Chapter 13: Transcending Wandering Spirits

“Transcending these wandering ghosts is rather laborious. I think we can first handle the matter you mentioned about the human and ghost who lived as husband and wife for several years. However, although the ghost can be transcended, the human has already lost too much yang energy and likely does not have many years left to live. Amitabha.”

At the end, the old monk could not help but chant a Buddha’s name, as if sighing over the bond between people and emotion, or lamenting Widow Zhou’s final outcome.

Hearing that Widow Zhou only had a few years left to live, my mother’s expression dimmed slightly. She looked at Old Man Jiang and asked, “Master Jiang, is there really no way to save Widow Zhou?”

“What can be done?” Old Man Jiang replied. “When humans and ghosts coexist, the human yang energy harms the ghost, and the ghost’s yin energy harms the human. Over time, the ghost’s soul scatters, and the human’s yang energy is completely drained, leading to death. They are going against the natural order. That is why people say humans and ghosts belong to different paths. Back then, Widow Zhou chose this road herself. That is her fate. When I first heard about her, I was wondering how a rural woman could know the art of descending Mao, and even invite ghosts to possess her body. I even suspected there might be a far more powerful expert involved, someone capable of true guoyin. You should know that people who perform guoyin are protected by divine influence. Otherwise, the moment the soul leaves the body and enters the underworld, the incoming yin energy would scatter the yang energy. Once a breath of yang energy is expelled, the person dies. When people perform guoyin, they often hiccup during the process. That is the divine protection helping to suppress the yang energy so it does not leave the body.”

After speaking so much, Old Man Jiang also felt extremely thirsty and took a sip of tea before continuing.

“So I went to investigate Widow Zhou after hearing rumors. The moment I saw her, I noticed she kept hiccuping nonstop. That condition meant her yang energy was being consumed far too heavily. Her life force was caught between being unable to be exhaled and unable to be swallowed. To put it plainly, she was surviving on half a life. When I went to the west side room, I found her husband’s ghost living there. It was already an extremely weak soul. You can imagine what that situation was like…”

Old Man Jiang sighed and did not continue.

In truth, there was a way to help Widow Zhou live a few more years, but doing so would go against the natural order. The karmic consequences would not fall on her in her next life, but on her descendants. It would only be for a few more years of life. She herself would likely not have agreed.

“So I transcended her husband’s soul. After my transcendence, his spirit carried Buddhist power and could at least ensure he would not scatter when entering the underworld path. He might even have a chance at reincarnation. Monks practice compassion, and we cannot bear to see people suffer so greatly. Amitabha.”

At this moment, the old monk Hui Jue no longer looked like the shameless man from before. His face was full of compassion, like a true enlightened monk.

“Alright, there is no time to lose. Let us go to Widow Zhou’s home now. Once this matter is resolved, we will return to transcend those wandering ghosts and then discuss Third Son’s situation,” Old Man Jiang said decisively.

He stood up immediately and walked out of the courtyard with Hui Jue, heading straight for Widow Zhou’s home.

My mother, filled with pity for Widow Zhou, quickly followed. Neither Old Man Jiang nor the monk objected.

Old Man Jiang often wandered through the village visiting homes, so no one found it strange when he went somewhere. At most, people joked that he was looking for food again. But when my mother followed them, villagers grew curious and asked along the way.

My mother usually replied, “I am getting food to nourish my son. We have run out of eggs at home, so I am going to the Zhou family to borrow some. I heard the old hens raised by Zhou Er’s wife might be laying eggs. Master Jiang and his relative just happened to have eaten at our place, and when they heard about it, they insisted on coming to take a look.”

My parents had an excellent reputation in the village, and everyone also knew Old Man Jiang’s temperament, so no one doubted it.

Soon, the three of them arrived at Widow Zhou’s home. Zhou Er opened the door again.

Inside the room, Widow Zhou, who was already lying weakly on the bed, suddenly found strength upon seeing Old Man Jiang and struggled to get up.

She cried out, “Master, save me,” and tried to kneel.

Old Man Jiang immediately held her up and said sternly, “I cannot save your life. But the one behind me can save your husband.”

Hearing that the old monk behind him could save her husband, Widow Zhou immediately turned to bow, but Old Man Jiang’s grip was so strong that she could not move at all.

“Transcending your husband is also a form of merit. He will not accept your bow. As for you, you may be able to live a few more years because of this. Treasure that time,” Old Man Jiang said calmly, his tone indifferent, as if he had long grown used to life and death and the workings of fate.

The monk Hui Jue simply chanted a Buddha’s name.

My mother also tried to comfort Widow Zhou for a while. The Zhou family had gradually learned the full situation after what had happened at our house before. Now hearing that Widow Zhou did not have long left to live, everyone became grief-stricken.

In particular, Old Man Zhou, supported by Zhou Er, burst into tears and slapped his thigh as he cursed through grief, “Damn Zhou Da, you died and that was it. Why did you have to drag your wife down with you… my poor daughter-in-law…”

Old Lady Zhou, supported by Zhou Er’s wife, also wiped away tears.

The family’s bond with Widow Zhou was extremely deep. After Zhou Da’s death, she had selflessly raised their posthumous child, cared for the elderly, and tended to the household without complaint.

During difficult times, the income she gained from guoyin was used to support the Zhou family with food and necessities. It was she who held the family together during their hardest years.

Only now did they realize that each time she performed guoyin, it was actually Zhou Da possessing her body. She was just an ordinary woman who knew no arts or techniques. Each possession was another blow to her own life force.

Old Man Jiang could not bear to watch this human tragedy. The monk also closed his eyes, softly chanting Buddha’s name and sighing.

Old Man Jiang then said, “Let us go to the west side room. Let us transcend Zhou Da.”

In the end, it was time to transcend her own husband.

Tears streamed down Widow Zhou’s face as she insisted on following. Old Man Jiang looked at Hui Jue, and Hui Jue said, “It is fine.”

Thus, my mother supported Widow Zhou while Old Man Jiang and Hui Jue walked in front. The four of them entered the west side room. The rest of the Zhou family stood in the courtyard, watching with sorrowful expressions.

Inside the west side room, the air was as cold as always. Widow Zhou’s face grew even paler, almost unable to stand.

Old Man Jiang sighed softly, walked behind her, and pressed, rubbed, and patted several points on her back. Only then did her breathing stabilize.

Seeing my mother’s surprised expression, Old Man Jiang said lightly, “Just ordinary therapeutic massage techniques.”

How many abilities did this old man actually have, and why did each one seem so effective? My mother was inwardly amazed.

Hui Jue walked around the room once and then sat directly on the ground. He had been carrying a black cloth bag all along, a style commonly seen in the 1960s, semi circular with two handles.

He opened it, revealing only two strings of prayer beads and a Buddhist scripture.

After taking them out, he sat cross legged, respectfully placed the scripture in front of him, put on the longer string of beads, pressed his palms together, and chanted, “Amitabha.”

The sound was not loud, but it felt like waves endlessly spreading, bringing an inexplicable sense of calm.

After the chant, Hui Jue picked up the prayer beads, performed a single handed Buddhist salute, and began chanting scriptures continuously.

Hearing the scripture, everyone felt an inner peace and serenity, as if all worldly troubles and grudges had become insignificant.

“Bah, this bald donkey’s skill has improved again after a few years,” Old Man Jiang muttered. The others had already become immersed in that mysterious spiritual atmosphere.

“Forget it. Being able to hear this old monk chant is also your fortune,” Old Man Jiang said, placing his hands behind his back. He walked out of the west side room and casually sat down on the ground outside the doorway.