Chapter 66: Wu Laosi

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Gongs and drums thrice beaten—the grand opera begins.

The troupe master, Luo Shihai, was no doubt a true opera fanatic; even this twisted, sarcastic play, meant to insult, was staged with full structure and polish.

The story told of a wicked man in Xianyang who ruled with tyranny, only to sire a foolish son who secretly flirted with his father’s concubine—so the wicked man, in a rage, crushed him to death.

The vengeful spirit of the fool drifted aimlessly until it entered a monkey’s body, then transformed into a monkey demon, wreaking havoc across the land.

A righteous hero heard of this, got drunk, climbed the mountain, beat the troop of monkeys into shrieking chaos, and slew the monkey demon.

The tale was simple, even crude.

The performers were no famed actors—some were even newly recruited apprentices.

Yet they displayed no shortage of extraordinary skills.

The young actor portraying the fool had white paint drawn on his brow and nose, wore a red belly wrap, sang lewd tunes while performing the “Lamp on Head” feat.

He balanced an oil lamp atop his head, rolling forward and backward, swaying left and right—yet the lamp remained as steady as Mount Tai, its flame unextinguished.

The fool’s mother, driven to death by rage, stood on a stool, hanged herself with a white silk rope, kicked over the chair, and hung high before the stage—this was called “The Great Hanging.”

The actor portraying the monkey demon displayed three pairs of fangs that flitted and shifted unpredictably, his face grotesque and terrifying—this was the “Fang Play” feat…

“Bravo! Bravo!”

“Do another!”

These feats drew continuous cheers from the crowd.

This was how Jianghu artists exacted revenge.

Even if they couldn’t strike you directly, they’d devise countless skits to mock you.

If they couldn’t strike openly, they’d strike in secret.

Like this play—it never once named the Zhou family, yet every scene pointed to them, every line crueler than the last, drenching them in slander.

The common folk didn’t care; the Zhou family’s reputation was already rotten, and with these extraordinary acts, they watched with rapt delight, spreading word of it far and wide upon returning home.

No wonder the White Ape Gang wanted to block their gates.

This was worse than pointing fingers and cursing to their face!

While the crowd was captivated by the protagonist, Li Yan spent the entire performance watching a Wu Chou actor portraying the old monkey, his brow often furrowed.

The man was Wu Laosi—ordinary in appearance, unremarkable on stage.

More crucially, he emitted not a trace of unnatural aura.

Master Wan, didn’t you say this man was skilled in passing into the underworld?

Wang Daoxuan had once explained to him the art of “passing into the underworld”—ordinary people couldn’t do it; one needed lineage and mastery of the “Yi Gen,” to separate the spirit from the body and enter the netherworld.

Such people always carried lingering yin energy; approaching them sent chills down the spine.

Why did he seem so ordinary?

As Li Yan puzzled over this, the young servant earlier appeared, placing tea and melon seeds respectfully on their table, bowing low: “Li Shaoxia, after your business is done, our troupe master wishes to meet you.”

He then raised his head, gesturing.

Li Yan followed his direction.

On the second floor of the opera house, an elderly man sat sipping tea, his face vigorous, attire modest, yet his bearing radiated wealth and nobility.

It was Luo Shihai, patriarch of the Xianyang Bagua Sect.

Li Yan immediately bowed in greeting.

He vaguely guessed why the man sought him—no doubt, taking advantage of the Zhou family’s downfall, to rally others and eliminate this Xianyang scourge.

Li Yan was willing enough, but saving Wang Daoxuan came first.

His time was not abundant…

………

Boom!

With a single drumbeat, the opera ended.

The audience, fully immersed, watched as the demon monkey was pinned down by the hero, pounded with fists, speared through the chest—each felt vindicated, rising to applaud and cheer.

“Bravo!”

“Kill the Zhou monkey!”

The Zhou family had committed many evils; the White Ape and Iron Knife gangs had ruled Xianyang with brutality—clearly, many in the crowd were victims, teeth clenched, eyes wet with tears.

On the second floor, Luo Shihai nodded in satisfaction.

When a goose flies by, it leaves a sound; when a man dies, he leaves a name.

The Zhou family must not only be toppled, but their infamy must endure for a hundred years to satisfy his hatred.

