ATEG Chapter 89

A sudden wind arose within the temple.

The wind was gentle, merely causing the light from the fire to flicker. But with that flicker, the warmth of the flames spread out, brushing against skin like a spring breeze melting the ice on a river’s surface.

Yet when this wind blew upon the youying gongs gathered around, they all changed color. This wind that felt gentle and soft upon the living was like a bone-scraping blade upon them.

The youying gongs who had previously packed the temple full scattered instantly, each crying out in alarm as they dove into their wooden statues. In the blink of an eye, the temple became empty once more.

No… there was still one unlucky wretch left. He simply couldn’t squeeze himself entirely into his wooden statue—half a leg remained outside, still desperately trying to retract inward.

Li Chi couldn’t be bothered with him. The wind had long since dissipated, yet this fellow who could only manage one thing at a time was still forcing himself inward with all his might.

Crack!

The half-leg remaining outside the statue suddenly froze. The old wooden statue he was squeezing into developed a fissure, and in this seemingly grave atmosphere, it slowly but hopelessly split in two. The four unlucky wretches crammed inside all tumbled out, then whooshed into the corner farthest from Li Chi, huddling together and trembling.

Though the old man and his son and daughter couldn’t see these youying gongs, they could feel the atmosphere in the temple relax, and the previous cold gloom had dissipated.

Xiao Gu, whose face had turned pale from being stifled by that cold gloom, finally recovered. After Da Luo gave her medicine, he felt relieved enough to turn her head to look at the wooden statue that had split in two and fallen. Then she turned to look at Li Chi, her eyes bright and shining.

Li Chi looked at her and smiled. With that smile, his previous imposing presence dissipated, and he seemed to return to being that peaceful guest from before.

Da Luo grew bolder and asked Li Chi, “Have they all been eliminated?”

Eliminated… The four unlucky wretches cowering under the table began trembling again.

Li Chi said, “It was merely to frighten them, so they won’t dare cause trouble again.”

Da Luo pressed his lips together and said indignantly, “They’re all bad! My father carved wooden statues for them for free, and they still wanted to harm us! They’re so wicked, who knows if they’ll harm people again in the future!”

He gripped his small carving knife, and after the lingering fear faded from his eyes, a fierce look emerged.

Li Chi shook his head. “At such a young age, where does all that fierceness come from? Don’t be so black and white about things.”

Da Luo didn’t argue back, but children can’t hide their thoughts—his face showed clear defiance. The old man had been busy pressing several acupoints for Xiao Gu, and now that she had fully recovered, he finally noticed Da Luo. He glared at him, forbidding him to speak carelessly, then pulled him along to thank Li Chi.

Li Chi waved his hand dismissively, then glanced at Da Luo before saying, “These two children’s problem has nothing to do with your craft. Their lives were actually saved with the help of these youying gongs.”

“How could that be?” Da Luo’s eyes widened.

The few youying gongs cowering under the table nodded vigorously.

Li Chi smiled slightly. “When you were born, there was no music playing outside—only a single gong sounded out of nowhere. Did anyone ever find out who struck that gong?”

The old man said nothing, but the carved lines on his face wrinkled even deeper. He hadn’t thought much of it at the time, being too preoccupied with the crying child. That gong sound had been like thunder, without any warning. But without accompanying music, and it not being a wedding or funeral, who would be idle enough to strike a gong just once?

In Li Chi’s eyes, he could see cause and effect. Cause and effect wove together to form destiny, and all living beings entered this web. Today’s encounters all result from yesterday’s actions, and today’s responses will plant the seeds for tomorrow’s encounters.

“Your fate holds no sons or daughters—a lonely, solitary life. These two children should have been reborn elsewhere. Though they’ve been preserved now, it hasn’t come without a price.”

That’s why Da Luo didn’t cry when he was born, and when the second child Xiao Gu came, she had almost no life force in her.

“How could that be…” the old man murmured. His face was tightly creased, as if this was very difficult to accept.

This was quite normal. People always find it hard to accept that the source of their suffering lies within themselves. But if they can find an external force and attribute their suffering to it, they seem to gain some measure of comfort from that.

The youying gongs who had been cowering in the wooden statues, hearing Li Chi’s words, grew bolder. They quietly cast their gazes over, looking at the old man and his two children with eyes that held both dissatisfaction and a sense of entitlement.

