Chapter 27: The Mountain Lord

It is said that most ghosts of the mortal world possess feeble strength, barely clinging to existence, often tormented by hunger—wild ghosts especially so. If they cause calamities without cause, they cannot easily ignore their conscience, nor do they dare encounter those unafraid of them, or face divine retribution; thus, when faced with an opportunity, they seize it at once, even fabricating human faults, demanding offerings or enlisting aid.

“I don’t know if this story is true or not.”

Lin Jue paused, frowning in thought: “If I recall correctly, last night when I was searching for a place to rest, I stepped right over his head. If the legend is true, and he didn’t use that as leverage to force me into helping him, he’s more honorable than the wild ghosts in the tales.”

“Where did you hear this?”

“From the village elders. I thought it might hold some truth.”

“I did notice a trace of ghostly aura on the young cultivator,” the old Daoist smiled, not affirming or denying the legend, but continuing, “What do you plan to do now, young cultivator?”

The sky grew brighter, allowing them to clearly see each other’s faces.

The old Daoist was slender, his face deeply wrinkled, age indeterminate, yet his features carried a hint of immortality and kindness. He carried a satchel, as if on a long journey.

The girl beside him was very young, no more than fifteen or sixteen, with a pale face, sharp chin, delicate features, and refined beauty. She too carried a satchel, standing silently beside the Daoist without speaking.

“Ah…”

Lin Jue sighed: “Though I haven’t yet agreed in my dream, what reason is there not to do this? If you’re in a hurry to travel, go ahead—I’ll follow more swiftly. If fate allows, we may still catch up before our paths diverge.”

“What difference does it make to stay and lend a hand? Besides, this old man has few years left—who knows if I won’t end up in the same state as this one, years from now?”

The old Daoist did not leave, but glanced to the side.

The girl clearly sensed his gaze. At first confused, she alternated between looking at him, then at Lin Jue, then at the coffin plank by the roadside, her small face filled with puzzlement and thought. After a long while, she finally understood.

Once she understood, she acted without hesitation. She set down her satchel and staff, rolled up her sleeves, and stepped forward to help.

Lin Jue removed his broadsword and turned it into a woodcutter’s axe. He exerted himself, found a dead, dried tree, and began chopping with grunts and exertion.

The girl came with great energy, but when she reached him, she realized she could offer no real help. She stood aside, pretending to hold the tree steady, silently looking down as she watched him chop.

Soon, a piece of wood was cut free.

Lin Jue carried the wood to the coffin, measured it several times, adjusted it, and finally shaped it to fit the coffin’s hollow. He forced it in, tapped it a few times, then turned around—the girl was right behind him, holding a handful of wood shavings, silently offering them.

“Thank you.”

Lin Jue selected a few pieces to fill the gaps.

When he felt it was sufficient, he gathered thick, dry leaves and laid them over the mound, then dug up earth with his axe to cover it, tamping it down firmly. Only then was he satisfied.

“Young cultivator, is it repaired?”

“It is.”

“Where will you go next?”

“Next…?”

Lin Jue paused, frowning in thought.

The old man and girl both watched him—the former smiling gently, the latter brimming with curiosity.

The sky was now fully bright.

In the distance, early travelers and merchants approached; the sound of horse bells and cart wheels grinding over hard ground echoed through the morning mountains, serene and clear.

“To be honest,” Lin Jue said, frowning as he recalled, “last night, that ghost told me of a ‘good thing’ to persuade me to help. I didn’t know if it was true or whether I should go. But now… I’m inclined to believe him. Still, I don’t know if I should go.”

“What?”

“He said that today, behind this mountain, there’s a hill shaped like a hammer. The Mountain Lord there is holding a banquet and inviting guests—including me.”

Lin Jue briefly recounted the matter.

“What a coincidence!”

