Village Head Tian, unaware she was using reverse psychology, immediately thought Granny Fan looked down on him, his eyes rolling: "Why can't I do it?"

Granny Fan put on a troubled expression, "You are the village head, not like Old Man Liu who is subtly sharp and makes things comfortable. Besides, that Lingguan Temple is full of heavy Yin energy, extremely dangerous. If anything untoward happens, how am I supposed to explain it to your family?"

"What? You say I'm not as good as Old Man Liu? How am I worse than him? Ah!" Village Head Tian's eyes bulged like a rampant Zhang Fei from Romance of the Three Kingdoms. "In terms of education, I'm a legitimate college graduate who has seen the world; he's just a country bumpkin who barely knows how to write his own name. In terms of ability, I've managed the village in perfect order for three years—can he? If I gave him a farming team to lead, he’d probably scatter them all!" Village Head Tian stood with his hands on his hips, red with suppressed anger. Old Man Liu was Liu Dashao’s own father! For an outsider to criticize his father in front of his son, let alone someone with a quick temper, even the Buddha would be displeased. Finally, Liu Dashao genuinely couldn't stand listening anymore; he had to swallow his fury and cough repeatedly, indirectly forcing our Great Village Head Tian to cease his grand oration.

"Well, I won't say any more. It’s inappropriate in front of the youngster. Fan Xidou, I’m telling you upfront plainly, today you either let me accompany you, or you still have to let me accompany you! We might as well go check out that temple of yours and see if this is some trick you cooked up. If I catch you out, hmph, you won't have an easy time!"

"Alas, I can’t argue with you; do as you wish! But remember to be careful on the road, and when trouble arises, don’t just think of running—stay calm." Seeing her goal achieved, Granny Fan happily indulged him.

"No need for your false kindness. I am a Party member, guided by the five-pointed star, I will strike down all monsters and demons!" Village Head Tian declared dismissively, "You just wait! When the time comes for the city youths to visit the countryside, you’ll be crying!" With this harsh parting shot, Village Head Tian stopped arguing and went straight home to prepare the necessary paper money, leaving the exasperated Liu Dashao and Granny Fan in a silent standoff.

"Child, come here." After a brief lull, Granny Fan pulled Liu Dashao over, took his hand, and pried his fingers open, unsure what she intended to do.

"Granny? What are you doing?" Liu Dashao instinctively tried to pull his hand back.

"Don't move, spread your fingers, relax. Yes, just like that. Granny is giving you a protective charm now; it will be a safeguard if something happens later." Saying this, Granny Fan’s rough hand stroked the lines on Liu Dashao’s palm. With an eye as keen and meticulous as a weasel’s, she examined it for a moment, then slowly spoke.

"Oh, alright!" Liu Dashao stopped struggling. He watched as Granny Fan licked the tip of the brush she had just dipped in cinnabar, which hadn't fully dried, then bit her middle finger, squeezing out a few drops of blood into the center of Liu Dashao’s palm. She immediately started writing, using the pool of blood as the head, rapidly commencing a lifelike doodle. One minute later, a string of tadpole-like script appeared in his palm. Strangely, as soon as it was finished, the writing seemed imbued with a divine quality, the characters emanating an extraordinary, ethereal flow.

"This is called the Palm Thunder Charm. It's supposedly from the Maoshan Sect; I’m not entirely sure, I learned it from the old Daoist priest." Granny Fan set down the brush and took a heavy breath. The writing and drawing seemed to have cost her a great deal of energy, leaving her feeling weak again.

"Palm Thunder Charm, the name sounds quite imposing. I wonder, if I draw this, can I swing my palm with the force of a gale like in the comic books, capable of grinding stone to dust with a slap?" Liu Dashao mused.

"Haha, you!" Granny Fan chuckled, tapping Liu Dashao’s forehead with her finger. "This isn't martial arts; it's a convenient talisman, effective only against ghosts and monsters. The advantage is that if drawn correctly and used properly, even someone who hasn't mastered Yang techniques can use it proficiently. But there's a drawback too: the magic of this talisman is stored in this condensed blood and cinnabar. After two or three uses, it loses its power."

"Then how do I use it? Just slap the monster with my palm?"

"No, no." Granny Fan quickly corrected him. "Before using it, you must recite the incantation for it to work. The incantation is: 'Lin, Bing, Dou, Zhe, Jie, Zhen, Lie, Qian, Xing.'"

"Come on, repeat it with me!"

"'Lin, Bing, Dou, Zhe, Jie... Jie what was it again?'" Liu Dashao scratched his head.

"Silly boy, Jie Zhen Lie Qian Xing!" Granny Fan pouted.

"Oh, right, right, Zhen Lie Qian Xing, Zhen Lie Qian Xing." After Granny Fan reminded him several times, Liu Dashao finally managed to recite the somewhat awkward phrase smoothly and commit it to memory.

