Chapter 22: Opening the Altar for the Ritual

"Young Master Jiang, you're essentially saying nothing at all. Where am I supposed to find dried mugwort at this hour? I suppose I’ll just have to use golden water, then?" The old man looked rather displeased.

"Suit yourself. If you don't want to use it, forget it. Maybe in a few years, you'll be walking around on only one leg. It doesn't really have much to do with me, anyway." I wasn't trying to scare him; his foot had been afflicted by yin energy.

It might not seem like much for now, but over time, problems are bound to arise. In the parlance of rural folk healers, this is what they call "letting the root of the sickness take hold."

"Golden water it is, then!" The old man sighed. He had no children and no family; he was a solitary soul. If he could keep his legs in working order, he might be able to support himself, but if one leg became crippled, he’d likely be reduced to begging for food.

"Stop sighing, it’s giving me a headache. Go prepare the ritual implements for the altar. Have everything ready before one o’clock in the morning. For the sacrificial offerings, use a pig’s head, an ox tail, a rooster’s comb—things like that. Don’t just bring me any old trash."

I gave my instructions, then turned away from the old man toward the young woman. "There are some things you need to clarify for me; it might just save his life."

Pig heads, ox tails, and the like are considered the quintessence of the animals, making them the most effective offerings for rituals or setting up an altar. I was worried the old man might try to cut corners and hoodwink me with whatever he could find, so I made it clear to him beforehand.

"Young Master Jiang, it’s the middle of the night. Where do you expect me to find these things?" the old man asked, clearly troubled.

"I don't care where you go, just have them ready by one o'clock," I commanded. "If you don't, you won't see a single cent of the profit we agreed upon!"

At these words, the old man was truly frightened. He turned and sprinted toward the school gate, terrified of missing the deadline.

Meanwhile, the young woman looked at me with an expression of agitation. "Can he really come back to life?"

"It’s hard to say. I can only promise to do my absolute best," I replied.

This was the first time in my life I had ever set up an altar. I wasn't even certain I could successfully summon the man’s soul.

"First, give me his date of birth and his full name. And tell me, what exactly happened earlier?" I pressed.

The woman began to recount the events.

After the old man and I had discovered them near the back hill, the two of them felt embarrassed and decided to head back to their dormitory. But halfway there, her boyfriend didn’t want to return; he wanted to go off-campus to rent a room. They chose a different route, one that happened to pass by the school’s lake.

Because a student had jumped into that lake just two days prior, they were both a bit fearful. But to avoid taking the long way around, they ran past it as fast as they could. Just as they were about to clear the area, her boyfriend suddenly stopped, claiming someone seemed to be calling his name from behind.

When he said that, the woman was terrified. Growing up, everyone had heard at least a few ghost stories—like how if you’re walking down a dark path and someone calls your name, you must never turn around. If you do, the three flames on your body will be extinguished, and evil spirits will take advantage of the opening.

Her boyfriend ignored her warnings, turned his head to look, and then he just stood there, frozen. The woman tugged at his sleeve, but she found that his body felt heavy as a mountain; she couldn't move him at all. When she stepped in front of him, she saw that he looked like a wooden puppet—his eyes were bloodshot, his mouth was stretched wide, and drool was beginning to spill out.

That terrified the woman. Subconsciously, she threw off his hand and prepared to run. But before she could take a few steps, she heard the sound of someone hitting the water behind her. Her legs gave way, and she collapsed to the ground, shaking uncontrollably, crying and shouting for help, hoping to attract someone's attention. That was when the old man and I heard her and rushed over.

The woman gave a summary of the situation, but she left out the most critical part. I suspect she was so frightened that there were things she didn't dare to look at.

"My boyfriend’s name is Chen Kai. As for his birth data, I don't know what that is," the woman said.

"Birth data refers to the year, month, day, and hour of his birth." Young people these days don't even know their own birth charts? Has traditional culture really declined to this extent?

"Oh, oh, I know that! He was born on December 8, 1997, during the Hour of the Dragon (Chen Shi)," she said hastily.

"Are you sure it was the Hour of the Dragon?" I asked. People are usually familiar with the year, month, and day of their partner’s birth, but the hour is easily confused.

"I’m not mistaken, it was definitely the Hour of the Dragon. He told me himself. His parents originally wanted to name him Chen Chen, but they were worried it would be a tongue-twister, so they changed it to Chen Kai," she confirmed.

That being the case, there was no issue. I quickly calculated his chart: his Eight Characters should be Ding-Chou, Ren-Zi, Jia-Shen, and the Hour of the Dragon. According to the books on destiny calculation my grandfather left me, this person was destined for a mediocre life, with the only saving grace being a fairly long lifespan.

Of course, fortune-telling isn't always precise. After all, a person’s destiny is constantly shifting. Take Zhu Chongba, for example: when he was young, he was not only frail and sickly but also gaunt and sharp-featured. A master who read his fortune at the time said he was destined for a life of poverty and illness.

But by the time he sat on the throne as Emperor, another master looked at his face and saw a ruddy complexion, a broad forehead, and the signs of immense wealth and the supreme authority of the Nine-Five. Those masters were not like the old man, Zhang Qian-Grubber, who was used to pandering to whoever was in power and saying whatever people wanted to hear; they were truly capable experts.

One’s destiny and physiognomy can indeed change; you cannot judge a person’s entire life based solely on that. However, fortune-telling does have its logic. It might not be one hundred percent accurate, but it usually has a sixty or seventy percent chance of being correct.

"What do I need to do?" The woman’s mood had calmed slightly as she asked me.

"When I begin the ritual, you are responsible for guiding Chen Kai’s soul. Remember, his soul has left his body and is extremely weak. It must not be startled. If it is, even if I manage to draw his soul back and place it into his body, the damage could leave him a vegetable," I warned.

For most people, a soul that has just left the body is like a newborn infant—incredibly fragile. Of course, there are cases where the newly deceased become malevolent spirits, but those are rare. Most souls, once separated, have no offensive power and are actually afraid of the living, because the living possess an abundance of yang energy.

"Understood!" The woman nodded heavily.

"Also, let me remind you: be very careful. Make sure you are only guiding Chen Kai’s soul. Don't let your nervousness lead you to summon some wandering ghost instead," I added.

...

Around five minutes past one in the morning, the old man finally rushed back. There were too many items for him to carry alone, so he had piled everything onto a small pushcart.