Faraway Wanderers - V1C9
Chapter 9
The Laughing Owl
Zhou Zishu gazed at the handprint for a moment before flipping the corpse face down and removing its upper clothes—another handprint was visible on its back at the same spot.
Wen Kexing sighed, asking, “Was he branded, or did the attack pass through his body?”
Zhou Zishu replied casually, “No one would bother to tangle with the dead; the attack passed straight through his body. In the last fifty years, I can only think of one person capable of such a thing..."
“It’s the Rakshasa[1] Palms from Sun Ding, the Delighted Mourning Ghost,” Wen Kexing continued.
Zhou Zishu looked at him without speaking, then knelt to examine Mu Yunge’s body carefully. He found some banknotes and silver. “Oh, leaving Zhao’s Holdings quietly late at night with travel money...” Zhou Zishu touched his own chest… so did he.
“Brother Wen, this night owl isn’t here to pick flowers; a sex offender wouldn't need this much cash."
“Probably doesn’t need extra clothes for bathing, either.” Wen Kexing kicked a small bag hidden in a bush into the open. The bag was also made of black cloth and contained some clothes for changing when away from home.
The forest floor was damp and soft, covered with a chaotic pattern of footprints, yet there was no evidence of a struggle. Apart from the handprint that caused instant death, Mu Yunge’s body showed no other wounds or scars. His renowned sword remained sheathed at his hip.
Mu Yunge’s Kung Fu[2] was certainly above average; at the very least, he wouldn't fight back like a helpless recruit. Zhou Zishu fell into silence, pondering whether the noble and righteous swordsman from Duan Jian Manor and the Delighted Mourning Ghost of the Valley had planned a meeting.
A violent one at that, which probably began as passionate but then shifted into anger.
Initially, there appeared to be three people present before they arrived. Mu Yunge’s footprints stopped here, but the other two went in different directions, indicating they might not be on the same side. One was likely chasing Mu Yunge to this location and then sat down to examine the body, similar to what Zhou Zishu is doing now.
Zhou Zishu crouched down, his old questioning instincts surfacing again, causing a restless feeling inside. He wanted to follow the footprints, but his logic advised caution, reminding him it might cause problems. No longer the all-knowing leader of Tian Chuang, he saw no reason to burden himself with unnecessary trouble.
Wen Kexing watched his companion sit in a terribly indecent manner, looking as if it would take him forever to stand up. After a long while, he couldn’t help but ask, “You won’t pursue them?”
Zhou Zishu looked at him, still battling inner conflict.
Wen Kexing, after a moment of consideration, followed the second person's footprints, saying, “Then I will.”
Zhou Zishu unconsciously followed him and asked in surprise, “You really want to get involved in something that isn't your concern?”
Wen Kexing’s expression was stern. “Someone murdered the Lord of Duan Jian Manor, and since I’m a charitable person aiming to earn merits, I might as well. Plus, I’m bored anyway.”
Zhou Zishu thought the last sentence made a lot of sense, so he nodded and asked again, “Then why don’t you follow the first person? Their footprints are very light, suggesting they might be the strongest of the three. If we assume the third person arrived here last and is from Zhao’s manor, then the first person must be Sun Ding, the Delighted Mourning Ghost.
Wen Kexing replied flatly, “You can go after him if you'd like. I may be a nosy, charitable person, but I also value my life.”
Zhou Zishu was momentarily surprised by the other’s honesty. He remained close to Wen Kexing, looking down and noticing that Wen Kexing hadn’t left any footprints: Someone who says they can move unseen is just admitting they're afraid of ghosts and death. I don't believe it.
Zhou Zishu, who once oversaw palace affairs, decided to take on this case out of personal desire. As he was nearing death, he chose to follow his own wishes, feeling unafraid of anything left in the world.
The two brave and skilled men dashed through the forest like shuttles, locating their target by the riverbank—Yu Tianjie of Hua Shan.
He was hung from a tree by silver threads resembling a spider web; his head was almost falling off his shoulder, held in place only by the soft breeze.
A drop of blood fell to the ground, prompting Wen Kexing to step back to avoid being stained. Then he nudged Yu Tianjie’s head, severing it from the body—the former part still hung by the threads, the latter dropping to the ground with a thud. Wen Kexing touched the body all over, his mouth pursed. “Still warm. He died not long ago.”
