Volume One: The Soul-Attracting Gourd and the Soul-Igniting Lantern Chapter 42: Facing Tribulation and Warding Off Calamity (Part One)

Time flew by, and before he knew it, it was already past eleven. Under the moonlight, amid the darkness and the chorus of insects, a chill wind rose. Weeds waist-high whispered like the wailing of ghosts in the night.

Gu Mo swallowed hard, wiped the cold sweat from his brow, and, guided by childhood memories, soon found himself at the foot of a slope, scanning his surroundings. The black bundle clenched in his hand was drenched through with sweat. No matter what, the area near the Mountain God Temple was simply terrifying!

After a few steps, Gu Mo felt his foot land on a heap of broken bricks. Raising his gaze, he saw the distant Mountain God Temple bathed in bleak moonlight, draped in a veil of white. The tiny temple, barely ten square meters, had been relentlessly eroded by time—its ruin was plain to see.

A dust-covered dry well sat before the temple. As a breeze swept past, a foul, decaying stench invaded Gu Mo’s nostrils. Ahead, the temple roof had half collapsed, the wooden doorframe was shattered, and even the clay statue of the Mountain God lay toppled, marred and mottled by the years.

Taking a deep breath, Gu Mo mustered his courage and approached the dry well. With each step, his heartbeat thundered louder—thump, thump, thump-thump.

Suddenly, from his left came a piercing, mournful cry. Gu Mo’s scalp prickled, every hair standing on end. He forced himself to look toward the source.

A wild cat, black as pitch, arched its back atop the broken tiles of the temple. Its fur bristled, making Gu Mo’s heart pound in terror. Its round, spectral eyes brimmed with grievance, fixing him with a baleful gaze. Its whiskers, rigid as steel needles, framed its sinister mouth.

That anguished wail seemed to proclaim its territory—no trespassing! Gu Mo stood frozen, brow furrowed, unsure whether to advance or retreat.

After a long moment, the wild cat gradually relaxed and padded away. Seeing this, Gu Mo finally released the breath he’d been holding.

He lifted his numb legs and walked toward the dilapidated temple. Passing the dry well, he glanced inside out of idle curiosity. There, on the broken bricks, lay a fresh cat carcass.

Its hollow, ashen eyes stared fixedly toward the entrance. Gu Mo broke into another cold sweat. Its twisted features looked uncannily like the third emoji in your WeChat collection.

He exhaled sharply, startled, thoughts tumbling into a jumble of strange phrases:

“Crabs, bananas, potatoes, Tony Leung, Ultraman, jeans, Guan Yu, Sima Guang, winter sun, autumn leaves, Wang Xiaoming helping an old lady cross the street, Alibaba and the Forty Thieves, Alien vs. Predator!”

After this string of nonsense, Gu Mo’s turbulent emotions calmed a little.

He crouched shakily, fished out a cigarette, and stuck it between his lips. Shielding the lighter with his left hand, he pressed it with his right.

Click, click, click—after seven or eight tries, a flickering orange flame finally appeared.

Drawing deeply on the cigarette, Gu Mo’s pale, waxen face managed a bitter smile as he mocked himself:

“Damn it! Who am I? I’m the King of Hell’s consort!

And just a few days ago, I outran zombies and cursed at female ghosts! What about spirits in paintings? What about skeleton soldiers?

Never once have I failed to emerge victorious, warding off evil and turning misfortune to luck! Now, how could I possibly fear a dead cat?”

Muttering to himself, Gu Mo took another drag, letting the nicotine churn through his lungs.

By the time the cigarette burned down, Gu Mo had recovered his composure. He ground it out fiercely, took a deep breath, and finally stepped toward the temple.

As soon as he entered, a thick earthy odor mixed with something indescribable assaulted his nose. Gu Mo wrinkled his brow, covered his mouth and nose, and carefully surveyed his surroundings. Suddenly, he spotted something pitch-black in the corner.

Cold sweat broke out all over him. Heart pounding, he picked up a thick branch at his feet and edged forward, wary as if walking on thin ice.

One step, two steps, three steps. The temple was small, so the black object wasn’t far away, but the short distance felt like a marathon.

Eventually, Gu Mo reached the shadow, adrenaline surging as if he’d been injected with it.

The arrow was nocked; it had to fly!

Gu Mo stared at the shadow and prodded it with the branch.

Soft!

Learning this, his adrenaline spiked again, goosebumps erupting over his skin.

But suddenly, the black object sprang up.

Gu Mo broke into a cold sweat and involuntarily cursed.

“Shit!”

Four eyes met, and only then did Gu Mo see that the shadow was an elderly vagrant.

