The blossoms opened in pairs, each telling its own story. Meanwhile, Granny Fan, seizing her full potential—or perhaps I should say, displaying her formidable powers—had resolved several haunted affairs over the span of two or three days. But the next development utterly stunned everyone once again. Why? The dam was nearly complete, yet the river water dwindled alarmingly. What began as wide as ten feet soon shrank to one, and the fields began to crack like dried earth; no amount of irrigation could save the seedlings that withered away. Even stranger, when clouds finally gathered, they would dissipate the moment they drifted over Xiushui Village, vanishing without a trace. Village Head Tian paced nervously day and night, contemplating personally heading to the town to summon the army to deploy anti-aircraft artillery for artificial rain. But artificial rain requires clouds, and with the sky utterly clear, where would he aim the cannon?

The lack of water—a problem that had previously seemed light-years away—now cast a shadow of worry over the villagers. Young Master Liu suddenly recalled a line from an ancient book he possessed: "When a Hanba appears, a thousand miles turn to barren ground!" This antique text wasn't his father’s or grandfather’s; it was Granny Fan’s gift upon his apprenticeship. Titled Zhengyi Fu Zuan, it was dense with classical language, much of which he couldn't decipher, but it contained countless peculiar things that delighted a young mind. Thus, Young Master Liu had spent many recent days engrossed in it, at times reading it without pause. Within this Zhengyi Fu Zuan was a record of the malevolent entity known as the ‘Hanba.’

The so-called ‘Hanba’ was essentially a specific type of vampire or zombie (jiangshi). Wherever a ‘Hanba’ manifested, a severe drought would follow, bringing not a single drop of rain. To trace the origins of the ‘Hanba,’ one must go back to the Age of Antiquity. In popular legend, the first ‘Hanba’ likely appeared during the grand and brutal war between the Yellow Emperor and Chi You, a conflict involving both gods and mortals.

All available forces were deployed. Chi You’s brothers possessed innate divine strength, bronze heads, and iron bones, capable of commanding ferocious beasts, venomous insects, and malevolent spirits. The Yellow Emperor’s side led with the Lords of Wind and Rain, marshaling heavenly and earthly spirits. (The icon for 'rain' in the Taoist Zhengyi ritual altar talismans remains in use to this day.) Most fearsomely, Xuanyuan (the Yellow Emperor) actually requested aid from Hanba—zombies transformed from foreign lands. The mythical Hanba possessed a hideous visage: bulging green eyes atop its head, hair composed of writhing snakes, and a body covered in coarse white bristles, wielding infinite power. Wherever the ‘Hanba’ strode, rain ceased entirely, often leading to three years of devastating drought, turning a thousand miles barren, causing all living things to perish from thirst.

But legends are just that—legends. Real jiangshi are not quite so exaggerated. The most prevalent tales concerning jiangshi involve the corpse driving of Xiangxi (Western Hunan). Known also as Yiling (Guiding Spirits), Zouying (Shadow Walking), or Zoushi (Walking Corpses), this practice belongs to the Zhu You branch of Maoshan arts, originating in the four counties of Yuanling, Luxi, Chenxi, and Xupu in Xiangxi. Because these regions are mostly mountainous and difficult for vehicles to traverse, the profession of corpse driving arose—a sorcerer would guide a corpse, usually before decomposition set in, back to its ancestral home for burial.

The corpses they drove were categorized as ‘walking corpses.’ The corpse drivers were known as ‘Corpse Drivers’ (Ganshijian). Typically, before dawn, they would herd the bodies toward the local hospice (Yizhuang) or a designated small inn. The methods of driving were numerous and bizarre: floating corpses, carried corpses, flying corpses, and even jar corpses, creating unbelievable and terrifying legends about zombies.

The bodies were usually draped in large, black burial shrouds, topped with tall felt hats. Several yellow papers inscribed with talismans were pressed onto their foreheads, dangling over their faces. Leading this procession was a Corpse Driver wielding a small copper gong. The driver would walk ahead, rhythmically striking the small, somber gong while leading the line of corpses, often chanting: "Dust returns to dust, earth to earth, life’s toil is long indeed. Jiangshi, Jiangshi, follow me, return swiftly to your hometown and the netherworld."

The Corpse Driver would carry no lantern, instead shaking a soul-reaping bell to warn night travelers away and signal dog owners to restrain their animals. If there were two or more corpses, the driver would string them together with hemp ropes, spacing them about seven or eight feet apart. Another theory suggests the Corpse Driver’s ability stemmed from a specific Xiangxi herb applied to the mouth and nose of a corpse in the intermediate state (Zhongyinshen), allowing it to walk normally at night, though unable to speak or think, obediently following the driver’s commands.