“Spider Silk.” Zhou Zishu looked up at Yu Tianjie’s head, pausing briefly. “It’s the Spider Silk of the Hanged Ghost."
Tai Hu was truly destined for an exciting future.
Suddenly, Zhou Zishu perked up and asked, “Who’s there?”
A shadow emerged behind the tree, resembling a giant bat, and disappeared almost instantly. Zhou Zishu immediately pursued it.
Wen Kexing continued standing there, muttering, “I’m afraid of dying, afraid of dying... Hmm... that’s why I can’t be here alone.” Then he followed along quickly.
Zhou Zishu grabbed a pine cone, his crooked fingers aiming at the black-clad person's mid-back; however, weakened after midnight and having run for a long time, he only managed to make the person stumble slightly, not fall as expected. He didn't even look back, only increasing his speed.
Zhou Zishu wondered if this was truly Xue Fang, the Hanged Ghost. It seemed he couldn't stand up to this man, but if he truly was one of Qingzhu Ridge’s Ten Great Ghosts, would he flee upon seeing someone insignificant like him?
Zhou Zishu thought in astonishment, “I’m not a magic mirror2 either…”
They emerged from the forest fairly quickly. Beyond it lay a vast cemetery filled with flickering will-o’-wisps[3]. It appeared the Hanged Ghost had entered his domain, as his silhouette grew more mysterious. Zhou Zishu wasn't certain if his mind was deceiving him, but he sensed a cackling sound. The laugh seemed to be right beside his ear for a moment, then it echoed far away, causing his hair to stand on end.
Then the Hanged Ghost vanished into thin air amid the will-o’-wisps.
Zhou Zishu abruptly stopped walking.
Wen Kexing stood next to him, the greenish light illuminating his handsome face and giving him a slightly more sinister appearance. A distant animal howled, and a rat emerged from underground, watching the two without fear. Its small eyes were entirely red, possibly indicating it had fed on the flesh of the dead.
The Hanged Ghost vanished beneath an ancient locust tree, where an owl sat on its branch. The owl tilted its head at the two unwelcome visitors.
Zhou Zishu and Wen Kexing searched around the tree but found no additional clues. Zhou Zishu furrowed his brow and said, “We’ve really encountered a ghost…”
Then he heard a creepy laugh and turned to Wen Kexing, feeling goosebumps prickling his skin. His companion pointed at the owl, revealing that the eerie sound came from this ghostly creature.
The owl and Zhou Zishu shared a lengthy stare-down before the owl suddenly spread its wings and took flight.
Wen Kexing said, “When I was little, I heard that owls are only frightening when they laugh because it signals death. Are you scared?”
Zhou Zishu was looking at the blank tombstone beneath the tree. He responded dispassionately, "There are already two bodies.”
Wen Kexing was probably in a good mood, so he ignored the response and spoke with enthusiasm. “I also heard that one day in this small village, someone was carrying a bowl filled with red water. An owl knocked the bowl over, and that year, twenty people died."
Zhou Zishu lifted his head to glance at him.
Wen Kexing lowered his voice on purpose, “It’s true.”
“Why did that villager carry a bowl of red water?” Zhou Zishu asked, confused.
Wen Kexing choked on his words, turning away to cough.
A faint smile appeared on Zhou Zishu’s face. All of a sudden, he put his hands on the tombstone and, with just a bit of strength, moved it. He pushed harder to shift it to one side, and with a squashing sound, an entrance was revealed, leading into a dark space of unknown depth.
Wen Kexing hurriedly examined the area, pacing around the cave entrance, clicking his tongue. "It’s said that the point where yin and yang connect holds a lot of yin energy, so there should be a dead locust tree nearby. Do you know if it’s called the yin tree or the ghost tree?”
Zhou Zishu had his arms crossed, face expressionless at the other’s ghost stories.
Wen Kexin’s descriptions were vivid: “Under the old locust tree, there’s an unknown tombstone, beneath which lies the legend's path to the Underworld. During the full moon in the seventh month[4], wandering souls emerge from the netherworld to return to the mortal realm. The Yellow Spring[5] path is extremely cold, and at its end are the gates of hell. Beyond that, the living are gone, replaced by growing equinox flowers[6], leading to the Bridge of Helplessness[7]... Hey!”
Zhou Zishu already jumped down.