A pungent, sour stench radiated from the vagrant with his sudden movement, making it nearly unbearable.

“Hey, what are you up to, kid?” the old man barked.

Gu Mo, bewildered by the abrupt question, stammered, “Damn! Are you human or ghost? Why are you lying in this ruined temple?”

By moonlight, Gu Mo sized up the vagrant: disheveled hair, emaciated frame, face obscured, ragged scraps of cloth hanging from his body, yet he stood over one seventy in height.

Suddenly, the vagrant grabbed Gu Mo’s wrist and sniffed, eyes fixing on Gu Mo’s neck.

Then, in a dialect-laden, magnetic voice, he intoned:

“Treading the boundary of life and death, seeking roots, this flower blooms to vanquish all others. Ninety-nine tribulations await on the road; where, then, is immortality found?”

With that, the madman released Gu Mo’s wrist, threw back his head, and howled:

“Wicked! Wicked place!”

He gathered up his woven sack and staggered away, leaving Gu Mo alone in silent confusion.

“Crazy, right? Spouting poetry again? Does he think I’m illiterate? What nonsense is that supposed to mean?”

Gu Mo waved dismissively, his earlier fear now vanished. He glanced around, then checked his phone for the time.

Sigh...

These days, people only care about smooth sailing and the God of Wealth, longing for affection day and night, craving promotion and easy riches.

Who would bother worshipping at a haunted place like the Mountain God Temple?

So its abandonment was only natural!

Just as Gu Mo was thinking this, a rustling sound came from the corner, and his heart leapt once more...

Terrified, Gu Mo twisted his stiff neck, sweat pouring down his face.

What met his eyes was the White-Furred Yellow Spirit!

As expected, the damned creature appeared right at his feet.

The White-Furred Yellow Spirit stood upright and scraped its paws on the ground, seemingly signaling Gu Mo to lower himself. Cautiously, he squatted down.

Suddenly, he felt a gentle touch on his brow, and his just-cleared mind fogged over.

Abruptly, a new voice flooded Gu Mo’s mind.

“My immortal self did not misjudge you—child, you truly came!”

Gu Mo was stunned. What was happening? Possession?

No matter how he struggled, he couldn’t regain control of his body.

The White-Furred Yellow Spirit snapped its fingers, and from the corner, a small yellow spirit emerged, dragging a large sack.

Under its control, Gu Mo bent down and untied the sack. Soon, he wound a red string around the small yellow spirit, which squeaked and dove into the bag.

In the blink of an eye, the small spirit crawled out holding a miniature Bagua mirror.

Baffled, Gu Mo remained under the white spirit’s control.

Next, Gu Mo arranged an incense burner, red candles, and sandalwood on the floor—all supplies pilfered by the White-Furred Yellow Spirit from a candle shop, it seemed.

Then, compelled, Gu Mo lit the candles and incense and sat cross-legged.

At that moment, his mind flashed with his own voice:

“Oh no! My brand-new tracksuit! The White-Furred Yellow Spirit couldn’t even bother to blow off the dust!”

But then he recalled that the gold nugget used as ‘down payment’ was a proper gold bar. Buying a hundred tracksuits would be no trouble!

(A standard gold bar is 116.64 grams, or 3.746 ounces. Recently, gold prices hover around 404.5 yuan per gram. So a single bar is worth more than forty-seven thousand yuan!

And how does Gu Mo know this so well?

He’s been hustling in a major city with multiple jobs, including sales at a gold shop. So he can tell at a glance if it’s real gold and how many grams.)

Yet the thought that this money was spent to buy his life left Gu Mo feeling uneasy.

Now, he was the fish on the chopping block, powerless to change his fate.

Prepared, the small yellow spirit leapt into Gu Mo’s lap and also sat cross-legged. Its furry warmth was palpable even through the tracksuit.

The White-Furred Yellow Spirit then stood upright like a human, hands clasped behind its back. It gazed into Gu Mo’s eyes and said,

“Child, success or failure hinges on this moment! Rest assured, my immortal self will not treat you badly!”

Outwardly, Gu Mo managed a slight smile and nodded, but inwardly he was full of suspicion:

“Come off it! I’m here as a scapegoat, a substitute to ward off calamity, and you talk of ‘not mistreating’ me? If this fails, will I even get the final payment? This beast’s calculations are truly sly!”

Suddenly, a fierce wind arose, and dark clouds surged.

Gu Mo, holding the small yellow spirit, looked up at the pitch-black sky, trembling in terror.

In an instant, black clouds roiled above the Mountain God Temple, covering moon and stars.

Boom!

...