Dongzi scrambled up the mountain, meticulously observing every corner of his path. Normally, there were two trails leading up Maotou Mountain, but both converged at a spot near the summit, where a faint, almost hidden side path branched off. Following this small diversion, a tiny mountain god temple immediately drew Dongzi’s attention.

The shrine was barely a meter square, clearly erected by some pious believers who had donated funds for its construction. Inside, only a single tablet was enshrined, bearing the inscription: “Mountain God!”

In front of the tablet stood a slightly elevated concrete platform. At its center rested an incense burner, flanked on either side by offerings of fruit and pastries.

Dongzi examined the little temple thoroughly: facing south with its back to the north, no detail missed. Furthermore, the grounds surrounding the shrine were kept impeccably clean, and the structure itself showed no signs of vandalism. Dongzi scratched his head, deep in thought. He committed the temple's exact appearance to memory, then retraced his steps, returning to the main path and ascending to the peak. Standing at the summit and looking down upon the mountain god temple, Dongzi had a sudden epiphany. He immediately descended again, taking the alternate route.

In moments, Dongzi was back beside Zhou Huan, who was currently playing with a child who looked no older than two, the child’s parents watching nearby.

“Brother, I saw it clearly. The feng shui of this mountain has been broken!” Dongzi murmured, leaning close to Zhou Huan’s ear as he spoke.

Zhou Huan gently pulled Dongzi aside to sit with him. “Then tell me, on what basis do you claim this mountain’s feng shui is ruined?”

Dongzi paused, then stated seriously, “The mountain’s geographical position was originally excellent; the terrestrial energy (d) is incredibly strong, causing the rock formations to grow quickly yet remain solid. However, on the path, I encountered a temple dedicated to the Mountain God.”

“Oh? There really is a temple there? Continue,” Zhou Huan prompted.

“At first, seeing the temple raised no alarm, but it wasn’t until I reached the summit that I realized it. A specific protrusion of rock on the peak stands directly over the ridge of the mountain god temple, blocking the sunlight and suppressing the shrine’s spiritual energy (língqì).” Dongzi explained his reasoning with precise confidence.

Zhou Huan smiled faintly. “Dongzi, your analysis concerned the mountain’s feng shui. But did you find anything related to Old Master Sun’s grandson?”

“That… I don’t know. That was the only feature on the whole mountain that seemed significant. As for whether it influences gui mei (ghosts and specters), I couldn’t tell.”

Zhou Huan smiled inwardly, clasping his hands behind his back, pacing slowly. “Dongzi, you’ve improved rapidly. I am truly impressed! But you missed one point, the final and most crucial aspect for us Shou Shi (Mortuary Masters). Remember, we examine feng shui primarily to see if it is suitable for the haunting of gui mei. For us, it’s sometimes just an auxiliary tool. You said the mountain god temple has bad feng shui; that means the Mountain God’s influence there is failing, allowing gui mei to move without hindrance.”

Dongzi leaned in close. “Brother, I’ve noted that. But I truly can’t see if there are gui mei here or not.”

“There are plenty of gui mei. If you wish to see them, just hold the thought in your mind, and when you look again, you’ll see them.” As he spoke, Zhou Huan secretly pulled a talisman paper from his pocket and carefully affixed it to Dongzi’s forehead.

Dongzi reached up to touch the paper, then rubbed his eyes. When he opened them, the park square was suddenly crowded with many figures. Some were instantly recognizable as gui mei—their vacant stares, hazy expressions, and the dragging quality of their steps. “Brother, I really can see them!”

“Good. Now wipe your forehead and shout ‘Close’!”

Dongzi obeyed. Instantly, all the specters he had just seen vanished without a trace. “Brother, how do I use this trick?”

“Examine the talisman in your hand. When we return, study how to draw it!”

The master and apprentice walked around the park once more, taking little time, before Zhou Huan drove them towards Old Master Sun’s residence.

As soon as Zhou Huan entered the door, Sun’s housekeeper rushed toward him in a panic. The woman was drenched in cold sweat, her hands trembling as she pointed toward the second floor. “Master Zhou, you’re back! The Old Master and Mr. Wang are both stunned senseless. Please go see quickly!”

“Calm down first. Tell me what’s happening in the house, and keep your voice down!” Zhou Huan leaned forward.

“Master Zhou, the young master’s body… his body is splitting open! None of us dare look. And… you better see for yourself!” With that, the housekeeper fled the hall with all the speed she could muster.

Zhou Huan surveyed the opulent house once more. “Dongzi, use the Ghost-Repelling Talismans (Bi Gui Fu) and stick them in every corner. I’ll go up first!”

“Got it! Watch my Dongzi Original, the Super Grand Talisman!” Zhou Huan glanced back to see Dongzi had drawn a massive talisman on a sheet of paper large enough to cover an entire wall—he wondered when the boy had managed to procure such a large sheet. Ignoring it, Zhou Huan hurried upstairs.