Wen Kexing watched in stunned silence as the figure disappeared behind the entrance before jumping himself. He landed securely, noticing the ground was very solid. Looking up, he saw Zhou Zishu’s quick smile and the question, "Is Brother Wen also curious to see the way to the Underworld?”
Wen Kexing nodded, looking completely serious. “This way, the next time I share my stories, I can genuinely claim they’re real.”
Zhou Zishu shook his head and kept smiling. Suddenly, Wen Kexing raised a hand to silence them, listening intently with a furrowed brow. “Can you... hear it? What is that sound?” His voice grew quieter.
Zhou Zishu examined it carefully but was unsure, asking, "...Is it water?”
In an instant, Wen Kexing lit up, taking the lead while keeping his voice quiet, “So the legends are indeed true!"
Ahead of them was a long, narrow path so tight that two men couldn’t walk side by side. They could only pass when they shrank their shoulders and crouched, which Zhou Zishu found uncomfortable. He thought this might not be the official path, but one reserved for women and children.
They were unsure how far they had gone. Dirt clung to both of them from brushing against the walls, but the end was bright and vast, opening into a large cave with a small river running through it, whose source and destination remained unknown.
There seemed to be wind inside this cave, but it was unclear where it came from. The dreary chill came at them from every direction.
Even Wen Kexing stopped talking at that moment, no longer mentioning how “the path to the Yellow Spring is incredibly cold.”
[1] “Rakshasa palms" refers to the distinctive, backward-facing hands of the Rakshasa, demonic beings in Hindu/Buddhist lore and fantasy (like D&D, Kengan Ashura), whose palms face outwards with knuckles bending backwards to grasp things, a feature used to signify their demonic nature when disguised. In fighting contexts, it also denotes the "Rakshasa's Palm" technique, a powerful, twisting palm strike that dislocates joints or breaks bones, originating from this concept of reversed hand motion
Wen Kexing sighed, asking, “Was he branded, or did the attack pass through his body?”
Zhou Zishu replied casually, “No one would bother to tangle with the dead; the attack passed straight through his body. In the last fifty years, I can only think of one person capable of such a thing..."
“It’s the Rakshasa[1] Palms from Sun Ding, the Delighted Mourning Ghost,” Wen Kexing continued.
Zhou Zishu looked at him without speaking, then knelt to examine Mu Yunge’s body carefully. He found some banknotes and silver. “Oh, leaving Zhao’s Holdings quietly late at night with travel money...” Zhou Zishu touched his own chest… so did he.
“Brother Wen, this night owl isn’t here to pick flowers; a sex offender wouldn't need this much cash."
“Probably doesn’t need extra clothes for bathing, either.” Wen Kexing kicked a small bag hidden in a bush into the open. The bag was also made of black cloth and contained some clothes for changing when away from home.
The forest floor was damp and soft, covered with a chaotic pattern of footprints, yet there was no evidence of a struggle. Apart from the handprint that caused instant death, Mu Yunge’s body showed no other wounds or scars. His renowned sword remained sheathed at his hip.
Mu Yunge’s Kung Fu[2] was certainly above average; at the very least, he wouldn't fight back like a helpless recruit. Zhou Zishu fell into silence, pondering whether the noble and righteous swordsman from Duan Jian Manor and the Delighted Mourning Ghost of the Valley had planned a meeting.
A violent one at that, which probably began as passionate but then shifted into anger.
Initially, there appeared to be three people present before they arrived. Mu Yunge’s footprints stopped here, but the other two went in different directions, indicating they might not be on the same side. One was likely chasing Mu Yunge to this location and then sat down to examine the body, similar to what Zhou Zishu is doing now.
Zhou Zishu crouched down, his old questioning instincts surfacing again, causing a restless feeling inside. He wanted to follow the footprints, but his logic advised caution, reminding him it might cause problems. No longer the all-knowing leader of Tian Chuang, he saw no reason to burden himself with unnecessary trouble.
Wen Kexing watched his companion sit in a terribly indecent manner, looking as if it would take him forever to stand up. After a long while, he couldn’t help but ask, “You won’t pursue them?”
Zhou Zishu looked at him, still battling inner conflict.
Wen Kexing, after a moment of consideration, followed the second person's footprints, saying, “Then I will.”
Zhou Zishu unconsciously followed him and asked in surprise, “You really want to get involved in something that isn't your concern?”
