Martial Uncle had ordered another batch of paper effigies from the town and was tinkering with something in his room. That night, Jiang Mubai, who had just fallen asleep, was abruptly awakened, along with Eldest Senior Brother and Second Senior Brother.
Martial Uncle led them to the back mountain. Jiang Mubai stared blankly at the wooden stick tossed to him, catching it without understanding its purpose. But as Martial Uncle began chanting under his breath, rustling sounds soon emerged from the silent forest.
Under the moonlight, he saw pale-faced figures emerging from the trees, moving toward them. Jiang Mubai’s mind froze.
"Eldest Senior Brother... what’s this...?"
Eldest Senior Brother, also gripping a wooden stick, merely tightened his hold and said, "Stay calm."
Jiang Mubai swallowed hard.
"Just some ordinary paper effigies," Martial Uncle remarked casually.
Jiang Mubai glanced at their feet—there were no footprints left in the soft soil where they stepped.
Ordinary paper effigies? Since when did ordinary paper effigies roam around at midnight? Panic surged in Jiang Mubai. What was Martial Uncle planning?
Martial Uncle, however, spoke leisurely, "What are evil spirits? Evil spirits are demonic entities."
Jiang Mubai bit his lower lip, suppressing the urge to call it nonsense.
"Paper effigies are formed from objects and generally lack high intelligence," Martial Uncle said with a smile. "I’ve noticed the three of you are severely lacking in skill. Starting today, I’ll give you some practical training."
Second Senior Brother, usually carefree, wore a stern expression, while Eldest Senior Brother kept his eyes fixed on the approaching effigies.
Jiang Mubai was terrified—Master had never taught him any Daoist techniques!
"Use the sword in your hand to fight these demons."
Jiang Mubai looked down at his wooden stick. "Martial Uncle, this is a stick..."
"Nonsense! If I say it’s a sword, it’s a sword!"
"But—" Before he could finish, a paper effigy lunged at him. Jiang Mubai turned and bolted. Martial Uncle didn’t stop him.
Yet, he couldn’t outrun it forever.
"Martial Uncle..." Jiang Mubai’s voice trembled with fear. Eldest Senior Brother and Second Senior Brother were also surrounded, unable to help.
"To attain the Dao through slaughter—our sect’s principle is to kill, not redeem," Martial Uncle recited word by word. "Use evil to suppress evil, use malice to conquer resentment..." A series of mantras spilled from his lips.
Jiang Mubai knew Martial Uncle wasn’t suddenly composing poetry—this had to be the method! Desperate, he repeated each line, and under pressure, his comprehension soared.
By the early hours of the morning, Jiang Mubai had finally taken down his first paper effigy.
Then, Martial Uncle clapped his hands, and all the effigies froze before turning in unison and drifting back into the forest—including the one Jiang Mubai had just defeated.
"Tomorrow, we continue!" Martial Uncle declared. Jiang Mubai felt his future darken.
The next day, he slept until noon and scrambled out of bed, only to learn that Master had left. A letter stated he had gone to "cultivate his mind," entrusting White Cloud Temple and his three disciples to Martial Uncle. Even Master’s tattered meditation cushion had been claimed by the temple’s resident cat demon as a bed.
Martial Uncle cursed loudly, abandoning all decorum.
But soon after, he took action—recruiting new disciples from the town. As he put it, "Work needs hands, and money needs earners."
Jiang Mubai noticed Second Senior Brother had a keen interest in profit. Under Martial Uncle’s guidance, White Cloud Temple introduced many new services: charging for divination, fortune sticks, interpretations, blessings, lantern lighting—even incense was now sold in small, medium, and large tiers. They also peddled talismans for protection and warding off ill fortune.
Martial Uncle delegated all these tasks to Second Senior Brother, who eagerly took charge. For the first time, Jiang Mubai learned how a Daoist temple could turn a profit.
Martial Uncle even paid people to post flyers with the temple’s address in nearby villages and the town, calling it "advertising."
None of them believed it would work—but it did. Crowds flocked to White Cloud Temple. The hastily trained disciples quickly adapted to their roles. Jiang Mubai saw Second Senior Brother’s eyes gleam, especially when counting money at night—he was turning into a miser.
Where they once received occasional requests, now exorcism jobs were booked a month in advance. Martial Uncle, claiming he didn’t trust them, still accompanied them on assignments. Jiang Mubai suspected it was because they couldn’t negotiate prices—especially Eldest Senior Brother, who, like Master, cared little for money.
Martial Uncle’s pricing was erratic, seemingly based on mood. Some clients faced exorbitant fees and poor treatment, while others paid only a token sum.
This time, however, Martial Uncle said he was waiting for someone and didn’t join them. Eldest Senior Brother led Jiang Mubai to Kaoshan Village, where rumors spoke of a "Bear Granny"—a demon that donned a headscarf at night, knocked on doors, and preyed on households with children.
After two nights of waiting, the knocking finally came.
The voice outside was hoarse and grating, yet oddly comforting.
"Open the door, dear. It’s your grandmother."
Jiang Mubai opened it—only to face a beastly, furry visage, its fanged maw reeking of rot.
He never understood why demons always roared upon seeing humans. Was it to bolster their own courage?
By now, he was experienced. He formed a hand seal and thrust his stick into the creature’s gaping mouth, forcing it back. Eldest Senior Brother, lying in ambush, emerged. Whatever Martial Uncle had taught him privately had made him formidable—he could even summon heavenly lightning.
Since Martial Uncle’s arrival, their skills had skyrocketed.
Watching the bear demon sizzle under the lightning, Jiang Mubai knew the job was done—though they had to take the corpse with them.
On their way back to White Cloud Temple, they passed through the village at the mountain’s base. Unlike before, the villagers now regarded them with respect, some even greeting Jiang Mubai.
This was new. After Martial Uncle dealt with a few troublemakers trying to take advantage, they’d become much more compliant.
Jiang Mubai suddenly thought—maybe Martial Uncle was right. Being a "heretical cultivator" wasn’t so bad. At least they had food, warmth, and no one dared bully them. He just wondered how Master was faring out there.
Finally, they returned to White Cloud Temple. The neatly paved mountain path and the devotees holding incense sticks left Jiang Mubai momentarily dazed—until Eldest Senior Brother patted his shoulder, reminding him to report to Martial Uncle.
But before he could enter, he heard Martial Uncle’s furious cursing—followed by a figure flying out the door and landing at his feet.