Dao Qi Wu Zang Guan Guan: I became a Daoist Master in the 1990s

Chapter 8 Ghost Market
A long street paved with bluestone slabs stretches forward, with low wooden houses standing silently on both sides in the dim light, their eaves piercing the low-hanging sky like the broken wings of black birds.

The walls are no longer pure white; rainwater and the passage of time have stained them with grayish-brown spots, like spreading mold.

The night was deep, but no lanterns were lit.

Only a few gaps in the windows revealed the faint, flickering glow of oil lamps, which, instead of dispelling the darkness, stretched the shadows even more distorted and fragmented.

The long street was filled with shadowy figures, dressed in various styles, from coarse cloth short jackets to long skirts and gowns, all moving silently in the darkness like silhouettes.

The vendor's cries drifted in intermittently, his voice dry and hoarse, as if something was pressing down on his throat:

"Steamed buns...just out of the steamer..."

"Rouge... face powder..."

The hawking cries lingered in the damp, cold air.

A musty smell permeated the street, a mixture of the sourness of rotten wood, a faint musty odor, and a metallic stench reminiscent of old copper coins and dust accumulation.

From the depths of the street, the occasional creaking of wooden doors opening and closing could be heard, heavy and hesitant, like an extremely unwilling groan.

The whole street seemed to be soaking in stale, aged tea, enveloped in an invisible film of oil, making it so oppressive that it was hard to breathe.

"No way, I've time-traveled again?"

Qi Yun was filled with turbulent emotions.

The eerie "village" before us exudes an indescribable sinister aura.

He looked around blankly, and all he could see was the darker darkness around him, except for the ancient street.

Having no other choice, he could only grit his teeth and cautiously step inside.

To his surprise, the ancient people around him completely ignored his mud-covered, tattered modern attire, as if he were just an ordinary passerby, without casting a single surprised glance at him.

Qi Yun's suspicions deepened, but he forced himself to remain calm as he walked along the long street, his eyes scanning the shops on both sides warily.

Suddenly, a strange fragrance wafted over.

The aroma was extremely strong; at first, it smelled of caramel, then upon closer inspection, it revealed the richness of aged wine lees, and finally, a hint of the sweetness of honey-soaked flowers and fruits.

The fragrance seemed to have a physical form, lingering around the nose and penetrating straight into the brain.

Qi Yun felt as if his stomach was on fire, his mouth was dry, and his reason crumbled inch by inch.

He followed the scent and saw a sign that read: "Liquan Residence".

A large earthenware urn stands at the entrance of the shop, its contents a thick soup boiling and steaming.

A gaunt old man stood behind the urn, dressed in ochre hemp clothing, his face like a gray bronze mirror, only his eyes were frighteningly bright.

"My lord, would you like a bowl of fermented rice wine? It will warm your body and soul."

The old man's voice was hoarse, like a file grinding against dry wood.

Qi Yun nodded as if possessed and entered the shop.

The soup in the jar is milky white, and its aroma emanates from it.

The old man scooped up a spoonful of soup; the broth was thick and creamy, and could be pulled into thin strands.

Qi Yun took the ceramic bowl, his fingertips touching the warm, oily rim.

The soup reflected his distorted face and the lantern above his head that suddenly began to sway.

He was about to take a sip.

A sudden, sharp pain shot through my chest!
It felt as if a red-hot iron spike was stabbing fiercely from the inside out!

Qi Yun's hand trembled, and the ceramic bowl fell to the ground and shattered with a "crack".

It's Crimson Hunting Fire!

The strange fire residing within his body was burning fiercely as a warning! The intense pain instantly brought him to his senses.

When I looked up again, I was terrified out of my wits.

The milky white soup turned into a vat of scarlet blood, churning with fingernails, broken bones, and tangled black hair!
The old man's face was sunken, his eyes were two holes, and maggots were falling out of his mouth and nose!

The surrounding diners all had ashen faces and blank stares, holding their bowls and sipping the blood-red liquid, with sticky strands dripping from the corners of their mouths.

"Ugh!" Qi Yun staggered backward, knocking over the bench behind him.

The gaunt old man slowly turned his head, and his neck made a series of cracking sounds.

"My lord...why did you ruin him?"

The sound was like a hundred insects rubbing their shells.

All the "diners" in the shop stopped what they were doing, their heads turned at bizarre angles, their empty gazes fixed on him.

Qi Yun tried to run away, but found that the shop door had been blocked by a wriggling black shadow.

Countless withered, branch-like hands emerged from the shadows, their fingertips long and black.

The old man's hunched body began to swell, his hemp clothing tore, revealing a dark, swollen body covered in seams underneath, emitting a pungent stench.

There is no way back!

Qi Yun gritted his teeth, determined to risk everything and unleash the Crimson Hunting Fire in a desperate fight!
jingle!

A clear, melodious bell rang out, like a silver needle piercing through the fog, suddenly penetrating this sticky, terrifying place.

The dark figure blocking the door shrieked and contracted as if it had been scorched.

All the diners in the restaurant froze in their tracks.

Qi Yun turned around abruptly and saw a person standing in the mist in the middle of the street.

The man was tall and thin, wearing a faded black Taoist robe with mud stains on the hem.

He wore a bamboo hat and a black veil that covered his face, revealing only a long, gray-white beard on his chin.

He carried a glass lantern in his left hand. The flame was only the size of a bean, yet it illuminated the surrounding mist, making it clear and bright.

He held a nine-tone bronze bell in his right hand; the clapper trembled slightly, and the lingering sound continued.

"Amitabha Buddha." His voice was hoarse and low, yet possessed a power that could cut through any tangled mess. "Shopkeeper, please be magnanimous for my sake!"

The old man stared intently at the newcomer, then looked at the lantern and the copper bell in the man's hand, a look of apprehension in his eyes.

"Since the Taoist priest has spoken, then let it be!" The voice regained some of its human quality, but it was still icy cold.

The Taoist in black robes nodded slightly, not even glancing at Qi Yun, and turned to leave, the lamp casting a faint halo in the mist.

Qi Yun dared not linger, stumbling out of the shop and quickly following the man!

Strangely enough, the man's steps didn't look fast, but his speed was actually quite fast, so Qi Yun was practically jogging behind and still couldn't catch up.

The two then left the village and came to a dirt road in the countryside.

The wilderness was completely dark, and Qi Yun could only see the white light of the lantern in front of him!
Just as the only point of light in front of us was about to disappear.

Qi Yun eventually ignored the eerie darkness around him and shouted.

"Senior, please stay!"

Upon hearing this, the man stopped and turned to look at Qi Yun.

"What are you doing following me, little monk?"

(End of this chapter)