Volume One: The Journey of the Useless—Blazing Demon-Slaying Chapter Ten: Where the Great Demon Dwells—The Eightfold Seal

Without wasting any time, the three rose and headed outside. Once through the door, they did not part ways but followed the mayor, who knocked on each door as they walked through the town. The remaining villagers, upon hearing that Master Wang had returned, hurried to open their doors. Following the old man’s instructions, the mayor arranged for them to stay in his own home and the two neighboring houses. The old man then set up formations outside these three homes to ward off evil and malignant energies before the trio began searching for the source of the problem.

The town was not large, so they soon traversed its entirety. As they walked, the old man noticed that the closer one got to the mayor’s house, the fewer deaths occurred—especially in the western part of town. The eastern side, however, had suffered many deaths; the first victims, Old Nian and Chen Wanfu, had also died in the east. Thus, they returned to the vicinity of Old Nian and Chen Wanfu’s homes, eventually finding themselves once again on the road leading east to the forest. Could the problem really lie with this road?

The old man paced back and forth along the road but felt nothing unusual. From a geomantic perspective, the road led straight into a landscape blessed with hidden dragons and crouching tigers, which should have bestowed prosperity upon the descendants rather than disaster. Yet, all the deaths had occurred near this road, suggesting the issue must be here. The old man was perplexed—could a great demon truly be lurking at the mountain’s base? It seemed unlikely; something was missing.

He gazed at the mist-shrouded, dark road and took a half-burned stick of incense from his pocket, lighting it on a torch. Master Wang’s eyes sparkled with recognition.

“Master, what’s that incense?”

The old man replied as he ignited the stick, “This is Soul-Summoning Incense. I intend to call forth all wandering spirits within ten miles, to see if any demon or ghost possesses the power to claim lives in their sleep.”

Once lit, the incense released wisps of gray smoke, blending subtly with the white mist. The old man planted the incense in the middle of the road and asked the mayor and Master Wang to step aside with him. Though neither could see the supernatural entities, both felt chill winds brush past them as the air grew increasingly cold.

The Soul-Summoning Incense acted like bait, drawing spirits from every corner, compelled by instinct and unable to resist. Through the old man’s eyes, spirits dressed in the fashions of various eras drifted over, greedily inhaling the incense smoke. There were old and young, men and women, but most were simply lost souls.

In a short while, the street was crowded with spirits. Without further ado, the old man began chanting, pulled out a gourd, bit his finger, and smeared fresh blood onto a talisman. Instantly, the spirits clustered around were drawn into the gourd as if by magnetic force. The chill dissipated, with the oppressive cold lifting, though the mist still lingered.

He capped the gourd, hung it at his waist, extinguished the incense, and stowed it away.

“The incense drew all the wandering spirits here, but I saw none capable of causing such calamity. It’s not the work of lost souls—so, it must be what I least wish to see: a great demon. The sealed demon must be beneath Chenjia Town. Perhaps its seal has weakened, though I sense no demonic energy leaking out, nor do I know the exact location of the seal.”

At this, the mayor staggered, his legs trembling, nearly unable to stand. He stammered, “A—a great demon? There’s a demon under Chenjia Town? What should we do?”

“The demon is still sealed, otherwise no one would be left alive here. We must find the location of the seal and reinforce it with a new formation, to buy ourselves some time.”

Frowning, the old man found a thick wooden stick and began drawing runes in the earth beside a house. Master Wang recognized them as Daoist symbols but did not know their exact meaning and dared not disturb the old man.

When the symbols were complete, they appeared very different from those on talisman paper—much larger, about the size of a door panel. The old man then drew a peachwood sword from his back, bit his finger, smeared blood on the blade, and thrust the sword into the lower half of the rune.

As soon as the sword entered the ground, the runes erupted with a loud bang, sending dust flying. The mayor jumped in fright and clung to Master Wang, who quickly steadied him.

