Chapter 125: The Anti-Zombie Campaign

In the old society, when commoners sought out fortune-tellers, these women rarely asked for one’s birth time. Instead, they would spout nonsense the moment they met you, leaving you confused, disoriented, and clueless. Later, as these tricks lost their effectiveness, they adopted a new guise. They would pretend to ask for your birth time and scribble on paper, leading people to believe they were calculating their destiny based on the Eight Characters, but this was a deception. They weren't using fortune-telling methods at all; they were using "supernatural powers."

Like Western witches, these abilities were said to be based on telepathy or subjective speculation. The conclusions reached by these "divine calculators" were often contrary to reality, baseless, fraudulent, and intended to intimidate, leading to serious negative consequences. Countless examples of victims exist, so I advise honest and kind-hearted people to avoid believing in such "fairy aunts" or "spirit mediums." True mediums are far beyond the control or imagination of those who perform theatrical shamanic rituals.

In my entire life, I have only met one true "medium," He Jinfeng. Consequently, whenever people claim someone is a heavenly maiden reincarnated or highly gifted, I merely sneer. What is a "heavenly maiden"? It is certainly not someone acting crazy or performing demonic tricks; a true "heavenly maiden" possesses an authentic, ethereal aura.

It was drizzling the day we went up the mountain. A large group accompanied us, and half of them were just there to watch the spectacle. He Jinfeng sat in her sedan chair, creaking along while resting her spirit. I felt uneasy; the incident from the previous night haunted me. Though I put on a brave front, I was inwardly terrified.

The coffin remained on the ground, untouched, resting in the damp mud where there was barely a place to stand. The locals formed a circle, chattering and gossiping. He Jinfeng kept her eyes closed, someone held an umbrella for her, and Cha Wenbin stood silently behind her, waiting.

Perhaps because the crowd was noisy, the woman told him, "Disperse the people. Have them stay further back."

Asking people to leave is difficult. Rural folk love a spectacle and never fear that things might get too intense. Despite my best efforts to persuade them, they only pulled back a few steps; everyone wanted to see how this living magic trick was performed.

Seeing my frustration, the people only jeered more. The woman sighed, stood up, and said, "You won't leave? Fine, it’s going to hail soon. Once those ice chunks crack your skulls open, you'll know what pain feels like."

My words had no effect, and being an outsider, hers carried even less weight. The sky was dim, the rain light; it didn't look like weather for hail at all. Yet, as soon as she said it, it began.

I didn't see her do anything; she just stood there with her eyes closed, muttering a few words. Within the time it takes to smoke a pipe, the weather shifted. Suddenly, a fierce wind whipped up, making the surrounding forest rattle. The people could barely stand.

The day darkened in an instant. The clouds visibly pressed down, and lightning appeared. At first, it was distant, but it quickly drew closer, flashing like wild golden snakes, spiraling overhead.

The crowd grew restless. In the mountains, thunderstorms are the most feared. Although it was early spring, a sudden downpour could trigger flash floods, which was no laughing matter. Some began to retreat, walking down the mountain in small groups, but others were addicted to the chaos—the more bizarre it got, the more excited they became.

When about half the crowd had left, the woman gave a sudden chuckle. I saw her fingers flick, and abruptly, a "pat-pat-pat" sound echoed all around. Without warning, egg-sized hailstones began to rain down like meteors. I saw them hit the ground, splashing mud everywhere. Strangely, the hail avoided the empty clearing entirely, falling specifically on the perimeter, hitting the spectators squarely.

You might argue this was normal weather, but I cannot explain why the sky cleared up the moment those people left the mountain. Why did that woman know it would hail? Furthermore, her complexion looked much worse than before. She lay back down, and I saw her cough, looking suddenly exhausted.

Once the people were gone, it was time to clear the area. Everyone, including Cha Wenbin and me, retreated outside the forest. The woman had instructed that no one was to enter for the duration of one incense stick.

Such mysterious instructions made me wonder if she was just pulling a scam. Cha Wenbin usually performed his rituals in plain sight, but she seemed to be hiding something. As it turned out, I was wrong; the gap between those who can communicate with the divine and what I had imagined was immense.

I heard nothing and saw nothing. The time for the incense stick passed, and there was no movement inside. Cha Wenbin and I entered first. As soon as we reached the clearing, I saw someone lying on the ground in a red shirt and green trousers—none other than He Jinfeng.

Cha Wenbin rushed over, picked her up, and tapped her cheeks, saying, "Auntie, Auntie, wake up!"

I looked at her face; it was deathly pale, a whiteness that even her rouge could not conceal. I had never seen a face so pale, her lips as white as paper. When I lifted her eyelids, I saw her pupils were already dilating.

"Damn it, this is bad!" I hurried to help move her onto the sedan chair. Cha Wenbin pinched her philtrum hard, and I didn't care about propriety; I started pressing on her chest and forced some water into her mouth. After a flurry of effort, she finally coughed and regained consciousness.

