Chapter 119: The Ghost Path Emerges for the First Time

Humanity is ethereal, the Dao of the immortals is vast, and the Dao of ghosts is joyous. At the gate of human existence, the Dao of immortals prizes ascension, while the Dao of ghosts prizes the end. The Dao of immortals is ever auspicious; the Dao of ghosts is ever ominous. With high, clear, and spiritual beauty, the mournful songs ring through the vast void. One only wishes for the Heavenly Dao to prevail, not for the Human Dao to wither.

In the Northern Capital’s Spring Sprout Prefecture, there exists a multitude of ghosts. They seek only to obstruct human calculations and sever the gates of human life. The “Ah Ren” chants the cavernous scriptures to subdue the Northern Luofeng, binding and reciting the essences of demons and monsters, beheading the six ghost peaks. The various heavens are vast and mighty; may our Dao flourish with each passing day!

This text originates from the *Scripture of the Immortal Dao*, a chapter in the *Supreme Cavernous Mystery Lingbao Scripture of Immeasurable Salvation*, a classic of the ancient Lingbao school from the Eastern Jin and Southern Dynasties. It is the earliest recorded document to mention the “Dao of Ghosts.” Legend says there are six peaks at Mount Feng, each with a palace, hence the name “Six Ghost Peaks.” Each palace spans a thousand miles. One demon king, calling himself “Ah Ren,” accepted the talismans and magic of the scripture's author, and was required to kill one ghost daily and offer its left ear—as the left ear belongs to the Yang principle, the demon king took it to cultivate his magic. Such magic came to be known as the “Dao of Ghosts.”

Regardless of the veracity of these records, the text has been passed down for millennia. Though legends may be exaggerated, given the theory that all writings have a basis in reality, most sects acknowledge the existence of the “Dao of Ghosts.” Yet, those who have actually witnessed it are few. Taoism has waned over thousands of years; whether it be the great halls in famous mountains once worshipped by the masses, or the obscure, nameless shrines scattered in the countryside, they have devolved significantly compared to their predecessors.

In the past, Celestial Master Zhang Daoling founded the Zhengyi school at Mount Qingcheng. He slew tens of thousands of evil ghosts in Shu, eradicated plagues, and brought prosperity to the world. He established rules that lasted for centuries: humans rule by day, ghosts walk by night; Yin and Yang are separate, each with its own jurisdiction. Those who violate this, under the laws of Zhengyi, shall be executed!

Since then, peace reigned, and the realms of Yin and Yang dared not easily trespass. Later, when the demon king Ah Ren of the Six Ghost Peaks caused havoc, the Supreme Laozi bestowed upon Zhang Daoling the “Zhengyi League Authority Talismans,” the Three-Five Demon-Slaying Swords, the Yangping Capital Merit Seal, and ritual vestments. Zhang Daoling honored the Primordial Heavenly Lord on the left and the thirty-six volumes of sacred scriptures on the right, raised the Ten-Absolute Spirit Banners, rang bells, struck chimes, deployed dragon-tiger divine troops, and unleashed his power.

Single-handedly, clad in white and wielding his sword, he entered and exited the Six Ghost Peaks nine times, engaging in eighteen rounds of battle. He captured eight divisions of ghost deities, annihilated the six great demon kings, slew the demon king Ah Ren, and the monsters of the Dao of Ghosts were eradicated and vanished.

Later generations have recorded this history, and members of the Taoist sect speak of Celestial Master Zhang with admiration. But one cannot help but worry: what if the Dao of Ghosts were to return after the Celestial Master ascended to immortality? Fortunately, it is rarely seen in later ages. Only sporadic records of those secretly practicing it exist, and they are usually hunted down by orthodox sects. The outward appearance of practitioners of the Dao of Ghosts usually includes: fear of light, a preference for darkness, eating semi-raw food, a complexion white as paper without a trace of blood, and long, curved fingernails, all accompanied by an aura of evil.

“It is hard to judge based on one-sided words, and the person is long gone.” Thinking of his senior fellow apprentice, Ye Huan, Cha Wenbin could not help but wonder: could the old master of the Jiang family have been a practitioner of the Dao of Ghosts?

“The old master is buried just behind here, not far away. Would you like to go see?” Hu Genglin pointed behind the ruins and said, “It’s only two miles away. They say he chose the spot himself because it’s close to home, making it convenient for people to visit his grave.”

Cha Wenbin grew suspicious upon hearing this and asked, “Is that the Jiang family ancestral graveyard?”

“No,” Hu Genglin replied, “The Jiang family’s ancestral graves are at Longshou Mountain. Strangely, the Jiang family used to have an ancestral hall, but before the old master passed, he forbade anyone from placing his spirit tablet there. Only he is buried in that spot, and he set a rule that no Jiang descendant may be buried in its vicinity.”

“Oh? That is strange. Let’s go take a look.”

Oddly enough, while this Gobi Desert is usually barren, a ring of lush shrubs grew around the old master’s grave, making it look like a hill from afar. The site covered the area of two rooms, with a burial mound rising four or five meters above the ground in an inverted funnel shape, surrounded by a stone wall over a meter high.

