My Enemy Became My Cultivation Companion-Chapter 798 - 497: Missing One (Happy New Year)
"I've heard a story about a town, not told by the locals, but by someone from outside who once visited the town..."
......
The story Li Chenghang spoke of was brought in from outside and circulated briefly in the town. But soon, perhaps fearing it might slander the town's deity, people gradually stopped mentioning it.
Not because the story was false, but because it was too true. Everyone knew the one at the heart of the tale; they all had an impression of him. His name was Gong Sanniu, a man in his forties. The Duan family remembered he had died of typhoid fever.
But Li Chenghang had heard otherwise—that the man had died a sudden and violent death.
About seventeen years ago, locusts ravaged the southern region, followed by a severe drought. It was said that the ground was littered with starving corpses, and the hard things you stumbled upon while walking were all human bones. Villagers seeking survival had to flee north to places with grain. Yet, as the number of people grew, food became scarce, disease spread, and many county magistrates and other officials in the north refused to distribute grain or open their city gates. Thus, the sick fell ill, the dying perished, and people had no choice but to escape further north, to towns and villages without protective walls.
A husband and wife were among those fleeing famine. The husband was Gong Sanniu. He had once been part of a family of five, with aging parents above and children below. But along the way, his parents and children all succumbed to illness, leaving only the couple to reach the town, though his wife was frail and ill.
Though they were strangers, the townspeople didn't shun them and allocated them one or two acres of idle farmland. The couple quickly settled in and began anew.
When the New Year came, it was customary to pray to the City God. Generally, it was the women who went to offer prayers while the men went to the markets. But since Gong Sanniu's wife was sick, she could only stay home.
Gong Sanniu spent the entire day busy at the market, exhausted and dazed. Returning home, he planned to eat some meat porridge and rest. Instead, he found his sick wife offering incense to a pile of unfamiliar statues.
"Which gods are these that you're worshipping?"
"…These were left behind by your father. I thought, since they're gods, why not worship them all?"
For people, worshiping gods is like dining at a banquet. Adding another pair of chopsticks doesn't matter, and offering incense to another god doesn't hurt. As long as it's a god, no matter its origins, people will worship indiscriminately.
But Gong Sanniu responded vehemently. He berated his wife for blindly worshipping gods and grabbed a bamboo stick, beating her so badly that her flesh seemed to peel off.
After this incident, his wife dared not worship the statues Gong's father had left behind anymore. Gong Sanniu threw all five statues into a storage room.
Days passed, and the couple forgot the matter. Then Lantern Festival arrived—a time for prayers and bustling markets yet again.
On the fifteenth day of the first month, during the Heavenly Official's blessing ceremony, the town was lively and festive. Many gave out red envelopes and invited others to eat porridge for good luck. When guests arrived, hosts would ask, "Are you full?" If the guest replied they were full, they would wave them off. If not, the guest would eat a mouthful of porridge, and the host would seal a red envelope for them. Gong Sanniu spent the day moving all around the town, seeking more envelopes and more porridge.
The streets were crowded, shoulders brushing against each other as people crossed paths at intersections. Gong Sanniu accepted his fourth red envelope and heard the person ask, "Are you full?"
How could Gong Sanniu admit to being full? If he said yes, he wouldn't receive an envelope. So he quickly replied, "I'm not full."
The person handed him some porridge. Gong Sanniu took a bite; the meat was fragrant, although dry and tough. Yet it had a flavor unlike pork, beef, or lamb—a taste that was intoxicating. As it settled in his stomach, it reminded him of the first time he ate meat during his days fleeing famine, filling him with a warmth that spread through his body.
Before he could ask for the envelope, the person uttered next, "Son, eat some more."
Gong Sanniu was so frightened he nearly lost his soul. He bolted home and, once settled, recounted the tale to his wife.
His wife turned pale and said:
"Your father died long ago, didn't he? What we… ate, how could it invite him to offer you porridge?"
