Under One Person: The Taoist Priest Descends the Mountain

Inside the cave.

There is a dedicated kitchen, which is kept very clean.

Cheng Huihui prepared a lot of local specialties from the Changbai Mountain area, including both meat and vegetables—pheasant, rabbit, mushrooms, wild vegetables, and a fat fish.

Chef Cheng Mo, with the mice as his assistants.

To be honest, having a mouse cook is a rather eerie sight.

If a restaurant encounters a rat, it immediately labels the restaurant as unhygienic. But if the entire kitchen is full of rats, how unhygienic must it be?

But then, Xia He looked at the busy mice in the kitchen—

When washing vegetables, each leaf is turned over. Meat and vegetables are cut on separate cutting boards. The cutting boards are washed after each use. It's practically a model of a hygienic kitchen.

Xia He sidled up to Cheng Huihui: "Uncle-Master, your disciples and grand-disciples are truly amazing. This kitchen is cleaner than many restaurants."

Cheng Huihui grinned: "Hehehe, I'm quite good at teaching apprentices."

With the efforts of a group of mice, the meal was quickly prepared.

Dishes were served one after another: braised wild boar, stir-fried bracken, mushroom stewed chicken, cold bellflower salad, venison skewers, wild mountain vegetables with dipping sauce, and a steaming bowl of ginseng chicken soup.

Smelling the aroma, Cheng Huihui picked up a piece of bracken with her chopsticks, squinted her eyes, and looked on with enjoyment.

As he chewed, he suddenly felt a pang of jealousy: "Does Cheng Shou eat such delicious food every day?"

Cheng Mo was just bringing out the last dish when he heard this and said with a smile, "Master—well, you have to think about those first few years, Master didn't get to eat anything good either. Besides, I'm cooking for you now, so Master can't eat any of it."

Cheng Huihui was delighted, its tail wagging as it said, "That's true, hehe."

……

A residential community in Qinchuan County, Shaanxi Province.

Cheng Shou sat at the table, a bowl of noodles in front of him, slurping them down with relish.

Suddenly I sneezed.

He rubbed his nose, slurped another mouthful of noodles, and muttered to himself, "I wonder if that brat found anyone yet."

Under the table, the big yellow dog was gnawing on a bone from a bowl—the noodle soup was made from big bones. Cheng Shou ate noodles while the dog gnawed on bones; they were incredibly content.

Big Yellow accompanied us down the mountain, while Big Fox stayed alone and leisurely in the Taoist temple. When he felt like it, he could even go to the backyard to patrol the mountain for the chickens, ducks, and geese.

……

In a hospital ward in Fengtian.

Wang Weiguo stood by the bed, looking at his cousin lying on the hospital bed, his brows furrowed so deeply they could trap a fly.

My cousin, Wang Weimin, is in his early forties. He is the son of my second uncle. He is lying in a hospital bed with a flushed face, chapped lips, and shallow, rapid breathing.

Wang Weiguo turned to the doctor next to him and asked, "What's going on? Why won't the fever go down?"

The doctor, a man in his forties wearing glasses, also looked puzzled: "We've done all the tests and tried all the prescribed medications, but there's been no improvement. Perhaps... we could transfer him to a major hospital in Beijing?"

Wang Weiguo did not make a decision.

Wang Weimin came here to oversee a real estate project. Not long after, an accident occurred at the construction site, so he came to check on the situation. Just two days after he arrived, his cousin also fell ill with a high fever that had lasted for three days.

For some reason, Wang Weiguo thought of the two young men he had been practicing martial arts with.

Those two are clearly extraordinary; if only we could invite them to take a look…

But they're busy today, and I can't even get through to them on the phone.

If Wang Weiguo had known his cousin was in such a serious condition, he would have definitely called someone over this morning.

He sighed, turned to his deputy on the project, and asked, "Old Sun, are there any locals around here?"

The deputy was named Sun Desheng, who was in his forties and very quick-witted.

He leaned closer and asked, "Yes, the project managers for all three plots of land are locals."