In Xiangxi folklore, corpse driving has been a profession since ancient times, requiring two fundamental prerequisites for apprenticeship: immense courage and robust health. Furthermore, one must formally apprentice under a master. Corpse Drivers did not accept pupils casually. The family first had to sign a written agreement, after which the potential apprentice underwent an interview. Generally, they needed to be over sixteen, taller than 1.7 meters, and possess one peculiar requirement: they had to be somewhat ugly. The master would first instruct the applicant to stare at the sun overhead, spin around rapidly, and then stop abruptly, demanding they immediately identify North, South, East, and West. Failure to do so meant disqualification, as it suggested they would be unable to orient themselves while driving corpses at night. Next, the master required the applicant to carry loads. Since corpses are not living beings, they cannot climb steep inclines; the driver would have to carry or haul them up one by one. The final test was one of sheer nerve: the master would place a single paulownia leaf on a grave deep in the mountains and demand the applicant retrieve it alone under the cover of darkness. Passing this trial proved the requisite courage to become a Corpse Driver apprentice.

Moreover, a Corpse Driver had to master thirty-six techniques before they could begin the profession. The first was the ‘Corpse Standing Technique’—simply making the deceased stand upright. The second was the ‘Walking Technique,’ enabling the body to start and stop at will. The third was the ‘Turning Technique,’ allowing the corpse to navigate corners. These were followed by ‘Downward Slope Technique,’ ‘Bridge Crossing Technique,’ and the ‘Mute Dog Technique.’ The ‘Mute Dog Technique’ ensured that any dog encountered along the route would not bark at the corpse. This was crucial because the dead fear barking; if startled, the corpses might collapse, and lacking any defense, they could be mauled beyond recognition. The final skill was the ‘Soul Return Technique’; the better this technique, the more souls the corpse could retain, making the driving process smoother and more effortless.

When not on assignment, Corpse Drivers lived like ordinary farmers, working from sunrise to sunset. Only when a driving task was commissioned would they don their specific attire and depart. Despite practicing this trade, they held a strong taboo against using the term "corpse driving." Therefore, insiders requesting their services would say instead, "Master, please go and walk for a while," or "Take a walk." If the driver agreed, he would produce a specially prepared sheet of yellow paper, requiring the client to write down the deceased's name, date of birth, date of death, gender, and other details. He would then draw a talisman and affix it to this paper, which he would keep tucked against his person. The driver’s attire was distinct: regardless of the weather, he wore straw sandals, a long blue cloth gown, a black belt around his waist, a blue cloth cap, and carried a pouch of talismans. The first lesson a master taught an apprentice was how to draw talismans—peculiar symbols drawn with cinnabar ink on yellow paper, resembling a mixture of characters and pictures. In case of unforeseen trouble, these unique talismans would be hung westward on a tree or door, or sometimes ground into ash and swallowed with water.

Xiangxi corpse driving also adhered to the principle of "Three Driven, Three Not Driven." Those beheaded (provided the head and body were reattached), executed by hanging, or those who died in standing cages could be driven. The rationale was that they died unwillingly, yearning for home and family; their souls could be summoned by sorcery, pinned within their respective bodies by talismans, and compelled by magic to cross mountains and waters back to their homeland.

Those who died of illness, intentionally drowned or hanged themselves, or were killed by lightning or fire resulting in severe dismemberment could not be driven. For those dying of illness, their allotted lifespan had ended, and their souls had already been summoned by the Ghosts of Impermanence to the King of Hell. Magic could not recall their souls once they passed the Gates of Hell. Those who drowned or hanged themselves had their souls ‘substituted’ (meaning a stand-in was taken). Furthermore, they might be in the process of transition; summoning a new soul back might leave the old one without a replacement, interfering with its reincarnation. In the courts of the underworld, Yama strongly detests those who willingly waste their lives. Even if they committed no evil in life, he generally refuses to grant them immediate reincarnation, requiring them to wait until someone else dies by similar means before permission is granted. This could be a long process, leading some suicides’ ghosts to employ low-trickery, causing others to lose their sanity and take their own lives—a phenomenon known as ghosts seeking substitutes.

Additionally, those killed by lightning were believed to have committed grave sins, and those burned to death were often left incomplete. These could not be driven. This is understandable through the lens of Esoteric Buddhism: two types of people lack an intermediate state (Zhongyinshen) between death and rebirth—the great virtuous, whose souls ascend immediately to join the ranks of immortals, and the utterly wicked, whose souls drop straight to the eighteenth layer of hell to suffer endlessly. Those who die violently are usually experiencing the karmic retribution of past lives, rendering the sorcerer powerless.