After a while, all these wandering Taoist priests and Buddhist monks dispersed.
For no other reason than that very few of these priests and monks possessed any genuine talent or ability; in this wealthy household, people continued to lose their lives every three to five days.
Occasionally, a few somewhat accomplished individuals would pound their chests in the daylight and make repeated, solemn guarantees to the head of the household that a single night of rituals, personally battling the spirit, would surely eradicate the scourge.
The head of the household would naturally host a grand banquet in the seat of honor, personally welcoming and wining them, but the next morning would yield nothing more than yet another corpse with a most tragic and gruesome appearance.
Some of the cowardly frauds among these monks and priests were so frightened on the spot that their livers and gallbladders nearly burst, their bowels and bladders letting loose. With thighs trembling like unbolted flour sifters, they walked straight out the door and never returned.
As for those who stayed, aside from loudly chanting Buddhist titles, reciting a few scriptures during the day, or setting up altars with a Peach Wood Sword, scattering some yellow talisman paper, and angrily shouting commands to execute orders swiftly, they had no other tricks up their sleeves. After a long while, they were naturally driven away by the head of the household.
Excluding maids and servants, the household originally consisted of thirty-one blood relatives, but by this point, only nineteen remained alive.
Of the four sons and one daughter born to the family, two or three had already died. With the family line withering and their fortunes plunging, they wore mourning sackcloth every day amidst incessant crying, making for a truly wretched scene.
On this particular day, a Taoist priest dressed in tattered robes with a fierce, fleshy face suddenly walked unsteadily to the front gate of the estate, carrying a ragged burlap sack on his back, a wine gourd in one hand, and a Peach Wood Sword hanging upside down in the other, before lying down right there.
An elderly steward of the family stepped forward to greet him, saying, "Our family has been plagued by evil spirits lately, so you had best not stay here. Here are a few stray coins; be on your way to find some wine elsewhere."
The priest stroked his beardless chin and laughed heartily, "This poor monk has come today precisely to deal with the evil spirits in your house!"
The steward chuckled and said, "You are dressed as a Taoist priest, yet you call yourself 'this poor monk' using Buddhist parlance. I was kind enough to give you some loose coin, so do not stir up trouble here. If you anger the evil spirits, no one will be around to collect your corpse."
With that, he dropped the silver coins and walked inside, preparing to close the door.
The priest quickly followed, jamming a foot into the crack of the door. Reeking of alcohol, he blurted out, "Bah, you old mule! A man of religion does not utter falsehoods. Never mind the evil spirits inside your house, this old fellow has crawled through mountains of corpses and seas of blood! Let me inside right now. If I cannot make heads or tails of this, I will repay you tenfold for the wine!"
Helpless, the old steward had no choice but to lead this monk to see the head of the household.
The master of the house was sunk in gloom. Hearing the steward's account, he figured he would listen to what the monk had to say; if he turned out to be an incompetent wandering swindler, he could simply be chased away.
Thus, the priest was brought up to the main hall to pay his respects to the master.
Seeing his tattered Taoist robes and reeking aura of alcohol, and recalling how he had referred to himself as a Buddhist monk earlier, the master was already quite displeased. However, since the meeting had already taken place, protocol could not be ignored, so he forced himself to converse with him patiently.
To everyone's surprise, the moment the priest sat down, the alcoholic haze vanished entirely from his brows, and he spat out a stunningly arrogant declaration: "Call your remaining two sons and one daughter to kneel here in the great hall!"
The master felt a shock in his heart. He thought to himself: so many people have come and gone, yet of my remaining offspring, whichever one they met respectfully called them young master or young miss. How is it that the moment you arrive, you demand they kneel?
Yet looking at the priest, there was no trace of his previous drunkenness; a righteous and awe-inspiring aura emanated from his brows, commanding respect without anger. Not daring to be negligent, the master promptly dispatched servants to summon his sons and daughter, who respectfully knelt down below the hall.
