Chapter 120: The Final Preparations

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Liu Lao and Tang Renjie’s people had stationed themselves just outside the village entrance. Perhaps masters disdain overwhelming others by sheer numbers, for on our side, only Chen Dongfang, Li Qing, and I remained. After parting ways, we stayed at Chen Dongfang’s home, which was the old residence of Third Grandfather. Before leaving, Chen Dongfang gave us a few final instructions, implying that we would be the main players tonight; both he and Liu Lao probably wouldn’t intervene much.

After Chen Dongfang left, I immediately grabbed the Fatty and said, “Fatty, I didn’t expect you to carry an imperial token on you! Your sect must be pretty formidable, hiding it so well!”

Fatty chuckled, “Fatty hiding it? Doesn’t Fatty radiate kingly dominance every day?”

“Enough of that, just be honest. What exactly is this thing, and which sect do you belong to? Even Liu Lao seems very wary of you,” I said with a smile. I smiled precisely because I didn’t expect Fatty to reveal anything; if he refused, it wouldn’t be awkward.

To my surprise, Fatty took out the token and handed it to me. The moment I touched it, I felt an icy chill and a heavy weight. Up close, the token exuded an ancient aura. Its front bore a dragon’s head, while the back was inscribed with the venerable character “Emperor.” Judging by appearances, it resembled the imperial tokens seen in palace dramas. After all, ancient emperors regarded themselves as the true sons of dragons, and the character “Emperor” symbolized absolute authority, unchallengeable by any.

I looked at Fatty in disbelief. “Fatty, are you some remnant of the Qing Dynasty?”

“Not a remnant of the Qing, Fatty is a pure-blooded Han,” Fatty replied.

“So what does this token mean?” I asked.

Fatty glanced awkwardly at my elder brother, who stepped over, took the token from me, and returned it to Fatty. Then he said, “If it’s not meant for you to know, don’t ask. Some things are better left unknown.”

“Well, now it’s a secret between you two. Fatty, you’re not trustworthy; I’m the outsider again, huh?” I said, looking at him.

“Yezi, it’s really inconvenient for me to say. If word of this got back to the sect, I’d be locked up for at least three years. Just know this: it’s a reclusive sect that refuses to meddle in worldly affairs,” Fatty explained.

I understood him. With Fatty’s straightforward nature, he would’ve told me if he could. I smiled and patted his shoulder, “Alright, I get it. I was just joking. Who doesn’t have secrets these days?”

Later, Fatty and I returned to Fudigou, while my elder brother stayed alone in Sanlitun. I initially wanted him to come with us in case Liu Lao caused trouble again, but on second thought, things had turned out as they did; Liu Lao probably wouldn’t dare show up again. If he did, he’d be offending everyone.

Fatty and I went to the village committee. For the villagers, earning five hundred yuan for a night’s work and befriending a master like Fatty was a windfall. By just past noon, the forty-nine people Chen Qingshan had gathered were already at the committee, and after eating the meals Han Xue had brought us, Fatty tossed aside his bowl and said to Chen Qingshan, “Since most people are here, let’s gather the rest. I’ll distribute the advance payment and explain tonight’s plan. Those willing can stay; those unwilling can prepare to leave.”

Chen Qingshan went to gather the remaining villagers while Fatty took out a wad of cash. His black backpack seemed like an ATM—no matter how much he took out, the money never ran out. He addressed the forty-nine people present:

“Tonight may seem ordinary to you, but for Taoists, it’s a Day of Yin Clouds. According to local beliefs here in Fudigou by the Luo River, today is the opening day of a sixty-year cycle. You all know the Twelve Ghost Caves have never been peaceful. Legend says a river god lives in the caves. Actually, when Fatty first came here, you all saw it—the so-called river god is the Corpse King, sealed inside a stone coffin. Because the caves are filled with corpses and concentrated Yin energy, the Corpse King has become a formidable entity, difficult to deal with.

“I’ve gathered you to form a Taoist pure yang formation. Men represent yang, women yin, so with forty-nine men, we form a pure yang array to counter the Corpse King’s Yin energy. You don’t need to do much; I’ll conduct a rehearsal by the river at dusk. Just sit in the positions I assign. As for the Corpse King appearing, Fatty will handle it. It will be absolutely safe for you.”

After Fatty’s explanation, murmurs erupted. It was wise of him to be upfront; many were skeptical about confronting the Corpse King in the Luo River. Sure, the money was tempting, but earning money was useless without life.

“Quiet down. If anyone feels unsafe, you’re free to leave. Fatty will prepare accordingly,” he added.

The villagers were torn—wanting the money but fearing danger. After all, the threat from the Twelve Ghost Caves was formidable. I even heard some say that when Fatty first arrived, he challenged the Corpse King and was nearly killed if not for my elder brother Sun Zhongmou’s intervention. So confidence in Fatty’s challenge was low.

“I’ll be here tonight to assist. My brother can freely enter and exit the Twelve Ghost Caves, and even the Corpse King can’t harm him. You can rest assured,” I quickly told them, borrowing my brother’s reputation as a shield.

Hearing this, the villagers nodded. Chen Qingshan then stepped forward, “Enough talk! We live by the Luo River. Upstream, people have prospered from fishing and tourism, but here, because of the Twelve Ghost Caves, no tourists dare come. Now Fatty is helping us get rid of the Corpse King without charging and even paying you. Are you still hesitating? Are you still men who drink the water of Fudigou? Once the danger is gone, we can develop tourism around the ghost caves. Who wouldn’t be curious? If this place opens up, attracting tourists for boating and fishing, it will benefit us all.”

Chen Qingshan’s words stirred the villagers profoundly. Fudigou was truly poor; everyone was tired of poverty. Luoyang was a tourist city, and many villages prospered from tourism. Fudigou and Sanlitun, nestled between the Funiu Mountains and the Luo River, were picturesque. Many tourism companies had once considered developing the area but gave up due to the Twelve Ghost Caves. Chen Qingshan knew the villagers well; his speech ignited their enthusiasm. Many vowed to help eliminate the Corpse King even without Fatty’s pay.

Not only the villagers but I, as a village official, knew that once the caves became safe, using their notorious danger as a marketing hook for tourism would transform the neighboring villages entirely.

With everyone willing to cooperate, Fatty’s work proceeded smoothly. After rehearsals, everyone returned home, agreeing to meet again in Sanlitun at dusk. Fatty and I stayed in the village committee office. Fatty began crafting talismans while I cut sheets of yellow paper for him. This time, Fatty was like a general preparing for a great battle, filling a backpack with talismans. If all these were pasted on the coffin, it would probably be covered entirely.

Time flew, and night fell. The village committee set up a large cooking pot. Chen Qingshan bought a pig and invited several village elder women to prepare a communal meal. The villagers, unaware of the true danger, were not fearful but joyful, as if celebrating a great festival. I realized that my tension stemmed not from the Corpse King or the burial ground but from the people involved.

It reminded me of a memorable line from the old tomb-raiding novels: “More terrifying than ghosts and spirits is the human heart.”

After dinner, our group marched grandly to Sanlitun. By the river, each villager received a talisman from Fatty. Then, according to our noon rehearsal, the forty-nine men formed a great formation shaped like the innate Bagua diagram.

I looked up at the moon.

Tonight, the moon was truly full.

Only a solitary, radiant moon hung high in the sky.

The faint stars could never rival its brilliance.