The old Daoist smiled and said: “I’ve also heard that the Mountain Lord of this mountain is hosting a banquet, inviting all nearby spirits and demons who haven’t caused chaos. In past gatherings, the Mountain Lord served a wine called ‘Thousand-Day Wine.’ My disciple loves brewing and drinking wine, so I intend to join the feast and see if I can bring back some.”

“Hm?”

Lin Jue stared at them.

The ghost in his dream had also mentioned “Thousand-Day Wine.”

Had the old Daoist not spoken, the name would have faded with the dream’s dimming. Now, hearing it, he remembered.

At the same time, Lin Jue recalled something else, and carefully studied the old Daoist.

The old Daoist…

“May I ask, Master, where are you from?” Lin Jue asked carefully.

“I was visiting a friend—quite far away.”

“Did you pass through Qiuru County?”

“I did.”

“While in Danxun County, I heard a great master came to Qiuru County and expelled a demon. Could that have been you?”

“I did expel a wicked demon in Qiuru County, but it was nothing more than a casual act—not worth mentioning.”

“This…”

Lin Jue truly found it astonishing.

At first meeting, he’d merely sensed the old Daoist’s noble bearing. Having previously held a favorable impression of the monk at Zhushan Temple, he’d thought even an ordinary Daoist might make a pleasant companion for a stretch of the journey. Three travelers, one must be my teacher—perhaps some gain would come. Later, when he spoke of his dream encounter with the ghost, the old man showed no surprise, and confirmed the ghostly aura on him—Lin Jue then suspected he possessed real ability.

Yet he never imagined this was the very man the Wei family spoke of.

Now he understood clearly: the old Daoist beside him was the immortal master he had sought.

But one path led to this chance encounter with an immortal, the other to his predestined journey to Qiyun Mountain and Yishan—he found himself torn.

“Will you also go to the banquet?”

“Will you join me?”

“I would be delighted.”

What doubts remained?

“Even if the Mountain Lord is hospitable, no one arrives empty-handed. Have you prepared a gift?”

“Would this do?”

Lin Jue pulled out peach resin from his person.

“Peach spirit essence!” The old Daoist glanced once and knew instantly, still smiling kindly: “This is a fine thing. No need for so much—three or four pieces will suffice. Keep the rest.”

The old Daoist merely glanced at it and knew at once; still smiling kindly, he said, “This is a decent item. You don’t need so many—three or four grains will do. Keep the rest.”

Lin Jue tucked the peach resin away.

“Then let’s go,” the old Daoist said cheerfully. “The mountain path is thick with vegetation this season—your axe will come in handy.”

“Then let’s go,” the old Daoist said loudly, his manner carefree. “The mountain path is thick with vegetation this time of year—your hatchet will come in handy, young cultivator.”

Lin Jue said nothing. It was only natural.

So they traveled together, discussing the path. Once they left the official road and took a narrow trail, Lin Jue walked ahead, clearing morning spiderwebs, pushing aside thorns and weeds.

So they walked together for a stretch, discussing the path ahead; once they left the main road and took the narrow trail, Lin Jue walked first, clearing away morning spiderwebs, pushing aside thorny bushes and tangled weeds.

“To be honest, in Danxun County, I once met a spirit born from a peach tree. We spoke well, and it gifted me this peach resin. I believe plants possess spirit—unless necessary, I avoid cutting them.”

“If you don’t cut them, come autumn and winter, woodcutters will chop them down and sell them as firewood to city households.”

“Then they’ll make good firewood then.”

“Hah! Excellent answer!”

“Thank you…”

“Then what do you seek?”

“Peace of mind.”

“Peace of mind alone? Wonderful!”

The old Daoist nodded repeatedly, smiling warmly.

In May, thorns grew wild, forests grew dense, and snakes and insects were most active. They climbed the mountain for half the day, encountering snakes several times. The most dangerous was a giant mountain viper ahead—thick as a man’s arm, a rare species with fierce territorial instincts. Seeing intruders, it reared up, staring them down, trying to scare them off.

