Taoist Priest 05

Fang Zhiyi glanced at the young woman, who was staring at the female ghost in terror, her face powder flaking off in chunks. Trembling under Zhao Chenyang's comforting words, she finally spoke: "My name is Ma Lu. For the past few days, I've been hearing someone whispering in my ear while I sleep. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and see someone standing by my bed, watching me..." She looked at Zhao Chenyang. "So I complained to Chenyang, and he said he knew a way to help..."

Fang Zhiyi turned to the ghost, who nodded. "It was me, but I only meant to scare her a little..."

"This place is a yin ground—four-four-four, and the orientation is all wrong. No wonder you became a bound spirit," Fang Zhiyi explained.

"Alright, come with me." Without further ado, Fang Zhiyi pulled out an empty porcelain bottle, tossed the ghost inside, and stood up. He cast a glance at the still-clinging couple, shook his head with a sigh, and strode away.

Some time later, Zhao Chenyang finally returned to the shop and saw his master scrolling through his phone. Embarrassed, he stammered, "Master, you took a cab back, right? I’m really sorry—Lu Lu said she wanted to get back together, so I... I just... Oh god!"

To his left stood—no, floated—a woman. It was the same ghost from earlier!

"M-M-Master!" His tongue seemed to twist into knots. "Sh-sh-she..."

"She what? Would you like being stuck in a bottle all day?" Fang Zhiyi shot him a disdainful look. The kid had no backbone.

"But she’s a ghost!"

"So what?"

"What if she runs away?"

Fang Zhiyi scoffed. Run? The ghost timidly spoke up, "I won’t run." She didn’t understand how Fang Zhiyi had managed to take her away from that place, but she knew better than to cross this Taoist.

Even if he didn’t look like one at all.

Fang Zhiyi had struck a deal with her: once he gathered enough spirits for a "full load," he’d send her off for reincarnation. She didn’t know why, but she figured it was best to just go along with it. This Taoist gave off an overwhelming sense of authority.

As Fang Zhiyi listened to Xiao Hei’s report on the female lead’s movements, calculating his odds against the thousand-year-old ghost, the shop door was suddenly hammered with loud bangs.

With Zhao Chenyang back at school and no one else to order around, Fang Zhiyi had to answer the door himself. The moment he opened it, a man reeking of alcohol barged in.

"You—you’re that so-called master, right?" The man lifted his head, his face unshaven and eyes bloodshot.

Fang Zhiyi frowned. "What do you want?"

The man reached out to grab him, but Fang Zhiyi stepped back. Losing his balance, the man crashed to the floor. After a long struggle, he finally managed to get up. "You... help me."

Fang Zhiyi was baffled. "How did you even find this place?"

The man took a moment to recall before slurring, "That streamer mentioned you. Said you were amazing. But I know your type—scammers, the lot of you. If you’re really that good, I’ll give you half my fortune once I strike it rich!"

Fang Zhiyi hadn’t expected Ma Lu to advertise for him, but it wasn’t a bad thing—it might speed things up.

"What do you need help with?"

The man waved his hands erratically. "Fortune transfer. Steal someone else’s luck, and I’ll get rich."

Understanding dawned on Fang Zhiyi. He shook his head. "Can’t do it. Get out." Without another word, he grabbed the man and shoved him out the door.

Behind him, the ghost Jing Tian asked curiously, "Master Fang, why didn’t you take the job?" She could tell Fang Zhiyi wasn’t exactly rolling in money.

Fang Zhiyi dusted off his hands and bent down to straighten a paper effigy the drunk had knocked over. "You haven’t been a ghost long, so you don’t know. Stealing luck from the living damages your own karma. For people like us, it’s absolutely forbidden. And if it’s the dead’s luck you’re after... well, that’s just asking for death."

Outside, the drunk’s curses echoed—nothing more than the usual rant about Fang Zhiyi being a fraud.

Jing Tian nodded. Ever since becoming a ghost, she’d been confined to that room, so she really didn’t know much about these things.

That afternoon, another visitor arrived.

This time, it was a young man who hesitated for a long time before explaining his situation.

He had an older brother, Wu Tian, who wasn’t exactly a model citizen—he loved gambling and would disappear for days at a time. But recently, something had gone wrong. Wu Tian hadn’t come home for five days straight. Their frantic parents searched everywhere, asking all his shady friends, but no one had seen him. One of them, Gousheng, said Wu Tian had agreed to meet for mahjong five days ago but never showed up. His phone was unreachable.

Just as the Wu family was about to call the police, a neighbor came by with news—someone gathering wild herbs in the mountains had found Wu Tian asleep in an unmarked graveyard halfway up the slope.

They carried him home, but Wu Tian remained unconscious. Desperate, they called in a shaman, and only then did Wu Tian slowly wake up. But from that day on, he was dazed, as if his mind had turned to mush.

The young man, Wu Lei, was a student in the city. He’d stumbled upon a popular livestream where a girl told ghost stories—and mentioned a certain "master" who was incredibly skilled. After tipping her a few dozen yuan, he got Fang Zhiyi’s address.

"Damn, I’m only worth a few dozen bucks?" Fang Zhiyi grumbled, even more annoyed that Ma Lu hadn’t cut him in on the profits.

"My mom hired several masters, but none could help."

Fang Zhiyi snapped, "What era are we in? If something like this happens, shouldn’t you take him to a hospital first? Instead of running to a 'master'?"

Wu Lei was taken aback. He’d half-expected Fang Zhiyi to be another fraud, but the first thing out of his mouth was a demand for medical attention. After a pause, he replied, "We did. County hospitals, city hospitals—they all said he was fine. The doctors suggested a psychiatric facility, but my parents refused and brought him home..."

Fang Zhiyi said nothing, just waved dismissively.

At that moment, someone burst through the door. "Master! The roast goose today is amazing!"

Fang Zhiyi and Wu Lei turned at the same time. Wu Lei’s expression shifted. "Zhao Chenyang?"

Zhao Chenyang stared at him for two seconds. "Wu Lei?"

Fang Zhiyi clapped his hands. "Great. Now I can’t even shake this off."

Wu Lei explained everything to Zhao Chenyang, who then turned pleading eyes toward Fang Zhiyi. Fang Zhiyi immediately raised a hand to stop him. "Not going. Shut it."

As Fang Zhiyi snatched the roast goose from Zhao Chenyang and retreated into the back room, Zhao Chenyang’s face turned red with frustration. He could only offer Wu Lei an awkward look.

The ghost Jing Tian followed Fang Zhiyi. "Master Fang, why don’t you want to go?"

Fang Zhiyi replied irritably, "Because I don’t want to deal with it." He pointed outside. "There’s not a trace of yin energy on him. As for his brother—a gambling addict who plays at night? Running into ghosts is the least of his problems."

Jing Tian let out a soft "Oh," then added, "But it makes money."

"Thanks for that—but not all money is worth taking." Fang Zhiyi stuffed a piece of goose meat into his mouth. "As for those gamblers, maybe it’s better if they lose their minds. Hmm—wait, I do have a disciple, don’t I?" His gaze drifted outside, settling on his so-called "beloved disciple."