Chapter Sixty-Six: Chuandan’s Tomb

I didn’t hesitate and handed him a hundred yuan note, telling him there was no need for change, but I would need to stay in the temple for a while, and the remainder could be considered as payment for lodging. The old Taoist squinted and said, “Young man, that’s not how you do things. Even the cheapest inns outside cost at least thirty or forty, and look how spacious it is here.” I couldn’t be bothered to argue with him, so I pulled out another two hundred yuan and stuffed it into his hand, warning him that if he got any greedier, I wouldn’t even buy his book. Only then did the old Taoist, feigning embarrassment, accept the money and tell me I could stay wherever I liked.

I didn’t talk further with him. I went inside to tidy up my spot, then went down the mountain to buy some provisions, and spent that night there.

Early the next morning, I didn’t see any sign of the old Taoist. I figured he’d probably gone off somewhere to swindle people again, but I didn’t pay it much mind. I ate a little, then planned to take out the Book of the Yellow Springs and memorize its contents. Now that I also had this Maoshan Secret Record, I started to study the various talisman drawings and ghost-expelling techniques it described.

I could tell this book was genuine because the thunder palm talisman technique I had learned before was recorded within, word for word, exactly the same.

Just as I was engrossed in my reading, a commotion suddenly erupted outside the temple. A group of men, clearly local farmers from nearby villages, stormed in, carrying hoes and shoulder poles, faces filled with anger. There were more than a dozen of them, and as soon as they entered, they shouted for the old fraud to come out.

Startled and not understanding what was happening, I hastily put away my Book of the Yellow Springs, not bothering with the Maoshan Secret Record I had been flipping through. Frowning, I watched these angry villagers, but before I could speak, one of them declared, “You must be that old fraud’s apprentice. Give us our money back!”

I was baffled and quickly asked them what was going on.

Only after hearing their story did I understand: the old Taoist was indeed a charlatan, utterly lacking in professional ethics. His trade was selling these photocopied versions of the Maoshan Secret Record, specifically targeting children and tricking them out of their pocket money.

But I had to admire the old Taoist’s glib tongue—he’d managed to con over twenty kids into buying his book, which was why their parents were here now, demanding refunds.

I quickly asked how much each child had spent on the book. The adults clamored in reply—some said three yuan, others seven, and some as little as forty cents!

I felt a wave of frustration. So the sixteen yuan I’d spent on the Maoshan Secret Record was a loss too.

At that moment, I seriously doubted the character of that wretched old Taoist. It seemed he would sell to anyone, no matter how much money they had, especially children—he’d take whatever he could get, never refusing a sale.

Did he think I was a three-year-old to be tricked like this?

Though I was annoyed, I didn’t dwell on it. My main purpose in staying here was to memorize the Book of the Yellow Springs and study the Maoshan Secret Record in peace. Now, with these people here demanding refunds from the old fraud, if I didn’t help clean up his mess, it would never end.

So I took out two hundred yuan and handed it to one of the villagers, telling them to divide it among themselves. With that, they finally left, grinning from ear to ear.

Just as they were about to leave, the man who had been at the front suddenly stopped, turned around, and looked at me with a serious, hesitant expression.

I immediately sensed something was off—did he think I hadn’t given enough and wanted more money?

But in the end, I was overthinking it. The villager cautiously leaned closer and asked, “Young man, did you really sleep here in the temple last night?”

I was momentarily taken aback but nodded instinctively. “Yes, I did. Is there something wrong with that?”

The villager quickly shook his head, then glanced around the temple with a look of fear in his eyes. “Young man, who on earth was so heartless as to let you stay here?”

My heart skipped a beat. I hurriedly replied, “Wasn’t it that old fraud you were talking about? Wasn’t he the owner of this temple?”

At my words, the villager’s expression changed. “Young man, you really are naïve. Do you think we stormed up here in a rage just for a few yuan?”

“Then why?”

“We just wanted to give that old fraud a good beating to vent our anger. How dare he lure children from our village to this decrepit temple!”

“This temple?”

“Yes! That old swindler tricked you. He’s not the owner here. This temple has been abandoned since I can remember, and back then, my father warned me never to play near this place—something my grandfather had told him.”

I took a deep breath, looking at the villager who was at least in his forties. That meant the temple had been abandoned for nearly a century.

As I pondered this, the villager urged me, “Young man, listen to your uncle’s advice and leave here at once. This Qingfeng Temple is no place for people to stay.”

I forced a relaxed smile and joked, “What, is it haunted?”

“Much worse than haunted,” the villager replied. “Do you know what else we call this temple, aside from Qingfeng Temple?”

“What?”

“The River Daughters’ Mound!”

I looked at the villager in confusion. “What does ‘River Daughters’ Mound’ mean?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he seemed deeply afraid of this place, warning me again not to stay before hurrying down the mountain.

Watching his anxious figure disappear, I realized something was wrong, but I wasn’t particularly afraid. After all, I’d already been to the City of Wrongful Death—could mere wandering ghosts terrify me now?

In a way, it was just as well. Since this ruined temple was considered haunted, it meant no one else would dare come here, leaving me in peace. I estimated there were still about twenty days before school started—enough time to thoroughly memorize the Book of the Yellow Springs and study the Maoshan Secret Record.

So, after this little episode, I continued reading the Book of the Yellow Springs. By dusk, I’d finished nearly a third of the Yellow Springs section and had gained a general understanding of many demons and spirits. I then cross-referenced the text to find forbidden techniques for dealing with these monsters, comparing the methods from the Maoshan Secret Record as well. As I’d expected, when it came to dealing with the same creatures, Taoist methods emphasized exorcism and salvation, with destruction as a last resort, whereas the forbidden arts of the Yellow Springs focused solely on annihilation—obliterating the enemy’s soul utterly.

Night soon fell. I put away my books, ate some provisions, then went to a nearby mountain spring to wash my face, preparing to rest early.

The Maoshan Secret Record contained methods and secrets for cultivating Daoist energy, claiming that the best place for meditation and breathing exercises was in remote mountains and forests, with the optimal time being before the first light of dawn. So I planned to sleep early and practice Daoist energy at first light.

Around seven in the evening, it was fully dark. Just as I was about to close my eyes and sleep, a strange and eerie Sichuan opera singing drifted into my ears.

Listening carefully, I realized the opera was none other than the renowned Kunqu “Farewell My Concubine,” a classic of Sichuan opera.

“Through drunken eyes beside the blooming flowers, the garden is filled with the scent of the imperial concubine.
A faint smile graces her lotus-like face, making the hundred flowers blush with shame.”

Kunqu is considered a national treasure, and “Farewell My Concubine” is justly famous, but to be honest, as someone born in the nineties, I couldn’t get used to such an unusual style—the sound made my scalp tingle.

I shot up from the ground and, cautiously, went to the temple entrance. As I reached the door, I saw a strangely dressed young man slowly walking toward me.

He wore a long white robe, carried a makeup case on his back, and had a phoenix crown on his head. Though a man, he was strikingly handsome, with a delicate, almost feminine air about him.

The instant I saw him, a chill ran down my spine—not only did he not look human, but his attire was unmistakably from the Republic of China era!