Wang Weiguo: "Ask them about the situation, whether there are any special methods used locally."

Sun Desheng was taken aback: "You mean...?"

Wang Weiguo: "Anyway, it's not the hospital's approach."

Sun Desheng understood: "I'll go ask right away."

Sun Desheng left the ward and stood in the corridor for a while.

He was a perceptive man and understood that his boss meant he suspected something unclean was involved.

He turned around and called over three project managers, telling them to wait in the project office.

Half an hour later, Li Qiang returned to the project office, where three project managers were already waiting at the door.

"Hey guys, I need to ask you something." Sun Desheng offered a round of cigarettes. "Any Taoist priests or shamans around here? The kind who can tell fortunes?"

The three project managers looked at each other in bewilderment.

No, we've mentioned it several times before, but this guy kept talking about a "materialist worldview" and ended up giving them a lecture.

Why are you coming to me now?

However, all three of them were just employees, so they did whatever their boss told them to do.

One of them said, "Mr. Sun, there's a Shihuatang around here. The shamans there can settle things. Everyone in Fengtian knows the name of Granny Guan."

Li Qiang looked at the other two.

The other two nodded in agreement: "Yes, Shihuatang." "That's the only reliable one."

Sun Desheng asked for the address and told the three of them to go first.

After the three left, Li Qiang sat in the office for a while, then strolled back to the construction site.

Construction has stopped after the accident. There are only a few laborers cleaning up the trash and the old man who guards the site.

Sun Desheng walked up to the gatekeeper and asked cheerfully, "Old Zhao, have you eaten yet?"

The doorman, Old Zhao, was in his fifties, thin and frail, and was drinking tea from an enamel mug. Upon seeing the high-ranking leader, he quickly stood up: "I've had my tea. Mr. Sun, what brings you here?"

Sun Desheng offered him a cigarette: "I just wanted to ask you something. You said several things have happened at our construction site recently, is it possible... that something dirty is causing the problems?"

"Of course, let me tell you, Mr. Sun, this matter is really strange." Old Zhao took the cigarette, lit it, took a puff, and lowered his voice.

"The place where the worker fell used to be an old cemetery, and it wasn't cleaned properly when the graves were leveled. I told the project manager a long time ago that we needed to get someone to take a look, but he wouldn't listen, saying we had to trust science. And what happened? This is what happened."

Sun Desheng nodded, then asked, "Do you know anyone in this area who can settle these kinds of things?"

Old Zhao slapped his thigh: "That must be Grandma Guan's Shihua Hall! Mr. Sun, you don't know, I suffered a lot when I was a child. I was covered in sores, and the hospital couldn't cure me. It was my father who carried me to Grandma Guan's, and she cured me."

He paused, then added, "However, it seems the old lady hasn't been practicing medicine much these past few years; it's been her disciples managing it."

Sun Desheng asked, "Do you know where that Shihua Hall is?"

Old Zhao puffed out his chest: "Absolutely, I could find it with my eyes closed."

Sun Desheng threw away his cigarette butt: "Then you take me there."

Old Zhao was stunned: "Huh? Um, Mr. Sun, I have to guard the gate."

Sun Desheng waved his hand: "I'll have someone cover for you, I have more important things to do here."

As for why he didn't ask those project managers to guide him—those guys might have some shady dealings with the sorcerer, otherwise why would he have asked him to hire someone to read the books before? They were clearly trying to skim some money. If the big boss hadn't specifically mentioned it, he would have gone back to Beijing to find the fortune teller again.

Old Zhao thought for a long time, then ran to call the worker who was cleaning up over there: "Old Wang, can you cover for me for a while? I'll take the supervisor to find someone and get your work hours recorded."

When Lao Wang heard that he could get paid without doing any work, he naturally agreed and said with a smile, "Lao Zhao, you'd better get busy and not keep the boss waiting."

Old Zhao turned around, and Sun Desheng led him into the car and headed to Shihuatang.

Your one-stop haven for novel reading.