Wen Kexing’s expression was stern. “Someone murdered the Lord of Duan Jian Manor, and since I’m a charitable person aiming to earn merits, I might as well. Plus, I’m bored anyway.”
Zhou Zishu thought the last sentence made a lot of sense, so he nodded and asked again, “Then why don’t you follow the first person? Their footprints are very light, suggesting they might be the strongest of the three. If we assume the third person arrived here last and is from Zhao’s manor, then the first person must be Sun Ding, the Delighted Mourning Ghost.
Wen Kexing replied flatly, “You can go after him if you'd like. I may be a nosy, charitable person, but I also value my life.”
Zhou Zishu was momentarily surprised by the other’s honesty. He remained close to Wen Kexing, looking down and noticing that Wen Kexing hadn’t left any footprints: Someone who says they can move unseen is just admitting they're afraid of ghosts and death. I don't believe it.
Zhou Zishu, who once oversaw palace affairs, decided to take on this case out of personal desire. As he was nearing death, he chose to follow his own wishes, feeling unafraid of anything left in the world.
The two brave and skilled men dashed through the forest like shuttles, locating their target by the riverbank—Yu Tianjie of Hua Shan.
He was hung from a tree by silver threads resembling a spider web; his head was almost falling off his shoulder, held in place only by the soft breeze.
A drop of blood fell to the ground, prompting Wen Kexing to step back to avoid being stained. Then he nudged Yu Tianjie’s head, severing it from the body—the former part still hung by the threads, the latter dropping to the ground with a thud. Wen Kexing touched the body all over, his mouth pursed. “Still warm. He died not long ago.”
“Spider Silk.” Zhou Zishu looked up at Yu Tianjie’s head, pausing briefly. “It’s the Spider Silk of the Hanged Ghost."
Tai Hu was truly destined for an exciting future.
Suddenly, Zhou Zishu perked up and asked, “Who’s there?”
A shadow emerged behind the tree, resembling a giant bat, and disappeared almost instantly. Zhou Zishu immediately pursued it.
Wen Kexing continued standing there, muttering, “I’m afraid of dying, afraid of dying... Hmm... that’s why I can’t be here alone.” Then he followed along quickly.
Zhou Zishu grabbed a pine cone, his crooked fingers aiming at the black-clad person's mid-back; however, weakened after midnight and having run for a long time, he only managed to make the person stumble slightly, not fall as expected. He didn't even look back, only increasing his speed.
Zhou Zishu wondered if this was truly Xue Fang, the Hanged Ghost. It seemed he couldn't stand up to this man, but if he truly was one of Qingzhu Ridge’s Ten Great Ghosts, would he flee upon seeing someone insignificant like him?
Zhou Zishu thought in astonishment, “I’m not a magic mirror2 either…”
They emerged from the forest fairly quickly. Beyond it lay a vast cemetery filled with flickering will-o’-wisps[3]. It appeared the Hanged Ghost had entered his domain, as his silhouette grew more mysterious. Zhou Zishu wasn't certain if his mind was deceiving him, but he sensed a cackling sound. The laugh seemed to be right beside his ear for a moment, then it echoed far away, causing his hair to stand on end.
Then the Hanged Ghost vanished into thin air amid the will-o’-wisps.
Zhou Zishu abruptly stopped walking.
Wen Kexing stood next to him, the greenish light illuminating his handsome face and giving him a slightly more sinister appearance. A distant animal howled, and a rat emerged from underground, watching the two without fear. Its small eyes were entirely red, possibly indicating it had fed on the flesh of the dead.
The Hanged Ghost vanished beneath an ancient locust tree, where an owl sat on its branch. The owl tilted its head at the two unwelcome visitors.
Zhou Zishu and Wen Kexing searched around the tree but found no additional clues. Zhou Zishu furrowed his brow and said, “We’ve really encountered a ghost…”
Then he heard a creepy laugh and turned to Wen Kexing, feeling goosebumps prickling his skin. His companion pointed at the owl, revealing that the eerie sound came from this ghostly creature.
The owl and Zhou Zishu shared a lengthy stare-down before the owl suddenly spread its wings and took flight.
Wen Kexing said, “When I was little, I heard that owls are only frightening when they laugh because it signals death. Are you scared?”
Zhou Zishu was looking at the blank tombstone beneath the tree. He responded dispassionately, "There are already two bodies.”
