Chapter 4

After wandering through the vast, night-shrouded wilderness for about an hour, the roosters' crows urged Zhang Kedao on, driving him to not slack off. He flew continuously for at least sixty to seventy miles, checking the towns along the main road, and even sneaked into the studies of two wealthy households in the towns that lacked talismans and door gods.

After thorough investigation, Zhang Kedao had to admit that he had entered a strange and unfamiliar realm by mistake.

What a mess, how many famous ghost gates are there in the netherworld?

No, it should be the several forks leading out of the ghost gate, commonly known as the "Yangguan Road." He had taken the wrong path, no, the golden rooster had returned to the realm of the living through the感应 of the spellcaster.

If he hadn't experienced an escape from the underworld once, no one would believe that there are countless Yangguan Roads leading to the world of the living.

Zhang Kedao, who was usually calm, silently cursed the heavens for playing tricks on an honest man.

With the gods watching from above, he didn't know if his fate was good or bad.

The joy of escaping the underworld had long since faded. If it weren't for the Qingxin Decree, which could affect his soul state, he would have been driven to lose half his sanity and become a raging ghost.

Calm down, he must remain calm!

Zhang Kedao recited a long passage of Daoist scriptures to calm his despair and regain his composure.

Even if he encountered a once-in-a-century situation, complaining and blaming others wouldn't solve any problems. The only option left was to possess a body, a desperate move that he had to complete before dawn to find a suitable "host."

He had just escaped from the underworld, and without guidance or someone to perform the rites, he couldn't return to the netherworld.

The underworld wasn't his home; he couldn't enter or leave as he pleased except at specific times.

Zhang Kedao didn't dare waste time. Even though possessing a body was extremely difficult and time was running out, he had to face it with determination.

To survive!

On his way, he had actually noticed which families had set up mourning halls and performed white rituals, and now it came in handy.

In the nearby town, about three miles back in a mountain village, there was a house with white lanterns and white canopies that stood out even in the dead of night. Zhang Kedao sighed and turned toward the darkness, hoping it would be a young, strong, and handsome man.

It mustn't be an old woman; otherwise, he would die again after a few years and even change gender, which no one could bear.

He didn't want to scare the filial sons and virtuous grandsons by pretending to be dead, but there was no choice. Better to be alive than dead, and he would treat it as turning a funeral into a celebration.

He hoped his luck would be better than Li Tieguai's, and he invoked the blessings of the Boundless Heaven.

After a long journey, Zhang Kedao had already noticed that his soul's strength was much weaker than when he was in the underworld. He realized it was due to the excessive consumption of energy when controlling the golden rooster to pass through the ghost gate. He was exhausted and just wanted to find a place to rest.

He quickly arrived at the village by the main road and headed straight for the mourning tent that instinctively attracted him.

Inside the open tent, he saw two Daoist priests.

An elderly one held a ritual bell and chanted scriptures, while a younger one, presumably his disciple, held a ritual ruler and responded. Three men in mourning clothes knelt before the fire pot, occasionally burning yellow paper money or paper ingots.

Damn, they were going to perform the rites all night.

Zhang Kedao felt the无形 sound waves from the elderly Daoist's bell, and he saw the black-framed portrait above the altar, a thin old man drawn with a brush, with a stiff smile. The painting skills were far inferior to his, a professional art student, and he hesitated.

Should he wait here for a break in the Daoist's ritual to possess the body?

Or should he look elsewhere while there was still time?

He couldn't just barge in; there were several places inside that posed a threat to him.

Moreover, the elderly Daoist seemed to have some skill, and a direct confrontation would not end well. He might even be beaten.

Suddenly, the elderly Daoist, who seemed to be half-asleep, opened his eyes, which glinted like lightning in the candlelight. He scanned the darkness outside the tent, made a strange hand gesture with his left hand, and raised a three-pronged copper bell with his right hand, shouting:

"#$%&*(@⊙#"

Two of the mourners, who were dozing off, were startled, and one of them almost fell into the fire pot. The middle-aged man next to him pulled him back and scolded him in a low voice.

Zhang Kedao quickly flew higher. He was invisible and transparent to the living, but those with skill could sense his presence, as well as young children with low yang energy or particularly sensitive animals like dogs and cats, who could see ghosts.

The elderly Daoist was not to be trifled with. His sudden, invisible attack struck a vague wandering ghost, dispersing it into a small, fist-sized clump that fled in a panic.

Zhang Kedao sensed that the elderly Daoist had detected his presence and was trying to scare him off.

Forget it, he had to leave. It was all because the wandering ghost thought he was there to steal the funeral money and got too close, ruining his plans.

He didn't want to become someone else's cheap grandfather, with no money and a bunch of grandchildren.

If this place won't have me, there are other places that will... Hey, why must Daoists make things difficult for each other?

Zhang Kedao cursed silently and hurried to the next town to try his luck.

In the next town, there was another family performing a funeral, but it was much quieter, with only a few white candles lit, far less grand than the previous one, which gave him a better chance.

Time was running out, and he estimated it was almost the fifth watch of the night.

Flying high, with a broader view, Zhang Kedao continued his journey, reciting Daoist scriptures to calm his increasingly anxious emotions.

He was in a tough spot.

About three to four miles from the next town, he could see a cluster of buildings in the dark. Suddenly, he stopped, sensing a strong, instinctive pull through his soul.

...There was a fresh corpse nearby.

Souls that could return to life were very sensitive to the invisible aura of the dead.

Zhang Kedao quickly determined the direction and flew toward a small side road on the right side of the main road. After crossing a small hill, he soon discovered a small Daoist temple on the hilltop.

How did he know it was a Daoist temple?

It looked very similar to the temples he had seen in his previous life, and he noticed the Taiji and Bagua patterns carved on the stone railings.

He avoided the front of the temple to prevent being turned to ashes by any hanging bronze mirrors.

After crossing the low back wall, he came to a wooden door of a thatched cottage. He slipped inside and saw a young man lying on a simple wooden bed, lifeless, with a twisted expression and curled body.

He didn't know if it was a sudden illness or something else, but the young man had died young.

Life is unpredictable.