Chapter Eight: The Temple's Forbidden Barrier

It all began five days ago. On the fifteenth day of the twelfth lunar month, it is customary for people to visit their ancestral graves to pay respects and express their sorrow for those who have passed. On that day, Baozi carried two bundles of yellow paper up the mountain to honor his grandfather. As soon as he reached the grave, he saw a weasel squatting atop it. The sight enraged Baozi—how could he not be furious, seeing a weasel sitting on his family’s ancestral grave? He unshouldered his hunting rifle and fired a shot at the creature, striking it squarely in the head.

Seeing the animal killed, Baozi threw its body far away before returning to burn paper offerings to his grandfather. After returning home, Baozi felt utterly drained and, that very night, developed a high fever that would not subside. The village doctor examined him, prescribed some medicine to reduce the fever, and then left. In the middle of the night, Baozi climbed out of bed and headed straight for the chicken coop. If Ni Wu hadn’t reacted quickly and stopped him, their hen would surely have met a grim fate.

The two of them, together with the weasel, returned to Baozi’s grandfather’s grave, led by the spirit of the animal. On the shady side of the mound was a mouse hole. The spirit told Zhou Yi that its three pups were inside that hole. It had been five days since the pups had last been fed, and their fate was uncertain.

Zhou Yi felt troubled. This was Baozi’s ancestral grave—disturbing it would be improper, not to mention that with the earth frozen so deep in winter, it would be impossible to dig. “The ground is too hard to dig in winter. Is there some way you could call your pups out? If Baozi takes them home and looks after them, come spring, you can take them back. How about that?” Zhou Yi addressed the spirit doll.

The spirit, hearing this, slipped from Zhou Yi’s hands and headed toward the mouse hole. Bei Qiao, who had been glaring at the doll all along, seized the moment as soon as it touched the ground—he snatched up the doll in his mouth and bolted away. Zhou Yi called after Bei Qiao, but it was no use.

He could only shake his head with resignation. Bei Qiao was, after all, a wild creature from the mountains. No matter how well one treated it, it would eventually return to the wild, and perhaps it was better this way—no more worries about feeding it. Yet the thought left a sour taste in his heart. They had lived together for over three months, and Zhou Yi had watched Bei Qiao grow.

Baozi patted Zhou Yi on the shoulder. “A wolf pup is a wolf pup—if it’s gone, it’s gone. Let’s head down the mountain.”

Suddenly, Zhou Yi remembered the old temple deep in the mountains. Since they were already here, he suggested they go take a look. It had been over three months since their last visit, and Zhou Yi had progressed from the initial stage of cultivation to the peak of demon-banishing arts. Perhaps this time he would glean more insight. With that in mind, he said, “Let’s check out that temple. Who knows, there might be some treasure inside.”

Baozi, having been possessed by the weasel spirit, was still weak. He was already out of breath from the climb and had yet to recover. At Zhou Yi’s suggestion, he shook his head vigorously. “You’re just making things up. There’s no temple. If you want to go, go by yourself. I’m not going.”

In the depths of winter, Zhou Yi didn’t dare venture into the mountains alone. Last time, he’d encountered both ghostly illusions and a pack of wolves. Though now, as a master of demon-banishing arts, he no longer feared such illusions, he was still wary of wolf packs. “Do you know why you’re so weak? If you don’t come with me, I won’t help you recover—you’ll be like this for the rest of your life.”

Baozi’s eyes widened. “I thought I’d recover after a few days’ rest?” Baozi wasn’t wrong—rest would indeed restore him, but if Zhou Yi told the truth, Baozi would never agree to go into the mountains with him.

“Then just go home and recover; I won’t bother you about it anymore.”

“If you teach me your shamanic arts, I’ll go with you,” Baozi bargained after a moment’s thought.

Zhou Yi considered. When the immortal passed him the Taoist arts, he hadn’t said the methods were forbidden to share. Baozi was a close friend—why not teach him? “This isn’t shamanism. It’s the Taoist arts of you Han people, not the Manchu way of summoning spirits.”

Baozi brightened. “Even better! Go ahead and teach me.”

With their agreement made, the two set off toward the temple in the remote mountains. The journey passed in silence, and by the time they arrived, the moon was high in the sky. They cut a couple of branches for torches. “See? We’re almost there,” Zhou Yi pointed.

Baozi scoffed. “Your jokes aren’t funny. It’s pitch dark—you can’t see anything ahead, let alone a temple.”

Zhou Yi frowned. Both times Baozi had come, he’d seen nothing. There was something odd about this temple. The only explanation was a protective barrier—ordinary people without spiritual energy couldn’t perceive it.

“Didn’t you want to learn the arts? I’ll teach you a method now. Follow my lead.” Zhou Yi formed a hand seal and began to intone, “From the deep and the dim, by the forces of yin and yang, with your power grant me true sight. Gao Jue of Peach Mountain, open my celestial eye.” Gao Jue was a demon of Peach Mountain, endowed with clairvoyance. This incantation was meant to open the celestial eye for those without spiritual power.

Baozi, seeing Zhou Yi’s solemn gestures, couldn’t help but snicker. “That’s it?”

Zhou Yi nodded. “Try to see if you can spot it now.”

Baozi mimicked Zhou Yi, chanting, “From the deep and the dim, yin and yang... with my power...” Before he could finish, Zhou Yi smacked him on the back of the head, cutting off the awkward recitation. The incantation required not just the right words, but hand seals, intonation, and breath control. Baozi’s attempt was not only incorrect in form, he’d also mangled the words and delivered them with a thick northeastern accent—comically off the mark.

“Why’d you hit me? You just said it like that,” Baozi protested, rubbing his head.

“Forget it. You won’t pick this up quickly. Let me help you.” Zhou Yi formed another seal, chanting a different incantation that used his own spiritual energy to open Baozi’s celestial eye.

The moment Zhou Yi finished, Baozi cried out in shock. Where moments earlier there had been only darkness, a temple suddenly appeared less than ten meters ahead. Zhou Yi, startled by Baozi’s shout, withdrew his hand from the crown of Baozi’s head. The vision vanished as quickly as it had come, the world returning to darkness.

“Do it again! I didn’t get a good look—please, one more time!” Baozi pleaded.

Zhou Yi shot him a look. “Try walking forward.”

Baozi took a few steps toward where the temple had appeared, only to veer off to the side as he approached. Zhou Yi called him back. “Come back and walk straight.”

After that demonstration, Baozi became more obedient. He returned to Zhou Yi’s side and tried again, but once more, as he neared the faint purple barrier Zhou Yi could see, he veered off course—this time, unaware of the deviation himself. Only Zhou Yi noticed that the moment Baozi was within a meter of the barrier, his direction shifted.

“A ghostly maze?” Zhou Yi murmured.

P.S.: Today’s a day off, so here’s an extra chapter. Another will be posted around eight tonight. If you enjoy the story, please leave a review—it’s too quiet here! And if you like the book, add it to your collection.

By the way, what’s going on with the weather in Harbin? It’s been more than twenty degrees below zero these past few days, and at night it drops below thirty. I’m freezing to death...