Chapter Sixty-Two The Tale of Saint Wang Subduing the Corpse (Prelude)

The shattering of the divine statues was a clear indication—the Earth God and Earth Goddess must have suffered grave injuries. Judging by the situation, they had confronted the seven evil ghosts.

I never imagined those seven ghost kings would possess such strength, formidable enough to wound deities. Through the eyes of the demon corpse, I saw the Earth God and Earth Goddess hiding within the broken statues, meditating with closed eyes, evidently trying to restore their vitality.

They could not afford any further harm; if their statues shattered entirely, they would lose the shelter they needed for recuperation. Quietly, I placed the statues in an overlooked corner of Uncle Mao’s bedroom, lit three sticks of incense, and inserted them into the basket before the gods. Watching the smoke envelop their bodies and then be drawn in as nourishment, I smiled knowingly and left.

Incense of reverence has, since ancient times, been praised by countless people, full of human warmth, and is an essential item for deities and all manner of supernatural beings to regain energy and cultivate themselves. Yet some malicious spirits and vengeful ghosts seek shortcuts to power, harming living beings and extracting what they need from their flesh—a practice the Heavenly Emperor condemned as a great evil.

Meanwhile, Wang Sheng and Tong Xuan were still in the main hall, counting the broken jars, paying no attention to what I was doing. I asked Wang Sheng if anything was missing. He shook his head, looking troubled. “Alas, this is a disaster. Seven ghost kings, caught by the seventy-second generation ancestor, have escaped. These evil ghosts have harmed countless lives before, and now, with their resurgence, calamity surely awaits!” He lapsed into silence after speaking.

As we stood speechless, the rooster bought by the temporary residents crowed—it was dawn. At the same time, Li Fei’s extended Mercedes had already arrived at his family’s ancestral grave. Upon seeing the disheveled corpses of his ancestors, he erupted in fury. Noticing that one ancestor’s body was missing, he immediately called the Z City Police Department. Three police cars arrived, intent on taking Uncle Mao to the detention center, with the aim of seeing him prosecuted and jailed.

Uncle Mao offered no explanation. He knew it was futile now and chose silence. He left just one sentence to Li Fei: “Remember to lock your doors and windows tonight, or disaster will befall you!” With that, a policeman kicked him into the car, and they drove away.

Li Fei watched the police car speed off, sneering and muttering to himself, “I always knew these geomancers were untrustworthy. So what if I leave my windows open at night? You damned trickster, you’ll be waiting for a bullet in prison!” He patted the fat around his belly, assigned the tasks to his subordinates, and returned to his Mercedes, waving as he departed—clearly intent on pressing charges against Uncle Mao.

Inside the bungalow, Wang Sheng was preparing brushes, ink, paper, and other tools according to Uncle Mao’s instructions. Tong Xuan was in the kitchen, steaming white glutinous rice, poking her head out to say, “Honestly, Uncle Mao is something else—even in jail, he wants glutinous rice. If he didn’t insist on it, we could bring him something better when we visit. I just don’t get him!” With a blink, she returned to the kitchen, looking every bit the charming young wife.

Time passed swiftly, and darkness fell. The clock’s hands pointed to eleven. A shadow, resembling Wang Sheng, was leaping across the rooftop—indeed, it was him.

The detention center in Z City was quite easy to sneak into; few guards patrolled, and most never entered the compound. Wang Sheng, after years of ghost hunting with Wang Jingtian, was agile and nimble. He vaulted over the wall soundlessly.

Most of the detention center was dimly lit, only a small area illuminated by yellow bulbs casting a murky glow. Uncle Mao had been placed in a peculiar cell, surrounded above and below by cement, with over twenty steel bars and an iron door at the front, like a fully enclosed cage.

The center wasn’t large, so Wang Sheng quickly found Uncle Mao. He softly called him awake, unpacked the tools from his bag one by one, and finally produced a bowl of rice. “Master, eat this glutinous rice while it’s hot. Tong Xuan cooked it herself for you, so don’t be shy!” He pushed the steaming rice through the gaps between the bars.

Uncle Mao stared at the steaming bowl, lost in thought. His small mustache quivered, and he pointed at the rice, tilting his head. “You actually cooked it!”

Wang Sheng looked at him wide-eyed. “Of course! You said you wanted glutinous rice, so I thought you meant glutinous rice to eat—I steamed it and brought it to you.”

Uncle Mao sighed, rubbing his hair, his bloodshot eyes fixed on Wang Sheng. “You are truly a wonder. Have you ever seen anyone catch ghosts with cooked glutinous rice?” With a helpless shake, he spread out brushes, ink, and paper, drawing fifteen talismans stronger than before. Even the ink line tool was soaked with the mixed ink.

Uncle Mao handed the tools to Wang Sheng, reached through the bars to pat his shoulder. “Sheng’er, your trial begins now. You may be muddle-headed sometimes, but tonight, remember: these talismans must be affixed to the corpse, or trouble will follow. I trust you know how to use the ink line.”

Then he raised the bowl, taking a few bites, gesturing with his chopsticks. “It’s late. I think the corpse is already on the move—it’ll trace kinship to the Li residence. Go there and wait!”

When Wang Sheng heard “Li residence,” he protested, “Master, after how the Li family treated you, you still want to help them? Let their ancestor kill them all first, then I’ll deal with the corpse.”

Uncle Mao shook his head. “Sheng’er, you must understand: a person can lack morals, but cannot lack humanity. As Yin-Yang masters, we exist to slay monsters for the sake of the people. How can we turn our backs on innocent lives? Enough talk, time is short—go now, don’t disappoint me!” He turned his head inward, refusing to look at Wang Sheng, listening to the sound of eating, muttering, “Don’t waste this bowl of food!”

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