Chapter 39: Rusted Gun, Evil Spirits

Could there be some hidden truth behind Second Granduncle’s death? The absence of his soul immediately made Zhang Kai suspicious.

Fortunately, the arrangement of the mourning hall and all forms of hospitality had already been seen to by the elders, so there was nothing that required his attention for the moment. Zhang Kai asked a child about where the accident had taken place and then left the village, heading toward Huzi Mountain.

The mountain rose just behind the village, less than three hundred meters away. The whole settlement nestled in a narrow valley, its width less than a thousand meters. Most of the land was rocky, with only a few patches suitable for farming.

But there had been game in the mountains, and in the past, a river ran through the valley. The villagers could rely on the bounty of mountain and water, which was what had allowed the Zhang family to establish themselves here. Yet, times had changed: hunting was now forbidden except in secret, the river had shrunk, the fish were far fewer, and farming could never compete with the wages from outside work. As a result, the village had grown quieter with each passing year.

Only Zhang Kai’s father, Zhang Mingren, had prospered by trading wild mountain goods with this and neighboring villages. Most others had left for work elsewhere, some not returning for many years, so the village’s New Year celebrations grew ever more subdued.

But such was the need for societal progress, the irresistible force of the times—no one could hope to stop it.

Climbing the mountain, Zhang Kai soon left the village behind. Then, employing his lightness skill, he darted nimbly through the forest.

He made good time and before long reached the edge of a lake. This was once the main water source for Huzi Mountain, quite sizable—comparable to a small reservoir. When Zhang Kai was a child, he would play here, feeling it to be the largest lake in the world.

But the water level had dropped drastically, barely a third of what it used to be.

He recalled that one of the strange tales about Huzi Mountain involved this very lake. It was called Jiao Spirit Lake. Legend said a giant python dwelled here, who had cultivated for many years and even grown dragon horns, soon to undergo a heavenly tribulation and transform into a dragon.

Zhang Kai remembered more: supposedly, centuries ago, Huzi Mountain was struck by a thunderstorm so fierce that thunder and lightning raged for three days straight, felling countless trees. The elders said that was the serpent’s tribulation. When it finally cleared, some people found fragments of scales by the lake, each the size of a rice bowl—said to have been shattered from the serpent’s body during the ordeal.

But whether the beast succeeded or failed, stories varied. Some said it perished, thus the broken scales; others believed it succeeded, shedding its old scales for new and becoming a dragon.

For a time after, the surrounding villages even built a temple to the Jiao Spirit. Zhang Kai had visited it as a child, but by then it had long been abandoned, the Dragon King’s statue so thick with dust its features were unrecognizable.

Now, though Zhang Kai focused on the lake, he sensed no spiritual energy within it.

He continued past the lake, soon arriving before a great mountain known as Front Gate Mountain. At its summit stood a derelict building, said to be the remnants of an old bandit stronghold for defense against government raids. In his youth, villagers hunting in the mountains would sometimes spend the night there.

It was here, at this very spot, that Second Granduncle was reportedly attacked by a wild boar, tumbled down the slope, and died when his head struck a rock.

But now, Zhang Kai found that story hard to believe.

Staring up at Front Gate Mountain, he saw wisps of black mist curling around the peak—sinister and chilling.

Something here was amiss.

With a sharp gaze, Zhang Kai’s heart tightened. His Second Granduncle had been an old hunter in the village, famed for single-handedly taking down wild boars in his youth—renowned in all the neighboring villages. Even in old age, his skills had not diminished, and he often went into the mountains to hunt rabbits or pheasants.

It had always seemed odd—how could someone with such experience fall victim to a wild boar and tumble to his death?

Now, Zhang Kai was certain—a wild boar had nothing to do with it.

He rushed up the mountain, following the source of the black mist.

Before long, Zhang Kai stood before a dilapidated building. It had once been a large structure of earth and wood, but most of it had collapsed; only one section remained intact.

This was where the village hunters often lodged. In recent years, with fewer hunters, perhaps only Second Granduncle would have stayed here on occasion.

But now, the house was shrouded in a cold, menacing black aura.

Zhang Kai felt no fear and strode inside.

He searched the place thoroughly and soon discovered the source of the black mist—a rifle!

It was rusted, clearly very old. Yet something about it made Zhang Kai pause; it looked familiar, as if he’d seen it before.

Examining it closely, he noticed a character carved into the stock: “Hua.”

This was Second Granduncle’s gun!

Seeing the mark, long-buried memories surfaced. Zhang Kai’s own grandfather had also possessed a rifle, which he had seen as a child, and that rifle’s stock bore the character “Fu.” In fact, all four brothers of his grandfather’s generation had had rifles, each inscribed with one of the four characters: Glory, Splendor, Wealth, and Honor. These had been handed down from their great-grandfather, who had been a hero on the battlefield, fighting invaders, and later brought home four rifles and much ammunition.

It was his great-grandfather’s hope that his sons would use these weapons to support their families and bring them prosperity.

When Zhang Kai’s grandfather was still alive, he’d mentioned that Second Granduncle’s rifle had been lost in the mountains, but never explained why or why it wasn’t recovered.

Later, even Grandfather’s rifle was confiscated by the government, as civilians were no longer permitted to possess such dangerous weapons.

Zhang Kai remembered that Second Granduncle had always used a bow for hunting, and his skill was unmatched—within a hundred paces, he never missed. As a child, Zhang Kai had admired him greatly.

Now, seeing this lost gun suddenly appear, Zhang Kai was full of doubt.

Hadn’t it been lost in the mountains? Why was it here? This didn’t look like something Second Granduncle would have hidden.

Most unsettling of all was the sinister, chilling black mist emanating from the gun.

Could this be connected to Second Granduncle’s death?

Turning this over in his mind, Zhang Kai reached out to grab the rusty rifle.

The moment his hand touched it, the black mist surged up, wrapping around his wrist. In the next instant, as if nourished by something, the mist swelled severalfold, enveloping Zhang Kai. Within the darkness, a fox’s head with jade-green eyes glared at him, its gaze filled with malice and hatred.

Zhang Kai was startled, but soon realized—this was no fox, but a weasel!

With a screech, the weasel lunged at him.

Zhang Kai’s eyes widened. Channeling his inner energy, he formed a seal with his fingers and began to chant a Buddhist mantra. Before he unleashed the Divine Palm of the Tathagata, the mystical effects had already begun—a golden sun appeared behind him, radiating endless light.

Bathed in this golden glow, the weasel shrieked, the black mist contracting violently and retreating into the rusty rifle.

Damn it, trying to ambush me!

With a swift motion, Zhang Kai summoned a flash of Buddha’s Light; the swastika symbol appeared in his palm and struck the rifle.

With a crack, the rifle shattered into pieces.

A shrill cry rang out as a ball of black mist shot forth, trying to escape the building. But as soon as it crossed the threshold, another scream sounded, and the mist shrank back inside, cowering in a corner.

Zhang Kai glanced outside—the sun was blazing.

He immediately understood. Turning to the black mist, he sneered, “Come out now, or I’ll scatter you to dust and you’ll never find release.”

The mist was silent.

Zhang Kai raised an eyebrow and was about to act when suddenly, a face emerged from the blackness—twisted and tormented.

“San’er, San’er, Second Granduncle is in so much pain, don’t hurt your Second Granduncle.”

Second Granduncle!

Seeing that face, Zhang Kai was struck with horror.