Li Chi snorted. “What? You save someone’s life once and think you can control their entire destiny? I spared you today—does that mean you should be at my beck and call forever?”

The gazes from within the wooden statues immediately withdrew. Among the few youying gongs who had tumbled out, one boldly spoke up, “As long as you find me worthy, I’m willing to serve you like an ox or horse!”

“I don’t find you worthy,” Li Chi said.

The spirit who had spoken was left speechless.

“They… they…” The old man couldn’t hear ghost speech but could hear Li Chi speaking, and couldn’t help feeling alarmed.

“It’s fine, they can’t do anything. There’s nothing wrong with your craft. As for Marquis Wu…” Li Chi shook his head. “He can cure illnesses, but he cannot save lives.”

“Why?” Da Luo asked urgently. “Xiao Gu’s illness is better now, won’t she be fine?”

Xiao Gu tugged at his sleeve and said softly, “Life and illness are not the same thing.”

She had always been sensitive, able to sense whether spirits were nearby, and had quite a feeling for these invisible, intangible matters. They shouldn’t have survived, yet they did. How long could a life forcibly retained last?

“But Marquis Wu is so powerful! How could he have no way—” Da Luo grew anxious.

In this child’s eyes, on the verge of becoming a youth, Marquis Wu who could protect a region so prosperously was already an incredibly powerful cultivator! Young people’s love and hate are always so distinct—he didn’t even need to understand more before he began to admire Marquis Wu.

Li Chi looked at him, and that gaze gradually calmed the young man down. He felt as if he were standing before an overly bright mirror. That gaze not only illuminated his appearance, his feelings, his thoughts, but also every single thought buried deepest and most minutely in his heart—things even he himself hadn’t noticed.

That thoroughness suddenly made him feel ashamed, though he didn’t quite understand why he should feel ashamed.

Yet the cause and effect wrapped around his body recorded everything he had already forgotten but that had truly happened.

He should have died and then re-entered the cycle of reincarnation. But this group of wandering ghosts here—whether to call them audacious or ignorantly fearless was unclear—half for themselves and half to repay a debt, when the brief destinies of these two children’s lives were about to end, reached out and pulled them back. Fear of death and desire for life is the instinct of all living beings, and mental intention is also a form of power. Under the power of the youying gongs and the two children’s will to survive, in this world where cause, effect, and destiny principles were already in chaos, they actually succeeded in altering their destinies.

And the old man also held strong wishes for his son and daughter. The merit he accumulated on behalf of Da Luo and Xiao Gu through his wishes connected them to new destinies. Even if those destinies were fragile and precarious, they had truly and definitively begun to operate. Like when a broken thread is reconnected with new thread, an ugly knot is left behind. But if one were to forcibly cut these already-reconnected destinies and reattach them to their original destinies, it would only create another knot.

So it was better to let them continue on this way. And where these unclear, fuzzy destinies would ultimately lead was not something any other person could alter, nor something any other person should alter.

“Because…” Li Chi said quietly, “cause and effect are sown only by people themselves, and fortune and misfortune are received only by people themselves.”

Just like Marquis Wu, just like Da Luo and Xiao Gu.

Though cause and effect in the world were already in chaos, those with the ability to alter the canvas should be even more careful about setting brush to it.

Xiao Gu pulled back Da Luo, who wanted to ask more. Her natural sensitivity allowed her to perceive from Li Chi’s answer something extremely solemn—unchangeable and unshakeable.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

Born frequently ill, whether willing or not, life and death had become questions she had contemplated countless times and gradually grown accepting of.

But some people could never be accepting, no matter what. The old man’s face was deeply lined as he pleaded with Li Chi, “What do you think should be done for these two children?”

“Haven’t you already saved their lives? Just continue doing what you’ve been doing.” Li Chi said. He extended a finger and tapped Xiao Gu’s forehead. “Consider this the fare for giving me a ride.”

With that, he stood up and beckoned to the youying gong who had earlier said he would serve him like an ox or horse. “Help me find the way.”

That youying gong’s mouth dropped open in shock.

“What? Unwilling?” Li Chi was already lifting his foot toward the temple exit.

“Willing, willing!” He nodded frantically and floated out of the temple door after Li Chi.