As the dust settled, the old man examined the runes; a small pit had exploded at the head of the symbol, which pointed east, suggesting the trouble lay in the eastern part of town—the very spot where they now stood. Yet, the old man was puzzled; nothing seemed amiss here. Could the seal truly be right beneath their feet?

“Help me fell a few trees—about the thickness of a bowl, straight and sturdy, each a person’s length. We need eight in total. Let’s go.”

The three entered the homes of Chen Wanfu and Chen Wannian, found three axes, climbed the mountain road, and cut eight trees of similar length and girth, stripped them of branches, and carried them down. The mayor and Master Wang then peeled away the bark, leaving only bare trunks. The old man asked the mayor for a dagger and, sitting cross-legged on a large stone, began carving the wood.

It took most of the day to finish all eight stakes. Each was nearly identical, covered in runes. Strangely, the carved symbols were much deeper than the rest of the wood, standing out prominently. Master Wang was baffled, and since he didn’t recognize these runes, he asked about them. The old man explained they belonged to the Eight Gates Golden Lock Formation.

Although he didn’t know which house the seal lay beneath, sealing the entire eastern part of town with the formation would suffice. The old man took a stick and had Master Wang use a geomantic compass to locate the formation’s core points.

Master Wang was skilled at determining positions—it was his livelihood. After some searching, the old man marked the formation’s core with the stick. The three walked around the eastern part of town, identified the spots for the stakes, and made marks. Two would be placed inside houses, both of which were now abandoned, so it mattered little.

They began digging holes and burying the stakes. Though the old man’s magic was formidable, manual labor wore him out, so he sent the mayor to fetch Chen San from his home and asked Chen Xin and her mother to go to the mayor’s house.

Two hours had passed since Chen San had merged his soul. After eating, he had regained some strength and followed the mayor, rolling his eyes in protest but too afraid of the old man’s wrath to refuse.

Chen Xin and her mother washed and tidied themselves before joining the other villagers at the mayor’s house. Grumbling along, Chen San soon stopped when he saw the dense mist and heard how few survivors remained.

Upon seeing the old man digging, he ran over to help. Young men have stamina; with Chen San assisting, the pits were dug quickly, like a dog burrowing. Each stake was buried three inches deep in its marked spot. By midday, all eight were in place.

Half an incense stick’s time after the last stake was buried, the mist began to disperse. Though the sun was setting, its red rays shone upon Chenjia Town, illuminating everything.

The old man wiped his brow and nodded—this proved the seal lay in the east, and with the Eight Gates Golden Lock Formation reinforcing it, the mist’s dispersal was proof of success.

Villagers at the mayor’s house emerged to breathe the fresh air, nearly driven mad by days of confinement. The mayor, along with Chen San, Master Wang, and the old man, returned home to inform the villagers that the immediate crisis was resolved, though the cause of the deaths remained unknown.

The mayor worriedly asked, “Master, the mist is gone—are we safe tonight?”

The old man eased his brow and smiled. “The mist is gone; the problem should be solved. Let me cast a divination to confirm.”

He took a long iron needle, as long as a chopstick, from his bundle, pressed it upright between his fingers, threaded eight copper coins onto it, and added a yellow talisman. With closed eyes, he chanted. The talisman ignited without flame; the coins sprang from the needle, spun in the air, and landed back on it.

Everyone was stunned, Chen San gazing in disbelief at the old man’s needle threaded with coins.

The old man took the coins, spread them in his palm, and examined them—these were the last ten hexagrams of the Thirty-Six Heavenly Stars, used for divining the fate of a place.

He studied the arrangement: six face-up, two face-down. For Chenjia Town, it was a favorable omen—the Hexagram of the Leopard Hiding in the Southern Mountains.

This signified that Chenjia Town would still face hidden dangers in the future, but not immediately. For now, the town was safe.

When the old man announced their safety, many villagers wept with relief—mourning their lost loved ones and releasing days of pent-up fear. Chen San also smiled widely at Chen Xin.

The mayor asked several women to prepare dinner. The town had a shrine dedicated to the ancestors of Chenjia Town, where villagers gathered to deliberate important matters. With only a fraction of the population left, they dined in the shrine, sharing a peaceful meal.

