The Spirit Calling

The sun was slowly dipping toward the west when a village appeared by the roadside, a scatter of houses both tall and short haphazardly arranged.

“See? This is the stockade I told you about,” Li Zhi said, a smile spreading across his face as he pointed at the expanse of black roof tiles ahead. He strode forward without waiting.

“Follow me. I’ve got a fellow townsman here. We’ll stay at his place for free.”

Watching the retreating figure, Li Huowang gave a slight wave. The two donkey carts trundled forward after him.

As they walked onto the dirt path between the houses, Li Huowang and the others looked around at the silent surroundings.

Odd. There wasn’t a soul in sight—not in the fields, not in the yards.

What’s going on? Where is everyone? Li Huowang wondered, frowning.

Just as he was thinking this, a head poked around a corner ahead. It was Li Zhi, his weathered face alight with barely contained excitement.

“Hey!! Come quick! There’s a ruckus over here! Looks like the old man’s been rolling in the ashes! Her face is all clawed up—it’s a real sight, I tell you!”

“Rolling in the ashes?” No one answered Li Huowang’s question. He turned and saw the others looking awkward, and Bai Lingmiao’s face had gone red as she looked down.

“Brother Li, maybe we shouldn’t get involved in other people’s family business.”

Li Huowang gave her a puzzled glance, then turned and strode toward Li Zhi.

As soon as he rounded the corner, the scene opened up before him. A crowd of country folk—men, women, old and young—packed several layers deep around a doorway. Li Zhi stood at the edge, on tiptoe, one hand braced on someone else’s shoulder as he craned his neck for a better look.

So that’s where the whole village had gone. They were all here gawking.

“What’s ‘rolling in the ashes’?” Li Huowang asked as he reached Li Zhi’s side.

“It’s when the old man steals into his daughter-in-law’s bed. Do they call it something else where you’re from? Where are you from, anyway?” Li Zhi looked him up and down again, surprised.

Hearing this, Li Huowang could only shake his head. No wonder Bai Lingmiao had made that face.

“Ah——!!” A woman’s piercing scream exploded from the center of the crowd. The onlookers let out a collective grunt and surged backward, opening a gap.

Through the space, Li Huowang caught a bizarre sight.

A completely naked woman lay twisted on an eight-immortal table, her limbs bent at unnatural angles like a snake coiling around its prey, screaming and trembling.

“Ah, hell—doesn’t look like rolling in the ashes. Looks like someone’s run afoul of something.” Li Zhi slapped his hands together in frustration and began shoving his way in. “’Scuse me, make way—spirit-dancer coming through—move it—shit, who the hell stepped on my foot?!”

Li Huowang had been about to turn away, but now he stopped. He’s going to try his hand at exorcising this?

Li Zhi finally fought his way through the crowd. He looked around, then waved at Li Huowang. “Master True Man! Come on, what are you standing all the way out there for?”

Li Huowang thought it over, then pushed his way in after him.

This guy seems a bit flaky. Good chance to see what he can really do.

If it’s just parlor tricks, there’s no point asking him to help with my problem. No need to let him get eaten by Danyangzi like some snack.

When he reached the center of the crowd, Li Huowang could see more clearly. The woman on the eight-immortal table was undeniably wrong.

Her phoenix eyes held no pupils, and she seemed to have five layers of eyelids stacked on each eye.

Beside her stood an old man and a younger one, their faces freshly clawed—likely the aggrieved family.

“Master True Man,” Li Zhi whispered, leaning in, “you want to take this, or should I? Or maybe we do it together. Then you can charge them a bit more, we split it fifty-fifty—that way we’re not breaking the spirit-dance rules.”

“No need. Exorcisms aren’t my specialty. You handle it.” Li Huowang refused flatly. I don’t know how to do them anyway.

Li Zhi stared at him in disbelief. “You’re kidding me, right? You can’t even drive out a spirit? What kind of fake Daoist are you?”

“Hurry up. Look at her—she’s about to break her own bones.” Li Huowang pointed at the woman on the table.

She had already bitten through her lip. Blood dripped down her chin, and her joints were cracking audibly as she twisted.

*So common folks aren’t as far from these things as I thought. They just lump it all under ‘running afoul.’ * Li Huowang watched Li Zhi haggling with the family. What would they have done if Li Zhi hadn’t been here today?

He looked around the room—worn-out farm tools, bare feet caked with yellow mud, the old man’s and the young man’s faces etched with hardship. The answer to his question was simple, and cruel.

It’s probably like a poor man getting sick. A minor illness, you tough it out. A major one, you bear it. If you can’t bear it, you lie down and wait.

“Ahem!” A cough silenced the murmuring crowd.

Thump. Li Zhi tapped the worn drum at his waist with a small stick. Everyone’s hearts skipped a beat.

Thump. Thump. Thump. “Calling... the... Spirits...!”

The cry rose high and piercing, suppressing every other sound in the vicinity.

Li Huowang turned to look outside. The red glow in the sky was fading fast. Silent darkness was about to fall.

“The sun sets o’er the western hills~ the heavens darken~ The dragon returns to the sea, the tiger to the mountain~ The dragon returns to the sea to bring the rain~ The tiger returns to the mountain to find its rest~ Ai~ ai~”

As Li Zhi sang, keeping time with the drum, the woman beside him—the Second Spirit, who had been utterly unnoticed until now—began to tremble. Her red bridal veil and the colored ribbons on her clothes quivered.

“Above, the Seven-Star琉璃瓦; below, the Eight-Trigram紫金砖. Feet on the earth, head against the sky. Stride forth in linked steps, both feet firm on the camp. Burn incense, beat the drum, summon the Old Immortal~ Ai~”

Still drumming, Li Zhi drew out several incense sticks, lit them, and planted them around the woman on the table.

The disheveled woman bared her teeth like a wild animal, lunging forward—but the moment she touched the white smoke, she let out a yelp and recoiled.

The smoke from the incense tips did not disperse. It curled slowly through the room, spinning in a lazy vortex. Soon, the interior grew hazy.

Li Huowang’s eye twitched. A nameless irritation began to well up inside him. He glanced around—everything else seemed normal—frowned, rubbed the back of his neck, and took a step back.

“Guh——” A sound came from beneath the red veil. The Second Spirit was hiccuping. A rustling noise followed.

The crowd of onlookers flinched, retreating further. A few of the less brave ones began hurrying home before the sky went completely dark.

Hearing the hiccups, Li Zhi shot a glance over his shoulder, then continued drumming and singing.

“Old Immortal~ if you’ve come, let me know—don’t fuss, don’t fight~ Plenty of might, plenty of menace—but bring a little less of that menace, if you please~”

“The room is small, there’s many a corner—if you bump or scrape, it would be a bother~ Bump into a gentleman, and it’s fine~ But bump into a petty man, and tongues will wag~ Ai~”