Inside the temple, Xiao Gu sat in a daze, pressing her forehead. “I… I’m not cold anymore…”

She could no longer sense that cold gloom from gathered ghosts, and her pale lips gradually regained their color.

Da Luo touched her palm—it was warm, and he couldn’t help crying out in delight, “You’re better?!”

Xiao Gu said, “Does this mean we won’t have to go to Dunxi City anymore?”

Each journey between the two cities was an adventure. This road had become many times more dangerous than when they first traveled it. This time they had barely avoided trouble; next time they might not be so lucky.

The old man stroked the carving knife in his hand, pondering for a long while before saying, “We should still go see Marquis Wu.”

Though Mister Li Quan had said Marquis Wu couldn’t save lives, he had to try before he could be at peace. What if Marquis Wu had a method? As for this craft… he still didn’t really want Da Luo and Xiao Gu involved with it. The living dealing with the dead—how was that proper? He himself was fine, but these two children, especially Xiao Gu, were better off staying as far from these things as possible.

But Da Luo looked at the wooden statues on the altar and said to him, “Father, I want to learn to carve these from you!”

The old man immediately frowned. “Don’t talk nonsense!”

The youying gongs in the temple looked over with displeasure but did nothing.

Da Luo persisted. “Our lives were saved this way. If I learn this, Xiao Gu won’t have to be afraid anymore!”

The old man glared at him. This explanation had been given by that Mister Li Quan, but Li Quan was just someone they’d happened to meet on the road—how could they believe everything he said? Though grateful for his help, one should still maintain some vigilance. What if he was a cultivator with ulterior motives? Such things were hardly rare in Liang Kingdom, were they? And what if what he knew wasn’t comprehensive? What if this would have bad effects on the two children?

This craft was learned from ghosts, did business with ghosts, and had nearly led these ghosts to affect his children’s future. How could he not worry? How could he not fear that possibility?

If Mister Li Quan was right, then he himself could continue doing this business. He could carve more statues for these wandering ghosts, could make up for both children’s shares!

But Da Luo was stubborn, looking at him with such determination. “I want to learn!”

The old man stared back at him for a long while before finally yielding a step. “We’ll talk about it later. First we’ll find a way to see Marquis Wu and hear what he says.”

Compared to the mysterious Mister Li Quan, Marquis Wu’s deeds were visible. He trusted Marquis Wu more.

Da Luo wanted to say more, but Xiao Gu tugged at him, so he nodded. “Then… then we have an agreement, Father. You can’t lie to me!”

The old man hesitated, then rubbed his head. “If Marquis Wu also says it’s fine, I’ll teach you. I won’t lie to you.”

Only then did Da Luo relax. As his tension released, he couldn’t help yawning.

The old man smiled. “Sleep then.”

After both children were asleep, the old man took out a small wooden block and slowly carved by the firelight.

In the silent night, insect chirping sounded once more, and the fire’s light steadily illuminated them.

…..

Outside the temple, the youying gong following Li Chi, after floating along for a while, couldn’t help asking, “Where are you going?”

This person had said he needed help finding the way, but after leaving Wanying Gong Temple, he’d been walking in front the whole time. Where was the need for guidance?

“To find the Dog King,” Li Chi said leisurely.

Hearing this, the youying gong trembled and said weakly, “Why are you looking for that thing?”

As soon as fear arose in his heart, he noticed changes in the surrounding environment. Without realizing it, his eyes had followed Li Chi far from the range of Wanying Gong Temple. The serene chirping of autumn insects had disappeared, the surrounding silence was eerily unnatural, and an ominous aura pervaded the forest. The youying gong shrank even smaller.

“What are you afraid of?” Li Chi glanced at him. “You’re already dead, with no physical body. Are you afraid of being eaten?”

“But there’s more than just wild dogs in the forest,” the youying gong said anxiously, quite fearful. “There are many evil ghosts in there too. They’re vicious in fights, heedless of consequences, and moreover…”

They were different from those evil ghosts—those evil ghosts had already been blinded by resentment and toxic malice.

The spirits in Wanying Gong Temple, apart from having somewhat pale faces, looked no different from ordinary people. Their consciousness was no different from when they were alive, and they all tried to make themselves look better. But these evil ghosts mostly maintained their death forms. They no longer cared about this and instead preferred to appear terrifying. Outer appearance follows the heart, and they had become this way.

