With virtue

Chapter 65 The Bizarre Curse of Witchcraft (Seeking first subscriptions! Available for purchase! Extra chapter today!)

Outside the City God Temple, Zhao Yunshu was somewhat taken aback by what the underworld officials had said.

Huh? Is that so?

Who's got the time or inclination to go and suppress a corpse? Are they crazy?

Thinking of this, Zhao Yunshu turned around with a headache, looking at the souls of the dead who were blocked outside the door.

These wandering souls, already bewildered because they couldn't be reincarnated, all raised their heads and stared at the young Taoist priest as he looked at them.

Dozens of ghosts, men and women, old and young, some with white hair and beards, some still in swaddling clothes, all had one thing in common: they were all dressed in tattered clothes and had sallow and emaciated faces.

This is only natural.

The term "poor ghost" comes from the fact that most wandering ghosts in the world are poor.

The reason is not hard to understand. In wealthy families, when someone dies, they invite monks or Taoists to perform rituals and choose an auspicious burial site in advance so that the deceased can rest in peace. How could such a person become a wandering ghost?

Only these poor people, who are hungry and cold when they are alive, are nothing more than corpses on the roadside when they die, with no one to collect their bodies and their souls having nowhere to go. If they are lucky, they will be found by the underworld officials and taken away to be reincarnated; if they are unlucky, they will just endure day after day in this desolate wilderness, waiting for the imperial court to hold a mass funeral for them.

These ghosts are incredibly unlucky; they've even been suppressed! And the imperial court is gone too!

"Officer," Zhao Yunshu said, no longer looking at the group of wandering ghosts, but addressing the underworld official, "You say this is something the underworld can't handle. But I'm a living person. If I were to find their bodies and break down all the spells that suppress them, wouldn't they be able to reincarnate?"

Upon hearing this, the underworld official's pale face showed a hint of emotion, and he quickly cupped his hands and said, "Of course! Once the spell on the corpse is broken, the soul will no longer be restrained. At that time, we can bring it into the temple and deal with it as usual. The Taoist priest is truly kind-hearted and has performed immeasurable good deeds. If the City God knew, he would surely remember the Taoist priest's merit!"

Zhao Yunshu waved his hand and said, "It's alright. I'm just idling around anyway. It's only a few dozen people, so I might as well make the trip."

As he spoke, he walked down the steps.

"You were all unfortunate people in life, and you still have to suffer this after death. It is against the natural order. Since I have encountered this matter, there is no reason for me to stand idly by."

Before he could finish speaking, a whole group of people below had already knelt down.

"Master, please have mercy!"

"I have no way to repay you, so I will gladly serve you as my ox or horse in the next life!"

An elderly woman with gray hair trembled as she kowtowed, choking back tears, and said, "This old woman has been dead for three months, and I can't even find a way to appear in a dream. My children and grandchildren probably don't even know where I'm buried. I beg the Taoist master to have mercy and let this old woman be reincarnated as soon as possible."

Go on, stop dragging this on in limbo!

Beside her, a younger woman held a baby tightly in her arms. The baby had also died recently, and its soul had not yet fully developed. The baby was curled up in its mother's arms, whimpering softly, its voice as delicate as a kitten's.

The woman was in tears, kowtowing repeatedly, but choked up and could not speak. The baby's soul was still unaware, clinging to its mother.

There was also a gaunt old man kneeling on the ground, bowing to Zhao Yunshu: "I have lived for over sixty years and never done a wrong thing. Even in my final moments, I cannot die in peace. Thank you for your mercy, Daoist Master!"

In an instant, the audience burst into sobs, but this time, the cries were not filled with grief, but rather with a hint of hope for a way out of a desperate situation.

Having made the promise, the young Taoist priest took out his talisman-drawing paper and pen and went to ask each of them where they had died.

Some of the ghosts were newly deceased, and they remembered the location very clearly, so the young Taoist priest wrote it down.

Some of them are old ghosts who have lived for many years and don't even know how they died. They only have a vague memory of what happened. The young Taoist priest helps them deduce the truth. Anyway, they came from this place and can't go anywhere else.

After tidying up a few sheets of paper, he tightened his bundle, waved to the group of wandering ghosts, and said, "I'll go first, you wait here for a moment."

Naturally, there was another wave of gratitude.

The young Taoist priest didn't care and quickly set off.

Zhao Yunshu, carrying several sheets of paper filled with addresses, left the City God Temple that very night.

These souls came from different places; some died beside the official road, some in the ruins of deserted villages, and some by the streams, scattered across the area about ten miles west of Dingzhou City.

He checked the notes on the paper, discerned the direction under the moonlight, and then strode off.

The first ghost was an old woman who died on a barren slope.

Based on the old woman's vague memories, Zhao Yunshu searched the slope for a long time and finally found a set of dried-up bones under a thicket of thorns.

The skeleton was curled up on the ground, with a peach wood stake driven into its chest. The stake was covered with various runes and was driven directly into the ground. A ring of dark red powder, which was cinnabar mixed with black dog blood, was sprinkled around the burial site.

