Chapter Twenty-One: The Spirit Hall

The first thing Gu Jing led us to do upon entering the Spirit Hall was to burn incense and pay respects to the ancestral master. After handing three sticks of incense each to Wang Girl and me, the master and his apprentice took turns, holding the incense, igniting it with a flick of the left hand, then raising it above their heads to bow before the ancestral master.

Though I had known Gu Jing for a long time, it was my first time offering incense to the ancestors. Wang Girl had always held reservations about Gu Jing, but when she saw how he gently moved the incense in his left hand and it ignited without need for fire or lighter, she was clearly astonished. Ma Junfeng followed suit, bowing in worship, though his incense took noticeably longer to ignite than Gu Jing’s.

This little trick posed no problem for me. Wang Girl, bewildered, glanced at me. I gestured for her to join me, whispering in her ear, “Close your eyes and pray sincerely. Sincerity brings results. Don’t think about anything else.”

There are said to be three fires within the human body, and if wielded properly, they can produce unexpected effects. In ancient mythology, Nezha cultivated the ‘True Samadhi Fire’ by merging his internal fires and mastering their control.

The incense ignited by itself, relying on the internal fire, not on external flame. Only those with firm will can light it with intent.

I closed my eyes, emptied my mind, and prayed wholeheartedly for Tang Xin’s safety. With sincere bows to the ancestral master, the incense in my hand began to burn.

Wang Girl, seeing my incense ignite, glanced at me. I nodded, signaling her to follow my method. She pouted helplessly, and Gu Jing, understanding her thoughts, said, “Entering the Hall makes you a guest. If you sincerely pay respects to the master, why not? Sincerity is what matters.”

Wang Tingting, hearing Gu Jing, nodded slightly, took up the incense, and bowed as I had instructed. She bowed three times, but the incense remained unlit, which was no surprise to her. She looked at Gu Jing, then at me. I said calmly, “Sincerity brings results, and serenity comes first.”

She listened, bowing three more times, this time with true earnestness—each bow deliberate and solemn. As she finished, three wisps of smoke rose from her incense; it had ignited.

She did not realize it at first, but when the fragrance of sandalwood reached her nose, she understood she had managed to light the incense, almost unbelievable to her.

As she placed the incense for the ancestral master, she exclaimed excitedly, “It’s lit, it’s lit!” and tugged at my sleeve, her face alight with emotion.

Gu Jing laughed heartily, “Miss Wang is truly gifted, a hundred times stronger than this stubborn boy. When he studied the path with me, it took him half a year and he still couldn’t light incense with the heart’s fire.”

Ma Junfeng, embarrassed as his master exposed his shortcomings before outsiders, mumbled, “Master, how can I compare with Miss Wang and Brother Changfeng? They are exceptional.”

“Now that we’ve paid our respects, let us begin.” Gu Jing stepped before Tang Xin and checked his pulse.

Wang Girl, seeing Tang Xin’s pallor, inquired, “Master Gu, what happened to Tang Xin?”

Gu Jing opened a box beside him containing acupuncture needles, took a slightly longer one, and swiftly inserted it three inches below Tang Xin’s neck—a crisp, decisive motion that startled Wang Tingting.

Ma Junfeng watched Tang Xin’s complexion, handing more needles to Gu Jing as needed.

Gu Jing spoke while inserting needles, “If it weren’t for Changfeng’s Peace Talisman on his back, this young man would have entered the Underworld. Now, he lies here missing a soul and a spirit. Half-alive, half-dead.”

Even as he spoke, he had already inserted twenty-one needles into Tang Xin. The precision and strength of his acupuncture would leave so-called ‘masters’ in awe.

Gu Jing finished and relaxed his hands. His apprentice pointed to Tang Xin, “The night before last—or rather, yesterday at dawn—I dreamed of someone repeating Master’s name, standing at the front door, refusing to leave. I haven’t had such dreams in years. I woke up, sensed something was wrong, and went to the door. Sure enough, someone was there, filthy, calling for Master. I didn’t dare let him in, so I woke Master. We found Tang Xin’s ID in his pocket.”

Gu Jing continued, picking up where his apprentice left off.

“You must think about someone by day to dream of them by night. Junfeng had never met Tang Xin, yet dreamed of him—quite peculiar. When Junfeng called me out, Tang Xin was already incoherent, mumbling ‘Master Gu Jing, save me.’ When I replied I was Gu Jing, he fainted. Only then, seeing his ID, did I realize he was the Tang Xin you mentioned.”

“How did he end up like this?” I valued Tang Xin greatly—not only for his intelligence, but for his character and insatiable curiosity. Psychology is a profound field; even among ten students, only one might master its essence. Tang Xin belonged to that rare group, and was exceptionally gifted.

Before our trip to Xi’an, I sensed something was amiss with him. The itinerary was set, so I could not change it, but I placed a Peace Talisman on his back, hoping it would protect him in times of trouble.

Do not underestimate the Peace Talisman; its effects rival Gu Jing’s own talisman. Mine was learned from a living Buddha in Tibet when I was young, after three months of study.

Wang Girl, curious as ever about such unusual events, pressed on, “Master Gu, what happened after Tang Xin fainted?”

Gu Jing pointed at Tang Xin’s eyes; his eyelids were bluish, his face dark purple, his eyes lantern-like and eerie.

“His eyelids are blue, his face bloodless—essentially, a death by exhaustion. Yet his heart still beats, which means he hasn’t fully died.”