Among those who survived famine, eight out of ten had consumed human flesh. Though they claimed their loved ones had died of illness, such explanations were meant for outsiders in the town.
"How would I know?!"
Gong Sanniu shivered. On the fifteenth day of the first month, he had encountered something unprecedented. There must be a reason behind it.
He tried hard to recall, pondering and searching, but found no clue as to which spirit or deity he might have offended.
After much contemplation, Gong Sanniu suddenly remembered the statues his father had left behind—the ones his wife had previously offered incense to.
"Could it be my father's soul is dwelling inside one of those statues? He consumed the incense and emerged?"
Gong Sanniu hurriedly fetched the key to the storage room and began searching for the five statues.
The storage room wasn't large, and there weren't many belongings inside. He rummaged through the room, finding one, two, three, four…
"I can't find it…" Gong Sanniu shouted in panic, "One is missing!"
"You're mistaken."
His wife suddenly spoke from behind. Gong Sanniu turned around to look. In the darkness, his wife's skin steadily peeled away, layer by layer, exposing raw flesh and a face marred as if repeatedly sliced by knives. Beside her, the pale, indistinct faces of his father, his mother, and his son appeared...
They spoke simultaneously:
"It's still missing one."
......
"It's still missing one."
Fan Kong lifted his head and saw that the Daoist's palm held only four statues.
"Friend, your tale is truly strange." He remarked.
The Daoist gently balanced the statues in his hand and said slowly, "Mundane tales bore people; strange tales captivate them. Life itself is so ordinary. If not for listening to peculiar stories, how else would one pass time over tea?"
"It's a fine story, but I wonder… what manner of story is it?"
"A story told in the realm of ghosts must naturally be a ghost story."
The Daoist's voice drifted, elusive and tinged with mockery.
Fan Kong cracked a smile and said, "Friend, don't jest with me. We're currently trapped in this desolate place. What I want to know is whether this tale is true or false?"
"A ghost story from the ghost realm," the Daoist smirked, "How could it be false?"
His tone remained playful, unconvincing. Fan Kong saw that, even now, the man still spoke in jest, suggesting he was unreliable.
Evening had fallen. Dusk vanished, leaving the land shrouded in darkness. A chilling wind arose as layers of foliage overlapped, concealing shadows amidst the brush. Yet there wasn't a sound in any direction.
Fan Kong knew well; as books often said, such moments were likely the haunt of malevolent spirits...
And crossroads were the easiest places to encounter ghosts...
Suddenly, he turned his head sharply, grinning as he spoke:
"I thought it was some fellow Daoist, but it turns out to be a Daoist spirit causing mischief after death!"
Before the Daoist could respond, Fan Kong's Money Sword unsheathed with a resounding clang. A dazzling golden light surged forth, slicing through the Daoist's vapor-like figure, which dissipated along with the young female ghost beside him.
The road ahead cleared somewhat, appearing more lucid.
"Amitabha Buddha, what a waste of my time."
The elder spat onto the ground,
"So it was just a damned Daoist causing petty disturbances after death."
He resumed tugging at the cow's rope and pressed forward.
Crossing the intersection, the path straightened, with few twists or turns. The forest on both sides grew dense, yet no further sounds disturbed the way. The lingering Daoist ghost vanished without a trace, leaving Fan Kong in high spirits as he climbed slopes, his pace picking up slightly.
But before long, his steps slowly faltered.
Familiar...
The scenery on either side became unnervingly familiar. Everything seemed unchanged...
Moonlight bathed the earth as he crossed the ridge and descended the slope. At the end of the path lay another intersection—
And once again, he saw the Daoist!
Fan Kong froze in place, watching as the Daoist raised his palm once more, holding the statues and offering a sly smile:
"It's still missing one."
............
This chapter came rather late, as there was much to think about and many earlier clues to tie together. Nonetheless, it is completed.
The New Year is here. Wishing everyone a Happy New Year, good health, and all the best!
