The red-haired ghost squinted at Xue Cuo. “What’s that in your hand?”
Xue Cuo opened his mouth to explain, but before he could utter a word, the green-haired ghost sprang three feet into the air. “Da-ge! He’s nicked our Judge’s Brush and touched our Book of Life and Death. He’s one of us now!”
Xue Cuo hastily threw down the brush and paper, raising both hands as a show of innocence. “Hold on, I’m not holding anything!”
The red-haired ghost wasn’t having it. Both were broad-faced and sharp-eyed, and knew that Xue Cuo could draw talismans from the start, so they’d cunningly left a loophole for him to slip through. Sure enough, Xue Cuo had taken the bait!
Her Ladyship, wise and far-seeing, had always said: let the willing come of their own accord; let fate bring the destined. But this little sneak had wits as slick as oil. He was never going to wade in of his own volition!
Both ghosts were positively beaming. “We’ll go sort a banquet at once as a proper reception this young Lordshipness! From today onwards, Her Ladyship has another mighty general under her banner. Marvellous, simply marvellous!”
Xue Cuo saw they weren’t about to listen to reason. With a defiant stomp, he leapt onto the desk and shouted, “If Uncles insist on forcing an honest person to dishonesty, then I’ll perish alongside you!”
The green-haired ghost snorted. “Spare me the drama.”
The red-haired ghost chuckled. “And who, pray, is the honest one, and who is dishonest?”
Xue Cuo clamped his mouth shut at once, instinctively shielding his backside. Thankfully, the surroundings were eerily still. No sound of the dreaded tide.
The green-haired ghost squinted upwards. “There’s more and more paper money. Wonder where so many people’ve gone and died.”
At the mention of this, Xue Cuo hopped down from the desk and quickly handed over the blue official document to the Green-Hair. “Uncle, I just wrestled this one down. Have a look.”
Just as the green-haired ghost reached for it, the red-haired one leaned over and read aloud, “Gui Hu Tian Shou, Fu Wei Shang Xiang. Eight characters. Which of them don’t you know?”
Xue Cuo’s round little face flushed scarlet.
The green-haired ghost was astonished. “What’ve you studied, child? How did you draw talismans without knowing your characters?”
Xue Cuo scratched his head, mumbling, “I know a couple of words.”
The green-haired ghost was about to laugh when Xue Cuo continued murmuring, “But talismans don’t use those words. Just scribble from the heart. The Daoist rhythm follows naturally.”
The green-haired ghost choked on air, eyes wide with offence. The red-haired ghost spoke up kindly. “Young sir, our Lady is properly titled the The Naturally Wondrous, Merciful and Stern, Dao-Responding Goddess of the Great Loch, not some hedge-side weed deity. The chair you just sat in was the Soul-Judging Prefect’s seat. The brush you held is called the Judge’s Brush, and the book, the Book of Life and Death. These are divine relics that can commune with heaven and earth, gods and ghosts alike, divide Yin and Yang of the human realm. Not something any common cultivator ought to lay a finger on. With them, you could open the road to immortality, form Daoist fruit to endure through ages, and live as long as heaven and earth.”
Xue Cuo’s heart gave a start. That scabby brush and tatty ledger were in fact such incredible treasures?
His face turned all sorts of colours before crumpling into a dumpling of meat and wrinkles. He clasped his little hands and gave a solemn bow. “Uncle, I’m still young and don’t understand much. But I have a question.”
The red-haired ghost nodded. “Ask away. I’ll answer what I can.”
Xue Cuo asked, “Where’s the previous Prefect of the Soul-Judging Court?”
The two ghosts exchanged glances, suddenly struck dumb. They felt a phantom toothache. This lotus root-hearted little devil was far too sharp to trick!
Right at that instant, the blue official document began to glow, then flew upwards.
Xue Cuo sprang into action, scrambling with hands and feet, the two ghosts joining in with every ounce of ghostly might. Xue Cuo: “There are over a thousand names written on that! What exactly is it?”
The red-haired ghost growled with effort, muscles straining grotesquely. “My Lady rules the waters of the Great Loch and the souls of all living things. Any wandering spirits in her territory all fall under her purview. The names written by the Judge’s Brush into the Book of Life and Death are usually those to be registered into the Nether Registry.”
Xue Cuo realised that this pulling force from above hadn’t felt nearly so terrifying just now. He groped around until he found the brush and book again. The force vanished immediately, and he collapsed back into the Prefect’s chair, drenched in sweat.
—
Meanwhile, in the Celestial Ministry of Fate, an immortal frowned and asked the elder beside him. “Fellow Daoist, I’ve not been here long. Why did this document’s transmission stall halfway?”
The old man stroked his beard and replied, “Why do you bother? Your job is to follow protocol, approve accordingly. Skip a step and you’ll be in trouble.”