Wen Kexing was probably in a good mood, so he ignored the response and spoke with enthusiasm. “I also heard that one day in this small village, someone was carrying a bowl filled with red water. An owl knocked the bowl over, and that year, twenty people died."
Zhou Zishu lifted his head to glance at him.
Wen Kexing lowered his voice on purpose, “It’s true.”
“Why did that villager carry a bowl of red water?” Zhou Zishu asked, confused.
Wen Kexing choked on his words, turning away to cough.
A faint smile appeared on Zhou Zishu’s face. All of a sudden, he put his hands on the tombstone and, with just a bit of strength, moved it. He pushed harder to shift it to one side, and with a squashing sound, an entrance was revealed, leading into a dark space of unknown depth.
Wen Kexing hurriedly examined the area, pacing around the cave entrance, clicking his tongue. "It’s said that the point where yin and yang connect holds a lot of yin energy, so there should be a dead locust tree nearby. Do you know if it’s called the yin tree or the ghost tree?”
Zhou Zishu had his arms crossed, face expressionless at the other’s ghost stories.
Wen Kexin’s descriptions were vivid: “Under the old locust tree, there’s an unknown tombstone, beneath which lies the legend's path to the Underworld. During the full moon in the seventh month[4], wandering souls emerge from the netherworld to return to the mortal realm. The Yellow Spring[5] path is extremely cold, and at its end are the gates of hell. Beyond that, the living are gone, replaced by growing equinox flowers[6], leading to the Bridge of Helplessness[7]... Hey!”
Zhou Zishu already jumped down.
Wen Kexing watched in stunned silence as the figure disappeared behind the entrance before jumping himself. He landed securely, noticing the ground was very solid. Looking up, he saw Zhou Zishu’s quick smile and the question, "Is Brother Wen also curious to see the way to the Underworld?”
Wen Kexing nodded, looking completely serious. “This way, the next time I share my stories, I can genuinely claim they’re real.”
Zhou Zishu shook his head and kept smiling. Suddenly, Wen Kexing raised a hand to silence them, listening intently with a furrowed brow. “Can you... hear it? What is that sound?” His voice grew quieter.
Zhou Zishu examined it carefully but was unsure, asking, "...Is it water?”
In an instant, Wen Kexing lit up, taking the lead while keeping his voice quiet, “So the legends are indeed true!"
Ahead of them was a long, narrow path so tight that two men couldn’t walk side by side. They could only pass when they shrank their shoulders and crouched, which Zhou Zishu found uncomfortable. He thought this might not be the official path, but one reserved for women and children.
They were unsure how far they had gone. Dirt clung to both of them from brushing against the walls, but the end was bright and vast, opening into a large cave with a small river running through it, whose source and destination remained unknown.
There seemed to be wind inside this cave, but it was unclear where it came from. The dreary chill came at them from every direction.
Even Wen Kexing stopped talking at that moment, no longer mentioning how “the path to the Yellow Spring is incredibly cold.”
[1] “Rakshasa palms" refers to the distinctive, backward-facing hands of the Rakshasa, demonic beings in Hindu/Buddhist lore and fantasy (like D&D, Kengan Ashura), whose palms face outwards with knuckles bending backwards to grasp things, a feature used to signify their demonic nature when disguised. In fighting contexts, it also denotes the "Rakshasa's Palm" technique, a powerful, twisting palm strike that dislocates joints or breaks bones, originating from this concept of reversed hand motion
[2] In its original Chinese context, "Kung Fu" or “Gong Fu” can describe any skill or discipline mastered through patience, energy, and dedicated practice, not just combat
[3] A will-o'-the-wisp is a mysterious, flickering light seen over swamps and marshes, personified in folklore as mischievous spirits or ghosts luring travelers astray; figuratively, it means an elusive, unattainable goal or delusion. Scientifically, it's linked to bioluminescent fungi or igniting methane/ phosphine gases from decaying matter.
[4] The fifteenth day of the seventh month in the Chinese calendar is also known as Ghost Day. The seventh month is regarded as when spirits and ghosts come out of the Underworld.
[5] Chinese term for the Underworld.
[6] The flowers associated with death. They are also believed to grow in Hell and guide the souls into their next reincarnation.
[7] The bridge that every soul has to cross before being reincarnated.
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