Zhao Yunshu squatted down, examined it for a moment, and chuckled, "Heh, peach wood nails to the soul, cinnabar to block the path, this is going to trap a person's soul alive inside the corpse."

Having discerned the method, he said little. He made a hand seal with his left hand and grasped the peach wood stake with his right. He channeled his inner fire energy into his palm, and with a muffled hissing sound, the peach wood stake burst into flames from the inside out. Before long, it turned into a piece of charred wood and shattered into several pieces.

The second place was where a middle-aged man died behind an abandoned post station next to the official road.

The remains were buried under a pile of rubble, with a soul-suppressing stone engraved with runes pressing on its forehead. The stone was no bigger than a large bowl. Zhao Yunshu used his iron sword to flip the stone over, and drew a cross on the runes with the tip of the sword. The runes were instantly broken, and the black energy dissipated.

The third place is where a couple, holding their child, died together under a dead tree. Three rusty iron nails were driven into their graves, arranged in a triangular shape, and hemp rope was wrapped around them.

Zhao Yunshu burned the hemp rope and pulled out the iron nail, thus ending the matter.

The same applies to the following places, though the methods vary.

Some of them had their mouths filled with talisman ash, sealing the mouths of the dead souls. Even in death, the souls could not express their grievances, nor could they ask the underworld officials for help. Zhao Yunshu did not mind the dirt and reached out to dig the talisman ash out of the mouths of the corpses.

Some had their eyes, ears, mouth, and nose stuffed up, their seven orifices filled with copper coins and jade fragments engraved with talismans, sealing the seven orifices of the deceased souls tightly.

There was also a young woman whose remains were buried in the silt by the stream. Her hands and feet were bound behind her back with hemp rope soaked in tung oil, and a string of rusted amulets was hanging from the knots.

The hemp rope, soaked in tung oil and submerged in muddy water for years, had hardened to the point of being as hard as iron. Zhao Yunshu shook his head as he untied it.

What kind of deep-seated hatred must there be to commit such a cruel act?

He worked tirelessly from the hour of Chou (1-3 AM) until dawn, searching and breaking things along the way. By the time the sky began to lighten, two marks had already been crossed out on the paper.

More than ten names.

Seeing that the progress was quite fast, Zhao Yunshu quickened his pace, because the next place was where more than a dozen refugees had died together.

If you break that spot, you can finish more than a dozen at once.

The place wasn't far from here, but the young Taoist priest didn't go quickly because he was being cautious.

There's something fishy about this.

As dawn breaks and the first light of day appears, the east begins to brighten.

The young Taoist priest slowed down his pace and rested for a while. He also took the opportunity to look at the yellow book in his hand. There was nothing new on it, just the original page, but now it seemed even more vivid.

Zhao Yunshu read that page and sighed with emotion.

"Lonely ghosts and wandering spirits".

First, there was a group portrait, painted with great realism. The main characters were not the powerful ghosts and monsters of the past. There were no ferocious ghost generals or beauties that were so eye-catching. There was only a simple ink painting with many ghostly figures in it. However, the ghostly figures were all blurry and had an indescribable sense of desolation.

The corpses were found in all sorts of ways: some lay supine on the road, others prone on the ground. Some were mothers and children who had died together, their bones intertwined. Some were old men leaning against trees, their flesh dry and withered. Some were men and women lying on the ground, their bellies sunken like cauldrons and their legs swollen like gourds. All these corpses had no coffins, but were covered with tattered mats and withered branches, exposed to the wild, where crows and sparrows pecked at them, and flies and maggots swarmed around them.

Sometimes, the paintings below are so vivid that they almost make one feel reluctant to look away.

Then there was a string of small words next to it, describing the ghosts and monsters in the picture:

After the decline of the Tang dynasty, the empire fell into chaos. From the Qianfu era onward, war broke out every year, and famine followed one after another. Countless people were forced to leave their homes and migrate. Some abandoned their fields and houses, sold their wives and children, and fled east and west for their lives; these were called refugees. Why did they leave their homes? Only because there was war ahead and pursuers behind. They had no food to eat and no clothes to wear. Six or seven out of ten collapsed on the road, exhausted. After collapsing, their bodies were exposed to the wind and sun, and sparrows pecked at their flesh. Their souls had nowhere to go and became lonely ghosts.

These people are born into poverty and die on the road. There is no coffin to cover their bodies, no monks or Taoists to guide their souls, no descendants to offer sacrifices, and no monument to record their names. Their three souls wander in the desolate wilderness, and their seven spirits are scattered in the cold moon and desolate wind. If they want to throw themselves into the Yellow Springs, they will lose their way. If they want to return to the world of the living, their bodies will have decayed.

"What did they do wrong? They died of poverty and starvation. What crime did they commit? They were born in a chaotic world."

Though the underworld is established, one cannot enter without knowing its gate; though reincarnation exists, one cannot reach it without knowing its path. One sees flowers blooming on the roadside, but not for that purpose; birds singing on the branches, but not for that purpose. Only day after day, year after year, bones lie exposed, flesh and bones scattered about—all these are the belonging of wandering, lonely ghosts.

