Chapter Thirteen: The World of Strange Tales

It was only at this moment that Chen Jiu became somewhat aware of what had transpired.

“Shanxiao… isn’t that a mountain spirit from ‘Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio’?” Suddenly, everything became clear to him.

In “Strange Tales,” Pu Songling recorded a story about the Shanxiao, as told by his friend Sun Taibai, recounting a bizarre incident experienced by Sun’s great-grandfather. The event took place at Willow Gully Temple at the foot of the southern mountain. It was said that Sun’s great-grandfather, while staying overnight, encountered a tall, hideous specter that transformed into a demonic wind, sweeping into his room with ill intent. Fortunately, he had a knife hidden beneath his pillow and, after a fierce struggle, escaped unharmed.

Chen Jiu carefully sorted through the details and realized that everything matched perfectly. Not only did the temple bear the same name, but Sun Gongzi was indeed a scholar, and his encounter with the creature mirrored the tale exactly!

Combining this with the supernatural world he found himself in, Chen Jiu arrived at a conclusion.

“It seems I’ve crossed into Pu Songling’s book. This is a… Strange Tales world!”

The thought startled even himself.

Never mind that he’d always been fond of “Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio”—even the TV adaptations he watched secretly as a child under his blanket had left a lasting impression on him.

“To think I’d end up in a world crawling with monsters like this…” The moment he recalled the countless bizarre events in Strange Tales, Chen Jiu’s head began to ache. He only hoped he wouldn’t run into anything too formidable.

As he stood lost in thought, a sudden shout echoed from afar.

“Daoist priest! Where are you?!”

Chen Jiu’s expression shifted, and he quickly looked toward the source.

Through the scattered trees, points of firelight appeared, swaying as they drew nearer.

Someone was coming!

“Perhaps it’s Sun Gongzi…” Chen Jiu thought to himself.

He responded aloud.

Not long after, Sun Bai arrived, leading a group of monks from Willow Gully Temple, all bearing torches.

Sun Bai’s face was slick with sweat. He panted as he looked at Chen Jiu. “Daoist priest, are you unharmed?”

Chen Jiu smiled and shook his head.

Aside from some fatigue, he was perfectly fine.

“What is that?!” Suddenly, someone spotted the corpse of the Shanxiao, its flesh shriveled after losing its spirit, and cried out in alarm.

“Oh, little master, there’s no need to fear. I have already dealt with this monster; it will harm no one again,” Chen Jiu said.

Upon hearing this, Sun Bai’s eyes filled with astonishment. “This… this is the creature that devoured people’s brains?”

Chen Jiu nodded slightly.

Moved, Sun Bai gazed at Chen Jiu with newfound reverence.

“Master Daoist, you have rid the people of evil! Truly, you are a master of the Dao, a great champion on the altar. Please accept my bow!” With that, Sun Bai made to kneel in salute.

Chen Jiu laughed and hurried to help him up.

“Sun Gongzi, you graciously allowed me to stay at your temple. I am the one who should be grateful.”

Sun Bai blushed in embarrassment. “I did not know you were a celestial master, and I failed in hospitality. How about this—please remain at our temple a few days more, and I shall receive you with the utmost honor.”

Chen Jiu shook his head. “Thank you for your kindness, but I have urgent matters to attend to and cannot stay.”

In the ancient world, especially where superstition was rife, Daoist priests skilled in the arts were highly esteemed and never to be offended. There was even a saying among the common folk of the Jin Dynasty: “Better to provoke a heavenly immortal or god than a Daoist on earth.”

If these spellcasters wished to play tricks or punish a mortal, it was as easy as turning a hand. Yet, priests could not act wantonly either, for there was the Bureau of Tranquility, an institution that held absolute authority over monks and Daoists.

Seeing that Chen Jiu was resolute, Sun Bai looked disappointed and sighed. “Very well. Then allow me to escort you, at least!”

Chen Jiu’s heart stirred, and he smiled. “In fact, I do have a favor to ask.”

Sun Bai blinked in confusion. “What is it? Please say on.”

Chen Jiu stepped aside and gestured toward the nearby corpse of the Shanxiao…

…

By the time Chen Jiu and his company reached the entrance to Willow Leaf Village, dawn was just breaking.

At the village entrance lay the body of the monstrous creature, over a zhang in length. Chen Jiu had asked Sun Bai to have the temple monks carry it over.

All this was to clear his own name.

He had slain the man-eating monster; he must prove his innocence to the villagers.

As Daoists, they would never stoop to such wicked, inhuman acts.

That so-called “Daoist Withered Wood” was absolutely not a true, ordained priest!

He was a practitioner of evil—someone destined to be struck down by heaven!

Soon, more than a dozen villagers gathered at the entrance, surrounding Chen Jiu and Sun Bai’s group.

But this time, instead of anger, the villagers’ faces were filled with shame.

They were the very people who had surrounded him days before, some even intent on killing him.

Chen Jiu raised an eyebrow. What did this mean?

At that moment, the old farmer Chen Jiu had first met stepped forward. His eyes were red as he addressed Chen Jiu, “Master Daoist! My brother came to me in a dream. He said you risked your life to slay that man-eating monster and proved your innocence. He told me not to bear any more grudges.”

He glanced at the monster’s corpse and sighed, “We let hatred blind us and wronged you, Master Daoist!”

With that, the old farmer fell to his knees.

Startled, Chen Jiu hurried to help him up.

But the other villagers also knelt in unison.

“My husband came to me in a dream as well. He said you slew the monster and rid the people of evil, so his grievance is gone, and he can finally reincarnate…” spoke the farmer’s wife from the other day.

The other villagers echoed her, each claiming their deceased loved ones had appeared in dreams to recount how Chen Jiu had slain the monster.

Seeing their guilt-ridden faces, the last trace of anger in Chen Jiu’s heart melted away.

“Please rise, everyone! Slaying monsters is a Daoist’s duty—to uphold justice between heaven and earth. Please, stand!” Chen Jiu said, bowing helplessly.

The old farmer wiped his tears, then reached inside his coarse robe.

With trembling hands, he produced a bundle tightly wrapped in red cloth, which he slowly unwrapped.

As the final layer came off, a coin the color of white jade was revealed, shaped like an ancient cash piece.

A surge of spiritual energy suddenly emanated from the jade-like coin.

“This Longevity Coin has been in my family since my great-grandfather’s time. We have nothing else of value; please, Master Daoist, accept it,” the old farmer said, offering the coin.

Chen Jiu’s expression shifted. Was this the fabled Longevity Coin, currency among cultivators?

Judging by its faint spiritual glow and extraordinary aura, it was certainly no ordinary object.

He accepted the coin.

Though such items held some use even for mortals, since the villager offered it willingly, it would be ungracious to refuse.

His master had always taught him: “Refuse no wealth heaven sends,” and the original Chen Jiu was fond of money. After taking over his life, Chen Jiu followed this rule to the letter.

After all, in the Jin Dynasty’s rates, an ounce of gold equaled ten ounces of silver, an ounce of silver a thousand copper coins, and a single Longevity Coin could fetch fifty ounces of silver!

Of course, if an ordinary person brought a Longevity Coin to the Bureau of Tranquility to exchange for silver, they would likely be questioned and investigated, so few commoners ever bothered.

After giving instructions to burn the monster’s corpse and handle other matters, Chen Jiu bid farewell to Sun Bai and left the village, making his way toward the outer reaches of Mysterious Mountain.