Tales of Folk Feng Shui Mysteries

Previously, Lao Zhang once mentioned: temples and Taoist sites often sit atop places of powerful negative energy, or sha (煞). The Wugou Jingguang Relic Pagoda before us was no exception — it had a deep story behind it...

Legend has it that in ancient Shenyang, disasters often struck. Once, a violent windstorm raged for seven days and nights straight. Rivers ran dry, wells went barren, crops failed, and the people suffered terribly.

In this desperate time, a monk came to the village. He told the locals that the catastrophe was caused by a Yellow Dragon from Heaven being banished to the mortal realm. The villagers had heard of heavenly dragons but never seen one, so they revered the monk deeply and knelt before him.

Countless people begged the monk to subdue the Yellow Dragon and save the people from destruction. The monk surveyed the terrain of Shenyang and identified Tawan as the dragon's head because it was the city's highest point — rich in Yang energy and excellent feng shui.

Together with his two disciples, the monk built a high altar at Tawan and performed rituals to lock away the Yellow Dragon. From that day forth, peace returned.

To honor the monk, the people built a temple on the dragon's head, called the "Returning Dragon Temple." After the monk passed away, his disciples constructed the Wugou Jingguang Relic Pagoda to commemorate him.

In 1985, during renovations, a stone box with inscriptions was unearthed revealing the pagoda's true origins — though whether the legends were true or not remains for scholars to debate.

Yuan Beitang and I walked through the park's small woods toward the pagoda. I could feel the dense Yin energy all around. Just as we exited the trees, shadows knelt before the pagoda—heads bowed low, faces indistinct. I knew these were not humans.

A cold wind swept through my collar, sending goosebumps down my spine. Despite my years in the trade, anyone seeing a group of kneeling figures at midnight would shudder.

"Don't stare," Yuan warned. "They worship their own. We mind our business."

The pagoda stood solemnly—divided into five parts: the underground chamber, base, tower body, eaves, and finial. The underground chamber housed the Buddha relics—and was our target.

Up close, the pagoda was magnificent, with eight carved Buddha statues on each side. For those curious, eight-faced Buddhas are common in Buddhist texts; no need for me to elaborate.

Yuan strode forward; I followed, scanning the shadows. Oddly, more and more spirits seemed to gather.

Nearby, a woman in a white wedding dress knelt. Her spirit was the most vengeful—like Yin Xiuxiu, who turned into a ferocious ghost on her wedding day. Spirits dressed like brides are especially deadly.

In just a hundred meters, I saw countless tragic ghosts: some soaked and trailing water, some with rotting flesh, some missing limbs. They knelt, bowed, and flickered—each a tortured soul.

My heart raced. This was no ordinary worship—there were too many vengeful spirits gathered here. I whispered to Yuan, "Master Yuan, why are so many spirits here? Has something terrible happened?"

He frowned. "I've been here before, but never seen so many. Ghosts worshipping at the pagoda is normal, but this is excessive."

I pondered. We could read people's fortunes but reading Heaven was another matter—only sages like Jiang Ziya, Zhuge Liang, and Liu Bowen were said to divine Heaven's will and foresee calamities.

Yuan was skilled but not on that level.

I said, "Master Yuan, today isn't even a ghost festival. Though the moon is missing, there's no eclipse. Why would so many malicious spirits gather?"

We stopped, looking around. Normally, living people make great sacrifices for spirits—but these ghosts ignored us. That was strange. If they sought to alleviate sins by worshiping the pagoda, why would so many spirits crowd here?

"Something's wrong," Yuan said, taking six copper coins from his pocket. He began shaking them and casting them on the ground, repeating six times.

Those familiar will recognize this as the Six Yao divination method, derived from the I Ching's 64 hexagrams, 384 lines — 192 yin and 192 yang. It's an ancient system of divining good or bad fortune through yin-yang interplay.

After completing the divination, Yuan's brow furrowed deeply.

"What is it, Master Yuan?" I asked.

He sighed heavily, voice grave:"The hexagram is Shi (师) — 'the army'. The sixth line in the yang position is extremely inauspicious. It foretells death, corpses needing carts for transport, and a great calamity to come.

As diviners, once we 'deploy the army', disaster will follow. The only solution is to immediately return."

Return? I scoffed inwardly. Return where? What about Shiyu? Am I really supposed to face the Underworld alone, armed only with a talisman?

If I set real fire to this, King Yan might order the judge to erase my name, and I might be cursed to suffocate in my own fluids at any moment.