For thirty years, he has roamed the Northeast, his divine might overwhelming all immortals under hea

After hearing my father's story, and considering that I had indeed seen a water ghost standing in my yard just now...

My heart skipped a beat.

We need to invite Huang Dalang over as soon as possible.

With two immortals like Liu Ruoyun and Huang Dalang around, things will naturally be more stable.

Huang Dalang, in particular, has cultivated here for a hundred years, so he must know more about the Blackwater River.

It's getting late. Tomorrow is a good day, so we should set up the altar as soon as possible.

I went back inside and wrote down everything I needed on a piece of paper.

I'll give it to my dad first thing tomorrow morning so he can get it for me, while I'll go to the Blackwater River.

It is essential to check the surrounding area during the day, rather than at night.

After all, to solve a problem, you must first have a good understanding of it.

Lying on the kang (a heated brick bed), I felt a long-lost sense of comfort.

Before, my parents didn't care about me, so I always slept on the firewood. It wasn't that my parents were heartless, but I just felt comfortable there.

But now you want me to go sleep by the firewood? No way!

In a daze, I felt that there were many people standing in my yard.

They swayed and hung their heads.

He was speaking in a language I couldn't understand.

My body floated up, very light.

Like clouds in the sky.

He drifted out of the house and joined the people in the courtyard, muttering to himself.

Suddenly, a loud bang came from the west end of the village.

The sound was like detonating a dynamite when a mountain is blasted open.

The sound was very loud. I tried to look west, but no matter how hard I tried, my head remained droopy.

"Giggle giggle..."

With a rooster's crow, everything was swept into illusion, converging above my head into a giant vortex that burrowed into my brain.

I woke up with a start, and the blanket beneath me was soaked with sweat.

Outside the window, it was just about dawn.

I glanced at the clock on the wall; it was 3 a.m.

Good heavens, this rooster really is the first to know it's dawn; it doesn't delay at all!

I lay down again, wanting to sleep a little longer, but I tossed and turned and couldn't fall asleep.

Staring at the dark roof beams, his mind was filled with the image of the water ghost from last night.

Wet hair, pale face, purple lips, and those three words.

"Black...water...river..."

I quietly got up and dressed.

My parents are still sleeping, their snoring is even.

I put the list of things I needed to set up the temple into my pocket.

As I pushed open the door, the cool morning air rushed in.

The water stains in the yard had dried, leaving only faint marks.

I crouched down and touched the mark with my finger; it was still cold.

This is not an illusion.

I got up, walked to the courtyard gate, and glanced back.

The paper windows of the main room were still dark; my father and mother had not yet woken up.

I quietly left the house.

Before dawn, Zhujiakan was still fast asleep.

There was no one on the dirt road, except for early-rising sparrows hopping around on the branches, chirping away.

I walked north along the village road.

The Blackwater River is three miles north of the village, and you have to cross a forest to reach it.

I walked this road when I was a child. I wasn't senile back then, and I came to the woods with my dad to catch birds.

Later, he became mentally impaired and never came back.

The trees in the forest were very dense, pine trees and poplar trees, crowded together.

It was just beginning to get light, and the woods were still quite dark.

The dew was heavy, and the grass blades were covered with water droplets; my trouser legs got wet after walking for a while.

The further you go in, the quieter it becomes.

Even the birdsong has decreased.

I quickened my pace.

After passing through the woods, the view suddenly opened up before us.

A river lies in front of us.

This is the Blackwater River.

The river was not wide, only a dozen or so meters wide, but the current was very rapid, making a splashing sound.

The river water was indeed black, not jet black, but a bottomless, dark black, like a huge piece of black glass, gleaming faintly in the morning light.

I couldn't help but marvel that there really are black rivers in this world.

The riverbanks were covered with reeds, so dense that they were half a person tall.

When the wind blows, the reeds rustle and sway, as if someone is walking around inside.

I stood by the river and took a deep breath.

There was a fishy smell in the air, not the smell of fish, but the smell of rotting aquatic plants, with a slightly sweet taste, which was unpleasant to smell.

I closed my eyes, calmed my mind, and focused my energy.

A cool sensation welled up from between my brows and followed my gaze to the river.

In an instant, the scene before my eyes changed.

The river water was still black, but in my "eyes," it appeared even darker, a deep, heavy black.

Wisps of black gas rose from the riverbed and swirled on the surface of the water.

These black wisps are different from the lonely spirits in the dilapidated temple; they are thicker, colder, and carry a strong sense of resentment.

Moreover, there was more than one.

I sensed carefully that there were at least dozens of such resentful energies lingering in different locations at the bottom of the river.

