Chapter One: The Streetcar

Boom, boom!

On a somewhat sultry night, a bus was slowly making its way down a lonely road.

The stillness of the night felt peculiar.

Inside the bus, a woman cradled a child, about a year old, in her arms. The child’s incessant wailing made the stifling heat even more oppressive and stirred unease among the passengers.

Standing by the door was a portly man, speaking loudly into his phone with an exasperated expression. He cursed now and then, clearly enraged by something on the other end of the call.

Opposite him sat a young man, listening to music with one hand resting nonchalantly on the railing, seemingly at ease.

The driver at the front said nothing, his silent focus on the road lending the night an eerie edge.

Suddenly, with a screech of brakes, the bus came to a halt.

The doors swung open.

The three passengers looked on in surprise—perhaps at the abrupt stop, or perhaps at the thought that someone else would board the bus at this late hour.

Slowly, a young man dressed in a Taoist robe stepped aboard. His hair was closely cropped, his expression earnest and upright. On his back, he carried two swords—one a crimson peachwood sword, the other fashioned from a string of copper coins.

Without a word, the young Taoist sat cross-legged in a seat.

With a heavy clank, the doors slammed shut, and the bus resumed its slow journey.

The portly man, who had been shouting into his phone, now fell silent, glancing nervously at the young Taoist. He swallowed in fear.

The music-listening youth removed his earphones and eyed the Taoist warily, as though facing a formidable enemy.

Only the woman remained composed, gently rocking her child and whispering, “Hush, Xier. Don’t be afraid. Mama’s here.”

After a long while, the young Taoist opened his eyes. He reached into the cloth bag slung over his back.

The portly man instinctively took a few steps back. The youth, too, rose to his feet, tense.

Yet the woman, undisturbed, continued to hold her child. “Xier, don’t be scared. Mama will protect you.”

But the Taoist merely produced a newspaper, unfolded it, and raised it before the others, speaking: “Since you no longer belong to the mortal world, why not enter the earth and be freed from this life?”

On the newspaper, the headline was clear: “On June 14th, a night bus on Anshan Street was the scene of a quarrel triggered by a crying child. The driver left his seat to intervene, leaving the vehicle unattended. The bus plummeted down a slope, and none on board survived—not the driver, not the three men, the woman, nor the infant.”

The portly man’s face was first somber, then twisted in rage. “I’m worth millions! I’ve barely begun to enjoy my wealth after a lifetime of toil. How can it end like this? I can’t accept it—I can’t!”

His features contorted into a ghastly visage as his body swelled grotesquely. “I won’t go! I haven’t lived enough!”

He charged straight at the Taoist, who only shook his head in resignation. “Were it not for your worldly attachments, you wouldn’t have become an evil spirit, doomed to never reincarnate.”

“Don’t think you can subdue me!” The fat man’s roar made the bus shake and rattle.

“Peachwood slays ghosts, copper coins banish demons. Since your obsession is so deep, persuasion is futile. You cannot be allowed to remain.”

With that, the young Taoist drew the peachwood sword from his back. “Mao Mountain Command for Slaying Ghosts—Incantation of Fire!”

As he leveled the sword, fierce flames erupted from its blade. Seeing this, the evil spirit froze, then tried to flee, but it was too late.

The Taoist plunged the flaming sword through the man’s chest. The fire consumed the body instantly.

“I can’t accept this! After all my hard work and the fortune I amassed, it’s all gone in a flash—how can I accept this fate?”

In moments, the portly man was reduced to ashes.

The youth who had been listening to music tried to flee, but as he touched the door, a golden light burst forth, hurling him back.

“Don’t waste your efforts,” the Taoist said, approaching the youth. “I pasted talismans on all the windows. With your power, you can’t escape.”

“I’m just a student,” the youth replied in despair. “I just finished my university entrance exam. I wanted to go home and rest for a while. I never thought I’d die before I even set foot in my house. It’s so unfair.”

“Such is life, and death comes unbidden,” the Taoist intoned, pulling out a talisman. “If you don’t wish to be reduced to ashes, don’t do anything reckless.”

He pressed the talisman to the youth’s forehead. “Spirit of Yin and Yang, hear my call; transcending life and death, I grant you deliverance. Incantation of Transcendence!”

As he finished the chant, the talisman dissolved into gentle white light, flowing into the youth’s body. The youth’s form faded, becoming a ball of white light that vanished into the earth.

“Now only you remain. Will you fight, or will you let me release you in peace?” the Taoist asked the woman holding her child.

“I’m from the mountains,” the woman replied. “There was a great flood; life became impossible. My husband drowned while trying to control the waters. I came to the city to seek help from relatives. They gave me two thousand yuan and turned me away. I couldn’t go on—except for Xier, who still had to live.”

“I wasn’t a bad person in life, nor am I an unreasonable ghost in death. Can you help Xier, please?”

As she spoke, she lifted her child, but the infant in her arms was already a skeleton.

“Sigh, such is life, such is fate. Life and death are decreed by heaven, and heaven cherishes life. If I can help, I will not refuse,” the Taoist replied, though he kept his grip tight on the peachwood sword, wary of a sudden attack.

But the woman merely folded her arms around the child. “I know—we all died in the crash. If the adults couldn’t survive, how could the child? I have no complaints. I won’t cause trouble for the living. I’ll go now.”

With that, she too turned into a stream of white light and passed into the earth.

A heavy sigh came from the driver’s seat. “I’ve driven for over forty years, but in the end, I made a mistake that cost these young people their lives. I asked the Taoists of Mao Mountain for help, because these passengers were my responsibility. I must see them off, so they won’t linger and harm the living. Thank you, Taoist.”

The young Taoist brushed his sleeve. “I am Fang You, third disciple of Mao Mountain. Safe journey, elder.”

“Fang You, eh? I’ll remember you, young man. When I meet the King of Hell, I won’t forget your deed.”

As the heavy voice faded, the bus beneath Fang You’s feet began to dissolve into nothing.

“Elder Brother should be almost finished by now as well,” Fang You mused.