Their resentment and toxic malice were too deep. They had forgotten the taste of release and only wanted to drag every person they saw into their own suffering.

It was precisely because the wandering ghosts receiving offerings at Wanying Gong Temple were numerous that they could maintain a relatively peaceful area in this increasingly perilous forest. But as for fighting, everyone could rush in together—he couldn’t bear running into these evil ghosts by himself.

The youying gong felt both fear and sympathy toward these forest evil ghosts.

Like them, he too was a ghost who died unjustly. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have ended up with no one to offer sacrifices. Ghosts who die unjustly often experience great terror at the moment of death, and these terrors turn into resentment and suffering. Those with lighter resentment are pulled directly into reincarnation by the Yellow Springs. Those with somewhat heavier resentment, once their obsessions naturally dissipate, also enter reincarnation. But those with deep resentment and undissipating obsessions cannot enter reincarnation. If there’s no guidance, these obsessions and resentments actually grow more intense over time, eventually even altering their nature, transforming them into vicious evil ghosts from which release becomes nearly impossible.

The only place where he was luckier than these spirits was entering Wanying Gong Temple.

Though Wanying Gong Temple’s incense offerings weren’t abundant, occasionally people would still make offerings to them. These not particularly generous offerings weren’t the most important thing—what mattered was the mental intentions that came with people’s offerings.

Everyone knew that yin temples like Wanying Gong Temple were established for homeless wandering ghosts, so no one would think to pray to them for anything. These offerings to them were purely from compassion and kind thoughts, and these invisible mental intentions became the best offerings. Like lamplight, illuminating the confusion after death, warming the pain of unjust death, guiding these spirits to gradually emerge from evil thoughts and feelings, preventing them from falling into evil ghosts with confused consciousness.

“And these evil ghosts…” the youying gong was saying when he suddenly stopped.

Weak moonlight filtered through gaps in the leaves. At some point, pairs of dark red or ghostly green eyes had appeared beneath the trees. Not far away came the howling of wild dogs, and the sound of crows flapping their wings rose from time to time. An evil ghost with a horrifying death appearance floated toward him.

The youying gong froze in place, only to discover that the evil ghost seemed not to see him at all, floating straight past without paying him any mind. Looking at the surrounding wild dogs and crow flocks, not one noticed them.

“They… they can’t see us?”

“For now, they can’t detect us,” Li Chi said.

“Then, then, then what, I, I don’t actually know where the Dog King is either, can’t, can’t guide you, so maybe, I, I should just go back first.” The youying gong said with a trembling voice.

Can’t detect them for now—who knew if they’d be discovered soon? Sympathy was one thing, but fear was still necessary. These evil ghosts could harm spirits. He didn’t want to be torn apart by this pile of evil ghosts.

“If you want to go back like that, you can,” Li Chi agreed quite amenably.

The youying gong floated backward slightly. The moment the distance between him and Li Chi widened even a little, he saw the evil ghost that had just floated past suddenly stop, as if sensing something, and look back in their direction.

The youying gong wore a mournful expression and stuck close to Li Chi. “I, I’ll stay and follow you instead.”

Li Chi smiled and led the youying gong through the forest. Vast cause and effect manifested in his eyes, outlining and tangling into all the spirits in the forest—the souls of those who died unjustly, the crow flocks with blood-red eyes, the wild dogs with jagged fangs… Most of these spirits were connected by threads of cause and effect to the same place, but the ends of these causal threads were all severed, leaving only a patch of vague chaos.

What Li Chi sought was precisely the direction indicated by these severed causal threads.

“We’re here.”

This was a clearing in the forest. Some sparse shrubs remained at the edges, but the center was barren, with a raised earthen mound like a massive grave. Atop the mound crouched an enormous wild dog, its fur brownish-yellow close to the dark brown of dried blood, sharp interlocking fangs protruding outside its lips—fierce and terrifying.

The youying gong looked around. This was his first time truly seeing the Dog King. Where was this like a dog? It was even more frightening than a tiger!

Moreover, the aura emanating from the Dog King already made him feel involuntary fear and tension, indicating that the Dog King very likely possessed methods to deal with spirits.

The youying gong’s expression grew even more bitter. Li Chi had called him out saying he needed him to guide the way, but along this entire journey he hadn’t been used for guidance—he didn’t even know where the Dog King was, so why bring him along?