Alas! Born as refugees, to die as lonely ghosts, what joy is there in life, what sorrow in death? If there were any benevolent and virtuous people who could collect their bones and free them from their wandering, their merit would be immeasurable.

This picture is not a visualization, nor does it have any special abilities or story; it only depicts a dead body.

Closing the book, Zhao Yunshu quickened her pace.

Despite his sighs of regret, he was also making plans along the way.

This matter is indeed a bit strange. He is usually very meticulous. Although he is not good at studying, he still likes to use his brain. He has already noticed the problem.

The twenty-odd souls just now, whether one or two, or a family, were scattered here and there. Although each had their own tragic circumstances, they could all be explained by the reason that "they had offended someone and were coveted by someone."

Everyone has a few enemies.

But the next place was filled with recently deceased refugees, more than a dozen of them, all lying on the roadside.

They all met on the road and came together from other places. They had no relatives or friends and were just traveling together to escape the disaster.

These refugees have no grudges against anyone, so who would come all the way to suppress their souls?

This is definitely not a personal grudge; the person who cast the spell has ulterior motives.

The young Taoist priest was cautious and didn't rush on his way. Instead, just as he was about to arrive, he found a tree by the roadside, jumped up to the top, and used the terrain to observe from afar.

The morning mist had not yet dissipated, still shrouding the depression ahead.

Looking down from above, he could see that at the bend of the official road, there was a patch of overgrown earthen slope. The slope provided shade, and it was likely that a group of refugees had gone there to rest when they were too tired to walk any further on the official road.

But after that rest, he never got up again.

Looking out from this spot, you can see more than a dozen corpses lying haphazardly down the slope, almost all of them rotting and emitting a foul stench, along with traces of wild dogs and crows.

This is where those refugees met their demise.

However, he frowned and discovered that there were quite a few signs of human intervention at the pile of corpses.

The dozen or so corpses were not randomly killed, but were dragged and arranged in a crooked circle, with their heads facing inwards and their feet facing outwards, like the spokes of a wheel, forming a circle.

In the very center of the group of corpses stood a wooden stake as thick as an arm, with several iron chains wrapped around it. Red ropes were tied to the chains, and a string of amulets covered in verdigris hung from the ropes.

Zhao Yunshu did not act rashly, but instead lay on the tree and observed for a while longer.

There was no one around, nor any sign of demons or ghosts. After flipping through the yellow book, no new ghosts or monsters appeared in the tree, which meant that there was nothing strange around.

He then jumped down from the tree, crouched low, and, using the grass for cover, crept closer.

The closer you get, the clearer you can see the details on the wooden stake; the stake is covered with soul-suppressing incantations.

He crouched down and picked up a pinch of soil with his fingertips. The soil was mixed with dark red powder, which was cinnabar mixed with black dog blood. The dozen or so corpses were arranged in this way, their souls firmly nailed to the spot, unable to find peace even in death.

This method is far more ruthless than the previous ones.

"What are you doing? What are you doing? The person is dead and you're still doing this—" Zhao Yunshu rubbed his temples, keeping a watchful eye on his surroundings while reaching out his hand. He saw fire rising in his palm, preparing to burn the wooden stake in the middle.

The flames spread to the wooden stake and began to lick its body, but they were extinguished with a few hissing sounds, just like burning stone, leaving not a trace of scorch.

"Hmm?" The young Taoist priest was somewhat surprised.

The wood won't burn?

Not right.

He went closer, circled the wooden stake twice, and tapped it. The stake produced a dull, metallic sound and was icy cold to the touch, unlike any other wood.

He bent down again to examine it carefully, and found that the wood grain was as fine as silk and the whole piece was as black as ink.

"Submerged wood?" Zhao Yunshu straightened up, his expression one of utter surprise.

He knocked again.

It's really ebony!

This thing is a piece of fine wood that was buried underground or underwater by accident or intentionally. It has been eroded for hundreds of years without decaying. Its wood is harder than metal and stone, impervious to water and fire, and resistant to insects and ants. It is very expensive, and even ordinary wealthy families may not be able to afford it.

This dark wooden stake, over a meter tall, could easily fetch tens of taels of silver, or even hundreds of thousands of coins, if taken to any discerning buyer in Dingzhou City. That would be enough for an ordinary family to live on for ten years.

Now, someone has actually sharpened it and stuck it in this desolate burial ground, just to suppress the souls of a dozen or so refugees. Isn't this like using gold bricks to prop up a table? Have these refugees broken some heavenly law?

He crouched down and carefully examined the part of the wooden stake buried in the soil.

The soil was compacted very tightly, clearly not just randomly inserted, but rather buried and reinforced with considerable effort, obviously not giving these souls any chance to rise again.

Zhao Yunshu stood up, his gaze sweeping over his surroundings, his doubts growing heavier.

These migrants were nothing more than unfortunate people fleeing from disaster, and they eventually starved to death by the roadside. What enemies could they possibly have?

What could possibly be worth such a price to suppress their souls? This piece of dark wood is probably used for more than just suppressing them.

What is this thing used for?

Is it related to the major events in Dingzhou?

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