Taoist Priest 06

My name is Zhao Chenyang, and I’m twenty years old. I’ll graduate next year.

But because of my unfortunate hobby, I’ve stepped onto a path most people would never imagine in their lifetime.

That day, I brought braised goose to my master and happened to run into my classmate Wu Lei. I knew him—he was hardworking, often taking part-time jobs when he didn’t have classes. Honestly, I admired him.

So I wanted to help him, but for some reason, my master disagreed.

However, after eating a few pieces of the braised goose, my master changed his mind—though he insisted I be the one to go.

He said, “You’ve been learning for a while now. It’s time to put it into practice.” So I followed Wu Lei to his home.

Wu Lei’s home was in a small mountain village, dozens of kilometers from the city. The scenery was beautiful, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off about the place. My master said it was because I had encountered ghosts before, and by sheer luck, I’d gained a bit more sensitivity than ordinary people.

I didn’t really understand, but I thought it was pretty badass.

Wu Lei’s family was truly poor—so much so that you could say they had nothing but four bare walls. I couldn’t understand why his older brother, Wu Tian, would still gamble when the family was in such dire straits. But when I saw Wu Tian, my heart ached. A man in his late twenties, his face blank and vacant, drool trickling from his mouth.

According to Wu Lei, he hadn’t always been like this.

By procedure, this was the moment I should’ve crossed my arms and called for my master—except he hadn’t come.

So I had to figure it out myself. Before I left, my master gave me a ritual tool, saying it would be enough to deal with ordinary spirits. I looked down at the peachwood knuckle duster in my hand and had my doubts.

Wu Lei’s mother wasn’t exactly welcoming of my arrival, which I understood. They’d already been swindled by charlatans—what my master called “blue path” fraudsters—several times before. It wasn’t until I said I wouldn’t charge them that their family’s attitude softened a bit.

Following my master’s instructions, I needed to find a rooster, stuff a piece of yellow paper with Wu Tian’s birth details into its beak, tie it with string, then attach a red thread to the rooster’s leg and the other end to Wu Tian’s body. Once the hour of Zi (midnight) arrived, all I had to do was follow the direction the rooster’s head pointed.

Honestly, while waiting for midnight, I kept wondering if my master’s real intention was for me to bring the rooster back for dinner. His usual meals weren’t exactly great—he said he suffered from the “Five Misfortunes and Three Deficiencies,” specifically the lack of wealth, so he was always broke. As for me, he said I hadn’t officially entered the practice yet, so it didn’t count. I wasn’t sure what “officially entering” meant, but I figured as long as I didn’t end up alone and destitute, I’d be fine.

When the hour of Zi arrived, the half-dead rooster suddenly sprang to life. I followed the direction its head pointed, while Wu Lei led his brother Wu Tian behind me. Further back were Wu Lei’s parents and relatives—probably worried I’d lose Wu Tian somewhere.

As we walked, I heard someone say that not far ahead was the unmarked grave where Wu Tian had been found. My heart suddenly filled with dread. Honestly, at that moment, I even resented my master a little—how could he send me alone to catch ghosts?

But it was too late for regrets. Suddenly, a thick fog rose before me, swallowing Wu Lei and Wu Tian from view. A bone-deep chill ran through my body—probably that extra sensitivity at work.

After walking a few more steps, a light appeared ahead. For someone trapped in darkness, brightness is undeniably alluring. As I ran toward it, I even felt a flicker of understanding for those moths drawn to flames.

But when I got closer, all I saw was a table and four people. They seemed to be playing mahjong, and the one with his back to me suddenly turned around, his face breaking into a wide grin as he stood up and gestured for me to take his seat. Unable to refuse, I sat down, still holding the chicken in my arms.

Across from me was a beautiful woman, though her hairstyle was oddly nostalgic—the kind my grandmother wore in her youth. To my right sat a heavyset man who kept one hand on his tiles while the other held something he nibbled on intermittently, looking utterly delighted.

But it was the person to my left who sent a jolt through me. It was none other than Wu Lei’s older brother, Wu Tian. Yet here, he bore no resemblance to the man I’d seen before. Instead, he was feverishly excited, caressing his neatly arranged mahjong tiles as if they were treasures, his face alight with exhilaration—though it was utterly devoid of color.

“Little brother, care to play?” the beautiful woman across from me invited. I shook my head. “I don’t know how.” I wasn’t lying—I’d never liked mahjong. My parents divorced because of my mother’s obsession with it.

The heavyset man on my right glared at me. “If you sit, you play!”

I tried to stand, but the one who’d given me his seat pressed both hands on my shoulders, forcing me back down. “Don’t know how? I’ll teach you.”

He patiently sorted the tiles, and like magic, even I—someone who’d never played—could see that this was a winning hand. Every tile was the same suit.

“See? Now you should play this one…” He grabbed my hand, guiding it toward a specific tile.

A memory flashed through me—my mother holding me as a child, her hand over mine as she played mahjong the same way.

But then my master’s face abruptly surfaced in my mind. He stood with his hands behind his back, clicking his tongue in disapproval, eyeing me like I was an idiot.

I jolted awake. Right—I was here to find Wu Tian’s lost soul! I yanked my hand free and frantically reached into my pocket. The moment my fingers brushed the wooden talisman, a wave of calm washed over me.

My master might act like a slacker, but I knew he’d never lie to me.

Punching a ghost felt bizarre—like hitting a water balloon, but lighter. The heavyset man on my right went flying. The ghost behind me grabbed my neck, but I threw myself backward, eyes shut, and swung blindly upward. He soared into the air. The mahjong table had already been overturned, yet Wu Tian remained fixated on the tiles in his hands, muttering to himself.

I smacked the tiles from his grip—they were unmistakably human finger bones—then grabbed him and ran. The beautiful woman simply watched me go, still smiling.

After running for who knows how long, I spotted another light ahead. I hurried toward it, only to find the exact same scene as before: three figures at a mahjong table—the beautiful woman, the heavyset man, and someone with their face wrapped in a scarf. Only this time, Wu Tian was missing.

No sooner had I thought of him than he strode forward again, ready to sit down and resume the game.

Frustration burned through me. This felt deliberate—like they were toying with me.

A meme-like image flashed through my mind as my rage meter surged. Without hesitation, I threw a punch at the fat man, who took the hit squarely before being sent flying. Swiveling around, I landed another blow that sent the scarf-wearing figure sprawling. Finally, my gaze locked onto that unnervingly composed woman—no, that ghost of a woman, standing there utterly unfazed.