The river turning black is inextricably linked to these grievances.

No wonder people drown every year.

There is more than one water ghost in this river.

I walked slowly along the riverbank, my eyes fixed on the water.

I stopped when I reached a bend in the river.

The resentment is strongest here.

The black mist almost solidified, forming a small whirlpool on the water's surface.

At the center of the vortex, a pale figure could be vaguely seen, curled up and motionless.

Is it that water ghost from last night?

I crouched down to get a better look.

Suddenly, a bubble rose from the surface of the river with a "glug" sound.

Then, two, three... countless bubbles rose from the bottom of the river, densely packed, like boiling water.

My heart skipped a beat, and I took a step back.

More and more bubbles appeared, and the eddies on the river surface began to spin faster.

The pale figure slowly raised its head.

Beneath her wet hair, a pair of empty eyes stared straight at me.

It's her.

That water ghost from last night.

She opened her mouth and made "ah ah" sounds, as if she wanted to say something, but her throat was blocked by water.

I clenched my fists, forcing myself to calm down.

"What are you trying to say?"

The water ghost stretched out its hand, its pale fingers pointing to the opposite bank of the river.

I looked in the direction she pointed.

Across the river was a barren wasteland overgrown with weeds. Beyond the wasteland lay a desolate graveyard.

That was the old cemetery in Zhujiakan, a place where people were buried in the past. Later, new graves were moved there, and the area became deserted.

"Uh...uh..." The water ghost's voice was intermittent.

But I couldn't understand what she was saying at all.

"What's over there?"

The water ghost's mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. Her body began to fade, as if it were about to dissipate.

I quickly took out the red string, bit my middle finger, and smeared a line of blood on the string.

"Certainly!"

I swung the red rope at the water ghost.

The blood-stained red rope passed through the water and wrapped around the water ghost's wrist.

The water ghost's body stabilized.

She looked down at the red string on her wrist, then looked up at me.

"thing……"

"Things? What things? What do you mean?"

The water ghost's empty eyes seemed to be trying to convey something to me, but in reality, I didn't catch anything.

After saying this, her body completely vanished.

The red rope fell into the water and sank.

The river surface returned to calm, the bubbles disappeared, and the whirlpools were gone.

Only that resentment still lingers at the bottom of the water.

I stood by the river, my brow furrowed.

What exactly is "东西" (dōngxi)? Does it refer to a direction or an object? (In Northeastern dialect, "东西" can mean both "object" and "thing".)

Moreover, she was referring to the old cemetery in Zhujiakan.

That piece of land has been abandoned for many years, and there must be some lonely graves inside that haven't been moved.

And who is she?

Why did they drown in the Blackwater River?

Why are you looking for me again?

One problem after another.

I looked up at the sky. The sun had already risen, and the golden sunlight shone on the river, making the black water shimmer.

I have to go back.

My parents should wake up soon, and we need to prepare the necessary items for the ancestral hall.

I took one last look at the river and turned to walk back.

By the time we got back to the village, the sun was already high in the sky.

Smoke was rising from the chimneys of every household, and the aroma of breakfast filled the entire village.

As soon as I entered the yard, my mother came out of the house.

"Thirteen! Where have you been? You haven't been seen since early this morning!"

"I went to check out the Blackwater River."

My mother's expression changed.

"Why did you go before dawn? You should have gone during the day! That place is eerie!"

"That water ghost from last night came from the Blackwater River."

"I need to go see what's going on."

My father also came out of the house, holding a pipe.

"What did you see?"

Compared to my mother's worries, my father was more pragmatic.

Because he knew that trying to persuade me would be futile, so he might as well ask me something practical.

I described what I had seen.

After hearing this, my father remained silent for a long time.

"The Blackwater River is an eerie place."

He took a drag of his cigarette.

"Your grandparents said that the river wasn't clean. Years ago, some people dared to go fishing there, but after many people drowned, no one dared to go anymore."

"Old Wang fell in there back then, and he was lucky to survive."

"Your dad rescued him, but he lay in bed for half a month, saying he was cold all over and couldn't get warm even with three quilts."

A thought struck me.

"Dad, when you saved Old Wang back then, didn't you feel something was off?"

My dad thought about it.

"Well... the water was incredibly cold, not just cold, but the kind of cold that seeps into your bones. And..."

He paused.

"When I pulled Old Wang, I felt something else pulling him from the water, with tremendous force. If I hadn't risked my life, we would both have died there."

"Besides, your Uncle Sun was also desperately trying to pull me back at that time. If it weren't for me relying on myself, we probably would have both died."

"And then what? Did Old Wang act strangely?"

"he?"

My dad shook his head.

