Chapter One: The Taoist in the Storm at the Mountain God Temple

At the hour of the Rooster, the sun sank below the horizon.

The sky gradually darkened. The setting sun slipped westward, leaving behind only a dim wash of yellow along the horizon.

Qingping Mountain, stretching twelve hundred li from end to end, slowly sank into twilight. The forests grew darker by the moment; birdsong became sparse, insect calls faint, and the entire mountain seemed to fall silent along with the setting sun.

By the hour of the Dog, all of Qingping Mountain lay beneath the veil of night. From afar, it appeared as one vast expanse of murky black, like some enormous beast crouching upon the earth.

As dark clouds gathered, the night wind suddenly rose. Cold gusts shrieked through the forest, accompanied by peals of thunder and flashes of lightning. Before long, rain came pouring down in torrents.

Amid the night rain and the wind-shrouded mountains, only the Mountain God Temple halfway up the slope showed the faintest glimmer of light, flickering in and out of sight.

At that moment, a young Daoist stood far away beneath an oil-paper umbrella, gazing toward the temple. In a low voice, he murmured, “That creature must be here.”

The Daoist’s surname was Jiang, his given name Sheng, and his courtesy name Yuanchen. He was a newly admitted inner disciple of the Penglai Daoist Sect. After successfully establishing his foundation, he had descended the mountain to undergo worldly training in accordance with the sect’s rules.

All disciples who had established their foundations were required to travel beyond the sect and cultivate through experience. Only after opening the Violet Palace were they permitted to return.

During his travels, Jiang Sheng had discovered that Qingping Mountain concealed many mysteries. It could be counted as a blessed land, and it seemed that some creature within the mountain had already obtained a measure of good fortune.

This was undoubtedly a blessing bestowed by Heaven, and Jiang Sheng naturally had no intention of letting it pass him by.

Inside the Mountain God Temple, flames licked at the firewood with sharp pops, while wisps of blue smoke spiraled upward toward the roof.

Within the temple, battered by wind and rain, two groups sat around separate fires in silence.

In the left-hand corner, an old man and his grandson sat cross-legged atop a bed of withered yellow grass, utterly unconcerned by the howling storm outside or the temple’s dilapidated state. The old man held two flatbreads over the flames, while his little grandson stared at them with eager, hungry eyes.

In the right-hand corner were five sturdy young men. Squatting on the ground, they stretched their hands toward the fire for warmth. Every so often, one of them would yawn, take a small sip from a wine flask at his waist, smack his lips, and resume staring at the flames.

Each group went about its own business without disturbing the other. Though they said nothing, there was nevertheless a tacit understanding between them.

Just then, the temple door creaked open. Both groups turned to look and saw a young Daoist standing outside beneath an oil-paper umbrella.

The five young men visibly relaxed. They resumed forcing themselves to stay awake as they warmed themselves by the fire and drank. The old man continued roasting the flatbreads, but his grandson watched Jiang Sheng’s sudden appearance with keen curiosity.

“The mountain rain came without warning, and there is nowhere else to go tonight. I hope you will permit this poor Daoist to impose for a while.” Jiang Sheng cupped his hands and bowed apologetically.

“You jest, Daoist. The Mountain God Temple has no owner, and we are merely sheltering from the rain ourselves. How could you be imposing? Make yourself at home.” The old man smiled.

Jiang Sheng noticed that when the old man said the temple had no owner, the five young men wore peculiar expressions.

Ignoring them, Jiang Sheng walked over to the grandfather and grandson. “Elder, might I borrow a piece of firewood?”

The old man understood that Jiang Sheng wished to kindle a fire and warm himself. He smiled. “Daoist, if you do not mind, you may sit with us.”

“Then I shall trouble you.”

After Jiang Sheng sat down cross-legged, the old man began speaking idly. “Daoist, why have you entered the mountains so late at night? Qingping Mountain is hardly peaceful after dark.”

Jiang Sheng explained, “I came here while traveling the land. I had intended to climb the mountain in search of a creature, but I never expected the night rain to bar my way.”

