Chapter 31: Shadow Puppet Spring Breeze Troupe

"Ah, this... why?"

Seeing Wang Daoxuan firmly refuse, Sha Lifei looked puzzled.

Even Li Yan turned to look at the Daoist.

During this time, he had learned much about the Xuan Gate from Wang Daoxuan.

"Zhuangzang" originated in Buddhist tradition; whenever a Buddha statue was completed, symbolic internal organs were installed along with various rituals to imbue it with spiritual power.

There were many methods of Zhuangzang, each sect strictly preserving its own lineage, and the process was complex.

For example, the purification ritual before Zhuangzang required cleaning the statue’s interior, then perfuming it with incense, sprinkling it with red flower water, and finally fumigating it with pine resin and frankincense.

For example, the selection of materials for the central channel, the pairing of five-colored jewels, and even the monks performing Zhuangzang were subject to strict regulations.

After Buddhism and Daoism took root in Shenzhou, constructing Buddha statues inevitably required hiring Xuan Gate craftsmen who understood these methods, and such practices gradually spread and became popular.

Because when used correctly, this method more easily gathers divine gang.

Yet no one understood why Wang Daoxuan was so wary.

Gazing at their stares, Wang Daoxuan stroked his beard and shook his head: "Summoning spirits through Zhuangzang isn't a big deal—almost every troupe does it; some have passed it down for a hundred years, their incense and divine gang strong enough to perform operas for ghosts and gods during the Ghost Festival without fear."

"But this newly arrived shadow puppet troupe is definitely suspicious."

"Xianyang isn’t huge, but it’s not small either—there are over a dozen troupes here. To establish themselves, they’ll inevitably resort to underhanded tactics."

"Invoking spirits? They probably want to summon something else..."

"Besides, shadow puppet troupes are different. Other troupes worship Lao Langshen; shadow puppet troupes worship the Han Daoist Shao Weng."

"Legend says Emperor Wu of Han mourned his deceased concubine Lady Li; Shao Weng crafted a puppet likeness of her, painted it with colors, and inserted wooden rods at the limbs. At night, he surrounded the space with curtains, lit candles, and the Emperor was overjoyed upon seeing it—thus, this Xuan Gate master became the founding ancestor of shadow puppetry."

"All drama originates in entertaining deities, especially shadow puppetry, which mostly performs vow-fulfilling, rain-praying, sacrificial, and exorcism plays during seasonal festivals, private gatherings, temple fairs, weddings, and funerals—rules and taboos abound. If they’ve summoned something else, the trouble will be greater."

"If something goes wrong, people will die!"

After this explanation, the two understood.

Sha Lifei scratched his head and cursed: "Damn cowardly bastards—no wonder when I mentioned it, that old dough-face rushed over. Probably no one else dared take it."

The fellow had a thick skin; even after slipping up, he didn’t care, his eyes darting as he grinned: "Master Daoist, look—they’re the ones invoking spirits. We just need to get the job done. What happens later? It’s none of our concern..."

"No."

Wang Daoxuan shook his head directly: "I cannot cross this line. If someone dies, it’ll be too late to regret."

Li Yan also spoke: "Let’s do as the Daoist says."

Since their first meeting, he had seen what kind of man Wang Daoxuan was.

The Daoist held pure sincerity—even when seeking money, he took it the right way.

As a Xuan Gate practitioner, his current destitution wasn’t without reason.

Knock knock knock!

At that moment, a knock came from outside the courtyard.

All three looked up to see an old man in white hair and black robes standing at the gate, knocking with his hand; beneath his oiled paper umbrella was a face etched with sorrow.

"May I ask—are you Master Wang?"

"Master Zhou?"

Sha Lifei first looked puzzled, then his expression darkened: "That ‘old dough-face’ talks too fast. Master Zhou, you must’ve been tailing me the moment I stepped out."

"You followed me all the way without me noticing—impressive skill..."

"Old Dough-Face" was Sha Lifei’s acquaintance—a trumpet player in the troupe.

Sha Lifei hadn’t expected that after just mentioning it, before anything was settled, the troupe master had already arrived.

Worse still, he was a seasoned veteran—when had he been followed without knowing? Wasn’t this embarrassing in front of Li Yan and the others?

Wang Daoxuan waved his hand to cut him off and spoke sincerely to Master Zhou: "Esteemed layman, I know what you wish to do, but your troupe survives through true skill—relying on ghostly power will only bring harm."

"I know."

Master Zhou sighed, his face even more grim: "Please let me finish speaking, Master Daoist."

"My name is Zhou Kang. Our troupe is the Spring Wind Troupe—we’ve been in Huayin for a hundred years, earned some wealth, and came to Xianyang to gain fame before heading to Chang’an."

"This is all my son’s fault—he knew nothing of the world’s dangers. Upon arriving in Xianyang, he was tricked into gambling and amassed huge debts. Ashamed to face us, he hanged himself in the dead of night."

