncle teased him for being provincial, but Master didn’t argue. Ever since their private talk, Master had been far more tolerant of Martial Uncle’s jabs—even the “old stick-in-the-mud” remarks.
To Jiang Mubai, it all felt surreal.
Everything was surreal.