Chapter Twenty-Four: Offering Incense

Liao Xiaoqin vanished into the vast, dark night. Fatty Dong stared at her retreating figure, lost in a daze.

I gave him a kick. "What are you looking at?"

Fatty Dong scratched his head. "Xiao Meng, this is the first time I've seen a woman who uses tweezers to turn pages, a teaspoon to drink tea, and scented tea to rinse her mouth. That’s classic princess behavior—she looks nothing like a tomb robber."

At first, I had found such details about her life equally incredible, but I had gradually grown accustomed to them. I shared Fatty Dong’s view: Liao Xiaoqin was far more than just a simple tomb robber. However, she never revealed her true identity, claiming only to be a thirteenth-generation successor of the "Galloping Yin-Yang" lineage.

Galloping Yin-Yang is a school of Feng Shui that focuses on intuitive observation—using celestial phenomena, water flow, and mountain shapes as a foundation, combined with the underlying principles of the Pre-Heaven River Map, the Post-Heaven Luo Book, and the Eight Trigrams. Practitioners of this school are said to be able to judge the fortune of a geomantic site or a dwelling just by galloping past on horseback, owing to their astonishing speed and accuracy.

In short, this was merely a system of knowledge, not a specific sect affiliation. It was like a performer telling you they played a "Qingyi" role without mentioning which school of opera they had studied under. Furthermore, beyond her mastery of locating dragon veins and burial sites, she was skilled in antique appraisal, historical texts, medical knowledge, and self-defense—her expertise was as varied as it was refined.

I pulled Fatty Dong out of his confusion. "Fatty, I’m leaving too."

Fatty Dong’s eyes widened. "Where are you going?"

I pulled out a stack of cash—fifteen thousand. Xu Qingguo had given me twenty thousand earlier. I had intended to give it all to Liao Xiaoqin, but she had dismissed it with disdain, saying she had a hundred ways to make money and that I should keep the pocket change to buy myself some lollipops. After buying a phone, clothes, and food over the past few days, this was all I had left.

I was honest with Fatty Dong. "I’m staying in Chang City, but I’m going after Xiao Sanpi and his lot. I can’t hang around with you, or I’ll bring trouble to your doorstep."

"Between you and me, money can’t measure our relationship. But I see you’re a bit short on cash, so consider this a token of my sincerity. Once I’ve made it big, I’ll invite you for drinks and meat."

I had thought it through. My sister-in-law wanted me to keep the forces of the Nine Nether Hall occupied in Chang City so they would believe we were still active here. I couldn't hide like a coward; I had to keep appearing in front of these vultures. And if I kept appearing, they would come after me. Rather than waiting passively to be crushed, I would take the initiative—turn their local branches, like the one led by Xiao Sanpi, upside down, and force them to focus all their energy on me.

I already had a preliminary plan. Fatty Dong looked at the money, his face full of annoyance. "You kid, every word you say is airtight, but every syllable is an insult to this Taoist!"

"Giving you money counts as an insult? You fat ghost, do you have to be so sensitive?"

"Heh! Xiao Meng, don't think you can chase me away. Starting today, I’ve decided to change professions and hang with you!"

"What the hell?!"

Fatty Dong’s chubby face looked aggrieved. He pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and began to vent while explaining.

He had been abandoned at a crossroads as an infant, left to die. An old Taoist priest passing by, having no disciples of his own, took him in. But as a child, Fatty Dong was sickly; he spent several years at the True Lord Temple, falling ill repeatedly and nearly dying. To save the brat, the old priest burned incense and yellow paper, swearing a solemn oath to his ancestors: if the boy survived, he would build twenty Taoist temples within twenty years to propagate the faith.

The vow was made, and the sickness vanished. Fatty Dong survived.

I asked, "And then?"

Fatty Dong cursed, "And then?! The old man spent his days eating, drinking, and chasing skirts, forgetting the oath entirely. It wasn't until he was dying last year that he suddenly remembered. He grabbed my hands, weeping, and made me promise to fulfill the vow he had made to the ancestors."

