Volume One: The Journey of the Useless—A Fiery Demon-Slaying Blade Chapter Twenty-Nine: Calamity in the Fields—A Den of Snakes and Rats

In the deep of night, Chang Yu had long since gone to sleep, while Monk Sui Chang remained seated cross-legged, eyes closed as before.

Chen Wan’er approached Chen San, but waking him proved troublesome; she was in a ghostly state and could not touch him. She called his name several times, but he showed no reaction. If she had a physical body, she’d have given him a slap across the face to wake him up.

Growing anxious that Yang Chengzi was still waiting, her spiritual energy surged, mingling with a cold, ghostly aura that seeped steadily toward Chen San. Before long, a frosty layer spread across his face as if he’d been frozen solid, and he woke with a start from the chill.

Monk Sui Chang, startled by the sudden flare of spiritual energy, opened his eyes, worried that Chen San and the others were in danger. He rose, lifted the curtain, and, seeing Chen San’s face covered with frost, was utterly bewildered.

Chen San shivered, peering outside the curtain and grinning foolishly at the master.

The monk, still puzzled, asked, “What’s happened to you, boy? Did you fall into an ice hole in the middle of summer?”

Chen San replied, “No, I just fell asleep. Sister Wan’er called me to find Yang Chengzi. It’s nothing, really.”

Feeling awkward, he glanced at Chen Wan’er, who maintained her cold expression and said, “Hurry up. Three more people have arrived and gone to the western fields.”

Chen San was genuinely surprised. He thought to himself that Yang Chengzi was truly formidable—not only could he slay ghosts and demons with unmatched ferocity, but he could also predict the affairs of the living with uncanny accuracy.

“Master, I’m off to find Yang Chengzi. I’ll have to trouble you to look after Miss Chang Yu. With more strangers in the village, who knows what trouble they might bring.”

“Amitabha. Be careful. I’ll keep watch here.”

Chen San slipped out quietly, while Monk Sui Chang returned inside and sat at the spot where Chen San had been sleeping, resuming his silent chanting. From here, he could better protect Chang Yu, whose room was adjacent.

As soon as Chen San left Madam Fu’s house, he and Chen Wan’er hurried off, making as little noise as possible. Soon, they spotted Yang Chengzi crouched in a corner by the wall, eyes fixed on the fields.

Chen San crept up to Yang Chengzi, tugged his sleeve, and whispered, “What are they doing? Let me have a look.”

Yang Chengzi glanced at Chen San. “I was just about to call you over. See if any ghostly aura is seeping from there. I sense a pure ghostly energy, but I’m not sure if it’s coming from that spot.”

Chen San was startled, regret welling up inside him. He shouldn’t have volunteered for this job with loose lips. He’d thought everything would be settled after Yang Chengzi buried those two coffins, never expecting so much trouble, and now more people had arrived.

Yang Chengzi, seeing Chen San lost in thought, patted him and said, “What are you spacing out for? Take a look.”

He stepped back to give Chen San room by the wall. Snapping back to attention, Chen San leaned forward, peering into the field.

A cool night breeze swept through the fields, the crops just beginning to sprout, allowing for an unobstructed view. Two hulking men squatted there, watching the ground intently. Looking closely, black ghostly mist indeed drifted upward from beneath the earth. Though it was late at night, the moonlight illuminated the ghostly aura clearly.

Excited, Chen San tugged Yang Chengzi’s sleeve behind him.

“There! There’s ghostly energy coming up, but only two people. Didn’t you say there’d be four? And that fake Taoist isn’t here either.”

Yang Chengzi leaned back against the wall, eyes closed, and said softly, “The fake Taoist and a short fellow went down into the pit. They’re probably grave robbers who caught wind of something valuable.”

“So there really is an ancient tomb! I thought the abbot was just making idle talk. Grave robbers, and four of them no less—it must be a large tomb.”

“What? The abbot told you about the tomb and you didn’t mention it to me?”

Chen San replied with an awkward smile, “How was I supposed to know if it was real? I thought it wasn’t important. Who could have guessed it’d be such a mess? So, what do we do now?”