Afterwards, the mayor arranged for those with deceased relatives to sleep in the shrine until the bodies could be dealt with, providing mutual support. Chen San, Chen Xin and her mother, Master Wang, and the old man spent the night there as well.

The next morning, the sun rose, summer heat returned to the town. Though there were no cockcrows or barking dogs, birdsong filled the air. The villagers slept peacefully through the night—no further deaths occurred.

Chen San awoke refreshed as before, his spirits high. Chen Xin and her mother had not slept so soundly in ages, and hope shone in their eyes.

After breakfast, Chen San searched the shrine for the old man, finally finding him on the road to the back mountain. The old man was standing with hands behind his back, frowning in worry.

Hearing footsteps, he turned and saw Chen San, who greeted him with a grin.

“Old man, up early?”

“Yes, age makes it hard to sleep. You seem full of energy—young people are always healthy.”

“What’s so interesting about this road? It’s always been like this since I was little—nothing’s changed.”

The old man looked toward the end of the road. “This road isn’t ordinary. Last night, I realized the mountain forest here is shaped in a geomantic pattern of dragons and tigers. The road connects to the forest, and its direction coincidentally aligns with the Tiger’s Tail, which extends into your town. The Tiger’s Tail has the force to sweep away armies; even if a thousand troops enter, bad luck could mean disaster. With ordinary folk here, any mishap could be catastrophic.”

Chen San was dumbfounded. He’d walked this road since childhood—sometimes hunting with villagers—and now the old man spoke of it as nothing but trouble. Remembering the town’s misfortunes, he grew anxious.

“So what should we do? Should we talk to the mayor about closing the road?”

The old man shook his head. “Let’s find the mayor first. Simply blocking the road won’t work—the Tiger’s Tail has formed over many years. Only through yin-yang techniques can its position be shifted elsewhere, though that would mean losing the only path up the mountain.”

Chen San was stunned again. The people of Chenjia Town relied on hunting for a living. Despite the recent deaths, many had fled to other villages and towns, and would soon return. Losing the mountain road would be disastrous for them. Lost in thought, he looked up and saw the old man had already walked far ahead, so he hurried to catch up.

At the mayor’s house, the old man, mayor, and Master Wang discussed the situation. The unburied dead remained in their homes, some in houses now abandoned. Following the old man’s advice, they simplified the funerals, gathered the bodies, held a grand ritual, piled wood, and burned them all.

Many families disagreed, but with so many corpses, individual rites were impossible; in the oppressive summer heat, the smell was unbearable. The mayor’s persuasion won them over.

With that finished, the old man discussed the eastern road with the mayor. Upon hearing it was an ill-omened path, the mayor’s face turned pale. He quickly bowed and begged the old man to solve the issue, and the old man readily agreed—he had come down the mountain precisely for this.

He told the mayor to relocate the road before the others returned. The mayor was confused but followed the old man to the eastern road. Master Wang, unable to help further and worried about his family, bid farewell and hurried back to Xishan Village.

The old man, Chen San, the mayor, and a few curious villagers gathered at the eastern road, staring into its dark depths. Though it was the height of summer, they shivered.

“This road will soon be gone. Though it’s the only way up the mountain, the villagers will have to forge new paths if they wish to hunt. In time, they’ll make another road.”

Chen San said casually, “That’s fine—the locals are strong. Old man, hurry up. If the Tiger’s Tail brings disaster again, we can’t survive a second time.”

The mayor nodded emphatically, agreeing with Chen San for the first time.

The old man laughed, waved his hand for everyone to step back, and the group retreated to the front of Old Nian’s house, watching curiously.

The old man took out the iron needle from his pocket, the one used for divination, and drew a line a yard east of Old Nian’s home, then traced it all the way to the mountain’s base. He pulled out a talisman and a bowl of beans, unveiling the cloth covering them—a simple bowl of beans.

He chanted, the yellow talisman burning, and circled the bowl with it, then the talisman was extinguished.