In May, thorns grew wild and the woods were dense, the season when snakes and insects were most active. The group climbed for half a day, encountering snakes several times. The most dangerous was a giant mountain cobra blocking the path, as thick as a man’s arm—a rare species with fierce territorial instincts. Seeing intruders, it reared up, staring straight at them, trying to scare them off and bar their passage.

He stepped forward, smiling, bowed respectfully to the snake, then said: “We are merely passing through, with no ill intent. We humbly ask your permission to proceed.”

The snake stared at him—then moved aside.

The Daoist merely said: “Merely calming beasts and guiding birds.”

Lin Jue’s respect for him deepened.

As dusk neared, Lin Jue stopped, wiped sweat, and turned back—the layered forests below had swallowed the official road and the place where they’d started that morning.

He didn’t know how high they’d climbed, only that each time he looked back, the forest stretched deep, and each time he looked ahead, more peaks loomed, endless and layered. Now, at last, he saw it—the hill shaped like a hammer.

They had climbed so high they lost count, but each time they looked back, the forest below was deep and vast; when they looked ahead, more peaks still loomed above, layer upon layer, as if endless—until finally they saw the mountain shaped like a mallet.

The mountain was rocky, resembling an overturned hammer, dotted with pine trees, its base covered in scattered stones and fine green grass.

Yet perhaps the name originally came from its resemblance to a wolf’s head—close enough.

Lin Jue glanced back at the old Daoist. The man remained calm, not a bead of sweat, hair unruffled. The girl’s stamina surprised him—she matched his own pace, cheeks flushed, clothes soaked with sweat, yet never complained.

Lin Jue glanced back at the old Daoist and saw he remained calm, not a drop of sweat, not a strand of hair out of place. The girl’s stamina was far better than he’d expected—she had kept pace with him all along, her face flushed, her clothes soaked with sweat, yet she never complained, never stopped climbing.

As Lin Jue turned his gaze forward again, he suddenly froze.

A massive wild boar had appeared from the grass.

It weighed two or three grown men, fat and muscular, tusks sharp, bristles erect, staring fixedly at them.

The old Daoist chuckled and stepped forward.

Lin Jue thought he’d use his “calming beasts” technique to drive it off—but instead, the Daoist reached into his sleeve, pulled out a small porcelain flask, and bowed.

“I am He Xianyu, Daoist Yunhe. I happened to hear of the Mountain Lord’s banquet and brought a flask of mountain spirit spring water to attend.”

The boar stared at him, eyes gleaming, then stepped closer, sniffed the flask, then turned its gaze to the two behind.

The wild boar stared at him, eyes gleaming, then stepped closer, sniffing the old Daoist and the porcelain bottle in his hand, before turning its head to look at the two behind.

This little girl is my future disciple.

"Oh, I am Lin Jue. I happened to hear that the Mountain Lord is hosting a banquet atop the mountain, and I have long admired spirits, demons, and local deities, so I came bearing gifts to pay my respects."

Lin Jue spoke with sincere earnestness, his heart pounding with curiosity and tension.

He offered three pieces of peach gum.

He felt it improper to arrive uninvited at such a feast with a meager gift, yet these pieces of peach gum had been given to him by a peach spirit—beyond their intrinsic value, they carried a thread of goodwill from a fleeting acquaintance. Though Lin Jue’s connection with that tree spirit was brief and insignificant, this bond, though unspoken, could not be lightly ignored.

Earlier, the old Daoist had said three or four pieces would suffice. After hesitation, Lin Jue chose to follow his advice—but took more than the minimum, offering three and keeping two.

The wild boar stepped forward, approaching both him and the girl, sniffing carefully, then sniffing the peach gum in his hand. Its eyes flickered several times before it stepped back and turned to climb the mountain.

The old Daoist walked after it.

Lin Jue followed as well.

He understood—this must be the Mountain Lord’s dwelling.