Midnight Rites on Ghost Mountain

Caw! Caw! In the deep of night, flocks of crows fluttered in chaos. Dense woods tangled overhead as candle flames and lanterns flickered. Perhaps due to the sheer number of bodies buried here, this stretch of mass graves was not barren at all. Instead, lush trees cast heavy shade, and wild weeds grew remarkably thick. Yin mist rose in billowing waves, obscuring figures barely a hundred paces away. The light was dim, and with the ground slick from recent rain, people slipped and fell every now and then. There were plenty of faint-hearted souls among the group. As they walked, they kept darting glances at their surroundings, dreading that something lurked in the gloomy mist, staring right at them, making their scalps tingle with dread. Yet remembering Wang Daoxuan's strict instructions, no one dared utter a word. Li Yan naturally walked at the very front. His left hand rested on the pommel of his saber, while his right held a long bamboo pole. The advantage of his olfactory divine ability was most apparent at times like this. Though the fog was thick and the darkness suffocating, all manner of scents were easily distinguished through his nose. He could smell decomposing leaves, poisonous insects crawling through the brush, vipers coiled on branches dozens of paces off, and even mice burrowing several feet beneath the earth—none escaped his nostrils. To him, this dark wilderness was no different from broad daylight. Yet what caught Li Yan's attention even more was the yin sha qi permeating this place. He had traversed Xianyang several times. The city was bustling with human vitality, a majestic metropolis standing for millennia with numerous thriving temples where incense smoke billowed perpetually, making it exceptionally fit for human dwelling. Only a few deep wells and hidden passages held faint traces of lingering yin qi. Here in the mass graves, however, the yin sha qi was shockingly pronounced. Unlike the cold-altar rampaging soldier from before, this was a frigid, deathly, rotting stench. It permeated every corner, soaked into the earth, and clung to the grass and trees along their roots. This was why the vegetation here flourished so unnaturally, and why dense fog lingered even on fair days. *Swish! Swish!* With sweeps of his bamboo pole, venomous bugs and snakes were frightened off one after another. Wang Daoxuan naturally knew of Li Yan's capabilities. He focused entirely on surveying the terrain, holding up a lantern to observe the shifts of his feng shui compass. The craft of geomancy and feng shui was vast and profound. Those who could read feng shui could not necessarily construct a feng shui alignment. Wang Daoxuan had dabbled in various arts, but in most he was merely an initiate; only in feng shui and divination had he invested tremendous labor. Before long, he found the right spot. Passing through a patch of dense woods, he raised a hand to signal the group to halt. It was a peculiar clearing. Though bordered by thick forest, not a blade of grass grew here. Jagged, bizarre rocks stood erect all around like upturned halberds, resembling a naturally formed, ruined shrine in the mountains. Li Yan twitched his nose, curiosity showing in his eyes. He could smell the yin sha qi converging here like undercurrents in a river channel, spiraling and coiling to form a distinct disposition. The moment he stepped into the clearing, the surrounding temperature plunged by several degrees. Li Yan understood at once—this was likely the *shi* that Wang Daoxuan had spoken of! Between heaven and earth, gang qi and sha qi circulated to create a *shi*—a latent disposition—and taken a step further, it could form a *ju*—a self-contained formation. The greatest difference between a *shi* and a *ju* was that the former resembled an undercurrent or whirlpool, reliant on external surroundings, whereas a *ju* established an enclosed environment. The two were merely designations, with neither inherently superior. The *shi* of famous mountains and mighty rivers possessed magnificent grandeur, like a heavenly deity planting a sword into the earth, far more powerful than a *ju* hidden away in some forgotten corner. Formations, feng shui layouts, and even hidden treasure grounds throughout the world were tied to them. Clearly, this was an ideal site to perform the ritual. Yet Wang Daoxuan was in no rush. He took several steps forward, circling the area with his compass, then used an iron spade to dig up the topsoil, scooped up a pinch of dirt, and popped it into his mouth. *Ptooey!* After a taste, Wang Daoxuan spat it out hastily. He rose, picked up a twig to draw a circle on the ground, and nodded to the group. Sha Lifei stepped forward at once, leading several men to unshoulder their bundles. Inside were wooden boards and stakes fashioned with mortise-and-tenon joints. In just a few swift moves, they assembled a square table, draped it with yellow cloth, talismans, and the five offerings—incense, flowers, lamps, water, and fruit—instantly creating a makeshift altar. Only then did Troupe Leader Zhou cautiously approach. He carried a wooden chest on his back, draped in red cloth. Opening it with utmost care, he revealed a brightly painted clay doll idol. Clad in a red bellyband and clutching shadow puppet sticks, it wore an innocent, endearing smile. This was the ancestral idol of the Spring Breeze Troupe. Li Yan could smell that only faint remnants of incense lingered upon it. Clearly, it had once housed an enshrined presence, but that presence had long since dispersed. Such occurrences were not uncommon. Whether an idol or a local Earth God or City God temple, in a sense, they were forms of *shi* or *ju*, primarily driven by divine gang qi. If karmic affinity expired, if the enshrined spirit was not strong enough, or if the incense offerings ceased, the *shi* would unravel. Fierce entities, like the cold-altar rampaging soldier, would even turn unruly and harm people. That morning, Wang Daoxuan had already opened the idol, thoroughly cleansed it, fumigated it with pine resin incense, and inserted consecrated beads and locust wood representing internal organs. This was the ritual of viscera consecration. It could