The old man was intrigued. “Oh? In search of a creature? Daoist, perhaps you do not know this, but Qingping Mountain is vast, and poisonous snakes and savage beasts abound. If the creature you seek leaves few traces, you may easily encounter a mountain wolf or venomous snake. It would be extremely dangerous.”

“If the creature is important to you, you should ask a local hunter to guide you. That would make the journey somewhat safer.”

Jiang Sheng did not answer. He glanced at the storm outside the temple and suddenly said, “Elder, you should take your grandson and leave. This Mountain God Temple is no place of safety.”

The old man shook his head repeatedly. “The rain is fierce, the wind violent, and the damp cold outside is biting. The mountain paths are slick at night and hardly safe. Whatever else may be said of this temple, it still provides shelter from the wind and rain. How could we leave?”

Jiang Sheng shook his head. “Elder, heed this poor Daoist’s advice. You would do well to leave now.”

The little boy stared at Jiang Sheng in confusion. The old man was even more bewildered. “Daoist, I kindly invited you to warm yourself by our fire, yet you are urging the two of us to go outside and be drenched. What sense does that make?”

Jiang Sheng sighed. Before he could explain further, one of the five young men suddenly spoke.

“Hey, Daoist. Why do you say this Mountain God Temple is not a safe place?”

Jiang Sheng gave a soft sigh and gazed somberly at the five men. “At the foot of Qingping Mountain lies Clearpeace Town, yet there is little peace to be found there. In recent days, several households in Clearpeace Town have hung funeral banners one after another. If there is no peace below the mountain, there will be even less within it.”

“Daoist, have you discovered something?” Even the old man, slow as he was, realized that something was amiss.

It seemed that this young Daoist had set himself against the five young men.

Jiang Sheng gave a slight nod. “I have discovered that resentful spirits wail within this temple. I have also discovered that an evil entity is haunting it.”

“Daoist! You make it sound so sinister—where is this evil entity? And where are these resentful spirits?” one of the young men shouted angrily. From his appearance, it seemed that if Jiang Sheng could not give a satisfactory answer, he would come forward and strike him.

Jiang Sheng’s gaze swept from left to right over the five young men and the grandfather and grandson. He then turned toward the battered statue of the Mountain God before him.

“The resentful spirits are lost in delusion and do not yet know that they are dead. As for the evil entity causing all this trouble…” His eyes settled on the space before the statue. “It is right here, before you and me.”

The moment Jiang Sheng finished speaking, the Mountain God Temple fell utterly silent.

Jiang Sheng looked at the five young men, whose faces had suddenly gone blank, and gave a low shout. “Have you still not awakened?”

His shout carried the power of a spell. The five young men immediately collapsed in disarray, each clutching his head and shrieking in agony.

“Ahhh! Who am I? I’m Wang Da! I’m Wang Da! A tiger ate me!”

“There’s a tiger! There’s a tiger!”

“Help me! Don’t eat me! Don’t eat me! Help!”

Their wretched cries rang through the temple. At some point, the five young men had transformed into ghostly figures, endlessly reliving the moment when they had been devoured by the tiger in life.

The grandfather and grandson retreated in terror until their backs pressed against the wall.

They had never imagined that merely seeking shelter from the rain could lead them into such a horrifying scene.

Remembering Jiang Sheng’s earlier warning, the old man clutched his grandson tightly, filled with bitter regret. Had he known how terrifying the temple was, he would have taken the boy away despite the torrential night rain and the treacherously slick mountain paths.

Suddenly, another burst of ghostly wailing rang out.

The five souls, who had been staggering about in agony, abruptly rose to their feet. Their faces had become wooden, their expressions dark and sinister. Their forms gradually turned translucent, and in the blink of an eye, ghostly energy billowed from them in all directions.

Tigers’ wraith-servants.

Those devoured by a tiger were controlled by the vicious beast even after death, becoming its ghostly servants. Such spirits were known as wraith-servants.

“Daoist, do you know that you have ruined the Mountain God’s feast?”