"I’m going insane! There’s less than two years left of that twenty-year period. How am I supposed to do this? Because of this mess, I can’t eat or sleep. I take any job, no matter how small, but building a single temple costs at least fifty thousand. Twenty of them? That’s a million!"

"With such an astronomical sum, what other options do I have besides joining your line of work? Xiao Meng, I saw it when we were in that ghost tomb—you’ve got real talent! To me, you’re a god-given benefactor, and there’s no way I’m letting go of this golden thigh!"

I found it hard to understand. "Isn't it just... treating a vow like a fart? Can't you just ignore it?"

A flicker of fear and terror crossed Fatty Dong’s face. "An ordinary person’s vow might be a fart, but the old man burned my birth date on yellow paper and swore a blood oath to the ancestors. If I don't fulfill it, I’ll be struck down by lightning! Don't say it—every time I think about how I have less than two years before I ‘ascend,’ my liver trembles!"

I didn't understand faith, but I knew that certain rules were red lines for those in the mystical arts—lines that could not be crossed.

I scratched my head. "Why did the old man set the limit at twenty years? If he’d set a longer time, wouldn't you have had a better chance?"

Fatty Dong’s face twitched. "Because the old man did the math and figured he only had twenty years left to live!"

I was speechless. "You’re using money from tomb robbing to build temples. Aren't you afraid of offending the ancestors?"

Fatty Dong rolled his eyes. "Taking wealth from the dead to help the living, building temples to benefit the people—how could that be wrong? When the ancestors find out, they’ll at least have to praise me as a genius of the Taoist gate!"

I pulled out a cigarette and lit it. Fatty Dong was a local, and having his help for my upcoming actions would certainly be better. However, Liao Xiaoqin had warned me: "Locating dragon veins dips your hands in the Yellow Springs; pointing out burial spots pushes open the Gate of Death." This profession brings money fast, but it takes lives just as quickly. I wanted to persuade him otherwise, but Fatty Dong waved his hand with a resolute attitude, flopping onto the bed and playing the rascal.

"Don't reject me. Rejecting me means you aren't a true brother!"

"I’m not going anywhere. Wherever you go, I follow!"

I: "..."

The sound of a single cymbal is thin, but a hundred drums can shake the mountains and rivers. To be a hero of the underworld, to seal the death points of heaven and earth—it sounds easy. But if you don't even have one helper by your side, it’s just empty talk. Although Fatty Dong had no experience in tomb robbing, the fact that he was willing to risk his life to save us from a mistake caused by his own drinking proved he was a man worth knowing.

After a long silence, I flicked my cigarette butt onto the ground and crushed it firmly. "Fine! But don't blame me if we don't make any money!"

Fatty Dong scrambled off the bed, overjoyed. "Damn it! If we don't make money, it's just fate. Even if I ascend, I’ll have given it a shot—no regrets in this life!"

"Enough talk. Since I’m officially in the business tonight, are there any rules I need to know?"

I noticed a wooden statue of Guan Yu in the incense shop. "The only rule: value loyalty and honor above all else!"

"Let’s pay our respects to Lord Guan!"

With solemn expressions, we each took three sticks of incense, lit them, and recited the old underworld oath of loyalty to Guan Yu.

I recited in a clear voice: "Brothers together offer incense; we carry our loyalty on our shoulders!"

"The first stick honors the brotherhood of the Peach Garden—the blood has not yet run cold!"

Fatty Dong continued, "The second stick honors the single-blade journey across three rivers!"

I continued, "The third stick swears that the Green Dragon opens its eyes to sweep across the eight wildernesses!"

We shouted in unison: "Those who betray heaven and break their oaths shall suffer three knives and six holes, revealing their own red guts!"

We bowed three times piously to the statue of Guan Yu, placed our burning incense into the burner, and gripped each other’s hands firmly. In each other’s eyes, I felt a deep, life-and-death trust.

"Brother, let’s go get a drink!"