"He was fine, just a bit frightened, and he recovered after lying in bed for two days. Later, he even brought me half a pound of pork to thank me. And then there was the matter of the betrothal we had as children. And you know what happened after that, right? The engagement was called off."

At this point, my father's face darkened again.

My mother quickly changed the subject.

The matter of Old Wang breaking off the engagement has now become something that crosses my father's bottom line. Whenever it is mentioned, my father's face instantly darkens.

It's no wonder my dad was angry. In those days, being rejected by a potential bride was a huge loss of face.

"Alright, alright, stop talking about this. Thirteen, have you eaten? There's still porridge in the pot."

I waved my hand to indicate that I wasn't hungry.

I took out the list and handed it to my dad.

"Father, we need to get all these things ready today. I need to set up a shrine."

My dad took the list and glanced at it.

Three feet of red cloth, three feet of yellow cloth, one incense burner, one bundle of sandalwood, seven copper coins, one mace of cinnabar, one writing brush, one ream of yellow paper, one set of carving knives, one piece of peach wood...

There were more than a dozen different kinds.

"These things... must cost a lot of money, right?"

"Hey, you old man, didn't Accountant Sun give you 300 yuan?"

"Thirteen, this money is yours to earn, so you get to decide."

He folded the list neatly and put it in his pocket.

"I'll go to the commune's supply and marketing cooperative right now; there are some things I need to buy there."

"I'll go with you."

"Need not."

"You're resting at home. Didn't you sleep well last night? Your eyes are all dark."

I didn't sleep well, but I wasn't very sleepy either.

"And what about my mother?"

"Your mother cooks at home."

"Once everything is ready, we'll set up the temple this afternoon."

Although my father was a farmer, he was no stranger to things like setting up a shrine.

In Northeast China, it is not uncommon for shamans to establish their own shrines.

However, finding a reliable shaman is very difficult.

Why do I say this? It all comes down to the nature and character of the shaman's family and supporters.

Humans are divided into good and bad, and demons are divided into benevolent and malevolent.

In essence, immortals are animals that have attained enlightenment through spiritual practice.

It's inevitable that some bad habits haven't been completely eradicated.

This will naturally affect the disciples who have entered the shamanic path.

Especially the five categories outside the main category.

The so-called "outer five categories" refers to all mountain spirits and monsters other than the fox, weasel, snake, and ghost.

The outer five categories are a category of words.

Many people say that the five immortals of Northeast China are Hu, Huang, Bai, Liu, and Hui. In reality, the five immortals of Northeast China are Hu, Huang, Chang, Mang, and Qingfeng. Qingfeng is a ghost immortal, also known as Hu, Huang, Chang, Mang, and Gui. Together they are called the Five Army.

As for the Bai and Hui families, they naturally belong to the outer five categories.

One more thing to clarify is that gray spirits are not common.

All of this stems from the Hui family's own circumstances.

Moreover, even if one were to encounter the Gray Immortal, his temperament and nature would make it difficult for him to follow the righteous path.

Those who follow the righteous path are extremely rare.

Both the Chang family and the Mang family are actually snake spirits.

However, there are some differences between the two.

The Chang family, also known as the Liu family, mainly focuses on the technical aspects, managing medicine and treating patients.

The Python family uses force to pave the way; they are the leaders of the sect and the vanguard.

Liu Xian fell from her horse, her body gentle, cool, soft, and agile.

When the python immortal fell from his horse, it was heavy and fierce, especially his shoulders, which felt like they were being weighed down by a heavy object.

That being said, Chang and Mang are inseparable.

In the immortal system, they are all indispensable and important figures.

Qingfeng is a ghost immortal, also known as the King of Steles.

They are ghosts that gained abilities after a person died, either through cultivation or by chance.

They are important deities for shamans to communicate and conduct business with the spirit world (the underworld).

There is a distinction between inside and outside, and between men and women.

As for the two immortals, Hu and Huang, I won't go into too much detail, as they are quite common.

Many guardian spirits in Northeast China are composed of two spirits.

The two immortals, Hu and Huang, are the foundation and commanders of the immortals.

The immortal system is a vast system with various immortals. Just like us humans, it needs someone to lead it, and the fox and weasel immortals are such a person.

Hu represents literature, Huang represents martial arts.

They jointly govern the various immortal families.

Indispensable.

It is the most respected deity in Northeast China.

My dad got on his bicycle and went out. The bicycle was left to me by my grandfather. Except for the bell, everything else rattled, but it was still rideable.

My mother turned and went back into the house to prepare lunch, while I sat in the yard, thinking about the Blackwater River.

Just how many secrets does this Blackwater River hold?