“They’re just grave robbers. That’s not our business—we’re not the authorities. But with such pure ghostly energy seeping out, robbing the tomb might be easy, but getting out might not be.

They chose to dig just before dawn, so they’re not entirely ignorant. Whether or not they disturb whatever ghostly entity lies below, I fear we must deal with it before we can leave this place.”

Chen San tilted his head and said, “Why don’t you just hand them over to the authorities? Why wait for them to finish digging? Also, how do you know it’s a powerful ghost? The ghostly aura doesn’t look that different to me.”

“It’s no use. Unless the authorities execute them, they’ll just come back, which would be even more troublesome if we’re not here. As for the pure aura, it’s not easy to discern. Close your eyes and sense it.”

Half-convinced, Chen San closed his eyes to sense the energy. Instantly, a wave of powerful ghostly energy crashed into his soul, making his knees buckle and his body tremble uncontrollably.

He immediately lost his nerve, gripping Yang Chengzi’s sleeve and stammering, “W-why don’t we just bury the coffins tomorrow and leave? Let them deal with whatever’s down there. If we try to deal with this thing, we’ll probably need days to recover—might even get ourselves killed.”

Yang Chengzi shook his head resolutely. “You can just walk away—you’re an ordinary person, with no burden of responsibility. But I am a Maoshan Taoist. Slaying demons and quelling evil is our sacred duty, the commandment of our founder.”

Chen San turned to him incredulously. “So you live only to eliminate evil? Can’t you just read fortunes, perform rituals, that sort of thing?”

Yang Chengzi smiled. “Those are tasks for outer disciples. As for our inner disciples and even our founder—few have died a natural death.”

Chen San was at a loss for words. It sounded tragic, but it was true. Otherwise, why would there be so many Daoist ancestors’ spirits summoned during rituals? At that moment, Chen Wan’er stood behind Yang Chengzi, gazing at his profile, a gentle look in her eyes.

In the field, the two burly men squatted by the pit, listening for sounds from below. The darker one was Wang Kui, the other Tu Sanguang. Both had trained in martial arts since childhood, their bodies robust and powerful.

Wang Kui had worked as a porter on the docks, his strength perfect for heavy labor. Over time he gained a local reputation, towering above others and carrying far more sacks than an average man. Yet he never managed to save any money, living a hard life where his strength went largely wasted.

Tu Sanguang was from Yingzhou in Fuyang. He traveled with a troupe of acrobats from a young age, performing to make a living. Even as a child, he was sturdier than others and required three to four bowls of rice per meal to feel full.

Life on the road offered little benefit, but his body became as tough as iron, his skin like bronze, nearly impervious to blades and spears—a match for the legendary Vajra Body of Shaolin. Of course, he never earned much, his appetite barely allowing him to feed himself, let alone dream of marrying.

There were two more in the pit, both notorious in their own right.

The short, nimble one was Ma Zhong, a man driven by profit. From a young age, he engaged in petty theft and burglary, always aiming for bigger scores. His greed was his downfall; every time he was caught by the authorities, it was because he targeted wealthy households, never bothering with common folk or merchants.

In each town, there were only a handful of rich families, and these often had ties with officials. If something valuable was stolen, the authorities would spare no effort to catch the thief. Several times, Ma Zhong was caught before he could even fence the goods, thanks to informants planted by the magistrate.

After being beaten within an inch of his life a few times, he decided to quit. Small households weren’t worth his time, and rich families were too risky, so he left his notorious hometown with what little he’d managed to steal.

The other was a practitioner named Wei Wudao. He wasn’t exactly a sorcerer, for he’d never harmed anyone, but he wasn’t a good man either, making a living by deception, often swindling groups of people at once.

People in those days were guileless and inexperienced. With some knowledge of the occult, a glib tongue, and a Daoist robe, he could easily fool villagers. If a family had a funeral, he’d put on a public display, then claim he wished to build a temple to cultivate virtue, drive out evil, and protect the people. Many would donate generously.

