Grandpa, a man who stood for what's right, couldn't bear the sight of injustice.
The yellow weasel had gone too far this time.
Zhang's fifth son, guilty of a slap but not deserving death, had been taken by the creature, his body tormented, his spirit held captive.
"Respect for the deceased is paramount," the old saying echoed in Grandpa's mind. The yellow weasel's audacity fueled his anger.
Granny Liu, fearing a scene, intervened. "Lao Wu," she said, her voice a calming presence, "Tell the Zhang family to fetch some chickens."
Grandpa's eyes widened in disbelief. "Feed that fiend? After what it's done?".
"Trust me," Granny Liu reassured him, a knowing glint in her single eye.
Left with no other option, Grandpa relayed the message to the Zhang family.
The eldest son, grief etched on his face, hurried to gather the chickens.
Granny Liu, a shaman of considerable renown, knew the ways of the yellow weasel.
They were cunning creatures, one of the five mystical beings, notorious for their ability to possess the living and the dead.
She herself had dealt with such possessions before, particularly during wakes, where the presence of animals with fur near the deceased was strictly forbidden, lest they invite a possession.
Possession by a yellow weasel wasn't a scene from a horror tale, with the dead rising as reanimated corpses.
Instead, the creature would take control of the body, often demanding goods or favors.
It would sit astride the coffin, using the deceased as a puppet to voice its demands.
If denied, it would thrash the body about, refusing to release it.
These situations were always delicate, requiring the expertise of someone like Granny Liu.
Force was never the answer.
Grandpa's earlier outburst had only made the creature dig its heels in deeper.
The customary approach involved appeasement, hoping to satisfy the yellow weasel's cravings, which typically revolved around food, usually livestock.
This usually did the trick, the appeased creature would retreat, releasing its hold on the deceased.
But this yellow weasel was different. Its intentions were malicious, aiming to shatter the Zhang family, to leave them broken and lost.
This called for negotiation, a tense dance between human and spirit, where the shaman had to gauge the creature's power, its motives, and its weaknesses.
The nature of the yellow weasel's demands revealed its strength.
Powerful spirits sought out rare treasures, artifacts that amplified their mystical prowess.
Weaker ones, like this one, craved simpler pleasures, food being the most common.
The lowliest amongst them couldn't even speak, resorting to gestures and noises, leaving people to decipher their desires.
Granny Liu, unable to pinpoint the creature's strength, opted to play along, hoping to gain the upper hand.
Her own spiritual guide was the Constant Immortal, a snake that had attained enlightenment.
Dealing with a yellow weasel, even a cunning one, wasn't beyond her abilities.
Zhang's eldest son returned, his arms laden with plump chickens.
He passed them on to Grandpa, too afraid to step inside.
Grandpa, his curiosity piqued, watched as Granny Liu took the birds and approached the possessed Zhang's fifth son.
"Master Huang," she spoke to the creature inhabiting the young man's body, "Your chickens, as requested. Eat your fill and be on your way."
"Hee hee... With pleasure," replied Zhang's fifth son, his voice distorted, alien.
He snatched a chicken, sinking his teeth into its neck, tearing flesh and feathers, drawing blood.
Grandpa cringed.
The sight of raw flesh and blood, the crunching of bones, turned his stomach.
One hen was devoured in a gruesome spectacle.
As the possessed man reached for another, Granny Liu, who had been silently puffing on her pipe, her face unreadable, sprang into action.
With a flick of her wrist, she blew a plume of smoke at the possessed man's face.
The air crackled with energy. Before he could react, she brought the pipe down on his head with a resounding thwack.
A piercing shriek tore through the room as Zhang's fifth son convulsed, his eyes rolling back in his head.
Granny Liu, moving with unmatched speed, grabbed him by the throat.
Her eyes, now a startling green, locked with his.
"Insolent fiend," her voice boomed, infused with the power of the Constant Immortal, "This shaman commands you, RETREAT!"
Zhang's fifth son, his body a battleground for his spirit and the weasel's, thrashed violently.
"I won't... I won't leave..." he rasped.
"We'll see about that," Liu declared, tapping ash from her pipe and with a swift motion, marked the possessed man's forehead.