Such a project would not be considered small in any dynasty. A few centuries ago, it would have been a specification reserved for high-ranking officials of the third rank or above, proving the immense wealth and resources the Jiang family once possessed.

“Why is there a section missing here?” I pointed to the stone wall, where the stones had vanished, leaving a collapse of yellow earth.

Hu Genglin quickly scrambled to check: “Oh dear, I didn’t notice this. If the old master blames us…”

“Something is wrong, Wenbin. Come take a look.” I discovered that the missing stones were not lost; they were scattered nearby in a disorganized heap. Many had been smashed into fist-sized pieces, clearly destroyed by external force.

Cha Wenbin shared my thought and said, “Was it robbed?”

Although Zhu Zihao had never met the tomb’s occupant, he was his ancestor of the same lineage. Hearing that his forefather’s grave had been ransacked, he was naturally distressed and roared, “Which son of a bitch did this?”

Cha Wenbin rubbed a clump of soil and said, “The mound is still fresh; it probably didn’t happen long ago. Such a large grave on this flat land is very conspicuous, and with no one guarding it, it’s no wonder it was targeted.” During those days, a craze for antiques had swept the market. Newspapers and broadcasts were filled with such news, and surveillance was nowhere near as strict as it is now, so tomb raiding was rampant. Those using modern equipment and explosives were dozens of times more destructive than the old-school raiders with their Luoyang shovels.

I said, “This place is known as the ‘Antique Beach,’ it’s possible others have visited. Let’s check the extent of the damage.”

After clearing away the outer layer of yellow earth, we soon unearthed a snake-skin bag—the kind used in rural areas for fertilizers. I tugged at it, and with a “clatter,” the soil shifted. Sure enough, beneath the bag was a pitch-black tomb tunnel, large enough for an adult male to enter.

One was his own ancestor, the other his former master. Hu Genglin, at his age, wept silently, and Zhu Zihao slumped to the ground. Both were stunned—how could it have been robbed?

I realized the bag must have been used to transport soil. Things were likely a mess inside. I considered reporting it to the authorities since it hadn't been long. However, a comment from Cha Wenbin made my heart skip a beat. He squatted on the ground and said, “This is strange. The drag marks in the tunnel only show the bag, but there are no footprints leading back out—only those leading in. Could someone have gone in and never come out?”

“Then?” I pondered and said, “I’ll go in and look.”

“No!” Cha Wenbin stopped me. “It’s not uncommon for tomb raiders to die inside. It’s highly likely there was a collapse. If you go in, you might face danger. Let’s report it to the authorities first. With Zihao here, they won’t dare ignore it. We might as well find people with machinery to level it, which would be simpler.”

Back at the township, the matter was taken seriously. With Zhu Zihao investing under the guise of visiting his hometown, and his ancestral grave having been robbed, it was like poking a hornet's nest. The county immediately sent people to investigate. Cha Wenbin demanded immediate action, claiming that the Feng Shui had been disturbed and the coffin needed to be reburied that very day. The county provided an excavator, and dozens of officials arrived at the scene.

At noon, after paying respects to the ancestors and lighting incense, the command to “start” was given. The excavator began its work, and the several-meter-high mound was reduced by half in an instant. As more was exposed, the machine suddenly stopped.

“We can’t dig any further!” the operator jumped down and said. “It’s all granite; the machine is about to break.”

Unexpectedly, two meters beneath the soil lay granite! Even more surprising, this type of stone was not native to the area. Once the top layer of loose soil was cleared, uneven stone surfaces were revealed, appearing to have been manually carved.

Construction had barely begun when it halted. How could the officials save face? They were about to order more manpower when Cha Wenbin stopped them: “Wait, the best time for exhumation today has passed. We must do it another day.”

Although these officials were educated and did not believe in feudal superstitions, they still respected tradition, especially in such matters. Since the host family made the suggestion, they had no reason to object. As long as the Hong Kong businessman was satisfied, they would accommodate him in any way. With a wave of a hand, the large group retreated.

I was confused as to why Cha Wenbin called a halt, but he said with a grim face, “We’ve dug up a landmine. If we’re not careful, we’re going to be in trouble.”

“What do you mean? We can’t touch this grave?”

“It’s not that we can’t, but if we do, it will be a huge disaster. I took a look just now and saw a ghost head carved from a solid block of granite on top of the grave. This thing is called ‘Ah Ren,’ rumored to be the supreme demon king. I suspect this old master Jiang was likely a follower. People like this call themselves the ‘Dao of Ghosts,’ and in private, they engage in disgusting, filthy deeds, especially excelling in witchcraft and sorcery. Such tombs often contain malicious things. If we open it rashly, something will definitely go wrong. That’s why I sent those people away first.”

“If that’s the case, let’s retreat as well. At the worst, we can use some explosives to level it,” I said, showing no concern for Zhu Zihao. If his ancestor was really that kind of person, I didn’t think he would have much objection to the grave being reduced to dust.

“No, this is the only lead, and I don't want to lose it.” He paused and added, “That shadow... it really looked like him.”