Chapter Fifty-Four: A Strange Situation

Outside the city of Hangdu, this nameless hill had indeed been well managed by the monks of Panshan Temple. The interweaving of mountain groves and Buddhist fields created a distinct beauty at a glance. However, since a major incident had occurred within the temple, the fields had been left untended. Many crops were already showing signs of withering from lack of care.

The path leading to Panshan Temple was blocked off by the county authorities, and it was only after Zhou Bai presented the token of the Underworld Registry Office that the bailiffs let them pass.

Having witnessed the temple’s wealth, the Daoist named Hou couldn’t hide his envy, though it was tinged with a touch of resentment. “These monks have truly made a fortune. They don’t have to solicit business like us Daoists; people come to them every day, bringing incense money right to their door.”

“If you want to become a monk, that’s easy enough,” Zhou Bai replied. “Just shave your head and put on a robe.”

“I’ve tried that before. Wandering monks don’t make as much as Daoists…” Realizing he had let something slip, Hou gave an awkward laugh. After all, he’d roamed far and wide for years and had even stooped to the lowest trades; he was not at all particular.

Zhou Bai was rendered speechless. This fake Daoist was quite the character—always praising the Daoist patriarchs with his lips, yet in secret, he committed all manner of transgressions against his own sect.

“Where did you learn your Daoist arts?” Zhou Bai asked, genuinely curious. For all his faults, Hou did possess some genuine skills, albeit not refined, but he had some cultivation.

It was hard to imagine what sort of person would impart Daoist techniques to someone like him.

“The renowned True One Sect of Tiger Dragon Mountain in Xuzhou…”

“True One Sect?” Zhou Bai was surprised. The True One Sect was orthodox Daoism. Although, after the rise of the Underworld Registry Office, the sect had mysteriously sealed itself away for centuries, with disciples only occasionally appearing across the land.

“Ahem, actually, it was the Similar Sect next to the True One Sect. But after the chaos in Xuzhou, their tradition was wiped out long ago.” Hou’s tone was indifferent, as if it had nothing to do with him.

Zhou Bai only half-believed his words. Compared to this, finding a secret manual by jumping off a cliff seemed more plausible.

He was, however, intrigued by the True One Sect. “Didn’t they try to help when Xuzhou was beset by disaster?”

Hou’s expression turned mysterious. Leaning in, he whispered, “If you ever get close to Tiger Dragon Mountain, even from the foot of the hill, you’ll hear ghostly wails from above. For all you know, the mountain might have become a den of monsters and demons.”

Zhou Bai’s brows drew together. If the True One Sect, as a Daoist orthodoxy, couldn’t even protect itself, then the monsters and demons they faced must be far beyond ordinary imagination.

With that thought, he couldn’t help but glance in the direction of Xuzhou. The pristine sky seemed to transform into a boundless sea of blood.

“We’re here, we’re here!” Hou’s exclamation snapped Zhou Bai from his reverie. Looking up toward the summit, a finely built temple appeared before them.

The place was eerily silent. Only a few carrion birds perched on the branches, but at the sight of people, they took flight in a flurry.

As the two reached the platform before the temple, a strong stench of blood assaulted their nostrils, provoking a fit of coughing.

On the platform, Wen Meng stood with his back to them, arms crossed, pacing restlessly. It looked as if he’d been waiting for some time.

“You’re finally here. I was getting frantic. One wave barely settled before another rose up. We’d just dealt with the Anu spirit, and now this.”

Wen Meng sighed deeply. He had once thought he’d spend his remaining years in peace in Hangdu, never expecting the troubles of Xuzhou would reach here as well.

“You’re here alone?” Zhou Bai asked, surprised at how deserted Panshan Temple was. The emptiness felt uncanny.

Wen Meng looked helpless. “There are no more bailiffs to spare in Hangdu, and ordinary folk are useless against spirits. I had no choice but to come myself.”

Hou, hearing this, was instantly displeased. With manpower so scarce, surely his reward would be lessened.

But Wen Meng, an old hand in the business, saw through Hou’s thoughts at a glance. “How about this? I’ll add another twenty taels to your fee. You won’t even need to act—just take a look at the feng shui here and… at the corpse.”

“The corpse is still here?” Zhou Bai uttered a quiet sound of surprise, activating his Yin-Yang eyes. He could see at once that a side room of the temple was shrouded in lingering yin energy.

Wen Meng replied with a bitter smile, “Not only is it still here, it’s lively as ever. Yesterday it was a white ghoul; today it’s already showing signs of turning into a green ghoul.”

“After killing all the monks in Panshan Temple last night, the corpse didn’t leave the grounds. By morning, afraid of the sunlight, it stayed put, and I trapped it with a formation.”

Hou’s eyelid twitched violently. He couldn’t help but curse, “Damn, how did this corpse advance so quickly? Are all the monks in Panshan Temple raised on ginseng or something?”

“The situation is a bit more complicated than that. Come with me.” Wen Meng said no more, leading them toward the main hall. Along the way, fresh signs of damage were everywhere.

At the entrance to the main hall, the crimson wooden doors were smeared with blood, and trails on the floor marked where bodies had been dragged.

As the doors swung open, a pungent stench of rot hit them. Hou, leading the way, was reduced to tears by the fumes.

In the sunlight streaming through, Zhou Bai could clearly see the scene inside.

Mats were spread on the floor, and a dozen or more corpses were laid upon them, dusted with lime to slow decomposition.

But in the humid weather, it did little; many bodies had already swollen grotesquely.

“Of all Panshan Temple, only the abbot and two monks survived, but they’ve vanished without a trace.”

“Why pile them here?” Zhou Bai, accustomed to butchery, adapted quickly. He crouched to examine the corpses as he spoke.

Wen Meng explained, “I wanted your Yin-Yang eyes to check if anything was missed. Outside it’s hotter, and corpses rot faster—and the birds would peck at them.”

“No need to look,” Hou said with uncharacteristic gravity, suspicion in his eyes. “This corpse is unusual. None of these bodies show any sign of blood being drained.”

Zhou Bai nodded in agreement. If not for the faint yin energy on the wounds, it might have been blamed on wild animals.

“How strange. In a single night, it advanced from a white ghoul to a green one, but it didn’t drink a drop of blood. Where did it get the nourishment to ascend?”

Hou was baffled. Panshan Temple was indeed shrouded in mystery.

The group set off immediately for the side room where the corpse was imprisoned.