Meanwhile, Li Yan and Sha Lifi had already been led by the young servant through a side door, past the backstage, to a large communal courtyard behind the opera house.

This was where the performers lived daily. Luo Shihai was wealthy and generous to his troupe, so the courtyard was spacious.

In the yard, a boy practiced the Child’s Foundation Skill.

In some rooms, others practiced vocal exercises, humming and warbling.

The servant led them to a secluded corner room near the firewood shed, smiling: “Master Wu prefers quiet and has nimble hands—he often repairs props for the troupe, so he lives alone here.”

He stepped forward and knocked: “Master Wu, visitors are here.”

To be personally visited by Li Yan, bearing a letter signed by the Elder of Xianyang’s Artisan Guild, even the dumbest servant knew this quiet old man was no ordinary figure—so his tone grew respectful.

The wooden door creaked open.

The man who opened it was a thin-faced, plain-featured elder—but he bore an odd sign: his forehead was broad, with two bulges.

From the Tianzhong region along the hairline down to the Huagai region, a long horizontal band stretched across the brow, forming an egg-like shape.

The “Book of Physiognomy” states this is called the Giant Turtle and Rhinoceros Bone—a sign of great wealth and nobility; such a man has lofty ambition, a resolute and tenacious nature; even if he never becomes a pillar minister, he will be a regional authority.

To have fallen to such a state, there must be karmic cause.

!.

“Come in.”

The elder, seeing them, sighed faintly, then turned and entered the room.

Li Yan and Sha Lifi exchanged glances and followed.

Though curious, the servant remembered Luo Shihai’s orders and the Jianghu code—he respectfully closed the door, granting them privacy.

As he turned, a woman in blue approached—her face lovely yet spirited, eyes bright with intelligence.

She asked curiously, “Zhu Zi, those two are swordsmen, right? One of them fought a life-or-death match not long ago—what do they want with Uncle Wu?”

“Oh my!”

The servant jumped, quickly pulling her away: “Don’t meddle in Jianghu matters. Master Luo knows—don’t ask.”

“Alright, alright…”

She agreed readily, yet her eyes grew even more curious…

……

Inside the room, the three sat in silence.

“Master Wu, is this matter difficult?”

Li Yan finally spoke.

He had recounted the events, yet Master Wu only sighed, his expression shifting between gloom and uncertainty, saying nothing.

“It’s not just difficult…”

Wu Laosi finally sighed: “When I fell into ruin in Xianyang, it was Master Wan who saved me—now I must repay him with my life.”

Sha Lifi, anxious for Wang Daoxuan’s safety, grew impatient: “Old Master, if you have conditions, just say them—we’re rushing to save a life, we don’t have time to—”

Before he finished, Li Yan seized his arm, turning sharply: “Master, if you have difficulties, speak plainly. If you fear exposure and retaliation, I’ll draw my blade and settle it for you.”

“Blade?”

Wu Laosi chuckled bitterly: “A blade won’t help.”

He rose slowly, picked up a small hoe beside him, crawled under the bed, dug frantically, then pulled out a wooden box and placed it on the table.

The box was an ancient artifact—a fine Qin-Han lacquer piece, aged yet remarkably preserved.

Wu Laosi’s hands trembled as he wiped away the dust, then unfastened a key from his neck and slowly opened the box.

The moment it opened, Li Yan’s expression changed.

He sensed a chilling yin energy—like a ghost’s, yet stern and commanding.

Inside, thick red cords wound tightly, and yellow talismans folded into triangles, placed at the four corners and center, representing the Five Directions.

At the center lay a small wooden token, rectangular, carved from yinchen wood, glossy black, inscribed with intricate crimson runes.

Merely looking at it made Li Yan and Sha Lifi’s hairs stand on end.

“What… what is this?”

Sha Lifi swallowed hard.

Wu Laosi sighed: “Since you’re of the Xuanmen, I’ll no longer hide it—this is the ‘Gou Die.’”

“Gou Die?!”

Sha Lifi gasped: “This thing actually exists? You’re joking!”

Li Yan also frowned, finding it unbelievable.

Folk tales say: when a mortal’s lifespan ends but their spirit lingers in the mortal world, yin officials arrive with a “summons ticket” to drag them into the netherworld!

That summons ticket is called the Gou Die!

(End of Chapter)