The ground no longer looked as it had before. I don't know if anyone else could draw two pictures on the ground in the time it takes an incense stick to burn, but these were vivid, lifelike images often found in small shrines in the rural hills. I recognized them instantly as the Earth God and the Earth Goddess. The figures were formed by indentations in the soil—a shallow layer, yet the facial features were three-dimensional and the figures clearly defined. The woman had been lying between these two pictures.

After a long while, she was finally able to speak, though it was still difficult. She beckoned Cha Wenbin to lean in, whispering something so softly I couldn't hear. After speaking, she fainted again. Cha Wenbin immediately called for the people outside—relatives of the Gao family who had been forced to stay—to carry her down.

Once everyone had left, Cha Wenbin said to me, "We’ve hit a snag. She said this thing cannot be burned."

"What thing?" I asked.

"There is something called the 'Undying People.' Ancient texts have only a few words on them: 'The Undying People are in the East; they are black in color, long-lived, and do not die. Some say they are east of the Chuanxiong Kingdom.' Some have suggested these are the origin of Chinese zombies. In truth, zombies are rare, especially old ones. Most encountered in modern times are from the Qing Dynasty or later; anything prior to the Ming Dynasty is basically extinct."

I remarked, "No wonder in movies, zombies always wear Qing official robes. I used to wonder about that."

"Actually, this relates to an anti-zombie campaign during the Ming Dynasty. Before that, there was no term 'zombie,' only 'corpse mutation.' Corpse mutation arises from the gathering of resentment and baleful energy between heaven and earth. They are ageless, undying, and indestructible, cast out of the six paths of reincarnation by heaven, earth, and humanity, wandering without a home. Their bodies are rigid, using resentment as their power and blood as their sustenance, venting their endless loneliness through the blood of the living. Zombies were mysterious creatures in ancient legends, perhaps the most terrifying monsters in human mythology."

"Whether these monsters truly exist is a matter of debate, though they were occasionally heard of in folklore. Then, during the reign of the Yongle Emperor of the Ming Dynasty, an event occurred. The Emperor was moving the capital to Beijing and personally overseeing the construction of the Forbidden City. Directly beneath the dragon throne in the Hall of Supreme Harmony, workers unearthed an ancient tomb from a previous dynasty. A coffin was lifted out, and it was decided that it should be destroyed. After setting it on fire, to everyone's shock, a pitch-black 'person' emerged from within. This 'person' had immense strength and was said to be able to scale walls and sap the souls of men. Many of the workers building the palace were killed or injured. The entire project ground to a halt. Eventually, someone recommended a Taoist to Zhu Di: Zhang Sanfeng, the founder of the Wudang sect."

"Zhang Sanfeng went alone but could not defeat the thing. Finally, on a moonless night, he used a bronze coffin as bait to barely seal it. Afterward, he ordered the bronze coffin to be taken back to Wudang Mountain. He built the Xuanwu Stele, composed of the seven northern mansions of the stars—Dou, Niu, Nu, Xu, Wei, Shi, and Bi—to permanently suppress the coffin beneath the monument."

"Ten years later, to further suppress evil, the Ming Emperor ordered 300,000 craftsmen to Wudang Mountain. It took thirteen years to build Wudang into its current form, enshrining the True Martial Great Emperor there as a royal Taoist temple to bless the Ming Dynasty for eternity."

"During his reign, the status of Taoists soared. Zhu Di secretly issued an order for all sorcerers in the world to slay zombie-like spirits. Any that could not be destroyed were sent to the foot of Wudang Mountain to be suppressed and neutralized by Taoist arts. The struggle lasted for nearly twenty years."

"Zombies are difficult to create; they require a location of extreme yin. During that massive anti-zombie movement, all sorcerers made it their duty to eradicate them, especially the Wudang and Maoshan sects. At that time, capturing a zombie was rewarded by the imperial court. Many Taoists were active day and night wherever zombies might appear."

"In this way, zombies were almost wiped out in that era."

"By the Qing Dynasty, Buddhism had surpassed Taoism in status, and as the number of Taoists dwindled, the movement to suppress zombies faded. Whether in the East or West, these things have always been considered to exist, but the zombies appearing now are not the ones our ancestors encountered. My master once told me that what Zhang Sanfeng encountered was not a zombie, but an 'Undying One.' There are records of this entity appearing three times during the anti-zombie movement; none were destroyed, but all were sent to Wudang Mountain."

"You mean this is an Undying One?" I frowned, thinking to myself that Wudang Mountain is a world-class tourist destination today. If Cha Wenbin and I were to carry this coffin there and ask them to perform some sort of suppression, would they treat us like lunatics?

Listen:

Brothers and sisters, let's pick up the pace!!!