The village faces north and looks out onto a wide expanse, with large fields of rice and a small river in front. Behind the village, a mountain extends southwestward, its ridge lowers and then rises again, curving inward like a bird stretching its neck to look back; to the southeast, there's also a secondary ridge that lowers and then spreads out flat, resembling a bird's wings sweeping back, and the entire landscape forms the shape of a bird looking back, using its head, neck, and one wing to protect the village.
This has a name, called the Qingluan Looking Back.
Near the tip of the bird's head and its sharp beak, there's an old, dilapidated temple known as the Fengtou Hall. Despite being a temple, it's particularly eerie due to its state of disrepair and the presence of numerous empty coffins, and as a child, I dared not pass by the temple's entrance after dark.
As my master and I approached the door of the Fengtou Hall, about seven or eight elderly men screamed and rushed out, all of them ashen-faced. Upon seeing my master, they all shouted about ghosts and begged for help.
My master remained calm and asked, "What happened?"
"There were sounds inside the coffins!" an old woman said.
"I saw the coffin lid moving!" another old man added. It turned out that something major had happened last night. They had come to the Fengtou Hall early in the morning to burn incense, only to be terrified.
Both my master and I were shocked, not by the ghosts, but by the possibility of a zombie hiding in the coffins.
Making coffins is a laborious and meticulous task that can't be done after someone has died, so many people have their coffins made in their middle age and store them in the temple without painting, to be painted only on the day they die. I remember that there were many empty coffins in the Fengtou Hall when I was young, but now, due to the promotion of cremation, there are fewer and fewer empty coffins. Looking in from the door, only about a dozen were parked in the left wing.
Just as we were peeking around, the lid of one of the coffins slowly lifted up and then tilted to the side, revealing a head with long, disheveled hair, the face and hair almost as dark, obscured by the tangled hair. The temple's interior was dimly lit, making it even harder for others to see clearly.
The scene was too shocking, and the old men screamed and ran, amazingly fast for their age and infirmities.
I was so scared that my legs turned to jelly, but my master stood still, and I didn't dare to run. Then, I immediately recognized the person climbing out of the coffin—it wasn't some evil ghost or zombie, but the famous genius madman!
"Dead madman, what are you doing hiding in there?" my master shouted, recognizing him as well.
The madman climbed out of the coffin, hugging his chest and bending over, looking around frantically, mumbling incoherently, "There are ghosts, there are ghosts!"
I couldn't help but laugh and cry at the same time. Afraid of ghosts yet hiding in a coffin to sleep, what kind of logic was that? Was it that the most dangerous place was actually the safest?
My master cursed in the local dialect for a while, and the madman walked towards us, waving two fingers at my master, asking for a cigarette. My master took the opportunity to ask, "Did you see the King?"
"I saw it, I saw it, three zhang tall, with red light shooting up to the sky," the madman suddenly ducked his head and made a frightened gesture, quickly running away.
"What does that mean?" I asked my master.
My master shook his head and walked into the Fengtou Hall.
Although the ancient temple was dilapidated, one could still see the exquisite craftsmanship of the past, with carved beams and painted columns, eaves that soared into the sky, and stone slabs and columns with imposing presence. My master said that the temple used to be very prosperous, but after the Cultural Revolution, no one dared to burn incense anymore. However, no one dared to tear it down either, so it became a storage place for empty coffins, a kind of mortuary, until about ten years ago when people started coming to burn incense again.
"Why wasn't it torn down during the Cultural Revolution?" I asked, somewhat puzzled.
My master smiled and said, "At that time, they indeed wanted to tear it down, but as soon as they stepped into the temple, they started to get headaches, and so they didn't tear it down."
I was a bit skeptical about such supernatural occurrences, and my master didn't elaborate further, just walking in.
In the main hall of the temple stood a female deity statue, dignified and beautiful, riding a majestic Kirin. She held a hand seal in front of her chest with her right hand and held a bead-like object in her left hand. This was the fairy lady who attained immortality on the top of Xianyan Mountain. Beside her was a beautiful attendant and a green-faced demonic-looking page boy.
To the left of the main hall was a side hall dedicated to a middle-aged man dressed in ancient landlord attire, with a kindly face, a long beard reaching his chest, and a mix of kindness and authority. This was the guardian deity of our village, known as the "Lord of Fortune," also referred to as "the King."
To the right of the main hall was a side hall dedicated to an elderly man with white hair and beard, the famous "Lord of the Land," known to all.
The purpose of my master and I coming here was to see if there was anything unusual about "the King." My master walked around the incense table, looking around everywhere, and suddenly bent down to pull out a small wooden doll from under the table. The doll was roughly carved, just having a human figure outline, but it was inscribed with characters. I leaned in for a closer look and couldn't help but gasp in shock. Written on it were my name and date of birth!
"Someone used this to harm me?" I asked my master. This type of evil magic was almost universally known, even some kindergarten children used it as a way to vent their anger, but those who could actually use it were very few.
My master nodded: "Sheng Yu Po was using this to harm you, but it has already failed."
I was extremely angry and cursed loudly: "F*ck, this old witch is too much, too vicious, using such evil methods to harm me! And this so-called god, actually helping the old witch to harm people!"
My master's face also looked very bad, and he hurriedly stopped me: "Don't talk nonsense!"
