Tales of Folk Feng Shui Mysteries

The old man began shooing us away impatiently. Noticing his grayish pupils and the dark aura shrouding his forehead, I sensed something was off. Mao Shi acted even faster—he vaulted over the fence in one leap, grabbed the old man by the neck, and pressed down on a vital tendon. His eyes blazed like the fiery gaze of Sun Wukong as he barked, "Audacious little ghost! You dare linger in the mortal realm after death? Do you truly believe no one can subdue you?"

With a firm grip, Mao Shi forced the old man to his knees. His head drooped low, and his originally hoarse, rough voice transformed into the delicate tone of a young girl: "Uncle, spare me! I've never harmed anyone!"

I quickly climbed over the fence and helped Mao Shi drag the old man into the house. The windows were boarded up, leaving the interior pitch black, and there was no stove for warmth. The old man had been bare-chested in the dead of winter—not because he was brimming with yang energy, but because his body's yang fire was instinctively resisting the extreme yin energy in his surroundings.

For example, if you ever feel inexplicably itchy or uncomfortably hot in a cold, empty room, be cautious—it's a sign of yin energy at work. The old man was a textbook case.

But Mao Shi had him firmly under control. He turned to me and said, "This little ghost has been possessing this old man for years. If they fully merge, neither will ever reincarnate. Craft a substitute to lure her out."

"Uncle, I've never hurt anyone. I just can't leave yet," the one-eyed old man pleaded in the girl's voice, sobbing. "My father is sick. If I go, he won't survive. Look—there's no stove here. He's blind in one eye and can barely walk. Please, have mercy!"

His words tugged at my heartstrings, but Mao Shi interjected, "Junior Brother, as Taoists, we must understand the will of Heaven. The separation of yin and yang is divine law. If this ghost refuses to leave, the old man will die soon, and their souls will gradually turn into vengeful spirits. They may not intend harm now, but can you guarantee they never will?"

His words struck me like a thunderclap. Ghosts retain their memories and don't harm indiscriminately, but over time, their yin energy grows. Opposing forces attract—even if they mean no harm, mere contact with the living can inflict damage.

So, I took out a talisman paper, folded and tore it into the shape of a small human figure, then threaded a red string through it and tied the other end to the old man's index finger. With a hand seal, I chanted, "Activate!"

The paper figure slowly stood up and kowtowed to us repeatedly. Sighing, I folded it into a triangular talisman and tucked it into my qiankun pouch.

Earlier, Mao Shi had used the "Yang-Seizing Hand" technique—once caught, neither human nor ghost could break free. After securing the ghost, Mao Shi drew another talisman and made the old man swallow it. About ten minutes later, the old man finally opened his eyes.

His first words were, "My girl! Where's my girl?"

"Old sir," I said, touching his arm.

"Who are you? Why are you in my house?" he asked, bewildered.

Mao Shi and I introduced ourselves as traveling Taoists investigating the monster in the village well and asked for his insights. The old man laughed bitterly. "Why ask me? I'm just a simple farmer—a forgetful fool who barely remembers his own actions." He then turned away, lit an oil lamp, and put on a padded jacket.

Seeing through his evasion, I said, "You were possessed by a ghost, which made you erratic and forgetful. But we've dealt with it now."

The moment I finished, the old man flew into a rage. He lunged at me like a wild beast, grabbing my collar and shaking me violently. "Who are you?! Where's my daughter? Give her back!"

"The dead belong to the underworld—defying this law violates Heaven's will!" Mao Shi scolded. "Release my junior brother now, or we won't be lenient!"

"I just want my girl back," the old man wept, collapsing to his knees. "What kind of cursed fate is this? I lost an eye saving her from that golden toad, just as Granny Hu said!"

My heart clenched—we'd guessed right. This old man knew secrets.

To calm him, I reassured him, "Your daughter is safe. I've only temporarily contained her. Once we deal with the monster, I'll perform rites to guide her across the Yellow Springs for reincarnation."

"Useless. The dead in this village can't leave," the old man muttered darkly, then pressed me again about his daughter's whereabouts.

"Elder, take your time," Mao Shi said, eyes narrowing. "From your words, it seems you once studied under a master?"

"A master? Hah!" The old man snorted. "The villagers killed them all!"

I added, "Is that why you refuse to drink the village's water? As a former disciple, how could you watch them march toward damnation? Tell us the truth. If your daughter can't leave, it's because the village entrance's 'Dragon-Slaying Platform' traps ghosts. But I can help her cross over. Don't you want that?"

"You're not lying?" Hope flashed in his eyes.

I swore on the Three Pure Ones, and he finally relented.

The old man's name was Sun Degui. His ancestors were hunters, and his family once saved a white fox, earning them a "Hu Tang" (Fox Hall) lineage. Now sixty, Sun Degui's father had been among the village's destroyed inhabitants.

Before Sun Degui was born, an engineering team arrived to dig a well for the impoverished village. The project was grueling—requiring a 48-meter depth, with the final meter to be dug only after "dragon energy" entered the well.

The village was later wiped out. Sun Degui survived only because he'd been visiting his maternal grandparents. At sixteen, while visiting his father's grave, he encountered a massive fox kowtowing before the tomb. Terrified, he fled—only to meet a woman in white emerging from the trees.

"Don't fear," she said. "I'm a thousand-year fox spirit. Your father saved me during a tribulation. Now that he's gone, I've come to pay respects. As his bloodline, you shall be my disciple."

With that, she possessed him. For half a year, he lived in a daze until his meridians opened, allowing him to practice healing arts.

Back then, the village hadn't yet adopted human sacrifices. But travelers who entered often got lost, and some froze to death in winter. Sun Degui's reputation as a healer grew—until a monk arrived.

After inspecting the well, the monk warned that a plague would strike unless a child under twelve was sacrificed. The villagers beat him for it, but that night, Sun Degui dreamed of the fox spirit.

"A golden toad spirit devours souls here," she said. "I'll fight it, but I need your help."

She instructed him to stop drinking the village's water, use only mountain or snow water, and craft a peachwood bow. "When bubbles rise in the well, shoot into it. Never let them sacrifice a living person!"

Sun Degui warned the villagers, but none listened. The next day, a plague struck—itching skin that festered into toad-like pustules, sprouting wriggling tendrils.

Desperate, Sun Degui raced miles to town for peachwood to make the bow. But when he returned, he saw the plague-ridden villagers carrying his daughter toward the well.

Since his family alone was unaffected, they'd chosen her as the sacrifice.

He screamed, rushing to the well as blood bubbles surged. The fox spirit's voice echoed: "Pluck out your eye and throw it in. It's the only way to save her soul from the toad."

Without hesitation, he used the unfinished bow to gouge out his eye and cast it into the well. But the fox spirit's plan only saved his daughter's soul—her body perished in the depths.

Her spirit possessed him. He awoke three days later to find his wife and child dead.

Heartbroken, he wandered toward suicide—only to stumble upon the monk holding the corpse of the giant white fox, surrounded by villagers.

"This demon is slain," the monk declared. "But henceforth, a child must be sacrificed before each full moon—or the plague returns!"

Sun Degui spat bitterly. "I've clung to this wretched life just to witness Heaven's retribution!"