"I spoiled him in life; my white hair burying my black-haired son is my own fault. But the old and young in the troupe are innocent—they’re now being threatened by the Iron Knife Society. If we don’t repay the debt, none of us can leave."

"I know this is dangerous. I’m willing to bear all karmic consequences—if anything happens, let me die alone. I only beg you to lift this crisis..."

Li Yan, listening beside him, eyes flashed with sharp light.

That old monkey Zhou Pan had many disciples, good and bad alike.

Two of them were originally street thugs. After mastering boxing, they gathered Xianyang’s ruffians and underworld rats, forming two gangs: the Iron Knife Gang and the White Ape Gang.

Backed by the Divine Fist Society, their power expanded relentlessly, becoming the black-market leaders of Xianyang, each controlling the eastern and western districts, running extortion and monopolies. Illicit, but fast money.

The Divine Fist Society’s original charter included protecting neighbors, but these two disciples kept paying tribute, so Zhou Pan’s old monkey turned a blind eye.

Sometimes, when they angered fellow martial artists, he’d personally intervene to settle things.

Thus, these two gangs grew increasingly brazen.

The Spring Wind Troupe, newly arrived in Xianyang, naturally caught their attention.

On the other side, seeing Wang Daoxuan still hesitating, Master Zhou suddenly fell to his knees, tears streaming: "Master Daoist, please help us!"

"I know a method to concentrate all misfortune upon myself—if only the old and young in the troupe can escape this disaster, I’ll die without regret!"

Master Zhou, who had followed Sha Lifei unseen, clearly had strong skill—he had cultivated dark force. Though aged and with depleted vital energy, he was still formidable.

Yet he had been driven to this.

"Master Zhou, you are righteous."

Wang Daoxuan sighed: "I understand your meaning—circumstances force you, you have no choice. But think carefully: if something happens, it won’t be merely soul dispersal."

!

Master Zhou’s face lit up; he gritted his teeth: "Please, Master Daoist, lend your aid."

"Not yet."

Wang Daoxuan didn’t immediately agree; he spoke calmly: "First, let’s visit your troupe. Master Zhou, wait outside. We’ll prepare and join you shortly."

"Yes, yes!"

Master Zhou, accustomed to human nature, knew Wang Daoxuan was deliberately sending him away—but since he’d agreed, he was immensely grateful and dared not protest.

As soon as he left, Sha Lifei’s face fell. He whispered: "Oh no, Master Daoist—the ghostly taboos are still far off, but the real villains are right before us."

"You refused earlier—why change your mind now?"

Wang Daoxuan shook his head awkwardly: "This... I grew soft-hearted."

Sha Lifei was about to argue further when Li Yan spoke: "If we’re going to play the vine, why fear trouble? This job can be done!"

Hearing this, Sha Lifei realized Li Yan likely intended to exploit the Iron Knife Gang to strike at Zhou Pan—he sighed inwardly.

One stubborn, one reckless—I’ve truly drawn bad luck.

He wanted to leave, but remembered his life of storms and poverty, his endless hunger—how could he return to being a grain laborer’s leader?

"Fine. Let’s do it!"

Thinking this, he gritted his teeth and resolved himself.

"Not yet."

Wang Daoxuan waved his hand, his voice grave: "I’ve heard that within shadow puppetry, there exists a dark path—using human skin as vessel. When pushed to the brink, Buddha and demon hang by a single thought."

"Young Li, keep watch. If they’ve already performed dark rites, we turn and leave—go straight to the authorities!"

"Understood."

Having decided, the three gathered their things and stepped out.

Master Zhou, naturally delighted, led the way ahead...

…………

Outside the gate, under Master Zhou’s guidance, they passed through streets and alleys, arriving unconsciously at the northwest corner of Xianyang.

Here, they were near the Horse King Temple.

The Horse King Temple enshrined the Horse King, one of the Xuan Gate’s Spirit Officials—common in many places, with strong incense offerings.

Of course, this was also where horse certificates were issued and Xianyang’s mule and horse market operated. After rain, the ground was muddy, reeking of livestock.

Wealthy families in Xianyang naturally couldn’t stand the stench.

So those living here were mostly poor commoners.

The Spring Wind Troupe’s base here was clearly in dire straits.

Under Master Zhou’s lead, they turned into an old alley. On both sides, houses were dilapidated, sewage flowed everywhere, ancient cobblestones coated in filth.

Not far ahead, a large courtyard appeared.

It had once been a carriage inn, now crumbling.

Outside, a dozen or so men stood scattered—faces full of brutality, clothes half-worn; some bare-chested with tattoos, others with flowers pinned beside their caps.

Each carried hidden weapons, their speech filthy.

Li Yan, however, stopped suddenly, his gaze thoughtful.

The leader of this gang of thugs was someone he knew.

It was Meng Haicheng—the man who had once suffered under his hand!

(End of Chapter)