Sudden gusts of yin wind arose all around, mixed with a rank, bitter stench. From the nearby forest came ghostly wailing that gradually drew closer and closer. A spirit floated over from that direction, leading several dazed mortals behind it. The Dog King turned its head, its two eyes flashing with cruel, cold light, staring at the mortals led over by the spirit. It slowly opened its mouth wider, revealing more ferocious teeth.

The youying gong’s eyes widened in shock. “Chang ghosts? How is that possible?!”

(TL: pinyin “chāng” (伥) literally means “to act as an accomplice” or “to assist someone, often unwillingly or under compulsion.”)

The saying goes “to act as accomplice for tigers”—people eaten by tigers become ghosts after death who are still controlled by the tiger. This was a method of tigers who had become spirits. How could this Dog King know it? Though… looking at the Dog King’s appearance, its strength probably wasn’t inferior to an ordinary tiger demon.

With the youying gong’s cry of alarm, the Dog King, who had been preparing to enjoy its meal, suddenly turned its head to look in their direction, its gaze fierce and terrifying.

“It, it, it—how is it looking over here?!”

Following the Dog King’s movement, the gazes of all the surrounding wild dogs, crow flocks, and even evil ghosts also turned toward them.

“This is its territory after all,” Li Chi said, his tone completely lacking any panic at being discovered.

A low growl emerged from the Dog King’s throat. The chang ghost received the command and knocked unconscious the several ordinary people it had lured, leaving them on the ground. The Dog King preferred to eat the living.

The yin wind rose sharply.

Countless chang ghosts revealed their gruesome death forms—torn flesh, exposed organs, pitch-black claws three or four inches long, soft rotting intestines… More bone claws soaked in putrid poison reached up from beneath the ground, lunging forward with deep-seated hatred and the stench of corrupt corpses!

Zheng!

An arm wrapped in dark green robes lifted. The qin was already cradled in the embrace, and the sleeves passing through the air brought a clear breeze that dispersed the rank corpse poison.

At the same time, the qin’s sound rang out in fury, splitting the sky and severing clouds.

The majestic fury suppressed all evil spirits. The evil ghosts were like insects frozen in amber—they froze in midair, their thoughts scattered by this furious sound. And just as they were about to generate thoughts anew, another qin sound arose.

This sound hummed and trembled, the vibration prolonged and sustained. All the chang ghosts trembled along with it, as if the other end of this qin string was tied to the depths of their spirits, drawing out enormous fear. As if they saw flames that could sear flesh, winds cold as cutting blades, saw countless terrible sufferings approaching—and those sufferings were precisely the fruits born from their own actions.

Thus, drawn by this fear, these chang ghosts who could move again let out terrifying wails and retreated in unison. But before they could truly flee, the qin sounded once more.

This note was deep, distant, and long, grief piercing to the bone.

All the chang ghosts froze.

They had already died. They had been eaten alive by the Dog King. Bellies split, intestines scattered, bones shattered, flesh torn apart. After death they became ghost creatures, but transformed into chang, unable to reincarnate, unable to leave, only able day after day to be controlled by this Dog King that had eaten them alive, to lure their own kind to fill the Dog King’s never-satisfied belly.

The mournful sound was distant and long, grief suddenly arising. This long-suppressed emotion awakened the taste of being human that they had forgotten for so long.

Not evil ghosts whose reason had been devoured by resentment and poison, leaving nothing but ferocity, but rather…

A roar suddenly erupted. The Dog King bared its teeth and widened its eyes, but these chang ghosts remained where they were, no longer driven by it as usual.

Three qin sounds: the first furious cry scattered their ferocious thoughts; from fury came fear, and the fear of one’s true nature is deepest in power, causing them to resist the Dog King’s commands. The final mournful sound awakened emotion beyond instinct, and also awakened their long-clouded consciousness.

Three qin sounds severed the Dog King’s control over the chang ghosts.

“Time for you to guide the way,” Li Chi suddenly said.

“What…” the youying gong said blankly.

Before he could finish his question, Li Chi’s fingertip touched his chest. The youying gong looked down to discover he was now holding a lamp, just like the kind of statue he had long resided in.

The lamplight was faint, yet warm and unextinguished.

The chang ghosts who had broken free of control looked over one by one, and in their eyes heavy with grief and suffering, a point of bright light was reflected.

“Guide them on their way.”