With that, Gu Jing pinched a tuft of Tang Xin’s hair and pulled—it came away easily. He handed it to me, “Look closely, what’s different?”

Ma Junfeng exclaimed, “The hair roots are red!”

I examined it carefully, sensing not only redness but something else amiss. Suddenly, I noticed at the very top, where the hair met the scalp, a tiny droplet of water—almost invisible to the naked eye. I uttered, “Scalp.”

Gu Jing nodded, “What does a wet scalp signify?”

Ma Junfeng shook his head, Wang Girl stared at me wide-eyed.

Hearing Gu Jing’s question, I felt a chill and heavy heart. “In medicine, death is defined as organs ceasing function, like the heart stopping. In Daoist terms, when a person dies, their three souls and six spirits depart. As the body decays, moisture in the head escapes through the scalp. A wet scalp signals imminent decomposition.”

Wang Tingting asked, “But Tang Xin isn’t dead, so why is this happening?”

I smiled bitterly, “Tang Xin isn’t dead, but a wet scalp means his soul is incomplete and he’s nearing death or already on its threshold.”

Gu Jing nodded, “Exactly. When I realized Tang Xin was missing a soul and a spirit, I was amazed. Even with such a deficit, he managed to seek me out, driven by sheer willpower. Knowing he was Tang Xin, I used acupuncture to expel the accumulated fluid and blood from his body. The physical ailment was easy to treat, but the missing soul and spirit are beyond my help. I could only preserve his life until you returned.”

I measured Tang Xin’s pulse; it was weak but present. Gu Jing had already done all he could.

Surveying the Spirit Hall, I saw how much effort Gu Jing had invested. The open area was tightly covered with yellow canvas, painted with a Taiji diagram, flanked by two talismans, and the very center of the Taiji was marked by a cauldron.

Calculating the position, I realized the rising sun would strike the yellow canvas precisely. The talismans’ inscriptions absorbed the sun’s essence and reflected it onto the cauldron. The three thick incense sticks atop the cauldron were held in place by this force, their smoke channeled through the canvas directly into Tang Xin’s nostrils.

Recalling an ancient formation, I blurted out, “The Universal Light Soul-Returning Formation!”

This ingenious harnessing of natural power stabilized Tang Xin’s remaining souls, preventing them from drifting away. Other than the Universal Light Soul-Returning Formation, there was no other arrangement for this.

Gu Jing nodded proudly. This formation had been lost since the Song Dynasty, yet Gu Jing had mastered it—no wonder his pride.

However, of the three elements—timing, geography, and harmony—geography was most crucial. Gu Jing had gone to great expense, even acquiring the cauldron from the Japanese, closely tied to the formation. Ancient texts warned that deploying this formation was exhausting.

I patted Gu Jing’s shoulder gratefully, “Thank you for your efforts.”

Gu Jing punched me playfully, laughing, “Save the thanks for later! Arranging formations, catching ghosts, feng shui, divination—I’m skilled enough. But when it comes to dealing with spirits, you take the lead. I don’t care for shortened lifespan. This kid hasn’t been with me long, still hasn’t learned much. Take him along when you have time.” With a glance at Ma Junfeng.

Despite being lively around us, Ma Junfeng behaved like a child before Gu Jing—proper and respectful, not daring to make a mistake. He bowed and said, “Uncle Changfeng, if you ever need help, please command me. It would be a great honor to learn from you.”

I couldn’t help but scold, “Don’t call me uncle, you’ll make me feel old. Gu Jing, how come your apprentice hasn’t picked up any of your good habits?”

Ma Junfeng chuckled foolishly, scratching his head.

Wang Girl seized the moment, knocking Ma Junfeng on the head like a child, “Exactly, little ones never listen.”

Her antics lightened the mood.

Tang Xin’s missing soul and spirit was no laughing matter; we needed to find them quickly. But how?

Wandering souls and spirits only appear at night. Fortunately, a soul prefers lingering in places it frequented in life. Tang Xin was just my student, and I didn’t know him intimately, making the task quite daunting.

Luckily, Wang Tingting and Ma Junfeng were here to assist. To expedite matters, I leveraged Wang Tingting’s connections, deploying over twenty police officers to investigate Tang Xin’s family and daily life. I told Ma Junfeng and Gu Jing to prepare tools for opening the altar. If I couldn’t locate the soul in time, I’d have to use the Maoshan Soul-Calling Banner—though that was a last resort. After all, the banner doesn’t guarantee the return of a specific soul; it could summon a malicious ghost, causing more trouble. Even if it brought a wandering soul, it would be exhausting, especially with limited time.

Wang Tingting, understanding the urgency, made a call and departed swiftly. Whether out of concern for Tang Xin or to prove herself before me, I couldn’t tell. Within five minutes, police cars arrived outside the villa. She waved goodbye, got in, and sped away.

Gu Jing, seeing Wang Girl, praised, “Such efficiency! One call and people arrive—Changfeng, she’s a superb assistant.”

He had barely finished praising when he added, “She’s also quite pretty—worth considering.”

I nearly fainted at his remark and smiled wryly, “Do you think that’s possible?” My words were full of helplessness; with my identity, I’d only burden others or frighten them if they learned the truth. Normally, Gu Jing would agree, but today he unexpectedly said, “Some things are destined by heaven. Ask the heavens when you have time.”