Thanks to his knowledge of basic spells, he’d never encountered anything truly dangerous—just luck, perhaps.

Wei Wudao too fell afoul of a wealthy family named Jiang. Village scams yielded only small change, for the peasants could barely feed themselves. The townsfolk, however, were different: many were merchants or landlords with more disposable income, though many were even less worldly than villagers. Wei’s tricks worked wonders, and people gladly handed over their coins for the sake of merit.

One day, he tried to con the Jiangs, calculating the family’s fortune and spinning terrifying tales to scare them into paying up. Unbeknownst to him, the Jiang family’s youngest son was obsessed with numerology and quickly saw through Wei’s ruse.

Wei’s numerology skills were the weakest of his arts, but it was also the easiest way to make money—a fact that made him reckless. The Jiang patriarch, though outwardly amiable, was ruthless at heart. He had Wei seized and beaten, then tossed out.

That beating left Wei bedridden for half a month, and since then he never dared approach wealthy homes again, instead wandering the villages and setting his sights on graveyards.

He began arranging ghost marriages for wealthy families who had lost children, but business was tough—there simply weren’t enough recently deceased, unmarried souls to pair off. He lacked the nerve for murder, so the supply could not meet demand.

In his frustration, Wei Wudao met Wang Kui outside the local security agency. Wang Kui, downcast, was squatting at the door after being rejected for employment. It was a matter of fate: the agency had recently suffered a major robbery—the valuables belonged to the government and were to be escorted to the capital, but were stolen en route. The agency was nearly ruined, fined heavily by the authorities, and their reputation destroyed. No one dared hire them anymore, and they certainly weren’t taking on new men.

No one explained this to Wang Kui, so he sat there, pondering how to fill his belly.

Wei Wudao, recognizing a man in need of money, struck up a conversation and proposed his idea: exhuming graves for ghost marriages. At first Wang Kui hesitated, but as soon as money was mentioned, he agreed without a second thought—a single job would feed him for months. They began working together, and with Wei’s methods and Wang Kui’s strength, their grave-robbing operation flourished.

Yet their last ghost marriage convinced them to quit the business.

Their final job involved a wealthy young man who’d died of an illness—rumor had it, from his philandering ways. Spoiled since birth, his parents were devastated, aging overnight with grief. After the burial, his father often dreamed of him and believed his son wished for a bride in the afterlife. He hired the now well-known Wei Wudao and Wang Kui, promising ample payment if they could find a suitable match.

The requirement was odd: the bride had to be a wealthy family’s daughter, and their birth charts had to align. The birth chart was easy—inscribed on the tombstone—but how to find an unmarried, wealthy young woman?

The fee was generous enough that refusal was impossible. After half a month of inquiries, Wei Wudao set up a fortune-telling stall in town, subtly gathering information. He learned that in a neighboring town, a rich family’s daughter had recently died of illness and pinpointed her burial site.

He and Wang Kui went there that very night and quickly found the tomb. The gravestone matched the family’s surname and age, so they dug up the coffin and brought the girl’s body back. The bereaved father, eager to complete the ritual, had the two buried together by nightfall and paid handsomely.

But the true prize was on the girl’s wrists: four gold bangles and two jade ones, which Wei Wudao quietly pocketed before the burial. The payment for the job was two hundred silver taels, but the value of the jewelry at the pawnshop was nearly a thousand. After that, the two men set their sights on tomb-robbing as a full-time enterprise.

Ma Zhong, meanwhile, had arrived in the town with his ill-gotten gains, working as a household retainer for the wealthy family, hoping for a big score. When he saw the payment for the ghost marriage, he was amazed at the ease of the work and quickly teamed up with Wei Wudao and Wang Kui. Ma Zhong’s skill at identifying antiques and jade made the trio even more effective.

Later, Tu Sanguang, whose acrobat troupe had disbanded, joined by chance.

Thus, a cat burglar, a street performer, a con-artist, and a laborer joined forces, setting out on the path of grave robbery. The tomb in Fu Family Village was already one of many they had plundered.