Sun Taibai’s great-grandfather, in his youth, studied at the Liugou Temple in the Southern Mountain. That autumn, during the busy harvest, he returned home to help reap the wheat. After toiling for more than ten days straight, he finally returned to the temple.

Upon reaching his quarters, the old gentleman pushed open the door only to find the wooden table coated in dust and the window heavily draped with cobwebs. He immediately ordered his servant to clean and clear everything out. It wasn't until evening that the room felt fresh and satisfactory. He then retired to rest, swept the sleeping mat, spread the bedding, closed the door, and went to sleep.

The moon filled the window, and a profound silence enveloped the surroundings. The old gentleman tossed and turned, unable to sleep. Suddenly, the wind howled, and the distant mountain gate groaned loudly. He thought to himself, "Perhaps the monks were careless and forgot to lock the gate."

As he pondered this, a gust of mountain wind whipped up outside, accompanied by a booming sound. The room door was violently scraped open, and a fierce gale rushed in, piercing his skin and chilling him to the bone. Shivering involuntarily, he was filled with suspicion. Immediately following this, a rhythmic thudding—bang, bang, bang—echoed from the floor, as if someone were entering the bedroom.

The old gentleman forced himself to remain calm, opening his eyes to peer through the moonlight: a hideous, ferocious ghost was bending over and pacing, slowly approaching the bedside. Reaching the mat, the ghoul straightened up. He was monstrously large, his head nearly brushing the roof beams, towering no less than three meters high. His face resembled old, withered leather, his eyes darted about, flickering as he surveyed the room. A cavernous, bloody mouth opened, revealing sparse, three-inch-long teeth. His throat rumbled as he let out a mournful howl, a sound so piercing it echoed across the wilderness, shaking the tables and chairs until dust rained down from the rafters.

The old gentleman’s heart hammered in fear. He wondered, "Where has such a monster come from?"

The famished spirit roared for a while before slowly quieting down, fixing an intense stare upon Master Song. He licked his lips, his tongue sweeping around, and saliva streamed out, drop by drop, hitting the floor. The old gentleman thought, "This hungry ghost is drooling just looking at me; he most likely intends to make me his midnight snack. The room is small; how can I escape? Death is certain either way, so I must fight back." He subtly reached under the pillow, drawing out a sheathed sabre, and with a swift, powerful swing of his right hand, he brought it down hard onto the demon's belly. The sound was dull and heavy, like striking stone. The spot where the blade landed was incredibly hard, sending a numbing vibration up his arm, much to his shock.

Struck, the hungry ghost was filled with uncontrollable rage. He stretched out two gigantic claws to grab Master Song. The old gentleman was quick, rolling swiftly to the side of the bed to evade the attack. Missing its target, the demon became even more enraged. It grabbed the quilt, tearing and ripping it to shreds, snatched half of the ruined bedding, and left in fury, the sound of the door slamming shut echoing behind it with a loud thud.

The old gentleman tumbled down along with the remnants of the quilt, his back slamming hard against the cold brick floor. The pain was so intense that his brow furrowed tightly, and he began to cry out loudly. His wails were so clear that they woke the entire household of servants.

The servants lit lanterns and grabbed torches, rushing to investigate. As they approached the house, they shouted toward the door, "Open up! Open up!"

The old gentleman's body was weak and limp; he could not move, only weep. How could he find the strength to open the door? When the servants received no reply after several calls, they grew frantic. Working together clumsily, they pushed open the window and climbed into the room one by one.

Under the flickering light, they saw Master Song disheveled and utterly distraught. They quickly helped him onto the resting pallet and asked what had happened.

The old gentleman told them the truth. Everyone was astonished and bewildered. They immediately inspected the surroundings. Between the door crack, they found half of the cotton quilt, tattered and utterly ruined; the door panel was covered in claw marks, each as large as a winnowing basket. Wherever the demon's fingertips had passed, they had pierced the wood, leaving one hole after another.

Having encountered a ghost in the middle of the night, the old gentleman was terrified beyond measure. He dared not linger at the temple any longer. As soon as dawn broke the next day, he hastily took his leave.