Seeing that everyone had arrived, the priest paced among them for a moment, then suddenly kicked the eldest son sprawling to the ground and began to curse: "You filthy, abominable, family-shaming scoundrel!"
With that, he actually drew his Peach Wood Sword and made to stab the eldest son.
The eldest son hurriedly scrambled behind the master, crying out for mercy, while the master naturally demanded to know the reason behind this.
The priest sheathed his sword, sat down below the hall, poured himself another gulp of wine, smacked his lips, and told the master, "Just ask your son what kind of deeds he has done, and let him confess it himself."
The eldest son stammered and hesitated at first, refusing to speak, but finally, pressured by the circumstances, he had no choice but to spill the entire story from beginning to end.
Hearing this, the master felt stars dance before his eyes and the world spin round and round. His eldest son, whom he had always valued so greatly, was actually capable of committing such acts. A thick glob of phlegm instantly caught in his throat, and he passed out cold on the spot.
The others rushed forward to check on him, bustling about to lay the master flat, shouting for a doctor—it was quite a chaotic scene.
The priest stepped forward, pushed the crowd aside, and pulled a yellow talisman from his ragged sack. Rolling it between his fingers, the talisman ignited, and a wisp of smoke drifted into the master's nose. The master coughed up the phlegm, and his breathing smoothed out.
Seeing the master wake up, the priest gave a mischievous chuckle, took another swig of wine, and sprayed it onto the Peach Wood Sword. "I was in a rush just now," he said. "Let's start over. Don't worry, it'll be over in the blink of an eye. It won't hurt."
The master dropped to his knees with a thud, tears streaming down his face as he pleaded that although his eldest son had committed a grave error, matters had already reached this point, and he begged the Taoist priest to show great mercy and save his wayward son. He swore to perform vast acts of charity in the future to make amends for the transgression.
The priest was initially unwilling, insisting on sending the eldest son to meet the King of Hell, but he could not withstand the master's tearful entreaties and the maids and servants kneeling together. In the end, he impatiently agreed.
Overjoyed, the master hurriedly ordered a banquet to be prepared to host their guest. The priest refused the feast, requesting only that some hot water be boiled so he could bathe and change clothes, and that someone be sent to buy some cinnabar, talisman paper, rooster blood, dog blood, and, if possible, boy's urine.
When the master had everything prepared, the priest emerged from his bath, and his appearance utterly astounded everyone present.
He had cast off his tattered Taoist garments. Now he wore a nine-dragon gold-threaded Taoist robe, adorned with a Yin-Yang fish emblem on the chest and a Bagua Mirror hanging on his back. A Peach Wood Sword was strapped to his waist, a horsetail whisk was held in his left hand, and he was actually cradling a wooden fish drum in his right hand, with a string of Buddhist prayer beads draped around his wrist. He truly possessed an otherworldly, immortal demeanor and transcendent grace.
The priest walked unhurriedly up to the eldest son, suddenly produced an embroidery needle from goodness knows where, and pressed it against the space between the eldest son's brows. A smear of bright red immediately seeped out.
The eldest son was terrified, thinking the priest had gone back on his word and intended to kill him. Just as he was about to retreat, he saw the priest wipe the blood from his brow, flick his finger, and send the drop falling onto a piece of talisman paper resting on the altar. The priest then pulled up a chair, sat down before the altar, and closed his eyes in meditation.
Seeing the priest with his eyes half-closed, the people present naturally did not dare to step forward and disturb him, so they each went about their own business.
This meditation lasted until dusk when the sun was setting. The priest suddenly opened his eyes, a brilliant flash shooting from them.
The master hurried forward, asking if something had happened.
The priest grinned broadly, entirely shedding his previous appearance of an enlightened master of the Way. He simply said that he had been wandering in the spirit realm for too long and was now hungry, and requested the master to serve up some food and provide a little plain wine.