The immortal nodded. Just then, a yellow-robed Daoist entered with pleasantries. The old man rose to greet him, and after a few polite exchanges, took the talisman and put a stamp on it. He smiled. “Such a trifling matter to bring you here. Your daughter burned the talisman, and I’ve approved it.”
The Daoist bowed apologetically and cupped his hands, “Thank you, thank you. I’ll call on you soon for a proper visit.”
They parted ways, and the old man turned back. “Handle this one first.”
“M…Me?” said the rookie immortal.
“That Daoist master was a disciple of the Qingliu Celestial Lord,” said the elder, giving him a meaningful smile.
Understanding dawned on the rookie immortal’s face at once. “Yes, yes. Thank you, fellow Daoist. I’ll go seal it.”
The old man lingered a moment longer. “Fellow Daoist, I’ve to head out to run an errand. Help watch the place for a bit.”
The rookie nodded repeatedly. “Daoist can go rest! There’s not much left here. I’ll handle it.”
“Ah, then I’ll have to trouble you.”
Both exchanged a couple more amenable words, then the elder strolled off hands behind his back.
—
Elsewhere, Xue Cuo perched on the oversized chair, legs dangling, and opened the official document and read it halting here and there.
It claimed that, in such-and-such a year and month, a group of mountain bandits had wreaked havoc, endangering innocent lives. In response, two local officials, surnamed Li and He, had upheld justice and righteousness, subdued the outlaws, and moved heaven with their virtue. Thus, a special request was made to award them a divinely granted lifespan and celestial merit.
Xue Cuo flipped open the Book of Life and Death, meticulously checking name after name. But they were all tenant farmers and fisherfolk.
He slapped his thigh and thought: What ‘divinely granted’? It’s all rats and snakes in the same nest, villains in cahoots with one another!”
I won’t let you get the award, he thought. An idea surfaced: Can’t delay on this document. Let’s quickly make a few changes.
Besides, it wasn’t any sort of treasonous offence. Without hesitation, he picked up the Judge’s Brush and scrawled all over the official document. Satisfied, he released the brush, and without the pressure of the treasure holding it down, the altered document flew upwards and turned into a stream of celestial light.
—
Upon reaching the Ministry of Fate, the immortal-in-charge retrieved it and unfolded the scroll.
It was covered in childish scrawls and crossings-out, dog-paw scribbles and doodles, illegible from beginning to end. He peered closer.
“‘Local Historian Tu-Dog, the Weak Husband Qi, Qin Back…’ What nonsense is this?! An affront to Heaven’s mandate! How dare they! How dare they!”
The more he read, the more the immortal fumed. He flung his sleeve, parted the clouds, and thundered down a bolt of lightning—straight onto the cloud-robed Daoist aboard the painted boat.
“Outrageous!” the immortal snapped, storming back to his desk. Still seething, he made an exception and issued a heavenly decree: Let that Daoist learn to read before he submits another petition.
—
The blue light descended slowly from above. But Xue Cuo and the others had long been waiting mid-way.
Xiaofeng’s petitions were easy to intercept. But this item from the heavens, Xue Cuo dared not move.
He cradled the Judge’s Brush and Book of Life and Death. The book opened of its own accord as a conduit. Two big hands stretched from the air above. Empowered by Xue Cuo, the red and green ghosts reached up and seized the celestial letter.
In an instant, purple lightning erupted from it. The red-haired ghost nearly wet himself.
Xue Cuo too was frightened out of his wits. But the Judge’s Brush, which was made of who-knows-what, rose gently and gave a flick. The lightning vanished by more than half.
The rest was unable to breach the threshold of the Spirit Tribunal and was safely deflected.
Cold sweat streamed down Xue Cuo’s back. But the returned document was so convoluted he couldn’t make heads or tails of it. So he simply scribbled again. Every stroke sent electric shocks through his limbs until he could scarcely hold the brush.
The green-haired ghost wailed, “Quick, I can’t hold onto it!”
Whoosh! The heavenly missive flew off again.
—
On the bridge, Xiaofeng exhaled a puff of smoke, eyes blank. His Daoist robes were singed and in tatters.
What the…?
He clutched the table in confusion, then spotted a beam of light descending from the skies. Xiaofeng was stunned, then overjoyed. Reverently, he caught the letter and opened it.
The heavenly scroll radiated power. Its Daoist resonance was vast and mysterious.
Inside, it was covered in loops, crosses, dots and dashes. It sort of resembled a turtle. But Xiaofeng was struck to the core. Received a treasure… this. Could this be… a sign?
Could it be that I am destined for greatness and have been venerated by an immortal? That thunderbolt just now… it was surely a divine touch!
The Dao, cannot be explained in words, only sensed!
Xiaofeng’s eyes blazed with divine fervour. He must figure it out. He would attain the Dao!
