Dao Qi Wu Zang Guan Guan: I became a Daoist Master in the 1990s

Chapter 12 Qingyang Ghost Stories
After the ritual was completed, Xuanjizi brushed the dust off his Taoist robe, which fell in a flurry and mixed into the damp mud of the new grave.

He looked up at the sky; the sun was high in the sky, and the mist in the mountains and fields had dissipated, revealing the barren back of the mountain.

"Since you have nowhere to go, then follow this old Taoist priest."

Even if the food is coarse, you won't starve.

Qi Yun felt relieved and nodded hurriedly: "Thank you for taking me in, Abbot! Qi Yun is willing to serve you."

"Hmm." Xuanjizi said nothing more, slung his satchel over his shoulder, and started walking.

The road was winding, and the gravel was hard to walk on.

Qi Yun followed closely and asked, "Master, where are we going?"

"Qingyang," the old Taoist priest uttered, his steps unwavering.

Outside Qingyang Prefecture, along the hundred-mile-long official road, the rammed earth road, worn smooth by cart tracks, horse hooves, and countless straw sandals, resembled a long, lifeless worm exposed to the sun.

A gust of wind swept through, raising dry dust that swirled and then fell back down. Occasionally, a withered tree could be seen by the roadside, its branches outstretched, reaching towards the pale blue sky. The surrounding fields were empty, save for the mournful sound of the wind, which sent chills down one's spine.

There was an inn standing by the roadside.

The mud-brick walls and thatched roof, weathered by time, have long lost their structure and lean precariously, as if the next gust of wind could blow them apart.

The signboard was so tattered that only half of it remained, with the character "安" (an, meaning peace) barely discernible, trembling in the wind.

The doors and windows were rotten, and the straw paper used to cover the windows was yellowish-black and tattered, with gaps and dark holes, like eye sockets without eyeballs.

The area in front of the gate was deserted, the horse and carriage post were empty, and the stone trough was filled with murky rainwater and covered with green moss.

A skinny stray dog ​​was scavenging for food in the corner. When it saw people coming, it tucked its tail between its legs and ran away, leaving only a few shallow paw prints and a faint smell of decay.

This is the "Peaceful Inn". The name is good, but the world is not peaceful and there are few people on the road, so business has lost its vitality.

The shop is run by an elderly couple.

The old man's surname was Wang. He was thin, with deep wrinkles on his face, and always hunched over.

The old woman's surname was Li. She was taciturn, with cloudy eyes and calluses on her hands so thick they could be used to sharpen knives.

Life became increasingly difficult, with bandits and soldiers as numerous as combs and tax collectors as numerous as hairpins, and fewer and fewer merchants passing through each year.

The elderly couple guarded this dilapidated inn, much like guarding a dry well, unable to dredge up even a few copper coins.

They spent the night calculating how they were almost starving, so they decided to make do with the winter, close the run-down shop, and go back to Qingyang Prefecture to find a relative to live under. That would be better than starving to death on this desolate road.

At midday that day, the sun was scorching.

At the end of the official road, a figure walked in from afar.

As they got closer, they could see that it was a woman.

She was dressed in a blue cloth robe, which covered her up completely, but it couldn't hide her slender figure.

Her head was wrapped in a cloth of the same color, with a few strands of black hair hanging down. Her face was extremely beautiful, with exquisite features and dazzlingly white skin, but her lips were pale.

She walks lightly, as if stepping on cotton, without making a sound.

Old Wang was dozing at the door when he was startled awake by the bright light.

He rubbed his old eyes and quickly put on a smile: "Sir, are you here for a bite or to stay the night? Come in, have a drink of water, and rest your feet?"

The woman looked up at him; her eyes were dark and unfathomable. She nodded slightly, said nothing, and went straight into the house.

The room was darker than the outside, and there was a musty smell mixed with an earthy odor.

She picked a reasonably clean bench and sat down, still remaining silent.

Old Wang asked solicitously, "What would you like to eat, sir? We have steamed buns ready, and we can also cook a bowl of vegetarian noodles on the stove." The woman shook her head, only extending a slender, white finger to point at the chipped rough earthenware bowl on the table.

The old man understood and hurriedly went to the kitchen to scoop out a bowl of cold water.

The woman took it, held it in her hands, but did not drink it. She just lowered her eyes and looked at the ripples in the water in the bowl.

The old woman busied herself in the kitchen for a while, then brought out a bowl of steaming hot vegetarian noodles, sprinkling a few chopped green onions on top.

The noodles were placed in front of the woman, and their aroma wafted through the air.

The woman didn't even lift her eyelids.

The noodles gradually clumped together, and the steam dissipated. The old woman wanted to speak several times, but seeing the old man's expression, she swallowed her words.

