Taoist Priest 03

The eye contact didn't last long. Zhao Chenyang noticed another shadowy figure emerging behind the person wearing his face.

"No way... two of them?" He felt a wave of despair.

A hand suddenly clapped onto the creature's shoulder. "Hey buddy, what are you up to?"

The eerie grinning face whipped around, startling Fang Zhiyi so much that he instinctively slapped it. "What the hell is this?!"

As his palm struck, Zhao Chenyang caught a faint glimmer of light radiating from Fang Zhiyi's arm—but it dimmed almost instantly. Had he imagined it?

The creature's head spun several times before stopping, forcing the shadowy figure to steady it with both hands.

"Darkness shrouds the dust of karma... souls lost on the Forgotten River... can't find it, can't find it..."

Fang Zhiyi finally made out its murmuring. After the slap, the ghost revealed its true form—a faceless entity clutching its head, pacing nervously but keeping its distance from Fang Zhiyi.

"Master?" Zhao Chenyang was on the verge of tears. "Can you handle this?"

Frowning, Fang Zhiyi pieced together a theory—after all, he had once been a ghost himself.

"Did you take anything from that abandoned temple?" He grabbed Zhao Chenyang by the collar, snarling.

Zhao Chenyang froze, then frantically waved his hands. "No! Absolutely not! I barely escaped with my life—why would I take anything?" Suddenly, realization struck. "Zhou Wen! Zhou Wen said he struck gold!"

"Where?"

Zhao Chenyang's eyes darted around before landing on the hiking bag under the opposite bunk. "There—that's his backpack."

Fang Zhiyi shoved him aside and moved to retrieve it. The murmuring ghost inched closer, but when Fang Zhiyi raised his hand threateningly, it wisely halted a meter away.

After rummaging through the bag, Fang Zhiyi pulled out an intricately carved lotus candleholder radiating an oppressive yin energy.

"Now it makes sense. Get up—we’re leaving. Now."

"Right now?"

Fang Zhiyi nodded. "Right now. Or things will get much worse."

Zhao Chenyang resisted. "Can’t I stay?"

Fang Zhiyi glared. "How am I supposed to find the place without you? Huh?"

Only then did Zhao Chenyang realize they were returning to the temple. He shook his head violently. "No! I’m not going!"

Fang Zhiyi didn’t bother arguing. Instead, he grabbed the nosy faceless ghost and shoved it in Zhao Chenyang’s face. "Fine. I’ll leave you with this, then."

"I’ll go! Master!"

Fang Zhiyi hadn’t expected the kid to be a rich second-generation heir with a luxury car.

The roads were empty at night, and they made good time, arriving at the foot of the desolate mountain by 3 AM.

The moment they stepped out of the car, Fang Zhiyi ordered, "From now on, you lead the way. Move as fast as you can. And whatever you do—don’t look back!"

Resigned to his fate—after all, he’d already had ghosts in his car—Zhao Chenyang agreed.

After a long, grueling climb, Zhao Chenyang checked their path with his flashlight. Out of habit, he glanced over his shoulder. "Master, watch out—HOLY—!"

Behind them, a crowd of at least a dozen figures trailed silently. The moment he screamed, they all lifted their heads in unison, staring at him with hollow eyes.

A sharp smack landed on his backside. "Stop screaming! If we don’t make it before dawn, you’re dead!"

Zhao Chenyang’s pace doubled instantly.

When they finally reached the temple, Fang Zhiyi wasted no time. He kicked the door—the lock held, but the hinges gave way.

Ignoring the damage, he strode inside, heading straight for the main hall. He placed the candleholder at the feet of the deity statue and stepped back.

"Master... is that it?" Zhao Chenyang whispered, trembling.

"Shut up and watch."

The faceless ghost slowly approached, lifting the candleholder with both hands while muttering indistinctly. Its face began shifting—one moment a young man, the next an old man, then morphing into a woman’s features.

Holding the candleholder aloft, it began circling the courtyard. One by one, the trailing figures entered and followed. Some vanished after a single lap; others took several rounds before fading away.

As the first light of dawn touched the horizon, the faceless ghost returned to the main hall, gently placing the candleholder beneath the statue. It bowed slightly to Fang Zhiyi before dissipating into nothingness.

"Damn. Just as I thought." Fang Zhiyi exhaled in relief.

"Master, what just happened?"

Looking at the walking paycheck before him, Fang Zhiyi found his patience renewed.

"Most temples and shrines in this world are saturated with yin energy. Think about it—there are so many of them. How could deities possibly manifest in all of them? So, wandering spirits often sneak in to bask in the incense offerings. Plus, these places are gateways to reincarnation. That’s why, unless you’re a cultivator, it’s best not to linger."

He stepped outside, motioning for Zhao Chenyang to prop the door back up. "But this temple is different. It was built specifically to guide lost souls—a sanctuary for monks who dedicated themselves to the cycle of rebirth. Even after death, their spirits remain, helping ghosts move on. And you idiots not only barged in—you stole their guiding lantern. Impressive."

Zhao Chenyang’s eyes widened in understanding. "If we hadn’t returned it, those ghosts couldn’t reincarnate?"

Fang Zhiyi nodded. "Worse. They’d have moved in with you. After all, the lantern—and the monk—were in your place."

"Oh..." Zhao Chenyang’s expression turned reverent.

"But remember, they’re still ghosts. All souls carry lingering attachments. That monk’s purpose was to guide others. If left too long, even he would’ve turned into a vengeful spirit."

"By the way, Master... when you hit that ghost earlier, there was light on your hand. What was that?"

Fang Zhiyi was surprised. Could this kid actually see the talisman he’d drawn? It was his latest experiment—merging ghost cultivation, immortal techniques, and modern Daoist practices, using his own body as a medium.

"Hey... ever thought about learning the Dao?"

"Me? Could I really—Master?! AHH—!"

As Zhao Chenyang tumbled down the hillside, Fang Zhiyi clicked his tongue. The kid reminded him of a dim-witted lackey he’d once had.

Soon after, the local incense shop gained a new apprentice—a college student, no less. Neighboring shopkeepers lamented the fierce competition these days, sighing that even graduates were joining the funeral business.

Meanwhile, Xu Lingshan stood at the train station, clutching her bag and scanning the crowd. Her luggage sat at her feet—reclaimed from that nosy auntie. The "world’s most handsome man" had promised to pick her up, but as dusk fell, there was still no sign of—

Someone covered her eyes. "Guess who?"

Xu Lingshan grinned. "World’s most handsome man!"

"Correct!"

But when the hands withdrew, she turned to see only a sprinting figure in the distance. She looked down.

Her suitcase was gone.