The author pauses here for an aside. Because many people watched the Hong Kong vampire series My Date with a Vampire, they assume that the phrase Lin, Bing, Dou, Zhe, Jie, Zhen, Lie, Zai, Qian (Nine Syllables) used by Ma Xiaoling when exorcising demons is correct. They don't realize that the show was filmed against the background of Tibetan Esotericism, and it was the Japanese Esoteric Sect that plagiarized the Daoist Nine Syllables from Baopuzi and mistranslated the final two characters, Qian Xing, into Zai Qian. It is laughable that they even assigned specific hand seals to each character’s recitation. The principle of exorcism via mantra is that when a person reads a spell, the specific energy field formed by the pronunciation can repel evil spirits; however, if the characters are wrong, the arrangement of the energy flow is incorrect, rendering it useless.

At this point, Village Head Tian had packed his things and stood outside the door, knocking lightly to signal Liu Dashao that it was time to leave. Looking at the basket in his hand, heavens above, he had actually brought quite a lot of paper money—enough for five families to pay respects at their graves during Qingming Festival.

"Granny, I’m leaving now!"

"Go then! Go early and come back early while it’s still light!" Granny Fan said with a smile, then rubbed her aching old legs and muttered to herself, "Time waits for no one; I should start preparing too." She unsteadily found a bamboo pole to use as a cane and went back to her own house to prepare the necessary supplies.

Let the story branch—one path here, one there. Meanwhile, Village Head Tian led Liu Dashao, walking briskly toward the valley where the Lingguan Temple was located, facing the setting sun. The mountain path was steep, but fortunately, the ancestors had long ago laid down rows of bluestone steps for later generations, making the ascent much easier. Though the steps were somewhat narrow, they were better than nothing.

The Lingguan Temple was as expected: the upturned eaves of the main hall and the railings were wrapped in thick, dense cobwebs. The two guardian deities at the entrance, the Heng and Ha generals, were missing limbs, appearing utterly dilapidated. The poetry inscribed on the pillars was illegible, and the wooden plaque had turned dark brown from years of wind and rain, exhibiting several cracks, each as wide as a finger, splitting along the wood grain. This only made the blood-red characters spelling 'Five Manifestations Lingguan Temple' look even more ferocious and terrifying. Inside the temple, strips of white banner cloth fluttered wildly in the breeze, threatening to drape over one's head with the slightest carelessness. In the dark main hall, only a single small oil lamp burned before the five statues of the Lingguans. The bean-sized dim, yellow light flickered intermittently, casting dancing shadows throughout the hall. On an old locust tree in front of the hall, a few crows cawed hoarsely, sounding incredibly miserable, as if their wives had eloped with other male crows behind their backs.

With a smack, Village Head Tian threw down the basket containing the paper money. He blew a puff of warm air onto his hands until his blood felt warm and flowing smoothly again, then started grumbling, "This damned weather! It was getting better yesterday, how did it revert to this today? It's cold up on the mountain; it freezes the pee in your bladder."

"Uncle Tian, you’re not wrong, it really is like that." Liu Dashao reluctantly pulled his hands out of his pockets, squatted down, and began arranging the paper money. As for arranging it, it was simple; anyone who had visited graves knew how: pinch a stack of papers into a fist with the right hand, lay it on the palm of the left hand, and give it a clockwise twist to form a flower shape. This made it easier to burn, ensuring the fire caught everywhere and avoiding the problem of half-igniting and half-smothering. Speaking of burning paper, there is a small anecdote in the unofficial histories, which might be worth sharing here.

Legend has it that after Cai Lun improved papermaking during the Eastern Han Dynasty, his business flourished, earning him considerable wealth. His elder brother, Cai Mo, and sister-in-law, Hui Niang, watched with great envy. Hui Niang insisted that Cai Mo learn papermaking from Cai Lun. However, Cai Mo lacked perseverance; he rushed to open his own paper shop before mastering the technique. As a result, the paper he produced was of inferior quality and found no buyers, leaving the couple worried over a room full of paper.

Finally, Hui Niang devised a clever plan and whispered it into Cai Mo's ear. That night, neighbors suddenly heard loud wailing coming from Cai Mo’s house. When they rushed over to inquire, they learned that Hui Niang had suddenly died the previous night. The next morning, in front of his neighbors, Cai Mo wept profusely before Hui Niang’s coffin, crying bitterly as he burned paper offerings.

As the paper burned, a sound suddenly came from inside the coffin. A moment later, Hui Niang’s voice called out from within, "Open the door, quick! I’m back!" Everyone was stunned, but finally, gathering their courage, they opened the lid. Hui Niang jumped out and told the neighbors that after she died, she went to the underworld, where King Yama sentenced her to suffer by turning a millstone. Because Cai Mo burned so much paper money for her, the minor ghosts scrambled to push the millstone for her. She then presented the money to King Yama, who allowed her to return.

Cai Mo asked deliberately, "But I didn't send you any money?" Hui Niang pointed to the burning pile of paper and said, "That is money! In the underworld, paper is treated as currency." Hearing this, Cai Mo immediately fetched two large bundles of paper to burn, saying he wanted his deceased parents in the netherworld to suffer less. The neighbors saw this and realized the great utility of paper money, so each of them paid to buy the paper Cai Mo made. News spread, and within a few days, all the paper at Cai Mo’s house was sold out. Since Hui Niang returned to the living on the fifteenth day of the seventh lunar month, people have burned incense and paper money for their ancestors on this day ever since. This custom has been passed down to the present day.