The old man was puzzled: this woman was strange.

As the sun began to set, the woman asked for a room. It was the innermost room, small and dark, containing only a wooden bed, a table, and a stool.

The old woman carried over a worn-out thin quilt, but the woman remained silent. As night fell, the wind in the wilderness grew stronger, making the doors and windows creak and groan like ghostly wails.

The elderly couple blew out the oil lamp in the main room early and squeezed into the narrow side room to rest.

The old man slept in the lobby, ready to serve guests traveling at night.

Although no one has come for several days in a row, these things still need to be done since we've opened an inn.

The old woman was sleeping alone in the house, but she tossed and turned, feeling inexplicably uneasy.

I don't know how much time passed before I was suddenly jolted awake in a daze, half asleep and half asleep!
I suddenly felt my heart start pounding, and the palpitations became more severe, accompanied by a sharp, stabbing pain.

The old woman sat up abruptly, enduring the sudden heartache. Fortunately, the heartache came and went quickly, disappearing without a trace in a moment. At this moment, her inner clothes were soaked with cold sweat.

The side room was pitch black, with only the howling wind outside the window.

After all that commotion, I couldn't fall back asleep. I put on my clothes and shakily got out of bed.

The lobby was pitch black and deathly silent.

Old Wang, who should have been sleeping on the table to accommodate overnight guests, found his bed completely empty.

She held onto the wall and slowly made her way to the innermost guest room.

The closer I got, the heavier my heart became. There seemed to be a faint... fishy smell in the air?
Finally, I reached the thin wooden door.

There was no light inside.

But a very strange sound clearly penetrated her ears through the door!
"Crack...creak...gurgle..."

It felt like something was gnawing at it, tearing at the tough muscles with force, accompanied by greedy swallowing sounds.

It was like a starving wild dog greedily chewing on a bone, making a crunching sound that made your teeth ache.

The sound was amplified infinitely in the deathly silence of the night.

The door was ajar, with only a narrow crack left!
The old woman trembled like a leaf in the wind, gripped by a huge, ominous premonition.

She instinctively wanted to escape, but was worried about her husband's condition.

As if possessed, she trembled and slowly, very slowly, brought one of her cloudy old eyes closer to the crack in the door…

It was dark inside.

But by the faint moonlight filtering in through the window, she could see the direction of the bed.

The moonlight outlined a crouching figure from behind—it was the woman!
Her whole body was pressed down on the dilapidated wooden bed, her shoulders heaving and her head buried deep in the ground!
"Crunch...crunch..." That chilling chewing and swallowing sound came from there!

A strong, cloying, rusty, bloody smell suddenly rushed into the old woman's nostrils!

Her gaze shifted downwards, and in the dim light, she saw dark red, viscous blood dripping continuously from the edge of the bed, pooling on the cold floor beneath it, forming a small puddle!

at this time.

The woman lying on the bed suddenly stopped chewing!
Then, in an extremely stiff and bizarre posture, her head began to slowly, little by little, turn backward!

First came the jet-black top of her hair, then her pale profile, and finally, her entire face turned completely toward the crack in the door!

The moonlight illuminated her face perfectly.

That once stunningly beautiful face was now covered in thick, dark red blood and bits of flesh!
His mouth split open like it was being torn apart, revealing his gleaming white teeth stained with bits of scarlet flesh!
Her eyes were wide open, the pupils flashing an inhuman, eerie green light in the darkness, piercing through the darkness of the crack in the door and fixing with absolute precision on the old woman's terrified eyes!
Eye to eye!

"Hah—!" The old woman finally managed to squeeze out a short, off-key gasp, her soul seemingly leaving her body!
Everything went black, and he fell straight backward, his head hitting the cold, hard ground hard with a thud, and then he was completely silent.

The dilapidated inn was completely silent.

Only the wind howled, like the wailing of ghosts, clinging to the cracks of that blood-stained door.

The tall, earthen-yellow city walls of Qingyang Prefecture can be seen in the distance.

Not far outside the city gate, on the official road, came two figures, one old and one young!
The old man had a face etched with the deep lines of time, and his hair and beard were as white as withered grass.

His Taoist robe was faded from washing, old and tattered, patched upon patched, with coarse stitches.

He carried a worn-out old satchel on his back and leaned on a smooth wooden stick in his hand.

The young man was also wearing a worn-out, loose-fitting blue Taoist robe.

Her face was fair, her fingers were slender, and her eyes still held a hint of youthful innocence.

But with his short hair, he looked exactly like a monk who had just left the monastic life.

On the way, I kept looking around curiously!
The old man and the young boy soon mingled with the crowd and lined up to enter the city.

(End of this chapter)