Chapter 117: Shadow

A chill began to creep over my entire body—not the kind brought on by cold weather, but a deep, penetrating frost that settled into the very marrow of my bones. The skin on my scalp grew numb, and the hair on my arms stood on end. This involuntary tension in my muscles was so severe that I dared not even breathe too loudly. Looking over, I saw Cha Wenbin waving various types of spirit money, casting them into the air while chanting incantations to summon ghosts, as if he intended to draw every wandering spirit in the vicinity toward us.

When it comes to such spectral entities, one can perceive them even if they remain invisible to the naked eye, especially when all the burnt ashes of the spirit money drift in a single, unnatural direction.

That night, a northwest wind was blowing. Longshou Mountain lay directly to the north, yet the spirit money defied the wind, drifting in a swarm toward the foot of the mountain. I knew I wasn't suffering from auditory hallucinations; I could genuinely hear the wails and sobs echoing from the distant valley. Perhaps it was the wind, or perhaps it was the cries of the dead—countless bones had been buried here for countless years, forgotten by the world.

Cha Wenbin produced three pieces of cloth—one blue, one black, and one patterned—each about three feet long. He handed one to each of us. He then lit three incense sticks, giving us one each, and instructed, "The cloth is for the things clinging to you. If they refuse to leave, tell them it is new fabric prepared for them to take to a tailor."

"Really?" Zhu Zihao asked.

"False," I told him. "This is what we call 'tricking a ghost.' Don't treat those gold ingots hanging from your waist as mere scraps of paper; that is your toll for safe passage."

"How do you know so much? Aren't you just someone who collects scrap metal with Brother Shi?"

"That was then. Now, your Master Xia has changed professions to become a Taoist!"

Having spent so much time following Cha Wenbin, I had to admit that aside from the difficult parts like casting spells and drawing talismans, I could basically imitate everything else. I had often thought that if I ever reached the end of my rope, I might be able to scrape by as a wandering occultist.

"In a moment, both of you walk ahead of me," Cha Wenbin said. "Watch your shadows. If an extra shadow appears beside you, something has latched onto you. Just scatter a handful of spirit money and tell it to leave. If the shadow doesn't vanish, do as I taught you and say you’re taking it to a tailor."

"And if it still doesn't leave?" Zhu Zihao asked. "Is that when Master Cha steps in?"

Cha Wenbin pointed to the mourning staff in his hand. "Then use that staff to strike the shadow on the ground hard. Most of these are just wandering souls; don't hurt them if you don't have to."

He turned and began to walk, holding a spirit-warding bell in one hand. He rang it every three steps, chanting: "By Heaven's command, my heart is aligned; through the nine heavens, the souls are refined. Holding the cycle of spring in my hand, I lead the evil ghosts across the land." This was a "Soul-Leading Mantra" from the Maoshan school. Zhu Zihao and I followed behind, feeling like characters in a Hong Kong horror film where a Taoist leads a line of hopping vampires.

I didn't dare look up, keeping a watchful eye on my feet, terrified that a tiny companion might appear beside my long, thin shadow. The altar was only forty or fifty meters from the foot of Longshou Mountain, but Cha Wenbin’s stop-and-go pace made the journey feel agonizingly slow. I lost track of how many steps we had taken when a shadow suddenly appeared beside me. I grabbed a handful of spirit money and flung it with everything I had, shouting at the top of my lungs, "Get lost!"

From that point on, we had to scatter money almost every three steps. At first, Zhu Zihao and I were shouting at the top of our voices. The chill was unbearable; we were surrounded by those things. I found myself wishing I couldn't see them at all. The shadows acted as if we were ATMs—as soon as one finished, another took its place. Eventually, we grew too exhausted to shout. Fortunately, most were just greedy; they would disappear as soon as they got the money. For the few that wouldn't budge, a quick shout of "I'm taking this to the tailor to make you new clothes" was enough to send them scurrying away.

About seven or eight meters from the foot of Longshou Mountain, Zhu Zihao’s shadow became impossible to shake. He shouted "Go!" three times, but the shadow didn't move. He waved the cloth and told the lie, yet it remained stationary. Zhu Zihao wasn't exactly a coward, but he wasn't bright either; he grabbed his mourning staff and struck the shadow on the ground with all his might. He used too much force, and the staff snapped in two with a sharp *crack*.

Now, the poor fool saw that the shadow was still there. Completely out of options, he turned and ran toward me. I couldn't dodge or weave, so I had to stand my ground. "Master Xia, help me!" he shrieked, his voice laced with tears. Seeing his panic, I swung my own staff and gave him a hard whack on the backside. He jumped up, shouting, "Ouch!" But as he landed, he muttered, "Why didn't that hurt?"