Entering the room at the end of the corridor, Zhou Huan froze. Old Master Sun was biting his own hand repeatedly, his clothes soaked with sweat, his shriveled, failing body shivering violently. Old Mr. Wang stood stupidly by the window. Hearing Zhou Huan’s footsteps, he slowly turned his head and pointed with his wrinkled hand toward the deceased lying on the bed.

Zhou Huan focused his gaze. The bloody markings on Old Master Sun’s grandson’s body were beginning to branch out, each fork splitting irregularly. Zhou Huan cautiously approached the corpse.

Suddenly, the corpse shifted slightly, perhaps disturbed by the faint vibration of Zhou Huan’s steps.

Rumble, rumble. From the fissure around the corpse’s neck, a stream of black blood slowly began to seep out. Then, the head, following the direction Zhou Huan had walked from, rolled onto the floor with a sickening thud. The eyes, now detached, stared blankly up at Zhou Huan.

Zhou Huan frowned deeply. He bent down, picking up the severed head. “Rest assured,” he murmured, “I will give you satisfaction.” Then, Zhou Huan reattached the head. The moment his hands touched the body, all the fissures on the torso snapped apart. The entire corpse disintegrated into four sections, each tear line mirroring the strange, irregular patterns Zhou Huan had observed earlier.

Just then, Dongzi came bouncing into the room, intending to say something, but upon seeing the state of the corpse, he immediately turned, sprinted to the corridor, threw open a window, and began to vomit everything he had eaten that morning.

Zhou Huan patiently began piecing the separated remains of the body back together. Afterward, he covered the corpse with the white cloth he had brought, sprinkled gold dust across the fabric, and used his finger to draw intricate runes in the powder.

“Old Master Sun, Mr. Wang, let’s leave for now. No one is to enter this room until my next visit. I need time; this matter is extremely complicated,” Zhou Huan stated his assessment and demands.

Old Master Sun and Old Mr. Wang were too shaken to reply; they merely nodded repeatedly, looking utterly lost. With a sigh, Zhou Huan helped the two old men out of the room and escorted them to the lounge downstairs.

After making arrangements with Master Sun’s security and the household staff, Zhou Huan drove toward Fushou Hall. All the way, Zhou Huan’s mind raced with patterns. These fissure patterns bore a resemblance to the markings on the small coffin, yet they were distinct. Could they be a form of writing?

Zhou Huan parked the car, and he and Dongzi hurried back to Fushou Hall. Zhou Huan unconsciously walked toward the offering altar, naturally looking at the small coffin while simultaneously picturing the patterns in his mind.

“What? Where are the coffin and the infant?” A chill ran down Zhou Huan’s scalp. This was his own territory. How could two vital objects be missing? Who had the key? Certainly not a common thief. These were items for the deceased; what would a thief want? Moreover, there were no signs of forced entry.

Zhou Huan looked momentarily dazed, unable to process this turn of events. Dongzi grew tense too. “Brother, did they grow legs? I’ll search again, don’t panic!”

What truly frightened Zhou Huan wasn’t the missing objects, but the power behind their disappearance. He surmised that the force involved must be formidable to steal two items from the heavily protected Fushou Hall, which was covered in talismans. This, he realized, was likely the key to understanding the entire incident.

Zhou Huan settled into deep thought, slowly taking a seat in the main hall chair and picking up a teacup from the table. “Dongzi, lock the door tight. You should go to sleep.”

“Brother, if you aren’t sleeping, I’ll stay here with you. I won’t sleep until you do, or I won’t be comfortable either!”

Zhou Huan felt a small measure of solace. He gave Dongzi a slight smile, then leaned his head back against the chair as if utterly drained, letting out a long, slow breath.

At that moment, Fushou Hall was deathly silent. Dongzi dared not even draw a deep breath, fearful of shattering the unusual quiet. Zhou Huan’s breathing was light as silk, but his mind was a storm of activity. He desperately tried to recall some scene from a past life, but no matter how hard he searched, something always felt missing, yet the situation felt strangely familiar.

Outside, the sky grew deep and dark. The wind howled intermittently, whipping the roadside branches into a rustling chorus. The rolling iron door of Fushou Hall creaked under the gusts.

Dongzi could bear the silence no longer. Zhou Huan had been motionless for over an hour. “Brother, perhaps you should rest. Tomorrow at dawn, we can go over everything again. Afterwards, I’ll call Tian Xiong and urge him to hurry to Mount Wutai.”

“No need. You go rest. I need to think a while longer. This has to be resolved, and the sooner, the better.” Zhou Huan finally lifted his head, slowly dragging his body, which felt as heavy as a millstone. He picked up his phone, yet wasn't sure who to call.

At that very instant, Zhou Huan’s cell phone began to ring…

“Master Zhou? I am truly sorry to disturb you so late, but if you have time, I have something I’d like you to see. I suspect it might be the very thing you most want to see right now!”

This single sentence made Zhou Huan’s eyes light up. He dropped all his previous worries, slung his bag over his shoulder, and turned to leave immediately.