not compare to the statues in great temples, but if they invited something powerful enough and offered daily incense without interruption, it would be more than enough to shelter the Spring Breeze Troupe. With preparations complete, everyone waited patiently. Before they knew it, the Hour of the Tiger arrived. At a signal from Wang Daoxuan, the members of the Spring Breeze Troupe, led by Troupe Leader Zhou, began burning joss paper and paper ingots. Holding three sticks of incense, they bowed with devout reverence, silently reciting the spirit invocation incantation. Wang Daoxuan, holding a pouch of incense ash, walked around the altar table and scattered it into three concentric squares. The three ash squares symbolized city ramparts—planting the parasol tree to draw in the phoenix. Yet Wang Daoxuan had no confidence in what might be summoned. Following the established procedure, he stood before the altar, chanting scriptures and incantations while treading the Dipper steps. Then, taking a mouthful of clear water, he sprayed it forth abruptly. Instantly, winds stirred and water surged; the altar's *shi* came alive. Unlike before, the surrounding yin sha qi moved along with it, swirling around the altar to forge an even stronger *shi*. Naturally, ordinary folk could not perceive this. But as chilly winds suddenly arose and the temperature plummeted again, even Troupe Leader Zhou felt a prickle of dread, clinging to his three sticks of incense while bowing and praying ceaselessly. As for Li Yan, he stood at a distance with his saber in hand. He had a different task, one critical to the success or failure of tonight's ritual. *Whoosh—* Abruptly, the yin wind intensified. A faint hissing sound drifted through the night fog. It seemed almost imperceptible, yet it rang distinctly in everyone's ears. Troupe Leader Zhou beamed with delight and looked up at Wang Daoxuan. This was the sign that something had been drawn in. At this stage, all they needed to do was open a gap in the incense ash square, symbolizing the opening of the ramparts to invite the spirit inside. They had never had things go so smoothly before. Yet Wang Daoxuan was not in a hurry; instead, he looked toward Li Yan. Li Yan took a deep breath. He could smell a chilling, fishy serpent stench circling in the distance. Judging by the density of the odor, it was only marginally stronger than an ordinary ghost. That thing was nowhere near formidable enough... Li Yan gave Wang Daoxuan a slight shake of his head. Wang Daoxuan caught the hint. Turning a deaf ear to the sound, he led the others to continue the invocation. Sure enough, after circling for a short while, the serpent stench rapidly faded away. Another half an incense stick of time passed. *Caw! Caw!* The croak of an old crow echoed from the dark fog. It was similarly elusive yet distinctly audible. Without waiting for Li Yan's verdict, Troupe Leader Zhou's face turned dark and dreadfully sour. An old crow was the most ominous of creatures. Not only was it an avian spirit, portending that the troupe would suffer the hardship of constantly wandering from pillar to post, but its cries also easily attracted malevolent evils, symbolizing death. Invoking such a creature was no different from inviting calamity to their door. Helpless, the group had no choice but to press on with the invocation. Yet a trace of worry crept into Wang Daoxuan's eyes. There were taboos regarding the number of invocations: they were permitted only three attempts. Whatever appeared on the third attempt, they would have to pinch their noses and accept it, or the night's ritual would end in failure. Not only would they fail to enshrine anything, but they would also draw attacks from malevolent spirits on their descent down the mountain. At this thought, doubts arose in Wang Daoxuan's mind. The spot he had chosen was the convergence point of yin sha across the mass graves, colloquially known as an Old Yin Coffin. Powerful entities should certainly be prowling nearby. Once the *ju* formed, it should have provoked a clash among spirits. How could only minor nuisances show up, without so much as a single respectable ghost? Reason dictated this shouldn't be happening... *Not good, someone is sabotaging us!* Wang Daoxuan realized the truth in an instant. Setting aside all taboos, he hurried to Li Yan's side and whispered, "Someone set up a scheme to interfere! Find a way to drive them off, or if they lure in something truly sinister, none of us will escape!" Li Yan nodded and vanished into the darkness in a flash. With his olfactory divine ability engaged, the pitch-black woods posed no obstacle. Keeping low with his saber drawn, he moved like a phantom. Soon enough, an abnormal stench reached his nose—the musky scent of wild dogs, mixed with heavy corpse rot, coming from great numbers. Li Yan wheeled around immediately, bounding up a small knoll, staying low behind a tree to peer outward. Below the knoll, a clearing was packed with wild dogs. They were massive, their eyes gleaming like bloody embers in the night—countless specks of red, eerie and unsettling. Behind the pack of wild dogs stood several beggars. Clad in tattered rags, they held dog-beating sticks in one hand and tossed black lumps from ragged sacks with the other. The objects carried the stench of corpses, yet were strangely, intensely fragrant. The wild dogs scrambled for the morsels in eerie silence. *Corpse flesh!* Li Yan's eyes narrowed as he recognized the bait at once. Though he did not know why these wicked beggars of the Western Route were interfering, nor what secret art they were using, he knew full well they must have further tricks up their sleeves. They had to be stopped immediately! Li Yan surveyed the ground, scooped up a stone, wound his arm back, and hurled it with the locust stone technique. *Whoosh!* The sharp whistle had barely cut through the air before a beggar collapsed, screaming in agony as blood gushed from his shattered head. This sudden strike threw the wild dogs into a frenzy. *Woof! Woof! Woof!* Catching the scent of fresh blood, the pack rioted on the spot. Saliva dripping from their jaws, they lunged like mad beasts, swarming toward the fallen beggar...