I was about to continue my tirade, but my master forcefully pulled me out of the temple. Once outside, my master said, "This place has been abandoned for too long. Most of the time, the deities are not here, and it's some evil spirits occupying the temple and accepting offerings. The more believers they have, the stronger their power becomes. To gain more incense, they will do whatever it takes, manipulating people through possession, and the Sheng Yu Po claims of He Xian Nu and the Queen Mother of the West are actually the evil spirits here! However, the deity statues are still of the rightful deities. Cursing the deities in front of their statues is not a reasonable or respectful act."
I was not convinced: "They turn a blind eye to the evil spirits causing harm in their temple, shouldn't they be cursed?"
"If someone uses your name to do evil outside, and you don't know about it, do you have a crime?" my master asked me in return. He continued, "You can disbelieve in ghosts and gods, but you cannot disrespect them; you can ignore them, but remember not to curse them, no matter how justified you think you are."
I still felt dissatisfied, but I didn't argue further on that topic. I asked, "Are there evil spirits in the temple now?"
"There probably aren't, but my ability to sense is not strong, so I might not be able to sense it. You can try it in the future. Concentrate your mind, relax your body, and sense different kinds of Qi. The Qi of each place is different, cold and hot, Yin and Yang, wet and dry, bright and dark. Places with deities should be bright, harmonious, warm, and make people feel joy and peace; places with evil spirits will have a dark, foul, strange, and fierce Qi, but those who are deceived will sense the opposite. So, you should maintain a calm and clear mind like an ancient well reflecting the moon, pure and transparent."
My master took any opportunity to impart knowledge, and after he finished speaking, I asked, "Then, do you think the 'King' mentioned by the madman is the same as the one in this temple? Where has his true form gone?"
My master said seriously, "Firstly, the words of the madman should not be taken as absolute truth, and secondly, I can't tell what evil spirit is impersonating the 'King' here. Sometimes, even though it's a fake, it acts with discretion and can even become the proxy of the real one. This is a situation where we really shouldn't intervene."
"Master, you know many spells. The old witch is so vicious, I can't swallow this anger. What can I do to retaliate against her?"
My master sighed and said, "There are ways, but we can't do that. If we do, what's the difference between me and her? Besides, the atmosphere in the village has been strange recently, with many unusual occurrences, suggesting that several evil spirits are active, but it's hard to distinguish between good and evil. I've cast a divination, and it shows that there will be a great calamity in the village soon. So, do not act recklessly. If things are not handled properly, there will be great disaster."
I finally understood why my master refused to act and always tolerated things. Sheng Yu Po, being ignorant, dared to do whatever she wanted, thinking she could communicate with the gods and feeling proud about it. She didn't realize that the entity she was communicating with was evil. My master was worried that if he attacked Sheng Yu Po or some evil spirit, it could provoke more and stronger evil spirits, leading to disaster for the entire village. He couldn't bear that responsibility, which was the real cause of his worry.
My master was extremely cautious because he had been persecuted in his youth and had been traumatized. His tuberculosis had tortured him for over a decade, causing him to lose his spiritual energy and be unable to confront ghosts and spirits directly. Therefore, he could only use conciliatory and tolerant methods, which was a situation forced upon him and not his fault. As I was just starting in this field and not yet considered an initiate, I could only endure and bear the humiliation.
There was a dirt road by the village, and the two of us walked along it from the village head to the village tail, leaving the village about a hundred meters away. Along the road were about five or six households built in the past ten years or so. One of these households was a butcher's. As we passed by, the butcher was gutting a large fat pig, and his wife was washing the blood and filth from the ground into a ditch, with a strong smell of blood and pig dung wafting in the wind.
Less than twenty meters from these houses stood three enormous camphor trees, whose trunks required several people to encircle. They were over twenty meters tall, with lush branches and leaves, standing tall and covering like a canopy. A few days ago, when my master saved me, the thousand-year-old camphor oil he used was extracted from a branch of one of these trees.
Ten years ago when my family moved here, the three large camphor trees were already in their current state. The trunks were adorned with many small flags, bows, and arrows. These were "weapons" made by some families when their children were frightened or when there were long-term unhealed illnesses in the household, used to ward off evil spirits and protect peace. Below the trees were stone-built altars with candle holders, incense burners, and offerings of peanuts, melons, apples, and other fruits. Due to the long-term practice of burning incense, a large area of the tree bark was smoked to a shiny, dark black.
Not only the elderly but also the young people held these large camphor trees in great reverence. No one ever dared to urinate under the trees or spit, and even the most mischievous children did not dare to climb the trees for play or steal the offerings. I didn't know why people held the trees in such respect, but this was not a custom unique to our village. As far as I knew, many places had this practice of treating large trees near the village as divine entities and offering sacrifices to them.
My master said, "Our village was established during the Zhenguan era of the Tang Dynasty, over a thousand years ago. These three trees were planted then and have been here for over a thousand three hundred years, gaining spiritual essence. During the Cultural Revolution, when the Red Guards wanted to demolish the Fengtou Hall, as soon as they entered, they started to get headaches and ran away to cut down these three trees, as they were often lit with incense. However, as soon as they swung an axe, the leader of the Red Guards fainted with a loud cry."
I followed my master's pointing and indeed saw a scar on the first large tree, resembling the mark of an axe. I had vaguely heard the old people in the village mention this before, so it should be true. So, these three trees had truly become sacred trees?
The first tree was particularly lush, with no rotten holes visible on the entire tree. The second tree had several small holes in its roots, and the third tree had a large branch at about five meters high that had rotted, forming a larger hole. These two trees might have become hollow, but compared to a thousand-year-old tree, they were still very robust and flourishing.
I accidentally placed my hand on the first large tree and immediately recoiled with a scream, as if I had touched an electric wire.