"It's still there!" I saw that the shadow remained by Zhu Zihao. He now had two shadows; one appeared to be overlapping with his own, looking as if someone were clinging to his back, leaning forward with only their neck visible.

I focused on the two heads on the ground and said to Zhu Zihao, "Stand still! Stop fidgeting, and watch me!"

I took a deep breath and raised my staff high. This tool, traditionally used by the Black and White Impermanence, was specifically designed to suppress ghosts. It was made of willow branches wrapped in linen. Willow wood repels evil, and hemp is said to bind unclean spirits. I aimed carefully at the head of the shadow. I could distinguish which one was Zhu Zihao’s because the other head seemed to have a hair bun—a clear mark of identity.

A crisp *ding* rang out. I froze, and so did Zhu Zihao. He looked down at his waist; it was the bell—the *Xiangsi* Bell—it had actually rung!

Cha Wenbin immediately stopped, turned around, and blocked me. "Stop!" He looked at the shadow on the ground, then turned to Zhu Zihao. "Don't move. Close your eyes and stand right there."

He hurriedly walked a circle around Zhu Zihao, scattering lime to form a white ring with Zhu Zihao at the center.

"Bite your middle finger and drip your blood onto the bell."

"Can I open my eyes?"

"No!"

"Then... how do I do it?"

"Feel it with your heart."

The pampered young master was reluctant to bite his finger, and he yelped the moment he tried. Cha Wenbin shook his head and handed over his own sword. "Use this to cut it." Only then did the lad manage a small nick and tremblingly smear the blood onto the bell.

"Pull out a lock of your hair and burn it!" Cha Wenbin commanded, continuing to pace around Zhu Zihao in a cross-pattern, terrified the extra shadow might vanish. After he ignited the hair with a fire-starter and dropped it into a small vial, he shook it, handed the vial to Zhu Zihao, and said, "Rub this water on your eyelids, open your eyes, and tap your right shoulder gently with your left hand."

He then turned to me and said, "Turn around. Don't look, or you won't be able to sleep tonight."

I instinctively knew what was about to happen. Our bodies and hair are gifts from our parents—this was a reunion of kin.

Though a hundred years had passed, the ancestors of the Jiang family had not forgotten their descendants. Even after I had struck the shadow hard with my staff, it had endured the blow, simply because they shared the same blood.

Zhu Zihao opened his eyes, but they were vacant, as if he were in a stupor. I kept my back turned, listening only to his steady breathing. Cha Wenbin stood beside him like a wooden statue. We stood there in the silence of the night until the incense in my hand burned out completely.

"It's done." I turned around. Cha Wenbin gave Zhu Zihao’s forehead a light tap. He seemed to wake up, rubbing his eyes. "What happened? Hey, where did the shadow go?"

"It's gone. I saw your great-grandfather, your grandmother's father," Cha Wenbin said, his tone devoid of doubt. "He told me there is a well in the old Jiang family manor, and there is something inside he wants you to retrieve."

"How would I know where the old Jiang manor is?"

"Hu Genglin knows," Cha Wenbin replied. "He also said that the sins your grandmother committed require you to pay for them. He has already paid all he could. The Jiang family is suffering in the afterlife, and many have come to settle scores with them. He told you to pray to the gods and burn incense more often."

"Tell him not to look for me! I don't know him. Great-grandfather? I'm a Zhu, I'm a member of the Zhu family; I have nothing to do with the Jiangs!" He paused and added, "Also, Master Cha, please tell him I've never even seen what my grandmother looked like, so why should I pay her debts? Even if she did something wrong, there are debts and there are debtors—it's not my turn to pay."

Cha Wenbin patted Zhu Zihao’s shoulder. "You are the only bloodline left of both the Jiang and Zhu families. Of course, you have to pay."

I was feeling a bit of schadenfreude at Zhu Zihao's inexplicable predicament. Just as I was about to laugh, I looked down and thought, *Huh? Well, look at that, I've got one too!* Sure enough, right beside me, an extra shadow had appeared, standing right alongside mine.

"Go away! Get lost!" I didn't think much of it—I had seen plenty of these things tonight—and scattered a handful of spirit money. I looked again. *Huh? It's still there.* I thought, *You're quite greedy, aren't you?* I shook the blue cloth in my hand and said, "Find a tailor to make you a new outfit. Don't block the road, don't get in my way. Go!"

I looked again—it was still there! I grew annoyed, raised my mourning staff, and brought it down with a *thwack*. A few stones were sent flying, but when I looked again, the shadow was still there; it had only shifted from my right side to my left...